A Dark Fantasy Spy

Chapter 573




As a holy servant of the celestial deity, an apostle, and a cornerstone of the church, if one were to pinpoint the most important virtue of the clergy of the cult, it would undoubtedly be love.

Love is the fundamental tenet of religion, serving as its core direction.

It’s not about capturing and burning mages in the name of ‘the celestial deity’ or ‘the earth god’ while shooting in the desert. Such actions cannot be considered the essence of religion and should not be viewed as such.

From that perspective, the clergy of Lateran are seen as devoted servants who practice the teachings of the celestial deity.

The two saints stand at the pinnacle of this virtue.

However, there is a misconception among people.

Just because someone is religious does not mean they will always exhibit love and compassion.

No matter how distinguished a clergy or sage may be, they cannot be merciful to others at all times.

Even Jesus, who preached love, saw the merchants setting up shop in the temple and immediately wielded a whip like a farm owner in a cotton field, didn’t he?

This also applies to revered sages like Confucius, who sought inner peace, as well as philosophers from ancient Greece such as Socrates and Aristotle.

A sage who cherished etiquette and righteousness in the central plains made those who disrespected him kneel after sharing a ‘deep conversation’ with them, and a prince from the land of Tienchook personally demonstrated to the cowardly Mara Papias how he won martial arts competitions in his youth.

The great philosopher who established the syllogism fought as a hoplite in the Peloponnesian War and returned three times as a super soldier.

Plato’s disciple, bored, would leave the library garden to train his body and twice raise an Olympic trophy, so he was a true athlete.

What we learn from this is that even a saint’s compassion has its limits.

And anyone who thinks they can claim to be a virtuous person without having the spine of a former carpenter, martial arts competition winner, or a war veteran who has survived three battles, should think twice.

It’s also essential to remember that one should not act recklessly before a virtuous person.

From this standpoint, Lucia, canonized as a saint of the cult…

“Saint Lucia! Please put down that mace!”

“You should never use the Lord’s name to justify violence!”

“Violence? Oh Bishop, that’s a bit of an overstatement. I told you this is a love tap, didn’t I?”

“A religion should not be a tool for violence!”

“I have no intention to fight my dear brothers and sisters. I just want to end this tedious conversation. Now, stop with the nonsense and come out here to engage in ‘discourse.'”

“Almighty Celestial Deity, protect me with eternal light. This young lamb is far too young to face the judgment of heaven…”

“No. Everyone just stay seated. I will be the one coming over there.”

She truly was an individual whom the term virtuous suited above all else.

Her consideration for the elderly, her compassion, the affection she showed by patting the backsides of those who had fallen, and her factually armed self with a flange mace for smashing the heads of demons—who could dare deny that she is a saint?

Such a notion would be absurd.

“…Veronica.”

“Yes?”

“I forgot to turn off the gas stove. Is it okay if we go back to Abas?”

“Do you think it is?”

“No.”

“Then remain quiet if you know.”

“……”

Perhaps, it was something that had to be done.

Episode 21 – Peace of Our Times

At the moment when Saint Lucia was teaching the archbishop and the bishop, who were close to my father or grandfather, what a true melee was, I hurriedly grabbed Saint Veronica’s wrist and fled towards another cathedral, shaking her shoulder while shouting.

“Hey you crazy lady! You expect me to convince Lucia? Are you serious?!”

This was an utterly unexpected situation.

Goodness. Lucia wielding a mace and dancing like a fool before the archbishop and bishop?

“What were you doing until she turned into that? Huh?”

“I didn’t think she’d go this far…!”

Veronica, whose shoulders were shaking, protested with an aggrieved tone.

“I’ve been away from the Mauritania Continent for months! I expected my sister’s personality might change while living abroad, but who knew she’d turn into a demon…!”

“Veronica, do you have no conscience? Have you ever thought that you should have scolded your sister as an older sister?”

“Are you telling me to restrain Lucia when she’s raving with a mace?”

Ha!

The saint folded her arms, wearing a smile that could be interpreted as mockery.

“If that were possible, I wouldn’t be asking Colonel for help.”

“But why do I think I could do it…!”

