– Disobey, and you’ll be handed over to the Inquisitor to face the Church’s torture chambers?
It’s something many rebellious children often hear from their parents growing up.
Of course, as they grow older, they inevitably realize the absurdity of it all. “Why would the Church even have a torture chamber?” or “The Inquisitors only go after heretics!” they’d say, rebelling against such notions.
It’s a perfectly reasonable reaction.
After all, what is the Church?
The Church, a sanctuary dedicated to Deus, exists to serve and bestow endless kindness upon all, following His teachings.
Why, then, would a warm and serene place like the Church have a torture chamber buried in its depths?
And even if such a place existed, why were no screams ever heard?
Even children who once feared the Church eventually dismissed these tales as mere rumors upon pondering such questions.
The torture chamber and the Inquisitors simply became topics of distant gossip.
“Grrk—!”
Deep underground in the Lichten branch of the Church of Deus, there was a chamber of inquiry.
The cloth stuffed into a man’s mouth served as an excellent muffler, ensuring his screams didn’t escape beyond the chamber walls.
Within the chamber, the muffled cries filled the space, echoing against its dark, cold walls.
The only light came from a dim bulb illuminating the man being interrogated.
The face and figure of his interrogator remained shrouded in shadow.
“I recommend you speak properly.”
However, his voice was young.
No, young was an understatement—it was almost childish.
The voice was clear and smooth, untainted by puberty.
With the voice of a boy, as if he were a merchant describing his wares, the interrogator continued:
“A whip hurts, sure, but it doesn’t cause lasting damage. These heavier tools, though…”
The cheery tone belied the grim setting, making the casual explanation feel almost surreal.
— Thud!
A dull impact rang out.
“Grrraahhh!”
Was it internal damage?
The cloth in the man’s mouth began to stain red.
“Starting to feel like talking yet?”
The sound of a cheerful chuckle came from the boy.
The tortured man began trembling violently, desperate to glimpse the boy’s face.
“Mmphhh!”
The man shook his head frantically, as if trying to back away.
— Clank, clank!
But the chains restraining him wouldn’t allow it. His wrists and ankles were already raw and bleeding from his struggles.
— Click
The boy stepped closer, his figure illuminated slightly by the faint sunlight streaming through the barred window.
He was a striking young boy with golden hair and pale skin.
The boy’s lips parted slowly.
“…You seem to lack faith.”
“Mmph!”
“Still not in the mood to talk? Who is it? Who are you protecting?”
The boy’s question hung in the air as the man’s eyes darted desperately, motioning toward the cloth in his mouth.
“Oh, ha-ha! My mistake. Of course, you can’t speak with that thing in your mouth.”
The boy’s laughter was light and pleasant—completely out of place in the gloomy torture chamber.
He stepped forward once more, fully revealing his figure in the light.
Short stature. Golden hair neatly parted to reveal a gentle forehead.
The boy’s smile was radiant, brimming with warmth.
With no hesitation, he removed the blood-and-saliva-soaked cloth from the man’s mouth and spoke:
“Now, shall we have a chat? About the heretics hiding here in Lichten.”
◆
The feeling of dread often arrives without warning.
The ‘Witch Hunt’ scenario takes some time to fully kick off.
Deciding to take a day off, I woke to the morning sunlight filtering through my window.
No, it wasn’t the sunlight that was the issue.
— Lick, lick!
A cat was licking me.
“Ugh! What the—?!”
A shrill scream escaped me involuntarily.
You might think I was overreacting to something as trivial as a cat, but…
“How on earth did you even get in here?”
There wasn’t any conceivable opening through which this little intruder could have entered.
— Lick, lick!
On top of that, the cat was assaulting my lips.
Grossed out, I grabbed the creature by the scruff and let out a sigh.
The cat dangled from my grip, calm and submissive, without even a hiss or swipe.
Instead, it looked up at me with such tender eyes, as if it had finally found its rightful owner.
“…”
Maybe I’m more popular with cats than I thought.
In a past life, I might have been a devoted cat servant—or perhaps I was some kind of walking catnip.
At any rate, this was a tricky situation.
Still holding the cat in one hand, I scratched my head and climbed out of bed.
“Who on earth is your owner?”
Maybe I could spend today looking for its owner. It wasn’t a bad way to pass a day off.
