My Nerdy Neighbor Is the Master of the Magic Tower
Chapter 32
A dark night, where the only light was the faint shimmering of the moon.
Unable to fall asleep, Cecilia tossed and turned before finally kicking off her covers and sitting up. Tomorrow was finally the day of the Relief Festival ritual. Perhaps it was the tension, but despite it being the day that would mark the end of her long training, sleep eluded her entirely.
‘No, maybe it’s for a different reason.’
Cecilia habitually fiddled with the pendant hanging around her neck. Ever since meeting Lien, she found herself recalling his large, warm hands, his bright smile that felt like sunlight, and the blind gaze that had been fixed solely on her whenever she had a spare moment.
Her fluttering emotions refused to settle, so Cecilia eventually climbed out of bed and slipped into her indoor slippers. She wouldn't be able to sleep even if she kept her eyes closed, so she planned to go to the kitchen herself and get a glass of warm milk.
Cecilia lit the lamp sitting on the edge of her desk and cautiously stepped out of the room.
The hallway was silent and dark. The wall sconces held cheap candles made of animal fat instead of beeswax, but they weren't even lit, likely to save on expenses. Ultimately, Cecilia carefully crossed the dark corridor relying only on the faint light of her lamp.
Walking down the empty path where only the sound of her own footsteps echoed, she felt a slight urge to give up, but as the saying goes—if you've drawn the sword, you might as well slice the radish.
As a result of her determined advance, Cecilia arrived safely.
At a completely wrong location, not the kitchen she had intended.
‘Maybe I should have brought Sena.’
She had set out alone to avoid waking the children who would be sound asleep. If she had known she would get so pathetically lost, she would have cast aside her shame and asked for a guide.
Because the children had brought her meals directly to her room every day, she’d had no opportunity to learn the kitchen's location.
Even if she made excuses, she was currently a lost soul. She scanned her surroundings with a deep sigh.
‘This place is…’
A dead end without a single window. A place where an iron door that looked heavy at a glance stood firm. A mysterious room she had occasionally passed by, always guarded by Holy Knights.
Even though it was quite late, a Holy Knight was still standing steadfastly in front of the door. However, perhaps unable to overcome his fatigue, he was nodding off.
Even though she approached with muffled footsteps, the knight showed no signs of waking. Expressing her silent condolences, Cecilia lightly placed her hand on the doorknob.
‘This is likely the room where the Temple’s treasures are kept.’
If so, wouldn’t the ‘Record of God’ that she’d heard about from Kiar be in here too? Of course, she could check it officially once she was approved by the Capital and appointed as the ‘official Saintess,’ but…
‘Who knows when that will be?’
Rather than obediently waiting for an indefinite future, she decided to seize this opportunity that must have been provided by God.
Having reached a convenient compromise with herself, Cecilia applied pressure to her hand. And naturally, the door didn't budge an inch.
‘As expected, it won’t open. …Huh?’
Click!
Regardless of her will, a white light seeped from her palm as it gripped the knob, and the door opened with absurd ease.
‘What? Is it okay for me to go in?’
She hesitated for a moment, but her wavering was brief. Sliding her body through the gap in the door, Cecilia lifted the lamp to her chest.
The interior was so dark she could barely see the area reached by the small flame, but inside round, transparent domes placed on marble tables were objects that looked quite familiar.
‘These are all tools used in ceremonies.’
She had expected it to be filled with grand divine artifacts like the staff of a past Saintess, a golden ritual chalice, or the legendary holy sword used by some nameless hero. She felt a bit deflated upon encountering these old and simple items.
Upon reaching the innermost wall, Cecilia discovered something strange. Unlike the other walls filled with tables, statues, or bookshelves, nothing was on display here.
Looking closer, the gaps between the bricks forming the wall were slightly misaligned. Just like a secret door…
‘No, it really looks like a secret door.’
Cecilia fumbled around, searching for a handle or a button that might be somewhere on the wall.
Thump! The moment her hand touched something with a texture different from hard stone, a voice that shouldn't be heard rang out from behind her.
“Saintess-nim?”
Startled by the low call, she whipped around. In the gap of the door she had left carelessly open, a familiar figure stood staring blankly.
“…Your Holiness the Pope.”
‘I’m screwed.’
Cold sweat trickled down her spine. To anyone’s eyes, wasn't she a person who had trespassed with some sinister ulterior motive?