Screams echoed, and I could only pull out my hair in despair. Veronica was absurdly requesting that I stop Lucia’s rampage. To be precise, this was a demand presented at the level of the cult, but it was no different. After all, Veronica was also a high-ranking official in the Holy See.

I had the willingness to help with ordinary requests.

Except for the request to sign a marriage certificate right away, I would have strived to assist Veronica in any way possible. We were not simply in a binary relationship of information agent and information officer.

But that issue was a different matter, wasn’t it?

“I can’t do it.”

“Oh, Colonel—”

“I won’t buy it, I won’t.”

“Please help me just this once. Come on, please….”

“You need to speak sensibly. Am I going to see someone’s head split open for fun?”

I can’t. Do it. You do it. I tried it but it didn’t work, and so on.

Having amicably drawn our hands together, Veronica and I tugged and grappled for a while.

“Convincing Lucia verbally should be possible. But if things go awry, her mace is going to be stuck in my neck, and what should I do about that?”

To be honest, I had no confidence at all in persuading Lucia right now.

It might be something to negotiate, but how does one persuade someone who is seriously treating it as a physical negotiation?

Objectively and subjectively, I had nothing to counter Lucia’s opinions. Perhaps I could have come up with a Northern Duke-level influence. But if I mess around with a saint who one-on-one fights the cult leader wielding a mace…

“Saint, please engage in national politics!”

“You’ve become surprisingly irreverent. I will rid you of the demon that has taken over your mind.”

“Ugh…!”

I trembled at the thought of Lucia bringing her mace down on my head.

“Ugh…!”

Whether she would smash my head with the scriptures or pound it with the mace. All futures involved quietly receiving a beating unfolded before my eyes.

“No matter how many times I think about it, I can’t do it. Don’t expect a change even if you keep asking.”

“Ah, Colonel! Are you really going to keep this up? A lady is begging like this and you’re being so insensitive.”

“Feel free to think of me as a lady from today.”

“Stop that nonsense.”

Veronica pulled at my wrist, starting to half-dangle as if she were a bull plowing a field.

It didn’t change my mind in the slightest, nor would the saint yield.

This was why our conversation was so fruitless.

“Speak what you want. If it’s feasible, I’ll go to the National Affairs Council and ensure it passes.”

“There’s nothing like that.”

“Money! Nothing can resist money, right? I’ll make sure you’re compensated.”

“Does it look like we don’t have money?”

“Geez! If you keep coming at me like this, how am I supposed to face you from now on?!”

“Indeed. It was enjoyable meeting you. If you have something to say from now on, please do it officially through diplomatic channels… Ouch! Why did you suddenly hit my head?!”

“Just! Because you’re being annoying!”

“For crying out loud….”

At that moment, while I was sulking from being hit in the back of my head, Veronica crossed her arms and, with a prim expression, gave me an ultimatum.

“Anyway, men are…. Fine. If you don’t want to do it, I won’t force you. The one to suffer would be you, Colonel, not me.”

“I don’t think you’ll be the one suffering here.”

“Really? Do you honestly think so?”

What kind of trickery was this?

Wondering what she was up to, the saint casually approached me, crossing her arms.

“How about Francesca?”

“……”

“Our Colonel wants to reconcile with his sister, doesn’t he?”

I kept my mouth shut.

As I quietly averted my gaze, the saint, as if she knew everything, subtly moved closer and crossed her arms.

“Right? Yes! That’s it!”

With a mischievous grin, she began poking my side.

Her voice carried a ring of playful mischief, adding to the fun.

“If we resolve this issue safely, I’ll be your mediator. You know that I’m great at lobbying.”

“…Is that even possible?”

“Why would you say that? There’s no such thing as an insurmountable problem in this world. Since I have my own responsibility here, I’ll make it work. Just consider this a gamble and let’s give it a shot.”

“……”

“Who knows? Maybe my sister would like to reconcile as well.”

…In any case, if I can’t even say a word…

Letting out a deep, resigned sigh, I gently brushed Veronica off.

“Fine. Well, you’ll manage somehow.”

“So what’s your answer?”

“I’ll do it. I will.”

“Great!”

Leaving the exuberant saint behind, I promptly decided to find a way to solve the request entrusted to me by the National Affairs Council and to persuade Lucia.

