Cecilia's Monologue

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

At an hour when everyone was asleep, only I walked the dark corridor 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 I was caught by 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 sacred and benevolent than anyone else in front of the believers.

But the man before my eyes now was an absolute power-holder who had cast off the mask of a cleric and could destroy me with a single word.

He did not even lift his head even though I had entered.

The leather bag placed on the desk. That worn, 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 suffocated, as if my throat were being squeezed.

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

He still said nothing.

That silence mangled my soul more cruelly than any verbal abuse.

Eventually, 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 the silver crucifix on the desk and began to roll it playfully between his fingers.

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

He reached out his hand holding the cross and tapped the empty chair across the desk. A gesture to sit.

It was a gesture that was no different from a command 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 fate of both me and that boy would be held entirely in that man's grasp.

Without even wearing a smile, he was waiting 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 chair with my body shivering,

I lowered my head, unable to meet his eyes.

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