---

“Behold, the virtues of a cleric of the Cult, the most important of which is, of course, love.”

Love serves as the foundational thread of religion, the fundamental direction one ought to take.

It is not about burning magicians at the stake in the name of ‘the God’ or ‘the Earth God.’ Such acts cannot be deemed the essence of religion; rather, they should not be perceived as such at all.

From that perspective, the priests of Lateran were faithful servants practicing the teachings of the God.

The two saints stood at the pinnacle of that.

However, there is a common misconception among people.

Just because someone is religious doesn’t mean they always manifest love and charity.

No matter how distinguished a cleric or sage might be, they cannot be expected to treat others with compassion all the time.

Even Jesus, who preached love, upon witnessing those rascals selling goods in the temple, swung a whip like a farm owner in a cotton field, didn’t he?

This is equally true for the revered Confucius, who sought peace in his heart, as well as for the ancient Greek philosophers like Socrates and Aristotle.

The sage, who held dear the principles of propriety and righteousness, made those who displayed rudeness kneel before him through ‘deep conversations.’

The prince from the Celestial Kingdom personally imparted the lessons learned from winning martial arts contests when the audacious Mara Papias came charging in with an army.

The great philosopher known for formalizing syllogisms participated as an infantryman in the Peloponnesian War and returned alive thrice, a veritable super soldier.

Plato’s disciple was a physical training enthusiast regularly seen honing his body in the garden next to the library, winning the Olympic trophy twice.

What we gather from this is that even the mercy of saints has its limits.

Moreover, a former carpenter, a martial arts champion, a tough individual who could engrave the principles of propriety on the kneecap of a rude person, a veteran who survived three wars intact, and an Olympic gold medalist should dare not masquerade as a paragon of virtue.

We must also firmly remember not to act recklessly before such paragons.

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

“Saint Lucia! Please lower that mace!”

“You mustn’t use the Lord’s name to justify violence!”

“Violence? Bishop, you’re misinterpreting things. Didn’t I just say this is the rod of love?”

“Religion must not become a tool for violence!”

“I have no desire to fight my brothers and sisters. I merely wish to conclude this tedious conversation. Now, how about you step forward and engage in a ‘dialogue’?”

“Almighty God, protect me with eternal light. This lamb is far too young to ascend to the heavenly judgment seat…”

“No. Everyone stay in your places. I’ll be going over there.”

She was undeniably a talent worthy of the title of paragon.

Her consideration and love were evident in how she personally approached the elderly, patting the behind of those who knelt in submission, and who could deny her status as a saint, thoroughly armed with the Flanged Mace that smashed the skull of a demon?

Such a notion was unfathomable.

“…Veronica.”

“Yes?”

“I left the gas stove on. Is it alright if I return to Abas?”

“Do you think that will work?”

“No.”

“If you know, then be quiet.”

“……”

It seemed that it had to be that way.

—

**Episode 21 – Peace of Our Time**

At that moment, when Saint Lucia was personally demonstrating what a beatdown looked like to a cardinal and bishop who were about her father or grandfather’s age, I hastily pulled Saint Veronica’s wrist and fled towards another cathedral, shaking her shoulders as I yelled.

“Hey, you crazy girl! How is it even possible to persuade Lucia?!”

This was an utterly unexpected turn of events.

Goodness. Can you believe that Lucia, wielding a mace, was dancing around like a fool in front of a cardinal and bishop?

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

“Oh, I didn’t think she’d end up like this…!”

Veronica defended herself with an aggrieved voice as her shoulders jiggled around wildly.

“I was away from the Mauritania Continent for months! I expected my sister’s personality might change while living abroad, but who could have imagined she’d turn into a wild beast…?”

“Veronica, do you have any conscience at all? Have you never thought that you should’ve given your sister a good scolding from your point of view?”

“Am I supposed to stop Lucia swinging around that mace?”

Ha!

The saint folded her arms, a mischievous grin on her face as if to say she might be laughing at me.