“I’ll attempt to persuade her but I need to know how things are going to proceed specifically first.”

“Tell me what you need. I’ll personally help.”

“…Let’s start by tackling one thing at a time from the beginning.”

If it’s with the information officer, then there’s only one thing necessary.

“Share some information, please.”

*

‘Memories for Peace and Reconciliation,’ commonly referred to as ‘Discussions on the Church’s Historical Mistakes and Past Reconciliation.’

This proposal currently under discussion within the cult has been a source of numerous controversies.

The core point is singular. It contains a power that can rival hundreds of nuclear bombs.

“Should the cult officially acknowledge the historical mistakes it has made over the past thousands of years?”

Moreover, not just acknowledging the wrongdoings, but also asking for forgiveness from the victims—a core aspect of this agenda.

However, to seek forgiveness requires an acknowledgment of sin first, thus the heated debate centers around whether to admit to the wrongdoing or not.

The Altiora Cathedral, where countless saints have resided, surrounds us with the rich aroma of coffee.

The landlord, having paused to savor his brewed coffee, opened the discussion.

“The crux of solving past issues, as you are aware, hinges on ‘acknowledgment.’ Will the cult accept to concede its faults, and if so, what specific flaws and to what extent?”

This isn’t a matter to be taken lightly.

The process of acknowledging sins among any group entails intricate entanglements of political and diplomatic interests, while also stirring individual rights, prestige, and legitimacy.

Interrupting the banal discussion, I spoke in a dry tone.

“It isn’t just a trivial matter. It’s an issue so severe it can hardly be summed up with the word trivial from the perspective of the clergy…”

In our daily lives, various processes exist for admitting faults.

Disputes between friends, negotiations involving victims and offenders in traffic accidents, and labor negotiations between unions and companies, to name a few.

As everyone knows, acknowledging a wrongdoing requires immense courage and effort.

Isn’t that the obvious conclusion?

Even when resolving daily disputes within a household, conflicts are inevitable.

For instance, when Adela secretly eats my ice cream, if my sister chooses to defend herself by saying, ‘I didn’t eat it!’, I must endure the effort of upturning the couch to receive an apology.

If this is true for a conflict involving households, how much more serious would it be for a group versus another group?

Isn’t it the case where there is a fierce WWE battle between the company and union fighting to assert their respective claims during labor disputes? Strikes, lawsuits, press inquiries, and so forth.

If it’s this much even for businesses, then when it comes to state-level or religious dimensions, how intense would the negotiations be?

That’s why my sister Adela, who works at the Foreign Ministry, carries digestive medicine every day.

“I hear this isn’t the first time discussions about historical issues have come up.”

“This proposal has been raised occasionally since a long time ago. There were instances when voices demanding self-reflection arose within the cult too.”

“But there has never been such a muddy brawl like this before?”

“Exactly.”

As the city ignites, Veronica, who had been fidgeting with her cigarette, reflected on similar topics discussed within the cult in the past.

“I don’t know how the outside world perceives it, but not a single bishop or cardinal within the cult has no sense of shame. That’s why discussions on historical issues have repeatedly surfaced. For traditionalists like former Pope John XVI and the current Raphael, who value tradition, they often say, ‘Nothing can be accomplished without sacrifice’… Yet, there are many who oppose that.”

“Is it true that there are surprisingly many clergy who look down on the Inquisition?”

“Where else would it stop at the Inquisition? There are plenty of bishops and cardinals who assert that constraints should also be placed on the military groups represented by the Holy Knights and Holy Crusaders. It’s just that they don’t openly express it.”

The saint of the cult, enveloped in thick smoke, faintly smiled.

In her calm voice, she portrayed those clergy who previously advocated for historical resolution and those who opposed them as…

Cobras.

“People often misunderstand; clergy are not transparent like windows. There are no people more duplicitous than religious individuals.”

At times, they can appear as stubborn conservatives, while other times they advocate for reforms without opposing mainstream trends.

They focus on their religious practices as believers, yet simultaneously cannot detach themselves from the secular world.

The saint was highlighting this duplicity among the clergy by referring to them as ‘old cobras.’