First things first, I changed out of my pajamas. Meanwhile, the cat (sleek black fur and overall quite elegant) simply stared at me or groomed its paws.
‘This cat definitely has an owner.’
Its posture screamed nobility, making me think of Silvia.
After all, pets are said to resemble their owners.
But somehow, I couldn’t picture Silvia keeping a cat…
I’ll just keep her as a potential candidate for now.
“Wait.”
If I were to find the owner based on the idea that pets resemble their owners, then…
“Could it be Danya?”
Considering her race—well, species—Danya was almost catlike in herself.
Although her fur was pure black, making the match unlikely… she was still a possibility.
Danya got along well with animals, after all.
“Guess I’ll start there.”
I grabbed the cat by the scruff again.
— Meow!
The cat nodded as if it understood me.
So it’s some kind of spirit, huh?
Alright, I’ll find your owner for you.
◆
“Ah, no, our Occult Research Club doesn’t keep cats!”
My first stop was Lupina.
Given that her clubroom was right below our floor, it seemed plausible that the cat belonged to her.
“Although, a cat would be really useful.”
Lupina’s eyes sparkled with greed.
— Hisssss!
The cat let out a visceral hiss, as if sensing the danger.
“Our club’s research funds just ran out. You want to donate this cat?”
“No.”
“C’mon, it’s obviously mine. Hehehe…”
— Hisssss!
From the context, there was no way Lupina was the cat’s owner.
And even if she were, I’d probably still rescue it.
“Let’s go.”
“Nooo! My catttt!”
Leaving Lupina’s desperate cries behind, I exited the building.
The cat climbed up onto my shoulder.
“Don’t rub against me.”
I gently pushed the cat rubbing against my neck to the other side of my shoulder and resumed walking.
Where should I head next?
Danya, Silvia, and Lina seemed like plausible candidates. They often came to the clubroom or stopped by occasionally, after all.
“This might turn into quite the detour…”
— Meow!
The cat let out a long, contented meow as if to say it didn’t mind. Well, if it’s fine with it, I suppose I can’t complain.
Just as I was about to take another step—
“Ian Blackangers!”
A young girl came running toward me from the distance.
She had ordinary brown hair that swayed with each step and wore an armband labeled [Newspaper Club] on her arm.
“Brody, wasn’t it? The one who’s a regular for Snowflake Fruits.”
I remembered her distinctly because of her obsession with that dessert. Not to mention, the article she wrote for the Dessert Research Club had been a big help in promoting the club.
“I’m currently working as a member of the Newspaper Club!”
Out of breath, Brody stopped in front of me, looking up as she caught her breath.
“Are you looking for a scoop? If it’s about the Dessert Research Club, I’m all ears.”
Anything that might increase sales is always a welcome topic.
“No, it’s not about that. I was just bored and couldn’t find any stories. It seems like there’s always something happening around you.”
…What’s this kid implying?
Is she treating me like a walking trouble magnet?
‘Now that I think about it, she might not be wrong.’
Oh, right! Since Brody is with the Newspaper Club, she probably pokes around the academy a lot. Maybe she’s seen this cat before.
“Have you seen this cat’s owner by any chance?”
“Hmm.”
Brody narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the cat.
Being in the Newspaper Club, she might just—
“Looks like a stray to me.”
She clearly doesn’t know much about cats. Anyone could tell this one is a high-breed, classy feline.
And smart too.
— Meow!
The cat meowed in agreement with my thoughts, earning a snap of Brody’s fingers.
“Now that you mention it, the number of stray cats around the academy has been rising lately. Could it have something to do with that?”
“The number of cats is increasing?”
“Yep. It’s too many to just blame it on people feeding them. The growth rate is way too steep. The student council has already taken notice and is keeping an eye on it.”
Hmm.
That’s an interesting piece of information.
“So, if it’s not natural population growth, someone could be intentionally releasing them?”
“…Exactly. Ian, you’re pretty sharp.”
Well, when it comes to unusual incidents, there’s almost always something ominous brewing beneath the surface.
‘The Witch Hunt episode escalates because of a series of terror attacks, doesn’t it?’
T*rrorism comes in many forms.
Cats and terror.
“…Not exactly a fitting combination.”
At my muttered comment, the black cat tilted its head curiously.