“If I could do that, I wouldn’t have asked the Colonel for help.”

“But why would you think I could?!”

A scream, not quite a scream, followed, and I had no choice but to pull at my hair in despair.

It seemed Veronica was making an absurd request for me to stop Lucia’s rampage. It may have come from the department of the Cult, but it made little difference. After all, Veronica was also a top decision-maker of the Holy See.

If it had been a simple request, I would have considered helping her. Unless it was a request for a marriage certificate, I would have made an effort to assist her in any means possible. After all, our connection was not simply one as information agent and officer.

But that’s that.

This was an entirely different matter.

“I can’t do it.”

“Ah, Colonel~”

“I’m not doing it.”

“Just help me once. Please?”

“Make sense. Do you think I want to watch someone’s head get smashed?”

I cannot. You do it. I tried, but it didn’t work, etc.

Pulling each other’s hands, Veronica and I bickered for a while.

“Persuading Lucia is possible with words. But if things go wrong, that mace might end up embedded in my throat. What do you expect me to do?”

Honestly, I had no confidence in persuading Lucia at that moment.

That’s no bargain unless we’re talking about a reasonable negotiation exercise. How could I possibly convince someone so committed to negotiation (violently)?

Neither objectively nor subjectively did I have the means to sway Lucia’s opinion. Maybe someone of Duke status could, but facing off against a saint who wielded a mace in a one-on-one duel against the Cult leader…

“Saint, please engage in high-level politics!”

“You’ve become so irreverent. I’m going to chase out that evil spirit that has infested your head.”

“Ugh…!”

Imagining Lucia smashing down on my skull with a flail made me shudder.

“Ugh…”

Whether her sacred text would be crashing down on my head or that mace pulping my brain, I could picture my future as one of quiet suffering.

“I still cannot do it. No matter how many times you ask, nothing will change, so please understand.”

“Oh, Colonel! Are you going to keep this up? It’s shameful for a man to reject a woman so pathetically like this.”

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

“Stop the nonsense.”

Veronica clung to my arm, half hanging on like a bull pulling a plow.

That wouldn’t change my mind, of course, and a shift in the saint’s stubbornness was even less likely.

That was the reason for the fruitless conversation repeating itself.

“Just tell me what you want. If it’s feasible, I’ll pull strings with the National Affairs Council.”

“There’s nothing that can be done.”

“Money! There’s nothing money can’t solve, right? I’ll make sure you’re well compensated.”

“We have plenty of money at our home.”

“Ugh, seriously! If you keep acting like this, how am I supposed to face you in the future?!”

“Yes. It was nice meeting you. Should you need anything moving forward, let’s go through official diplomatic channels. Ouch! Why did you suddenly hit me in the back of the head?”

“Just felt like it! You annoy me!”

“Goodness…”

At that moment, after being suddenly hit in the back of my head, I shot an annoyed glance at the saint.

Veronica crossed her arms, adopting a cute face as she delivered an ultimatum.

“Anyway, men… fine. If you don’t want to, it’s pointless to push you. The one who stands to lose is you, not me.”

“You don’t seem to have much to lose yourself.”

“Oh, really? You genuinely think that?”

What kind of trickery is this?

I sent her a silent glare to ask what her game was, and the saint casually remarked in a calm voice.

“Francesca.”

“……”

“Our Colonel wants to reconcile with her sister, doesn’t she?”

I fell silent.

As I averted my gaze, the saint came closer, almost smug, showing me she knew everything.

“Am I right? Yes, I am! Then, it’s decided!”

Her mischievous voice poked me in the side.

“Once this matter is resolved smoothly, I’ll play matchmaker for you. You know I’m great at lobbying.”

“…Do you really think that will be feasible?”

“Why do you say that? There are no problems in this world that don’t have solutions. Since I have my share of responsibility, I’ll make sure it succeeds, so let’s just treat it like you’re gambling on a good fate.”