“A conservative bishop does not necessarily cling solely to tradition, just as a progressive cardinal won’t strictly insist on reform either. They can be seen as reeds, swaying with the winds of human nature.”

“The saying that ‘humans cannot be repaired’ doesn’t hold true every time. After all, humans are destined to change.”

“I agree. From that perspective, Lucia’s agenda on addressing past issues is likely a monumental shock to every bishop and cardinal, regardless of their tendencies.”

“Was it too radical of a proposition?”

“Calling it radical makes it sound like my sister is a communist. So let’s just term it unconventional.”

There’s no need to overthink it. All that’s needed is a simple understanding of the basic logic involved.

“The call for change resonates with other clergy as well. They acknowledge the need to reform the church to align with the ever-changing times and understand each other on that front.”

Change is essential. For change to occur, addressing historical wrongs must accompany it.

There are no clergy entrenched in the cult who are unaware of this connection.

No matter how powerful the church’s authority may be, it’s impractical for the cult to unilaterally suppress the authorities of other religions or nations.

The balance of power heavily tilted in favor of the church might have been a norm centuries ago, but in today’s world, merely relying on strength or religious authority will not resolve everything.

The key lies in timing and method.

‘When and in what form should we discuss reconciling our past?’

To this, the first saint declares…

“While it is acknowledged that the upper echelons of the clergy historically committed grievous acts, and it’s also true that it would be difficult to forge deep relationships with religious bodies or nations without at least an apology for the harm they caused, but… if you were to ask whether it needs to be resolved in a hurry, well… honestly, I’m not sure.”

Resolving past issues is not optional; it is mandatory.

In today’s world, where human rights are acknowledged as paramount, the process of the church admitting its wrongdoings has become a fate that cannot be avoided.

Nevertheless, acknowledging those wrongs isn’t an easy task— that was the essence of the saint’s message.

“The notion that the cult is an infallible community that has never sinned? I genuinely don’t think that’s true. If a person has any decency, they wouldn’t say such nonsense.”

“But why do you keep pretending to be virtuous without any sense of shame?”

“If you’re annoyed, feel free to cut me off. Nonetheless, while it’s imperative to acknowledge past wrongs, no one wishes for an immediate and public confession before the world.”

“And what’s the reason for that?”

“Conservatives fear that an unconditional apology would damage the church’s authority, while progressives believe that without sufficient preparation, dealing with historical wrongs would mean an insincere apology. In short, it would be seen as a hollow gesture.”

In summary…

“So, without proper preparations, no one wants to touch the issue of historical wrongdoings?”

“If you throw the dough into the oven before the fermentation process ends, there’s no way good bread will come out of it. It would leave both the eaters and bakers dissatisfied.”

“So it’s a case of being too early for this.”

Rushing into accepting all past issues means there would be no way to evade endless accountability.

On the other hand, conducting an investigation and apologizing quickly may render the parties involved refusing to acknowledge it as a genuine apology.

It’s reasonable to say that no one would accept an apology made after a mere few months of investigation into centuries-old grievances.

Even if we disregard the mockery about doing a clumsy apology, if any issues arise from inadequate investigations…

‘The ones affected aren’t us; why did you apologize to strange places? Do you even intend to apologize?’

‘This incident also erupted at the neighboring lower town, yet your report only states that we were hurt. The figures differ from the latest academic papers. Was this report really made by someone who fell asleep in history class?’

‘The compensation amount is miscalculated. Why did some receive compensation amounting to billions while others only got mere hundred millions?’

‘Why were the crimes committed by the Inquisition and Holy Knights omitted since they’re classified as state secrets and not publicly available? Don’t just go on babbling.’

‘The worth of the spells that were implemented is only this? Oh heck! Do you want a taste of our magic?’

‘The slave trade was unrelated to the cult? Ah! So we don’t need to compensate for the missionaries we executed! Let’s see what you say about that, you bastards!’

…It was easy to foresee an overwhelming number of desperate plea requests would flood in from all manner of outraged governments.

Thus, apart from whether to apologize or not, without detailed investigations and solutions, they couldn’t even freely apologize. This is the exact reason why both conservatives and progressives were rolling around in indifference.

I released another long sigh.

