"...No, I was not meeting a boy atop the church."

That was Sister Elsa’s final answer.

The Truthstone remained utterly still.

Father Amon frowned but waved her off nonetheless.

Elsa escaped by a hair’s breadth. Her heart hammered so violently it felt ready to burst from her chest.

Her gamble had been reckless.

She’d exploited a glitch—a loophole that kept the Truthstone’s magic from activating properly.

Had she simply denied meeting *any* boy, the stone might have caught her lie.

After all, she *had* been with Roy last night.

But she’d specified: *last night*, she wasn’t meeting a boy *atop the church*.

The time was right—but the location parameter was wrong!

The Truthstone failed.

A ripple of relieved cheers broke through the ranks of nuns.

If even Elsa passed...

Then they certainly would!

Elsa: ...?

*What exactly do you all think of me?!*

Her cheeks flushed crimson as she slipped back to her place.

The other nuns stepped forward one by one.

Some might have grown close to young men—but luckily, none had been near the church last night.

Father Amon’s earlier fury now looked utterly foolish.

The city guard soldier scratched his head.

"...Impossible. I saw them with my own eyes."

"Perhaps it was a pair of young lovers from the neighborhood," an elderly Mother Superior interjected smoothly. "Saint Aurora Church’s rooftop is a notorious spot for such trysts. We’ve struggled to keep trespassers out."

"...So please," she continued, voice firm, "do not judge our nuns by your assumptions. Yes, they feel human desires—anyone would admire a fine young man. But their vow of purity for God is stronger."

"I raised these sisters. None would ever cross that line."

Her words were stirring—but the nuns’ faces wore only *polite, awkward smiles*.

Elsa hid behind another sister, face burning, praying no one noticed her shame.

The soldier bowed his head. "My apologies."

"Father Amon," the Mother Superior said gently, "report the results to the Bishop."

"...Ah! R-right away."

Amon jolted awake. Though humiliated, this was good news for the church.

"Now, sisters," the Mother Superior turned to them, "you’ve endured enough trouble today. Your faith shone true."

She paused, then smiled. "The church is closed for the day. Go home."

A bright wave of cheers erupted.

"Yay!"

"Wonderful!"

After all—they were just girls in their teens and twenties, hearts still young beneath their habits.

Elsa’s own heart lifted. She could rush home to Roy... and Airi!

*Wait—why did Roy come to mind first?*

She shook her head, chiding herself. *What a terrible sister I’ve become...*

The bubbly novice Yuna suddenly looped her arm through Elsa’s. "Elsa! That was so close! We all thought the couple last night was—"

Elsa clamped a hand over Yuna’s mouth. *Don’t say it!* Amon and the soldier were still nearby.

"I’d never do such a thing!" Elsa puffed her cheeks—a gesture utterly unconvincing against her powder-pink blush.

"But... how far *have* you and Roy gotten?" Yuna pressed, eyes gleaming.

"*How far—?*"

Elsa froze. When she snapped back to reality, a circle of wide-eyed, ear-straining nuns surrounded her.

"Eeek!" She yelped, mortified. "I-I wouldn’t know about *that*!"

The golden-haired nun fled down the hall as laughter chased her.

*Does the whole world know I like Roy?!*

………………

*Does Roy know?*

………………

Joy over the unexpected holiday tangled with anxiety about his feelings—a bittersweet knot in Sister Elsa’s chest.

She walked the familiar path from the church to Moli District, where she and Airi shared their little home.

Roy lived there too.

As if fate itself had woven their threads together.

Her steps grew lighter.

*Click.* The key turned in the lock.

She slipped off her shoes at the entryway.

And there—on the shoe rack—sat Roy’s cloth shoes.

*He’s still here?*

Her eyebrows lifted slightly.

Her first reaction was pure, fluttering delight.

*He must have brought Airi breakfast... and stayed to keep her company.*

*He won’t expect me home so soon—with a whole free day!*

A playful smile curved Elsa’s lips.

*Perfect. A surprise it is.*

She tiptoed silently to Airi’s door, hand on the knob—ready to burst in with a cheerful "Ta-da!"

Then—voices drifted through the wood.

Roy’s voice: bright, crisp as an apple ripening from green to red.

Airi’s voice: soft, fragile as spun glass.

Every word was clear.

But the meaning? Utterly incomprehensible.

"T-there... gentler, Roy..."

"Don’t rub... so hard..."

"Sorry. Does it hurt?"

"N-no..."

"It just feels... warm."

Elsa: ¿

Her mind went utterly blank.

Then—a thunderclap split the silence inside her skull.

*Bolt from the blue.*