“……”

“What if your sister also wants to patch things up?”

If I can’t even say a word…

Letting out a sigh from the bottom of my stomach, I gently released Veronica.

“Fine. I know you’ll handle this nicely.”

“So what’s your answer?”

“I’ll do it. I will.”

“Great!”

Leaving behind the saint, who cheered in her exaggerated manner, I promptly decided to search for a means to resolve the request given by the National Affairs Council, to persuade Lucia.

“I’ll give it a try. But I need to know the details. What’s going on?”

“Just mention what you need. I’ll personally assist you.”

“…Let’s start from the beginning, step by step.”

If I mention what’s needed for the information officer, there’s only one thing.

“Please share some information.”

—

“Memories for peace and reconciliation,” commonly referred to as “the discussions regarding historical mistakes and past issues of the Church.”

This agenda being discussed by the Cult is fraught with numerous complications.

The main gist? It lies in a powerful impact comparable to several hundred nuclear bombs.

“Should the Church formally acknowledge the historical mistakes it has made over the past several millennia?”

But not only acknowledgment; the agenda also includes asking for forgiveness from the victims.

However, to ask for forgiveness, a confession of guilt must come first. Thus, the heated topic within the Cult boils down to simply ‘do we acknowledge the mistakes or not.’

The Altiora Cathedral, where past saints have resided.

The rich aroma of coffee tickled my nose, and as the landlord who offered the annex savored the coffee, he opened up the conversation.

“The key issue of the past discussions, as you know, revolves around ‘acknowledgment.’ Will the Cult officially confess its wrongdoings, and if so, what specific wrongdoings will be acknowledged?”

This was not merely a simple matter.

The process of a group acknowledging its wrongdoings is intricately entwined with countless political logics and diplomatic stakes, alongside the interests, prestige, and legitimacy of individuals and internal groups.

I spoke in a dry, matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s not an ordinary topic, to be honest. For members of the Cult, it’s a discussion that is too serious to be classified as just ordinary…”

The acknowledgment of wrongdoings can take various forms that we can encounter in everyday life.

Conflicts between friends, settlements among accident victims and perpetrators and their insurance companies, wage negotiations between unions and companies, and so forth.

As everyone knows, acknowledging guilt requires immense courage and effort.

It’s only common sense, right?

Even in household disputes, noise and trouble inevitably arise.

For instance, when Adela secretly ate my ice cream, to retrieve an apology from my sister who insisted, “I didn’t eat it!” I’d have to go through the trouble of flipping over the sofa.

When groups confront each other, the situation becomes even graver.

When resolving labor disputes, don’t both sides engage in intense combat to assert their claims?

With strikes and lawsuits, company representatives meddling with the press?

If this is how a conflict unfolds between a company and labor, how much fiercer negotiations would be when it goes beyond corporate disputes to the level of nations and religions?

After all, it wasn’t for nothing that my older sister Adela, who worked in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, always carried medication for her stomach.

“I’ve heard that discussions of historical grievances aren’t being raised for the first time.”

“This topic has been brought up sporadically throughout our history. There have been several calls for self-reflection within the Cult.”

“But there has never been a quarrel as muddy as this, right?”

“That’s right.”

As the city was ablaze, as the smoke puffed from her red lips, which emitted a breath that might have been a sigh, Veronica recalled regarding similar topics that had been discussed in the Cult in the past.

“From the outside, it’s hard to say, but among the bishops and cardinals, not everyone is shameless. That’s part of why the discussions of the past kept resurfacing. People like the former pope John XVI and the current Raphael, who prioritize tradition, often say, ‘Nothing can be achieved without sacrifice…’ Yet, many individuals oppose that.”

“Seems there are unexpectedly many clergy who hold disdain for the Inquisition?”

“Not just the Inquisition. There are many bishops and cardinals who argue that restrictions must also be placed on the military groups represented by the Knights and the Order of the Holy Knights, they just don’t express it outwardly.”

