“Guten morgen, lad,” Klerien glanced at his right. He forced his lips to curve upwards. A man smiled, offering his hand.

‘This must be done, Klerien. Calm yourself and do whatever you’ve been doing for the last year, pretend and act.’

The same murky sky that covered the town of Hemlock for a very long time hovered. Dust, merchants, and the townspeople filled the busy streets. All of them prepared for the Sunday mass in the chapel. Children ran amok while mothers clutched rosaries. The solemn atmosphere of a Sunday morning gave Klerien a sense of nostalgia; an unwelcomed one.

“Child, quick before we missed the early mass. You do know how your mother could be if we were too slow,” Joseph chuckled as he helped his son in his garments. His wife will surely be angry if she saw them waste their time talking about her behaviour.

“No, father. Mother will be quite scary if that ever happened,” the boy giggled at his father’s amused expression.

“Guten morgen, Mein Herr,” he lowered his head before grasping the man’s hand. It was painful to remember. The man was clearly polite and respectable. He didn’t show any dismay at Klerien’s reluctance to accept his hand. He merely stood in place and patiently waited, a character that Klerien hadn’t seen for a very long time from anyone. A behaviour that he wouldn’t expect from someone that lived in this accursed place.

“I noticed that I have not seen your face around here. It was not often that Hemlock has a visitor. I am Lorenz,” he glanced at the woman and child beside the man. Klerien’s breath stuttered, recognizing the two. The mother and child stood beside him at the plaza during the trials. The child seemed to be under the weather with his pale complexion. “Are you also heading at the Church?”

“Yes, sir. I am Konrad, a merchant,” he mumbled. He should find a clue and fast. Klerien would like to believe that the man currently unconscious inside his room might be a key figure to his plans. Nonetheless, he must take precautions.

“Oh, why did you come here at Hemlock? We’re not exactly a place where…” Lorenz trailed off as his eyes wandered around the busy street. Foreign merchants couldn’t be seen.

“I wanted to look for customers who would be interested in my fabrics and pots without worrying for competition. I once worked at Luxor and I couldn’t earn my money’s keep.” He shook his head. Lorenz nodded before glancing at the dwindling number of people in the street.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, lad. If you’d like, we can pass by your store and see if we like some of your merchandise. I’m afraid, we need to hurry,” Klerien nodded with a smile, watching the family leave.

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“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” Klerien murmured through the small screen. After the early mass, he did what he’s been taught to do. Whenever his family attended the mass, they would always take a turn in the confessional box. His mother told him that he should cleanse his conscience from the tiniest sins that he had done, accidentally or purposely.

“What was it that compelled you to confess, son? Had you realized your wrongdoings?” he heard a deep voice behind the screen. He took a deep breath before speaking. The scent of the confessional box gave him a welcomed familiarity and courage.

“I am afraid that I have such a peculiar thought that might be unacceptable to my peers and family. It started when I witnessed the Werwulf Trials yesterday, Father. My conscience could not stomach the unspeakable things that they did to that man. I…,” Klerien trailed off, waiting for the older man’s reply. “I wonder how the vicars handle this,” he thought.

“Lad, what kind of thoughts plague your mind? Tell me and this servant of God might help in uplifting those doubts,” the voice answered without any hesitations. Klerien frowned.

“I thought that their actions were wrong,” Klerien carefully said. Cautiously, he forced his voice to tremble, giving the impression like he feared his own words. “They were torturing the poor man and his family. They might be the henchmen of the devil, but they were still human beings. My mother would always tell me that it was wrong to bring pain to someone no matter how bad they might be.”

“Everyone has their different perspective on things, lad. However, your mother might have forgotten that it was only just to give penance to someone who sinned. It was the will of the Lord, He gave his word to us. Associating yourself to the devil for your selfishness as a human person costs your life, especially if you gave your soul to the devil,” the anger that he felt pushed at his throat. Klerien wanted to scoff at the vicar’s words. How could they view their inhuman acts as penance from the Lord? The Lord never intervened in their world. If He did, his family would be alive and breathing.

“They tortured him, Father! The poor man has a family! They physically inflicted wounds on him and let him bleed to force him. It was not a just confession. I felt like, the man was being forced to confess. Just as you said a moment ago, someone must confess if they realize their own wrongdoings,” his ragged breathing came in short gasps. The anger that clogged his throat reached his mouth as the words that he’d been suppressing spilled one by one.

“A true confession must be done because you want to, if not, your sins will not be lifted.”

Klerien’s heavy breathing rang in his ears. On the other side of the box, a man wearing a vicar’s robes clutched his stomach with a hand covering his mouth. The scar on his temple, beside his eyes, twitched as he squinted.

“Now what should I say?” he cleared his throat. He wanted to laugh in amusement and mirth. “Lad, you are truly-”

The loud slamming of the wooden door startled him as it echoed inside the confession box.