Cecilia's Soliloquy

The cathedral in the deep of night was like a giant tomb.

At an hour when everyone was asleep, I alone walked the dark corridors of the rectory, clutching this sinful heart.

It was because of a sudden summons from the head priest's room a few minutes ago.

Recalling the gaze that caught me during the day made me feel nauseous.

Tap, tap.

Standing before the door, I barely managed to steady my ragged breath and knocked cautiously.

No answer came from inside, but the faint light leaking through the crack of the door felt like a silent command to enter.

With trembling hands, I turned the knob and stepped into the room.

The room was filled with a chilling silence.

In front of the window with thick curtains drawn, behind a large oak desk,

he was sitting.

The young priest who managed all the affairs of the cathedral and wore a smile more holy and benevolent than anyone else in front of the believers.

But the man before my eyes now had cast off the mask of a clergyman; he was an absolute power who could destroy me with a single word.

Even though I had entered, he did not even lift his head.

A leather bag sat on the desk. That old, familiar bag that my childhood friend always carried whenever he visited the cathedral—

He was slowly stroking it with his long fingers. Every time his fingertips brushed the worn leather,

I felt as if my throat were being constricted.

It was a silent warning that he had already identified everything about that boy.

He still said nothing.

That silence carved into my soul more cruelly than any verbal abuse.

Finally, he slowly raised his head and looked at me.

That despicable and arrogant gaze I saw during the day gleamed in the darkness.

He picked up a silver crucifix from the desk and began to roll it playfully between his fingers.

The sight of the holy cross turning lightly like a toy in his hand was utterly bizarre.

He extended the hand holding the cross and tapped the empty chair across from the desk. A gesture telling me to sit.

It was a gesture that was no different from a command, one I could not refuse. My legs were shaking.

I sensed that the moment I sat in that chair, everything I had protected all my life and the fates of both myself and that boy would be held entirely in that man's grasp.

Without even a smile, he waited for me to move with only an obsessive gaze.

In a silence more terrible than the temptation of Satan, I had no choice but to take slow steps toward him.

Barely perching on the edge of the chair with my body trembling violently,

I lowered my head, unable to meet his eyes.

...Father. At this hour... What business do you have with me...?