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[Translator - Tangrine ]
[Proofreader - Seeker ]
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Chapter - 23: Burning Ceremony
Zara hated fairy tales.
She hated stories where good people were rewarded and bad people were punished.
She hated the hero on the white horse.
She hated the princess who was always being kidnapped.
And yet—
As much as she hated fairy tales, Zara was utterly captivated by them.
Every night, she imagined herself as the protagonist of a fairy tale.
She wished for an ideal world where the good were rewarded and the wicked punished.
She wanted to ride a white horse and rescue the princess.
She wanted to slay the witch and save the children.
She wanted to pull the sword from the stone and defeat the dragon.
The truth was, None of that really mattered to her.
What Zara truly wanted was to end her story with the words, ‘And they lived happily ever after.’
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.
.
Zara and Dandelion traveled to the Temple of Justice.
It had not been an easy journey because Zara was unlucky.
She carried enough misfortune to encounter bandits or monsters on the road.
To make matters worse, the hero Dandelion had lost her heroic power and was little more than dead weight.
Which meant that Zara had to endure most of the hardships on her own.
After many twists and turns, they finally arrived at the Temple of Justice—a place filled with the scent of sunflowers and sunlight. As if it were summer in that place alone.
“Wow……”
“Is this your first time at a temple?”
“It’s the first time no one’s thrown stones at me!”
“……”
“It’s wonderful here. Hehe.”
In truth, Zara didn’t know much about flowers, so she didn’t realize the scent was that of sunflowers.
What Zara knew was something far harsher.
The malice of humans, their frailty, jealousy, suffering, violence… the many ways people could so easily torment her.
In that sense, the Temple of Justice was truly a space for virtuous people.
No one here was weak. No one harassed Zara without reason. No one lashed out with violence or cruel words simply because they were displeased.
It was a beautiful place.
Temples were not beautiful because of the greatness of a god, but because the god’s teachings were actually lived and practiced there.
“First, we’ll need to meet the priestess and explain the heresy, so that you can become a Hero—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
"…Hm?"
At that moment, a single voice interrupted between Dandelion and Zara.
The voice of a young girl.
Their eyes turned toward that girl.
A beautiful girl. Her obsidian-black hair resembled the void between the stars in the night sky, and the black sword hanging at her waist was so massive compared to her small frame that it looked dangerously burdensome.
Her soul seemed bound not to her body, but to that sword.
"…Priestess, what brings you here?"
The Priestess. Beloved of the ‘God of Justice’.
She came to see them.
"I received a revelation. It said that a new hero candidate is on their way to the temple, and I was told to greet them."
"A revelation…?"
"Is that child the candidate for the new hero?"
The priestess’s gaze scanned Zara up and down.
It was a penetrating stare, intense enough to feel uncomfortable.
And there was little hostility in her eyes.
Even though it would have made sense for her to hate Zara on sight.
The Priestess of Justice… seemed like a person without emotions.
As if she neither loved nor hated anyone.
Zara greeted her brightly.
"Hello! I’m Zara."
"I see. Miss Zara."
"Do you think I can become a hero?"
"Anyone can become a hero. If you use justice and your vows as your guiding light, and act in a way that brings no shame to yourself."
"Heheh. That’s a relief."
The priestess’s words at first sounded like encouragement, but if listened to carefully, they were closer to a cold statement that anyone can become a hero here.
It was too general a statement for someone who had supposedly received a revelation about a new hero candidate.
That's why the priestess was truly something else, she would only follow her vows.
To the point that, if a divine revelation contradicted reason, she would ignore it.
This was the Temple of the God of Justice.
They were so obsessed with justice that they even placed the god’s teachings above the god’s very words.
They were truly righteous people.
"Let us go make your vow to the god. It won’t take long."
"Yes!"
"Before we go, remember one thing. The vow may be over quickly… but the promise must be upheld for the long years of a lifetime. Never forget that the weight of a promise lies not in the words, but in the actions that follow."
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Temple of the God of Justice. Baptism Chamber.
Zara, dressed in a snow-white gown so sheer it seemed it might turn transparent at any moment, stood blankly staring at the huge fireplace.
The Baptism of Justice was not a baptism by immersion.