Flinching, Cecilia pulled her hand away from the wall and hurriedly opened her mouth. She intended to make the excuse that she had lost her way, whether he believed it or not.
“Have you lost your way?”
At the Pope’s innocent and pure question, which didn't doubt her in the slightest, she found herself at a loss for words instead.
Ultimately, Cecilia made a tragic confession with a heart that felt like it was bleeding.
“The thing is, I found this place by chance while trying to go to the kitchen. Every time I passed by here, the knights were guarding this room, so I got curious about the inside and… I’m sorry.”
“Pardon? If you had asked the Archbishop, he would have given you a tour long ago.”
That might have been true if this room was really what she wanted to see. But if the goal was the ‘Record of God,’ the story was different. Wasn't it a precious divine artifact that even the Archbishop hadn't been able to behold?
Unable to reveal her true intentions, Cecilia awkwardly remained silent.
“I’ll ask the Archbishop to give you a tour, so shall we head back for today? It’s late.”
“Yes…”
Stealing away from the wall, Cecilia timidly approached the door where the Pope stood.
Only when she got close enough for the lamplight to reach did the Pope’s clear face become visible. Because the Pope had been extremely busy, this was their first face-to-face meeting since she had been confined to the Temple.
And yet, upon meeting his infinitely kind gaze, her heart became surprisingly calm and at ease.
“Here, I will carry the lamp.”
The Pope took her lamp, its candle nearly melted away and flickering faintly, and handed her his own silver candlestick instead.
As they left the room and walked side by side down the quiet hallway, the Pope suddenly spoke.
“I intended to greet you on the day you arrived at the Temple, Saintess-nim, but somehow we’ve only come to meet on the eve of the Relief Festival ritual. Has life at the Temple been bearable?”
“More or less. Everyone has been very considerate…”
Unable to bring herself to lie and say it was fine, she glossed over it and quickly changed the subject.
“Has Your Holiness been working until this late hour?”
As if he had spent another busy day, the Pope was wearing a travel cloak over his white cassock.
The Pope looked sheepish as he patted and smoothed out his wrinkled clothes here and there.
“Since the Relief Festival ritual is just around the corner, the number of believers visiting the Temple has increased.”
In short, it meant he had been bestowing holy power until this late hour for the sake of ordinary believers.
The position of Pope was an incredibly high one, comparable to that of the Emperor. His devotion—personally stepping forward to treat the sick and meet with commoners, tasks even Archbishop Kiar avoided—was enough to evoke questioning beyond mere respect.
“It must be difficult enough just preparing for the ritual… Aren’t you tired?”
“Because I believe this is the mission and role God has given me. Besides, it is a joy to be able to share the grace I’ve received from God with others.”
His answer, which was quintessentially religious, was beyond her common sense.
To feel ‘joy’ while carrying out a schedule that was no different from overworking oneself. Moreover, that the underlying reason was ‘faith’ rather than reward or a sense of duty.
Determining the direction of one's life by believing in something unproven, and finding that difficult work wasn't a hardship but rather the fuel to move forward, was an incomprehensible realm for her.
If ‘faith’ was truly something that grand, then it was just too…
“It seems blind.”
Her overly honest answer popped out like a cough. Cecilia hurriedly bit her lower lip.
However, the Pope didn't seem to mind her irreverent retort much. On the contrary, he even agreed.
“Certainly, it might be so.”
They came to a halt.
Cecilia gazed blankly into his golden eyes that were like lakes. That calm gaze was as deep as that of someone who had lived for a very long time, yet his softly smiling face also made him look like an innocent boy.
As she stared blankly at the face whose age was hard to guess, at the faint ripples of light shimmering over it, and the shadows that nevertheless remained without fading, the Pope began to walk again at a much slower pace.
“Do you know the founding myth of this Empire?”
Cecilia easily recalled the story of the one god, ‘Soltis,’ which she had studied relentlessly along with prayers and scriptures.
The gods appearing in myths were never a single entity. However, because ‘Soltis’ was the only god who directly looked after and loved humans, it was said to be natural for humans—creatures who received so much of his love—to serve Soltis as the one and only god.
“That Soltis, the god who loved humans, descended to this land himself to look after and rule them?”
“That’s right. But there is a hidden back-story to that.”
“A back-story?”