The saint of the Cult, enveloped in a soft haze of smoke, smiled faintly.

With a calm voice, she described the clergy who argued for past grievance resolution and those who opposed it.

Cunning as a serpent.

“People are under the illusion that clerics are transparent like a sheet of glass. No other group embodies duplicity as much as they do.”

They appear sometimes rigid as a stubborn fool yet other times advocating reforms without challenging the flow of the times.

They focus on religious life as believers but also cannot sever ties with the secular world, actively engaging with others.

The saint punctuated her point by declaring the duplicity of these clerics.

“Just because a conservative bishop doesn’t follow tradition strictly doesn’t mean a progressive cardinal only sticks to reforms. Are they like reeds? Sure, humans are that kind of creature intrinsically.”

“That saying about people not being fixable doesn’t always hold true. After all, humans do change eventually.”

“I agree. In that sense, the grievance resolution agenda brought to light by Lucia must shock all bishops and cardinals regardless of their inclinations.”

“Was it too radical a claim?”

“Calling it radical makes it sound like our sister is a communist! Let’s just call it unconventional.”

There’s no need to overthink it. This can be explained with simple logic.

“The argument for change resonates with other clerics as well. Everyone comprehends the necessity to reform the Church in tune with the ever-changing times.”

Change is necessary. And for changes, past grievance resolution must occur in tandem.

Among the clerics associated with the Cult, no religious person would deny this.

No matter how powerful the Church’s authority, it’s unrealistic for the Cult to unilaterally suppress the authority of other religions or nations.

The balance of power tilting towards the Church has become a narrative of centuries past; with the balance slowly shifting the other way today, we can no longer resolve all matters solely through might or religious authority.

What matters are speed and method.

“When are we to discuss the resolution of historical grievances, and in what form?”

To that, the first saint spoke.

“I admit the elders of the clergy have committed many misdeeds, and I concede that without an apology for these misdeeds, it’s tough to establish close relationships with the affected religious groups or nations. However, if you ask me whether it’s necessary to deal with this matter so hastily… well, I honestly don’t know.”

Resolution of past grievances isn’t a choice but a necessity.

If we were in an era like 19th-century Europe where human rights were trampled, that might be one thing, but in today’s world, the Church acknowledging its wrongs is practically an unavoidable fate.

However, even if it’s inevitable, acknowledging errors is no easy task.

This was the essence of the saint’s claim.

“The Church is a perfect, sinless community untainted by any wrongs? I honestly don’t think so. Anyone with self-respect wouldn’t say such nonsense.”

“But why do YOU keep pretending to be a paragon of virtue without any sense of shame?”

“Tell them to cut it out if they’re angry! Regardless, it’s unavoidable that acknowledging wrongs is essential, but nobody wants the decision to prostrate themselves before the world today.”

“And the reason for that?”

“The conservatives fear that unconditional apologies would damage the Church’s authority, and on the other side, the progressives see that resolving historical grievances without adequate preparation is merely an insincere apology. In short, it is seen as nothing but a hollow plea.”

In other words…

“Is it that no one wants to aimlessly tackle past grievances without proper preparation?”

“If the dough hasn’t even fermented, you can’t expect to bake good bread. It would result in dissatisfaction for eaters and bakers alike.”

“So you’re saying it’s an issue of premature timing.”

Just diving headfirst into acknowledging all past grievances would strip away any means of avoiding infinite responsibility.

Pushing swiftly to investigate past events and issue apologies might be met with parties denying that it was genuine.

Rationally speaking, who would accept the acknowledgment of grievances compiled over thousands of years just because it was gathered within a few months?

Even aside from snarky remarks about ‘slapdash apologies,’ if something goes wrong due to insufficient investigation…

“The affected areas aren’t those places, but us! So, why are you apologizing to the wrong places? Do you even have a heart to apologize?”

“This incident also occurred in those lower regions, but your report only states that our area suffered. The figures don’t align with the latest academic papers. Was a slothful bum assigned to it?”