“It’s more or less becoming clear. So, the cult is willing to acknowledge its past mistakes, but owing to the timing and method yet to be determined, an immediate apology is impossible—this understanding suffices, right?”

“Umm…”

“Why do you hesitate then?”

“The matter….”

Veronica momentarily averted her gaze, stroking her neck. An expression of reluctance flickered across her face, as if she was contemplating whether she should voice this.

“To be honest, there’s a strong sentiment among both factions, conservative and progressive alike, against the idea of an apology. The cult can acknowledge past wrongs on the surface, but an apology becomes quite burdensome.”

“What on earth is this new absurdity?”

Acknowledgment and apologies are different.

To acknowledge is one thing, but to refuse to apologize?

In all my life, I have never heard such an absurd brand of nonsense. One of the most nonsensical kinds of wordplay.

“Have you lost your mind, human? Are you all on drugs or something?”

“Let me explain. It’s a bit complicated—”

*

“-In the end, it all comes down to economics.”

“Economics?”

At the Ministry of Finance headquarters in Abas, the nerve center of the kingdom’s economy.

Up high within the building, the lights in the Budget & Finance Bureau’s office were lit.

In the place that manages budgets for various governmental departments, many lights had been on. The office bearing the nameplate ‘Chief Budget Officer’ was located deep within the core of the department.

I glanced at the elegant nameplate.

It bore the name ‘Charles’ along with the surname ‘Nostrim’ and the title ‘Chief Budget Officer.’

-Smack!

“Ouch.”

“Little brother, don’t mess with Father’s nameplate.”

“What mess, I was just—”

A metal ruler slammed down on the back of my hand as he snatched away the nameplate. Jerry, my older brother, had aged a good ten years since I last saw him, evidently worn down by fatigue.

As he placed the confiscated nameplate back down, my father’s voice followed, weary yet stern.

“Stop squabbling. Are we really at the point where you’re fighting at Daddy’s workplace now?”

“I work here, though. Outside of Fredrick, there’s no one else.”

“Jerry instigated it first.”

“…Fine. I’ve messed up, so let’s just wrap this up. Please, I’m tired.”

Charles Nostrim, the Chief Budget Officer of the Ministry of Finance, seemed utterly exhausted from the squabbling of his childish sons (who are both part of the civil service). Judging by the exasperated look on his face, this was quite evident.

Nonetheless, I had come to this place to hear my father’s insights on the ministry’s budget. And I was able to receive answers to several of my questions.

“So let’s return to our previous discussion. You were curious as to why the cult cannot apologize despite acknowledging its past wrongs?”

“Yes. You mentioned it was due to economic reasons.”

“Exactly. Money is the core of all problems.”

After more than 25 years serving in the Ministry of Finance, my father’s answer was succinct: economics.

The senior official, biting the bridge of his nose, shifted his leather chair gently from side to side.

While it was curious that he could mouth the frame of his glasses made of tortoise shell worth at least tens of thousands in my currency without pausing, I did not think much of it as I had grown accustomed to the sight of him at home.

“The moment the cult decides to address past issues, it’s only natural for foreign nations to file claims for reparations. If direct compensation is feasible, the claims would be made from those sides. However, when it comes to situations involving the deceased or events from long ago, such as looting and arson during the Crusades or the oppression by Al-Yabd, it leads to the somewhat ambiguous situation of ‘not knowing who to compensate.’”

“It must be quite challenging to seek out each descendant.”

“That alone does not eliminate the obligation to compensate. That’s simply impossible.”

In such a case, the state could step in and claim reparations on behalf of the church, and thus, the cult would need to pay that state the compensation.

This was my father’s explanation. In fact, there have been actual cases where nations that were former colonial empires provided reparations for slavery and exploitation in this manner.

The issue was that these compensatory amounts were not small sums by any means.

“If the amount the cult is liable to pay for past wrongs becomes clear, the ensuing payments could become staggering. Think of it like this: there are estimates made by think tanks, but the methods of calculation differ, leading to high levels of uncertainty. But even so, it’s expected that the total amounts to astronomical figures.”

“How astronomical are we talking?”

