-Arkan Lawrence-
In the novel, Howard is portrayed as the quintessential master manipulator—someone who knows precisely how to exploit others for his gain. If Clara is working with him—or worse, one of his pawns—there's no doubt Rainer is in grave danger.
I clenched my fists, trying to steady my swirling thoughts. I need to confirm things myself at the church.
I quickened my pace toward the village's central structure: the church. Its grandeur seemed almost out of place amidst the simple and weathered homes of the villagers. The dirt road stretched longer than usual beneath my hurried steps, or maybe that was just my mind spinning with endless worst-case scenarios.
"Howard… If he really is as deceitful as the novel describes, there's no telling how deep his schemes run. But how do I confront him without tipping my hand?" I muttered under my breath.
Taking a deep breath, I formulated my approach. If I went in swinging, it would only put him on alert. I needed to be natural—disarmingly so.
I reached the church doors and gave a measured knock, careful to keep my nerves under control.
Soon, the heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing Howard himself. As always, he wore his spotless white robes, a composed and welcoming smile on his face—a smile that felt like poison to me.
"Ah, Mr. Arkan. What brings you here this morning?" he asked, his tone soft and unassuming.
I forced a casual smile. "Ah, Father Howard. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting. I was hoping to speak with you briefly, if you don't mind."
He inclined his head slightly, stepping aside to let me enter. "Of course. Please, come in."
I stepped into the church, its interior still as serene as ever. Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, painting fractured rainbows onto the cold stone floor.
"What's on your mind this morning?" Howard asked as he made his way toward the altar, the gentle flicker of candles casting shadows across his face.
Scratching the back of my neck, I adopted a neutral tone. "I've been feeling a bit uneasy, honestly. Rainer… He vanished this morning. Have you seen him or heard where he might have gone?"
Howard paused briefly, then turned back to me with that same benign smile. "Rainer? I'm afraid I haven't seen him this morning. But this village is small; perhaps he's just taking a walk to clear his head."
I studied his expression, searching for cracks in the façade. He gave nothing away, which only made me more suspicious.
"I see…" I murmured, feigning thoughtful agreement. "By the way, I overheard some villagers talking about the protective necklaces distributed by the church. They said they've been a great help in keeping the sickness at bay. Is that true?"
Howard nodded, his demeanor proud yet humble. "Ah, yes. Those necklaces are symbols of God's protection. I distributed them to those most in need. The blessings within them have given hope to many during these trying times."
I tilted my head, affecting mild curiosity. "But some mentioned that the wearers of those necklaces were the first to fall ill. Is that true?"
Howard's eyes briefly met mine, and for a fleeting moment, his smile shifted—still polite but colder now, more calculating. "Ah, Mr. Arkan, rumors such as those tend to spread like wildfire in times of hardship. People are naturally inclined to blame what they don't understand, even when it brings blessings."
Clever, just as I expected, I thought, holding back the urge to press further.
"I see," I said with a light chuckle, masking my mistrust. "Maybe I'm overthinking things. It's just that this village is in such dire straits—it's easy for misunderstandings to arise."
Howard returned the sentiment with a gracious nod. "Exactly. But fear not—we shall overcome this adversity together."
We exchanged more superficial pleasantries before I excused myself. As Howard saw me to the door, his ever-placid smile felt like a blade pressed against my neck.
"Mr. Arkan, if you ever need assistance, don't hesitate to return," he said warmly as the door closed behind me.
Walking away from the church, I clenched my jaw, my thoughts a chaotic swirl. Nothing he said sounded overtly suspicious, but that's what makes him even more dangerous. His words are too smooth, too rehearsed.
I stopped momentarily near the field where Rainer usually trained.
"Where are you, Rainer?" I muttered, glancing back at the imposing silhouette of the church against the morning sky.
Grinding my teeth, I resolved to act swiftly. If Rainer truly was ensnared in Howard's schemes, then time wasn't on my side. But recklessness would only make things worse. I needed more concrete evidence before making my next move.
"Alright," I whispered to myself. "Tonight, I'm going back to that church—this time, prepared for anything."
With that resolve, I began planning my next steps. I wouldn't allow Howard to pull the strings unopposed.
-Third-Person POV-
As Arkan disappeared into the distance, Howard lingered in the church, watching the young man until he was out of sight. The faint smile on his face never faltered, but his eyes glimmered with faint amusement.
Such a curious young man, Howard mused, shaking his head slightly.
He hadn't missed the cautious glint in Arkan's gaze or the probing undertones of his questions. The suspicion was palpable—a shadow that clung to the edges of their conversation. Yet rather than feel perturbed, Howard felt an odd twinge of pity.
He must carry burdens of his own to look at me like that. May God grant him peace.
Turning back toward the altar, Howard lit a few more candles, their wavering flames casting long shadows against the walls. His expression grew solemn, tinged with faint sadness.
Howard had once been a privileged child, the son of a prosperous merchant in the capital. He had access to the finest education, wealth, and status. Yet he had chosen to forsake it all when confronted with the stark realities of poverty and suffering.
Leaving behind the luxuries of the capital, he dedicated himself to the church, using his resources and faith to aid those in need. Now, here he stood, in a forsaken village ravaged by a merciless plague, doing what he could to bring solace to the downtrodden.
And yet… my best doesn't seem to be enough, he thought bitterly.
He retreated to the church's back room, a modest study filled with books and records. Opening a worn journal, he thumbed through the pages, each one filled with painstakingly written notes—symptoms, timelines, failed remedies.
His eyes lingered on the latest entry:
"The villagers whisper of curses surrounding the protective necklaces. I cannot fault them for their fear, though their words sting deeply. If only I knew why my efforts have failed…"
Howard's lips tightened as he closed the journal. For a moment, he gazed out the window, his eyes fixed on the village beyond. Its quiet despair weighed heavily on him, but he vowed to remain steadfast.
These people need hope. Even if I can't save them, I won't let them lose faith.
"Lord," he murmured, bowing his head. "Grant me the strength to continue."