“The compensation amount was miscalculated. Why were some paid in the hundreds while others in billions for similar damages?”

“Why was the Inquisition and the Holy Knight Order’s crimes overlooked? Oh, that’s state secret and can’t be disclosed? Get lost with that nonsense!”

“The values of magic that were dispelled are only worth this? Hey, wanna see some real magic?”

“Is the slave trade a matter unrelated to the Cult? Ah! Then, we have no reparations for executing missionaries! Line up for a beating!”

It was a given that an avalanche of requests for handshakes would flood in from furiously enraged governments.

Thus, regardless of whether to apologize or not, without a concrete investigation and resolution, apologies themselves could not be made freely. Both the conservatives and progressives had turned themselves inside out for this very reason.

I let out a lengthy sigh.

“I’m getting a clearer picture now. So the Cult has a willingness to acknowledge past grievances but cannot issue apologies at the moment due to uncertainties over timing and method. Is that the understanding here?”

“Umm…”

“Why do you hesitate?”

“Well…”

Veronica scratched her nape while momentarily avoiding my gaze. She appeared to be contemplating whether she really needed to speak on this.

“Actually, there’s a strong sentiment among everyone, both conservatives and progressives, that they don’t want an apology. The Cult can recognize the past grievances, but apologizing still feels burdensome.”

“What kind of new nonsense is that?”

Acknowledgment is one thing, and an apology is another.

Are they saying they’ll acknowledge but not apologize?

I’ve never heard a more outrageous claim in my life. There are no word games that can compete with this one.

“Have you lost your mind, Human? What, did you all take some drug together?”

“So explaining it gets complicated, but—”

—

“-Ultimately, it’s about economics.”

“Economics?”

At the Ministry of Finance HQ located in Abas City, the command center overseeing the kingdom’s economy.

On the upper levels, the lights of the Budget and Finance Department were lit up.

Several lights were on in the room responsible for budgets across multiple departments. And the office with the plaque labeled ‘Chief Coordinator’ was located deeper than all but the most inner sanctum.

I gazed at the vintage plaque.

There, engraved, were the names ‘Charles’ and ‘Nostrim’, along with the title ‘Chief Coordinator’.

– *Clang!*

“Ouch.”

“Kiddo, you can’t mess around with your father’s plaque.”

“It’s not a joke…”

A metallic slap hit my hand as the plaque was snatched away. My older brother Jerry, buried in fatigue, hadn’t noticed it slip away.

I had aged about ten years in that moment.

As my brother placed the confiscated nameplate back in its spot and tidied the metal objects, my father’s voice followed, directing a stern glare at me as I sulked with my pouting lips sticking out.

“Can you not fight for once? Are you now coming to my workplace to argue?”

“I work here. The only outsider is Frederick.”

“It was Jerry who started it first.”

“…Okay. I’ll admit I was wrong, so please stop fighting. I can’t take it anymore.”

Charles Nostrim, the General Director of the Budget and Fiscal Department at the Ministry of Finance, seemed to be at a loss with the antics of his childish son (a civil servant). The look on his face hinted at utter resignation.

Anyway.

I had come to this place to hear my father’s insights on the budget matters he was handling at the Ministry of Finance. And I was able to gather answers to a few lingering questions.

“Let’s return to our previous topic. You were curious why the cult cannot apologize even if it acknowledges the past.”

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

“Exactly. The economy is at the root of all problems.”

True to his years of experience at the Ministry of Finance, my father’s answer boiled down to just those two words: economy.

The high-ranking official from the Ministry of Finance, who was quietly biting the arms of his glasses, subtly rocked in his leather chair.

I found it amusing that he could nonchalantly put such an expensive pair of glasses (crafted from tortoiseshell, costing over ten million won) into his mouth without a second thought, but I had seen him do that at home enough times to just let it slide.