“Hard to say. If we’re to go with just the estimates from our Royal Economics Society, it would be at least around sixty-two trillion silvers.”

“…Sixty-two trillion silvers? Not six billion, nor sixty billion?”

It was truly astronomical.

As far as I calculated, one thousand billion silvers roughly equated to about 130 trillion. One trillion silvers would then amount to 1300 trillion, meaning sixty-two trillion equates to…

Eight quintillion?

Without even the decimals, eight quintillion! How could such a reparative measure even be fathomable?

Cult, what on earth have you been doing for the past two millennia?

This outcome blew me away.

“It’s still feasible, right?”

“I’m not sure. But if we had to wager on interpretation, it’d need to be on the impossible.”

Charles Nostrim admitted this while wiping his glasses nonchalantly. Paying that back would basically spell economic ruin for the cult.

The Chief Budget Officer continued his explanation.

“With such a staggering sum required for reparations and the fact that it exceeds the cult’s entire budget for a year, it’s apparent that immediate repayment isn’t feasible. Therefore, they’d have to opt for a payment plan. Hence, if reparations are formally resolved, the most reasonable approach would be to discuss payment by installments.”

“……”

“The issue is that as the reparations required grow larger, and the term for repayment extends, the cult’s capacity to pay diminishes. Economics is not an area the Ministry of Finance can predict easily, and more importantly, there are no guarantees that constant prosperity will continue.”

At this point, I thought I would ease up on the idea of ‘Can’t the government tighten its belts to fix things?’ with slight optimism.

However, my father seemed to think otherwise.

“In essence, even though the immediate reparations are financially infeasible, both the cult and the countries involved understand this well. However, even if the National Affairs Council makes the hard decision to propose budget cuts and installment repayments, it is unlikely to lead to improvements. It may even worsen.”

First of all, he claimed that the very idea of cutting the budget was problematic.

“The idea of tightening belts means a reduction in budgets, which typically falls within the scope of government expenditures….”

My father, before moving on to other points, cautiously checked his glasses.

He then pushed the chair tighter against the desk and continued explaining.

“Over the past five years, the cult’s financial records have consistently shown a deficit.”

“What about Fredrick, he probably won’t understand as he ditched social studies in favor of history.”

“You should keep quiet, Jerry.”

As Jerry interjected, I shoved him aside. A stubborn son of a civil servant, of course, had a filthy temperament. I would make him pay for this in the future, perhaps by causing a traffic accident.

However, what my father’s explanation entailed was this.

If the cult’s fiscal balance had registered a deficit, what it meant was that the funds being spent outweighed the tax revenue being collected.

In reality, even if budgets were cut, there would not be an excess of funds available for paying reparations.

Why?

There was no need to think too complicatedly.

The cult had substantial debts on top of reparations.

“Even if allocating funds to social welfare allows us to secure finances, repaying 62 trillion to cover losses will remain a daunting task. As deficits persist, the cult’s debts continue to spiral. They’ve issued massive amounts of national bonds, accumulating immense debts too.”

One of the easiest and quickest options for a government to cover its deficits is to issue bonds in a rush.

Alternatively, the state could ask foreign governments for loans.

The significant point here is that all issued state bonds and loans accrue interest. The state must repay not only the borrowed principal but also the earned interest faithfully.

If they fail to do so, it leads to moratoriums, or worse, defaults when an economic downturn arrives, rendering any of these situations dire.

High-mindedly, one can assert that the state is on the verge of bankruptcy.

Now, the question is: what would be Raphael’s response regarding the repayments totaling to sixty-two trillion silvers, roughly equivalent to eight hundred sixty billion in currency, while concurrently wrestling with mounting national debts?

The answer must be:

“Just spare us!”

“Finance inherently carries risks. The same goes for governance as well.”

My father would assert.

The nature of money is credit.

“If the government borrows money for development projects while also investing in infrastructure, only to see no revenue generated or the economy steadily declines? How do you think that affects the state’s creditworthiness?”

“Naturally, it lowers. I’ve heard that the state-run fund on the church’s side is nearing a declaration of moratorium, so considering that, the impact would indeed be severe when reparations claims arrive.”

