Flameglow City Gates.

The surrounding crowds had been completely evacuated, clearing a vast empty space.

The mysterious girl who’d earlier grabbed Alquett to chat had already slipped away unnoticed among the dispersing onlookers.

All that remained were rows of kingdom guards, armored head-to-toe, leveling gleaming silver-tipped lances at the girl standing alone at the center.

Sharp-eyed Alquett noticed the chilling aura radiating from each spearhead—weren’t these the Church’s newly commissioned silver weapons? The very ones she’d criticized just days ago for being wasteful showpieces with negligible combat value against Demonkind…

*So that’s how it is.*

A bitter, resigned smile flickered across her lips.

But that faint smile only made the encircling soldiers tighten their grips on their weapons.

“Alquett! You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say now will be used against you in court!”

Curious onlookers gathered thickly behind the guard lines, whispering as they stared at Alquett.

Countless eyes pinned the solitary girl at the center like physical blades against her throat, freezing her limbs and stealing her breath.

“I haven’t done anything wrong! Why am I being treated like this?”

Her words rang hollow. The slightest shift of her foot drew a peachwood arrow thudding into the ground before her—a warning against movement.

Soon, the Flameglow City church’s priest arrived, flanked by Nuns, pastors, and Holy Knights.

The guards parted. The middle-aged priest in black robes approached, shielded by his clergy.

“Alquett? You’ve returned?”

His expression remained stern as ever, but the concern in his voice eased her tension slightly.

“I escaped from the Darklord Citadel…”

“You escaped alone? What about the others?”

“Viola… she refused to come. She’s joined Demonkind now…”

Murmurs of doubt rippled through the priest’s entourage. Only he stayed impassive, giving a slight nod.

“Regardless, you must be exhausted. Come, rest at the church first. We’ll discuss details once you’ve recovered.”

Alquett’s gaze swept over the guards glaring at her, then the gawking civilians beyond. Finally, she gave a low, barely audible “Mm-hmm” and nodded.

Escorted warily by guards, she walked familiar streets toward the city church.

Head bowed, Alquett’s unnaturally sharp hearing betrayed her again.

Soldiers, Nuns, even strangers who once bowed respectfully now jabbed fingers at her back. Their vile whispers cut through the air:

“…Isn’t that the Champion of the Night? I heard she was captured by a Dragonmaid. How’d she escape so fast?”

“…No one survives Demon City’s dungeons. How did *she* get out alone?”

“…Look at her avoiding everyone’s eyes. Bet the demons discarded her after they’d had their fun.”

“Yeah, thrown into their dungeon looking that pretty? Tch tch… Who knows what kinds of demon spawn might be growing inside her—”

“Always barking orders at us like some high-and-mighty orphan brat. Serves her right.”

“Shh! Keep it down. She’s still the Church’s official Hero. Humanity’s pride, remember?”

“Ugh, lucky goblins. They got first taste of that pretty thing. What’s the point of hiding now? Might as well let us have a go—”

“You’re desperate. She’s probably diseased after what she’s been through.”

…

Filthy slander, each word piercing her ears.

Outrageous lies!

The same people who once worshipped her now radiated pure disgust.

None of it had happened to her—yet they described it with vivid, sickening detail.

Humans loved building idols just to tear them down.

Alquett’s dull eyes slowly bled crimson, crimson threads of fury webbing her pupils.

For one fleeting second, she wanted to shred every gossiping mouth to pieces.

…

Following the priest, she entered the church, turned corners, and stopped before an unexpected room.

The old confessional booth.

After the Kingdom’s religious reforms banned confessionals for “human rights violations,” penitents now used the new Confession Hall. These sealed booths stood abandoned.

“Go inside. We need to talk.”

Alquett stared at the cramped iron cubicle barely wide enough for one person. Before she could speak, lances blocked her retreat.

Biting her lip, she hugged her arms and stepped inside.

The moment she entered, guards slammed and locked the booth’s small door.

…

Alquett sat numbly in the sealed compartment, lost and hollow.

The whispers, the pointing fingers, the malicious speculation—they buzzed relentlessly in her skull.

If these rumors spread… how could she ever face the people she’d sworn to protect from demons?

…

Snapping back to reality, she noticed a partition before her: a small grille covered by a curtain, metal louvers, and a silver bowl beneath.

Footsteps sounded on the other side. Someone entered.

“Welcome. Lay bare your sins here. Seek absolution. The Merciful Lord will forgive you.”

The priest’s slightly raspy voice.

“Child, no need for pretense here. We only wish to understand what happened. Speak truthfully of your experiences… and your sins.”

His tone remained gentle, laced with pity.

“We know you endured hellish torment and violation in the demon dungeons. Fear not. However unspeakable your ordeal, confess it to the Lord. He will cleanse your defilement. You can still be one of our radiant champions.”

“I…”

Alquett lowered her beautiful eyes, hesitating before whispering:

“I… wasn’t violated. I let myself be captured on purpose…”

Silence stretched from the other side.

“It’s alright, child. Soundproofing runes seal this room. No one will hear. Your purity and reputation are safe. The Lord desires your honesty.”

“But it’s true! I went willingly—to rescue Viola. I let them take me…”

“And Viola?”

“She… she’s living well there. She refused to return. Told me to cut ties with her forever…”

Alquett rushed to explain, but the priest cut her off.

“…Enough. If you won’t speak, stay silent. No need to glorify demons to excuse yourself.”

His voice hardened.

“Let’s move on—this is vital for our war against Demonkind. Answer truthfully, Alquett.”

A rustle of paper and pen came through the partition.

“How did you escape the Demon City’s dungeon? Describe its conditions.”

“…A demon released me.”

Alquett’s voice trembled.

“Oh? Why would Demonkind freely release humanity’s famed Hero?”

“It’s true! Two werewolves tried to frame the Dragonmaid guarding me by helping me escape… but that Dragonmaid was kind. She even gave me directions…”

“Honestly, not all demons are evil… and their dungeon isn’t as filthy as the books claim—”

The priest’s face—and those of the two pastors and Nuns beside him—darkened visibly.

“Alquett!”

A sharp shout cracked through the partition, followed by a table slam that made her flinch.

“Remember your duty! You are one of the Church’s Seven Heroes, bearer of the Holy Sword’s legacy. How dare you defend demons?”

His voice turned icy.

“Or… has Miss Alquett perhaps already defected to Demonkind?”

Alquett flinched. “I… I haven’t—”

“Oh? Then how do you explain these reports of you attacking travelers and sucking their blood?”