Nor was it a ritual of pouring water on the head or a sprinkling ceremony.
The Baptism of Justice was…
A burning Ceremony, in which one’s sins were consumed by fire.
“I’m supposed to go… in there…?”
The blaze roiled inside the hearth, as if a fire demon might leap out at any moment and devour the entire temple.
Zara was terrified at the sight of the flames.
She had been hit by carriages, nearly drowned, stabbed by blades, and scalded by fire—she had endured every sort of pain imaginable.
But she had never willingly stepped into a blaze before.
“I know it’s frightening, but it won’t be as hot as you fear. Try placing your hand in first.”
“Eep…”
Zara hesitantly reached her hand toward the flames, ready to jerk it back at the first hint of heat.
But the fire gave off only a gentle warmth, nothing near as fierce as she had imagined.
“Wow… That’s amazing!”
“Step into the flame, offer your vows to the god, and emerge again. The price of false vows is severe, so only make promises you can keep. The harder the vow and the greater the burden, the stronger the power you may receive… but remember what truly matters is not power, but the promise itself. Never forget that.”
“Okay!”
“Then—I’ll give you a push.”
“Wait, what?”
Thud.
The priestess gave Zara a firm shove into the hearth.
With her hand still outstretched toward the fire, Zara had no time to resist and fell straight into the inferno.
“Kyah?!”
Flames caught on the thin gown she wore.
There was no pain, but the terror of burning alive stirred up phantom pain all the same.
She could hardly breathe, the heat devouring what little air there was.
And then.
The flames slithered like serpents’ tongues, slipping into her eyes, ears, and mouth.
In that moment, the world before her eyes changed.
She saw the memories she was most ashamed of.
Her childhood, when all she did was take and indulge.
The memory of her sins.
Zara’s face flushed. Not from the flames, but from shame.
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.
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It is a difficult thing for a person to face their own sins.
Guilt is a truly exhausting, dreadful feeling, and so people unconsciously distort and edit their memories of wrongdoing.
They shift the blame to others, sigh with relief, and say it was just bad luck and excuse themselves by insisting they never meant any harm.
The Baptism of Justice forces one to relive every forgotten memory.
So vividly, so unmistakably, that no excuse can remain.
Even the emotions and thoughts felt in those moments are laid bare.
It is an experience that truly makes one’s face burn.
Even without the flames consuming one’s body, a person burns from the weight of their sins accumulated over a lifetime.
“……”
Humans are not righteous.
In life, they commit countless petty and grave sins.
They turn away from injustice under the excuse of fatigue.
They lie to escape the pressures of the moment.
If one dares to pass judgment on another.
They must first know how much sin they carry.
If someone is about to swear, ‘I will slay those who abuse children,’ they must recall all the times they ignored a child’s outstretched hand.
They must face whether they are truly worthy to make such a vow.
To burn oneself down in shame is the purpose of the burning Ceremony.
“Hehehe… This is… way too embarrassing…”
The sin Zara had committed most often was lying.
Lies to deceive herself. Lies to hide the wickedness she believed she was born with.
Lies to find comfort in her own words.
Sometimes, she would curse alone.
She would cry in secret when no one was watching and tried to harm herself.
She loathed herself so much that, several times a day, she wished for death.
“…It hurts.”
She couldn’t breathe. The wound on her wrist throbbed and burned.
Ah… the world was truly… a place as painful as burning to death.
No, it wasn’t the world. It was herself.
The suffocating pain, the burning sting of her wounds.
All of it, she had inflicted upon herself.
“……”
And if this pain belonged solely to herself…
-“Zappy. Don’t be afraid of getting hurt. This pain can’t touch you. Wake the Alpha that sleeps inside you.”
Then there is no reason to fear pain.
No reason to cling to it.
The only one who can save me… is me.
The only one who can hurt me, and the only one who can overcome that, is me.
“…I vow, to myself.”
Zara established her first vow.
[I will not harm myself.]
It was a vow.
A vow to no longer feel shame over her inner darkness.
Only after confronting every sin she had committed.
She will understand that all of it had come from within herself.
Just like all sinners.
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[Translator - Tangrine ]
[Proofreader - Seeker ]
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