“That’s likely. Such a massive reparative amount would cast doubt on the church’s internal and external debt repayment capabilities. This wouldn’t be welcomed by the creditors of the church, namely foreign governments.”

It was only logical. If lenders were to receive nothing back, who would be happy?

Meanwhile, it turned out that the Abas government was in a position to receive tens of billions of silvers from the church.

If, upon the issue of massive reparative amounts, one of its creditors—the Abas government—was obliged to stand idly by for years, merely sucking their thumbs while wondering, “When will our money arrive…? Even just the interest?”

To grasp the context, it was clear why my father’s expression darkened the moment I broached the topic of reparations.

“For a few years, I suppose we’ll need to give up on the prospect of seeing any repaid borrowed money. It may take a long time—possibly over a decade.”

“Whether it’s twenty years or thirty, if we actually manage to receive it, let’s count that as fortunate. If the church declares a default just when national bonds are maturing, the future could see us all headed for a collective economic depression. Can’t you see how many institutions have lent significant amounts of money to the church…?”

The way my father said it felt unbearably burdensome, nearing death.

While my father pressed on his temples, I cautiously considered the stances of various foreign governments.

“So the church has borrowed money from numerous nations?”

“Of course. Having always been regarded as a credit-worthy entity, there wouldn’t be a single treasury department in countries from Kien’s Treasury to our Ministry of Finance or Patalia’s Economic Department that has not lent money to them.”

Alright.

Right about now, any government worth their salt would be extremely sensitive to issues about reparations. If the Ministry of Finance was screaming, “We might all die!” it wouldn’t be long before the Foreign Ministry and the Intelligence Agency kicked into gear, implementing every measure imaginable.

I could easily visualize any concerned state leaders at this moment, possibly hunched over their desks, pouring a bucket of water over their heads, praying fervently, “Please don’t apologize… Please….”

No need to hope for anything more than just that.

Ah, but economic crisis…

…Sigh.

“Should we all just collectively declare a default, should I consider selling my house to buy stocks?”

“That’s a crazy thought.”

“Then how about liquidating my savings for investment?”

“We would call that speculation, not investment.”

“And if you threw your wealth at that, what do you think I’d hear when Dad is called before the Senate? Don’t you think it would just be another awkward silence?”

“My son just found late-blooming investment talent.”

“Jumping the gun could leave you desperately broke in downturns, you know.”

“Isn’t that something we can prepare for?”

“Do you genuinely think you’re capable of that?”

“…No. It’s as if you’re casting bone at me.”

“Come on, don’t go diving to check temperatures in the river.”

“Gee….”

So then.

I summarized my father’s insights from the Ministry of Finance succinctly.

First, the cult cannot afford the astronomical reparations estimated at sixty-two trillion silvers. This figure exceeds eight billion in currency and might even result in more claims.

Second, should the cult undertake compensation, all other nations would be burdened too. With a bit of luck, governments might sell church properties to compensate; otherwise, people could be fated to plummet into a depression, much like African slaves loaded onto a vessel in the seventeenth-century. My father personally viewed the latter as a real possibility (not just for Abas).

Lastly, even in a hypothetical successful extreme economic diet leading to prosperity, should we recover the hefty reparations, challenges would remain.

“If budgets are drastically cut to accommodate payments, no one knows how long the suffering will last, whether internally or externally. If the church’s welfare budgets vanish, where will the vulnerable groups relying on international charities turn for help then?”

“……”

“But you shouldn’t worry about this, I reckon.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the church isn’t going to attempt to pay reparations anyway. I don’t think they’ll refuse solely based on economic reasons. The justification would be thin too, but… hasn’t it been stated all along? They might acknowledge historical wrongs but…”

*

“…They would never apologize.”

“What’s this strangely fresh absurdity, sister?”

“That means they’re not at all planning to compensate.”

Slamming the binder shut, my sister Adela pressed her palm down, retreating into her chair as if she were utterly drained.

“‘We acknowledge the mistakes but will not apologize,’ this essentially means that the church will never issue an official apology, only expressing regret.”

“Is it because they know that an official apology would imply legal responsibility?”

“The moment a government issues an official apology for a wrong, it effectively becomes the state’s official position. It subsequently carries a higher risk of unfavorable rulings in court and becomes somewhat binding in the church’s diplomatic policy.”

