It felt like being caught in a massive scam.
‘No, not “felt like”—I actually got caught up in one.’
The pure white light, brighter and holier than color code #FFFFFF, didn’t just drive the demon back—it healed everyone present. Rita, Edward, and Cain all emerged unscathed. Rita even claimed that a small childhood scar had vanished.
“This feels off.”
Cain muttered under his breath, and Satin did his utmost to pretend he hadn’t heard it.
Rita had been unconscious, so she hadn’t seen the clash between Satin and the demon. Edward had witnessed that ridiculous fight but chalked it up as the fulfillment of God’s divine plan. Only Cain couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.
“Hurrah! Hurrah!”
“Look over here! This way, please!”
“Kyaaa! Hero-nim!”
Satin and his group were currently en route to the Grand Temple in an open-top carriage. Even though night had already fallen, crowds lined the streets, shouting and waving at the passing cart.
Satin rubbed his cold hands against his thighs, sighing inwardly.
‘I think I’m developing stage fright, seriously…’
The return trip hadn’t started out this way. After defeating the demon, the group had made contact with the chief at the Southwest Gate. As if he’d been waiting, the chief arrived with a carriage in tow—but it wasn’t the same one they’d ridden before. Figuring there must’ve been a reason, they got on. Open-top or not, a carriage beat walking.
The carriage passed through the Southwest Gate and returned to the capital. Once the soldiers stationed there began marching behind the cart, the whole thing turned into a parade.
That’s when Satin finally remembered the welcome ceremony the High Priest had mentioned. He also recalled the parade he’d seen back in Cloverland.
“Hero-nim!”
“Hurrah! Hurrah!”
Unable to meet anyone’s eyes, Satin kept his gaze fixed firmly on his knees. Edward, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, sat stiff and uneasy. Cain remained calm, at least outwardly. Rita, on the other hand, was absolutely thrilled. Like a top star reveling in the spotlight, she cheerfully waved at the crowd.
“He looked this way! Hero-nim looked over here!”
‘No, I didn’t…’
“Hero-nim! Wave at us!”
‘As if I would…’
“Hero-nim! Aaaah!”
‘I’m gonna die…’
The parade, which felt like it would never end, finally concluded once they arrived at the Grand Temple. As cheers from those unable to follow inside echoed behind them, the group stepped into the temple.
There were people waiting inside the Grand Temple as well. The only difference from the outside crowd was that these ones were orderly.
‘Did the High Priest not question any of this?’
The line of clerics didn’t seem like they’d been rushed into place. They moved with such seamless coordination it was as if they’d rehearsed in advance, guiding Satin and the others through the temple.
Unlike their first visit, the place the High Priest waited this time was an enormous hall. Though Satin couldn’t say for sure, it looked like the kind of venue reserved for major ceremonies. And sure enough, it was packed with well-dressed people.
‘So the parade wasn’t the end of the welcome ceremony?’
As Satin darted glances everywhere without rest, Rita leaned in and whispered a tip.
“This place is used for coronation ceremonies. Impressive, huh?”
Satin was too stunned to even admire it. Next to him, Edward was visibly moved, mumbling some kind of prayer.
Rita suddenly let out a soft laugh and teased in a hushed voice,
“So you get nervous too, huh?”
She was talking to Cain. He didn’t reply, just turned away with a sullen expression, but Rita wasn’t the least bit offended. On the contrary, she beamed. She seemed genuinely delighted to have a chance to tease the always-irritating Cain.
The line of clerics split in unison. In the blink of an eye, a clear path appeared in the wide hall. Satin hadn’t even noticed, but a red carpet had been rolled out as well.
‘I’m gonna be sick…’
Though the clerics no longer guided them, the group couldn’t stop walking. As usual, the order was Rita, Edward, Satin, and then Cain, stepping one by one onto the carpet.
In the vast hall, the only sound was the echo of the four’s footsteps. Satin was so tense he couldn’t even move his eyes, walking stiffly like a creaky machine. Glancing sideways, the clerics and attendees (if you could even call them that) all wore solemn expressions.
‘So they haven’t heard the full story from the High Priest yet.’
If they knew that the whole ordeal with the demon was nothing more than a theatrical farce, none of them would’ve been able to walk into this hall with such reverence. That thought made all the solemnly postured people around them seem no different from the citizens outside.
Satin, his conscience pricking at him, kept his gaze on the floor, unable to lift his head.