“When the cult begins addressing historical grievances, it’s only natural that foreign nations will start demanding reparations. If the victims are still alive, they can file claims directly. However, if the victim has passed away or the wrongdoing occurred centuries ago—such as the looting and arson during the crusades or the oppression by Al-Yabd—it creates a somewhat ambiguous situation of ‘not knowing who to compensate.'”

“It must be quite difficult to trace all the descendants one by one.”

“Of course, that doesn’t mean the obligation to pay reparations disappears. Not at all.”

In such cases, the state may come forward to file claims on behalf of the victims, and the cult would need to pay reparations to that state.

At least, that’s how my father explained it. There are indeed real cases where countries that emerged from colonial empires paid reparations for slavery and exploitation.

The problem was that the reparations weren’t a trifling amount of money.

“The exact amount the cult would need to pay in reparations for its historical issues is unknown. Think tanks have estimated figures, but since each institution calculates differently, it’s hard to determine an accurate figure. However, even considering that, the amount the cult would have to pay in reparations is astronomical.”

“How astronomical are we talking?”

“Well, according to our Royal Economic Society’s estimate, it would be at least 62 trillion shillings.”

“…62 trillion shillings? Not 62 billion, not 620 billion?”

It was a truly astronomical figure.

If I calculated correctly, 1 trillion shillings would be around 130 trillion won. So, 62 trillion means…

Eight quintillion?

Even without a penny to spare, that’s eight quintillion? Could such a reparation amount even exist?

What on earth has the cult been fighting about for two thousand years?

It was a jaw-dropping revelation.

“That’s an amount they could actually repay, right…?”

“Who knows? But if it’s a bet on money, I’d say we’re betting on impossibility.”

Charles Nostrim declared confidently while cleaning his glasses. To repay that debt would mean the collapse of the cult’s economy.

The Budget Examiner from the Ministry of Finance elaborated.

“The reparations are an absurd amount, far exceeding the cult’s total annual budget. Since they won’t have the capacity to repay it all at once, they’ll have to pay in installments. Therefore, if reparations are decided, payment in installments would be the most practical solution discussed.”

“……”

“The problem is, as the reparations amount increases and the repayment period stretches, the cult’s ability to pay diminishes. The economy is an unpredictable area even the Ministry of Finance struggles to forecast, and there’s no guarantee that prosperity will last.”

At this point, a naive yet optimistic thought crept into my mind, ‘Isn’t it possible for the government to tighten its belt to somehow make it work?’

But my father didn’t seem to share that stance.

“Both the cult and the impacted nations agree that immediate reparations are financially impossible. However, just because the National Affairs Council stubbornly adjusts the budget and decides on partial repayments, it doesn’t seem likely to improve matters. It might even worsen.”

To begin with, the very idea of cutting the budget is problematic.

“Leaving the spending tighter means reducing the budget, which is usually what is referred to as government spending….”

After briefly adjusting his glasses, my father pressed on while scooting his chair closer to the desk.

“The cult’s financial records have shown losses for the past five years.”

“Frederick completely skipped social studies and ended up with history, so he probably doesn’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Can you be quiet for a moment, brother?”

I shoved Jerry, who was suddenly interrupting with his annoying attitude to the side. A financial bureaucrat from the Ministry of Finance shouldn’t have such a nasty disposition. Maybe I should get him into a traffic accident or something.

Anyway, my father explained as follows.

In economics, the term ‘government spending’ refers to the funds the government plans to use in a given year. It’s the amount that is spent.

Conversely, ‘revenue’ signifies tax income, and what remains when spending is subtracted from this revenue is termed the ‘fiscal balance.’

“Simply put, it’s like when you take your monthly salary and subtract your rent, transportation, utility costs, and leisure expenses. If the amount left is positive, you’re in surplus; if it’s negative, you’re in deficit.”

“Why do you exclude food expenses? That should be accounted for as well.”

“You went to the military, didn’t you?”

“They charge for the food provided in the unit.”

“Oh, really? Not the Finance Ministry.”

