Under the veil of night, the church was brightly lit, with candles quietly burning, their lting wax flowing and solidifying along the steps, rippling like the sea under the setting sun's evening glow, shimring with waves.
In the narrow confessional booth, Bologue bowed his head, whispering.
"Father, good souls go to heaven, and evil souls go to hell, right?"
Soon, a kind voice ca from the other side.
"Of course, my child."
Bologue and the Priest were separated by a thin black veil, their faces blurred in the dimness, unable to discern each other's features.
"Is that so? That's wonderful."
Hearing the Priest's confirmation, Bologue nodded, relieved.
"I have a friend."
As he spoke of her, a fleeting smile crossed Bologue's bewildered face, but it quickly cooled again.
"She's not the kind of 'friend' used to disguise oneself; she is a real person, arguably my only friend.
After I was released from prison a year ago, standing at the prison gate, I was lost for a while, not knowing where to go, then I saw her. Although it had been a long ti since we last t, I recognized her instantly.
She took ho and has been taking care of . She used to be quite nagging... and after becoming an old lady, she nagged even more, scolding endlessly every day..."
Bologue opened up, talking endlessly, while the Priest quietly listened.
"I'd be nagged for sleeping without a blanket, for not eating breakfast, even for staying up late. Sotis I'd retort, 'Are you my mom?' to which she'd smile smugly, continuing her nagging."
Bologue couldn't help but smile, and hearing this, the Priest on the other side of the veil laughed along, their laughter echoing within the narrow space.
"I stayed at her house for a while, sleeping on the sofa in the living room. Her children would co ho to visit her occasionally, probably because I had been in prison; her children didn't like . Coupled with her being an old lady, they always suspected I had ulterior motives, like trying to get her inheritance."
At this, Bologue shook his head.
"To avoid affecting her family harmony, I moved out later on. Whenever I had ti, I'd go see her. She'd say I was like her non-blood-related child... still taking advantage of ."
Bologue's mind gradually conjured the woman's face, an aged visage ravaged by ti, yet one could faintly perceive the beauty that once resided in the shriveled skin and wrinkles.
Listening to his story, the Priest nodded slightly, smiling.
"An unlikely friendship? Sounds wonderful."
"Yeah, she really was a good person, willing to take in during my ti of need. I even joked with her before, saying I would repay her kindness by becoming her lover. She shook her head, saying that when we stood together, we looked more like mother and son than lovers."
Bologue looked up, eting only the deep darkness above, muttering to himself.
"Such a good person should have a good end, right? On a sunny morning..."
He took a deep breath, the smile on his face gradually turning cold, like a mask, expressionless.
"Father, I want to confess to you about her death. And the atrocities I committed after her death."
His voice was calm, devoid of any emotion.
The words, akin to a spell, sent a naless chill up the Priest's spine. Nervously, he looked towards the other side of the veil, only to see a vague outline.
For a fleeting mont, he felt an inexplicable sensation, as if Bologue on the other end of the confessional was no longer human, but so unspeakable presence.
Full of evil, ferocity, deceit...
"It was probably a month ago, on a sunny morning, she went out for her usual walk, but this ti she didn't co back. When she was found, she was already dead, her body lying in a dark alley, her jewelry and money plundered."
The earlier joy vanished, Bologue's gaze beca hollow, as if recounting an incident unrelated to himself.
"An ordinary robbery case... that's what the Sheriffs said. Father, you know this damned place, Opus, this city where order and chaos coexist, robberies are common. She was just a bit unlucky to encounter such misfortune on a sunny morning.
At first, I thought the sa. On the way to the morgue, I pondered many things, like how to find that damned robber, how to make him realize that death, at certain tis, is also a luxury..."
Bologue's voice paused for a mont, then continued.
"I saw her body in the morgue, her body cold, expression peaceful, as if she had fallen asleep. The doctor said she was too old, hit her head, and died, just like many elderly people die.
Initially, I accepted this cause of death, but soon I discovered sothing: she bore the marks of 'Condensation.' Her soul... had been extracted."
The Priest's expression froze, like a cold stone sculpture, while Bologue began to chuckle softly. The narrow confessional booth now felt like a prison, enclosing him and the Priest together.
Or rather, forcing the Priest to be with him.
"Do you know, Father? My Boss said that souls truly exist, and so, the Devils from stories that crave souls are also real. They hide in the dark corners, promising all sorts of wonders, tempting mortals to surrender their souls."
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