Despite its size, this hall was still a man-made structure. Rita soon reached the far end, just before the platform where the High Priest stood. But instead of stopping there, she stepped slightly to the side.
“Stand here, please,”
Edward whispered as he came up beside her. Satin instinctively followed his lead. Lastly, Cain stood at Satin’s side, forming a neat line of four before the High Priest.
‘Ah, I’ve seen this scene a million times.’
It’s in every movie or drama where the main character is a cop—after everything’s resolved, there’s always a scene like this. The hero and their comrades get medals or a special promotion, applause rains down, and some upbeat fanfare plays in the background.
Trying to distract himself from his stage fright, Satin let his mind wander—until the High Priest stepped in front of him.
“Hero-nim, raise your head. This is a celebration in your honor.”
Satin slowly lifted his gaze. Behind the High Priest, an enormous stained-glass window loomed. There had been stained glass the first time they met too, but nothing of this scale. Though no holy light streamed through it—it was night, after all—the sheer grandeur of the thing was overwhelming.
The High Priest didn’t force Satin to speak without a script. Instead, he addressed the audience.
“These past few days, many citizens of our capital—indeed, many people across the nation—have gone sleepless with worry. For the breath of the demon sought to invade our city.”
Calling it “the breath of the demon” made it sound far more menacing than when it had been described merely as a suspicious mist. And judging by the reactions, the crowd felt the same. They murmured as they brought their hands together and traced some kind of shape.
‘That must be the sign of the cross.’
Satin guessed, catching on by watching discreetly. Edward occasionally did that, too.
“I, too, was filled with anxiety. But God told me not to fear. Just as He protected us when the one calling himself the Demon King sowed chaos in Cloverland, and again when the half-beast monstrosities struck fear into the innocent, He said He would watch over us once more.”
Though the High Priest’s speech went on, no one in the crowd looked bored or restless.
“And true to His word, He sent a sword to overcome the trial. A sword called the Hero, who summoned holy flame and struck down the evil that dared to claim divinity. You all saw it. Even if you did not, you must have heard of it.”
The more Satin listened, the more it all started to sound like a cult sermon. He tensed his facial muscles to keep any heretical expressions from showing.
“If there is anyone here who would deny the sword of God, raise your hand and come forward.”
Satin was dumbfounded as the High Priest looked around and made the statement. Who the hell would raise their hand here? When everyone else says yes, the one who says no might succeed on rare occasions—but most of the time, they’re just ostracized.
“Since we are all in agreement, I declare this: the Hero, chosen by God, and his companions shall receive their rightful reward. Until the day they return to God’s side, they will be honored—and we shall never forget this day.”
The speech—whatever it was, sermon or declaration—seemed to be drawing to a close.
“As the bridge between God and His followers, and as His representative, I extend our gratitude and appreciation to the Hero and his companions.”
As the High Priest finished his words, the stained-glass window suddenly began to shine. It wasn’t even daylight, yet the hall bathed in a shimmering, ethereal light.
The effect didn’t appear to be a planned performance—there was a faint look of surprise on the High Priest’s face. The crowd, too, stirred in awe at the mysterious phenomenon.
“God is blessing this moment.”
The High Priest quickly recovered his composure and calmed the audience.
“Now, let us pray.”
The colossal pipe organ let out a deep, resonant note. Majestic music filled the hall, and everyone brought their hands together in prayer. Satin, watching the High Priest close his eyes, followed suit and shut his own.
‘Is everyone really praying?’
Having never once been to a church or cathedral in his life, Satin cautiously cracked an eye open and peeked around. Rita and Edward had their eyes closed. Cain, however, was just blankly staring at Satin.
Cain mouthed the words: Tired?
Satin couldn’t help but smile. No.
He wasn’t tired. But he was worried.
The major events of the Dark Age were now over. Even if the premise had been wrong, most of it had played out as expected, so Satin knew for sure—there would be no more Demon King, no more demons, no more mythic disasters.
But Satin also knew this: what follows war isn’t peace—it’s the life that comes after war. Just like how life after catching a serial killer isn’t the same as before—just a slightly different “normal.”
Books have a first page and a last. Stories do not. From a broader view, a story is simply the account between one midpoint and another. Even beyond that second midpoint, the world doesn’t disappear. The story may end, but life continues—and so people must keep moving forward.
Right now, this very moment, they had passed that second midpoint. Satin no longer had any spoilers to guide him.
‘What do I do now?’