“…Are you looking for a fight?”

In any case.

The essence of my father’s observation was that the cult’s fiscal balance, marked by its deficits, indicated that the outflow of funds exceeded the tax revenues collected.

Essentially, even if the budget were cut, there wouldn’t be excess money to spare for reparations.

The reason?

There wasn’t a need to overthink it.

The cult had amassed debts, not to mention the reparations due.

“Even if they reduce welfare and cut the budget to secure funds, repaying 62 trillion shillings is exceptionally difficult. The ongoing fiscal deficit continues to drive higher levels of debt for the cult. They’ve issued such amounts of national bonds, and the borrowing is staggering.”

One of the simple, fast options for a country to cover its deficits is by indiscriminately printing bonds.

Alternatively, they could ask foreign governments for loans.

The important factor is that all national bonds and loans accrue interest alongside the principal repayment. The state must steadily pay off both the borrowed principal and the accrued interest.

If they fail to do so, stating, “We can’t pay the interest right now… can you give us a little grace period?” leads to a moratorium.

On the flip side, if an economic crisis erupts similar to the Great Depression, leading the treasury up in flames with no ability to repay any principal at all, that’s called default.

In refined terms, the country has gone bankrupt.

Here arises the question.

What words would Cardinal Raphael utter, faced with the simultaneous burden of 62 trillion shillings in reparations (approximately 8.6 quintillion won) and pre-existing national debt?

The answer is quite simple:

“Just let me live!”

“Finance, at its core, is a transaction involving risk. Running a government is no different.”

My father declares.

The essence of money is credit.

“When the government borrows money for development projects and builds infrastructure, if no profit materializes or the economy takes a downturn, what do you think happens to that nation’s creditworthiness?”

“Naturally, it declines. I hear the cult’s national fund is on the brink of declaring a moratorium; considering that, the impact will be severe when the reparation bill arrives.”

“That seems likely. Such immense reparations could lead to doubts about the cult’s ability to repay both domestic and foreign debts, making such news unwelcome for creditors—the foreign governments.”

It’s basic logic. If a creditor faces non-repayment, who would feel delighted about that?

By the way, the Government of Abas was in a position to claim tens of millions of shillings back from the cult.

In a scenario where massive reparations are filed against the cult, the Abas government, one of the creditors, would have to twiddle its thumbs for a few years asking, “When will you pay us…? At least the interest…?”

It was clear to me now; my father’s expression had darkened as soon as the topic of the cult’s reparations had been raised for a reason.

“Looks like I should give up on getting back the money loaned for years. It might take a decade or more.”

“If I can at least get a fraction back in twenty or thirty years, consider it fortunate. If the cult announces default just as national bonds mature, it’s a foregone conclusion we are all heading into a great depression together, don’t you think? How many institutions have lent money to the cult…?”

My father, who was nearly at his wits’ end, was growing increasingly morose. If the economy of Abas were to match others towards a path of delisting, how tough must he be feeling?

As my father pressed at his temples in anguish, I cautiously speculated what stance the governments of various countries might take.

“Has the cult borrowed money here and there?”

“Of course. They’ve always had high credibility, so from Kien’s Ministry of Finance to our Ministry of Finance and the Ministry of Economics of the Republic of Patalia, no one has refused them loans.”

Okay.

By now, nearly every major government probably has its eyes peeled for discussions around the reparations. When the Ministry of Finance screams, “We’re all going to die!” the Ministry of Foreign Affairs or the Information Agency would start sending out reconnaissance.

Any reasonable leader would probably be sending out prayers in their office right now, “Please don’t apologize… please….”

It was a given.

Now, a financial crisis?

…Sigh.

“If everyone declares a default together, should I sell my house to buy stocks then?”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“What about cashing in my pension to invest?”

“We’d call that speculation rather than investment. And if you park your assets there, what do you think will happen when I’m called to the Senate? It’s a busy time with the national investigation underway…”

“If the child suddenly shows talent in investment, what can they say?”

