The Spike of Conviction: The World Through the Eyes of the Witch's Apostles - Episode 3

The report that Seril had arrived came after lunch. Ortz opened the door and spoke from the end of the hallway. "The transfer is complete," he said, and nothing more. Gouf did not ask for anything beyond that. At the far end of the basement's residential level, there was a small unused room. Originally it had served as a storage space, but the believers had carried in a simple cot and left a single blanket. Gouf stood before its door and paused for a moment. Beyond the door, there was no sound. (Twelve years old.) Gouf's hand found the doorknob. The room was dark. The illumination stone had been set to its minimum, casting only an amber glow across the floor. At the edge of the cot, a small shadow huddled there—knees drawn up, back pressed against the wall. A girl. Her hair was caked with dirt. It might have been a bright brown once, but now it lay matted and dull. Her clothes were the same. Dried mud clung to her elbow where she had fallen somewhere. Her face was thin, her cheeks hollow. The face of someone who had not eaten properly. But her eyes were different. The moment she saw Gouf, those eyes sharpened. Not fear—wariness. A quick, searching gaze, measuring escape routes. The position of the door. Gouf's build. The distance between them. All calculated in an instant. (The eyes of a child who survived in a village.) Gouf did not enter the room. He leaned against the doorframe and looked at the girl. "I am Gouf," He spoke briefly. That was all. The girl said nothing. She held his gaze steadily. It was not a question of whether she was afraid. Perhaps this child had simply grown accustomed to living alongside fear. "Are you hungry?" Silence again. Then the girl's lips moved slightly. "...Don't you want to know my name?" Her voice was calmer than he expected. Only slightly hoarse. Perhaps she had not spoken properly in a long time. Gouf was quiet for a moment. "You're Seril," The girl's eyebrows rose just slightly. Whether it was surprise or something else, Gouf could not determine. "It was in the report," With only that, he pulled the door half closed. He walked a short distance down the corridor and spoke to Ortz, who was waiting near the dining hall. "Bring her food. Soup and black bread will do," Ortz nodded silently. —— When night fell, Gouf descended to the basement's second level, to the training grounds. He needed time alone. It had become his recent habit to come here during the hours when the believers slept. He stood before the letters of Echidna carved into the wall. "Doubt the world's righteousness." He reached out to trace them with his finger, then stopped. Today he could not bring himself to touch them. One more day until the Weltheim faction's strategy meeting. Three executives would arrive. He already understood the general outline of their proposal. To fully activate the conspiracy operation using the Trias Company—the organization Gouf had been tasked with manipulating in the southwestern Craevan district of the royal capital. The plan would likely classify civilian casualties as "within acceptable parameters." Gouf had not yet decided how to respond. (No, that's not true.) To be honest, it was already decided. He simply had not yet found the words to say it aloud. As a man who had lived within an organization, he was calculating how to speak without causing friction, yet still hold his own line. That was Gouf's way. Do not move by emotion. Move by reason. But today, his reason did not seem to be working properly. —— The next morning, as Gouf walked down the basement's first-level corridor, he encountered Seril in front of the dining hall. The girl's complexion was slightly better than yesterday. She must have eaten. But the wariness had not faded. The moment she saw Gouf's face, her body stiffened slightly. " Did you eat?" "...Yeah," A short answer. Her gaze moved back and forth between Gouf's face and the corridor's exit. Gouf moved to pass by. There was nothing particular to discuss. He could confirm information another time. But Seril spoke first. "Everyone here gets called 'you,' right?" The way she asked was oddly direct. Gouf stopped. "What do you mean?" "Earlier, I heard someone else get called that too. 'You.' I haven't seen anyone being called by their name yet," Gouf considered this for a moment. "That is how things are in this place," "Isn't that strange?" Gouf turned the question over in his mind. Children who could speak the word "strange" so plainly did not come to this place. Most simply grew accustomed to it in silence. "You get used to it," The girl's face took on a thoughtful expression when she heard this. It was clear she was not convinced. But she did not argue back. Gouf began to walk. Behind him, Seril's small voice reached his ears. "...The people from Forna were called that way too," Gouf's pace slowed for just an instant. "Do not speak of that again," He said it without turning around. Beyond the corridor, Ortz stood holding documents. Preparations for the strategy meeting, no doubt. Gouf retraced his steps. —— In the afternoon, Helga arrived. Her usual white coat, her usual leather bag. She walked down the corridor with a gait that belied her sixty-two years. When she and Gouf met in the hallway, she spoke at once. " I was permitted to examine the girl," "And the results?" "Her nutritional state is poor, but there are no serious injuries. However..." Helga paused slightly. " The mental exhaustion is far greater. That child has been maintaining constant vigilance. She has nowhere she feels safe," Gouf said nothing. " Whether this place becomes somewhere she can feel safe depends entirely on you," "That is not my role," Helga laughed softly. There was no barb in the laughter. Only a knowing look in her eyes. " What is a role, anyway? By that measure, I am a physician with no connection to the people in this place," She continued on toward the medical room. Watching her receding figure, Gouf was alone once more. The corridor's illumination stone seemed dimmer than usual. It might have been his imagination. —— As evening came, Gouf returned to his private quarters on the basement's third level. He sat in his chair and placed Echidna's manuscript on his lap. He did not open it. He simply held it there. In his mind, he heard Seril's voice from today. "The people from Forna were called that way too." Forna village. A farming settlement of three hundred souls, burned to ash for a single "suspicion." A child born there now resided in this basement. A survivor of a place trampled by the kingdom's "justice." (I am the same.) Perhaps not the same. The place where Gouf had not been called by his name was a noble's labor camp, not a village. But he knew the meaning of being consumed by someone. He knew what it meant to be treated by function rather than by name. (That is why I could only say "you get used to it.") Bitter. That was his own thought. Not "get used to it." It should not be something one gets used to. But Gouf could find no other words in this moment. He let his gaze fall to the manuscript's cover. Faint letters written there: "Doubt the world's righteousness." To doubt was not to possess an answer. It was to keep asking. Gouf understood that once more today, he felt. The area outside his door grew slightly noisier. Ortz's footsteps were quick. The final preparations for tomorrow's strategy meeting were underway. Three executives from the Weltheim faction would enter this base by morning. Gouf returned the manuscript to the shelf. He stood and placed his hand on the door. (What will I say tomorrow?) The answer had not yet become words. But deep in his chest, it was already decided. Gouf could see to some degree what consequences it would bring. And yet—he had no intention of changing course.

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Episode 3

Name: The Spike of Conviction: The World Through the Eyes of the Witch's Apostles
Author: Novelia

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