The civil servant of the Abas Foreign Ministry explained as if he were reading a fairytale to a young child.

Instead of kindly elucidating each point, she left certain bits unsaid, relying on general knowledge to fill in the gaps.

Perhaps because she had been resting her head on a neck pillow? She bore an almost double appearance of struggle. It was as if she were a person whose work life was synonymous with fatigue.

“By now, as a defense attaché, you should have grasped this concept perfectly. If you’ve been abroad working with the embassy, what have you been doing all this time? Didn’t I tell you to observe and learn?”

“Infiltrating.”

“Nice going, little sis.”

Adela removed the neck pillow from her neck, suddenly growing serious to continue her explanation.

“As I mentioned earlier, a government’s official admission of guilt is a decision riddled with substantial legal risks. Especially within the realm of diplomacy, this rings all the more true. One statement in a statement, one line in an agreement can put diplomats’ lives on cliff edges.”

The reason diplomats utilize elaborate language lies in the art of dodging responsibility.

It became apparent that had she chosen the path of a journalist instead of a diplomat, she would have excelled, given she was more skilled than most keyboard warriors. Perhaps she could have hosted a show on national television, or, conversely, could have faced backlashes owing to controversies.

Regardless.

Ada’s explanation was childishly simple. So simplistic that even a seven-year-old could digest it.

“The church isn’t inclined to accept accountability. They admit that historical wrongs have happened, but they find it cumbersome to be held personally responsible… it’s somewhat akin to that vibe.”

“Similar to former colonial powers never apologizing for their past suppressions, right?”

“Exactly! When international media asks whether they’ll apologize, their answer is ‘we regret the actions’ but they categorically refuse to apologize.”

“So the sum would be termed as ‘economic assistance for former colonies’ or ‘infrastructure reconstruction funds’… All nonsense, of course.”

“And fundamentally, no one would acknowledge that they’ve truly compensated.”

“Indeed, they like to play the diplomatic word game to turn people off. But in my opinion, the church likely will do the same under the guise of ‘assistance’, so long as they follow the precondition of accepting to pay.”

“What are the diplomatic assessments of that?”

“100%! It’s plain as day. Should they actually slap a label of reparations onto the funds? Then on that day, I’ll declare that I’ll take Ayla as my little sister.”

Clearly, that wouldn’t happen.

An authoritative confidence came from someone who could easily be regarded as a practitioner of diplomatic maneuvers.

“…Hmm.”

Throughout the dialogue, based on the fundamental positions gathered from Veronica, I compiled differentiated insights from the Ministry of Finance and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Excluding the stories from my family, many acquaintances I had come to know through my service as the Department of Defense’s information officer were now stationed in various government departments, allowing significantly swift synthesis of views.

While each department had differing emphases in approach, with regards to the matter at hand, the Abas officials reinforced one particular assertion.

At present, holding the cult accountable for reparative responsibilities was ‘rendered practically impossible’ and they remained unconvinced that the cult possessed ‘any intentions to pay full recompense’ or that it might hold ‘any willingness to pay even a single silver.’

It’s certainly shocking that there were still those who proposed the possibility of partial reimbursements.

Yet, amidst all that, they politely conveyed their disagreements to me, silent as they continued.

In any case, all the intelligence gathered had ultimately pointed to speculation on their part.

Having established no means of obtaining those reparations, I burdened great curiosity mingled with expectation as I wandered within the city of Abas, dragging a suitcase along.

Seeking for a way to persuade Lucia, it seems I needed to finally face the truth.

After all this searching and weighing of various government positions—from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to other nations’ diplomats—all left me feeling that none would suffice in persuading the steadfast Lucia.

Neither would political, economic, or diplomatic reasoning sway her, because these things would reside in the realm of logic, devoid of emotional appeal; any attempts to confront faith would fragment intentions.

What I needed was a fresh approach. I needed some alternative means to persuade Lucia.

Otherwise, I would require the help of specialists.

“Taxi!”

“Where to?”

“Take me to the immigration office.”

I loaded my suitcase into the trunk while the taxi weaved through the rush hour to its destination.

A person I needed to meet awaited me.


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