“That could ruin you if you meet a bearish market.”

“Can’t we prepare for that?”

“Do you really think you can?”

“…No, why are you suddenly hitting me with logic.”

“Enough, don’t just jump into the river to check the temperature of the water.”

“Geez….”

Anyway.

I summarized the perspective of the Ministry of Finance concerning the Abas situation.

One, the cult is unable to cover the projected reparations of 62 trillion shillings estimated by the Royal Think Tank. This astronomical sum exceeds approximately 8 quintillion won, and there’s a possibility that the claim could be even higher.

Two, if the cult decides to repay the reparations, other nations will suffer collateral damage too. If fortunate, various governments might be able to sell the cult’s assets to patch things up, but if unlucky, it risks pulling everyone down together like the shackled slaves on a 17th-century slave ship. My father personally saw the latter scenario as a more realistic outcome (with Abas suffering the consequences).

Three, even if the cult somehow succeeded in drastic economic dieting and the economic indicators skyrocketed, problems remain.

“Even if we significantly shrink the budget to cut spending, nobody can predict how long the damage would last. This applies both internally and externally. If the cult’s welfare budget evaporates, where would the vulnerable groups cared for by overseas charities go?”

“……”

“But I doubt we need to worry about that.”

“Why is that?”

“The cult won’t attempt to pay reparations. Of course, they won’t refuse reparations solely due to economic reasons, and their justification for doing so is flimsy at best… but haven’t you mentioned before? They might acknowledge historical wrongdoing, but—”

*

“…They won’t apologize.”

“What a fresh take, sister.”

“That means they have absolutely no intention of accepting reparations.”

With a thud, older sister Adela slammed down the binder, committing her weary body deep into the chair.

“The phrase ‘we acknowledge but will not apologize’ essentially means the cult will not officially apologize in any form. They will only express regret factually.”

“Because officially apologizing would mean admitting legal fault?”

“The moment a government officially acknowledges it, it becomes its stance. This could weigh against them in court rulings, and it would impose certain compulsory requirements on the cult’s foreign policy.”

The civil servant from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs explained as if reading a fairytale to a younger sibling.

Instead of taking the time to explain thoroughly, it felt as though she glossed over, ‘You get this, right?’

Was it because she had her neck pillow on? She looked doubly tired. What kind of workplace was she even in?

“If you had served as a defense attaché, you should’ve understood this instantly. What have you been doing in the embassy all this time? I told you to observe and learn.”

“Espionage.”

“How great of you, little sister.”

Adela, with her pillow, paused in her thought, then resumed her explanation.

“As I mentioned earlier, the government admitting to crimes is a high-risk decision. This is especially true in diplomacy. A single statement or a line in an agreement can have diplomats skimming the line between heaven and hell.”

This is also why diplomats employ such a convoluted language style. There’s no better excuse for dodging responsibility than well-phrased wordplay.

I could only guess my sister might have become a massive success in the media had she turned her talents from diplomacy. Even the most seasoned keyboard warriors wouldn’t compare.

Regardless.

Adela’s explanation was straightforward, easy enough even for a seven-year-old to understand.

“You can see that the cult has no intention of accepting responsibility. They will acknowledge that the church has committed wrongs in the past but will refuse to hold themselves accountable… It’s somewhat of that sentiment, I suppose?”

“It’s similar to former colonial empires refusing to apologize for colonization.”

“Exactly. When foreign news outlets ask whether they intend to issue an official apology, the most common response is just ‘We express our regret’ while refusing to apologize outright. Also, when a government that loses a lawsuit pays rather than reparations, claiming it’s for support, aid, or cooperation, it follows a similar line.”

“Since it’s officially not considered reparations.”

“Though they specify it as ‘economic aid for former colonies’ or ‘infrastructure reconstruction funds’… you know the truth behind that, right? It’s all just verbal gymnastics.”

“International diplomatic language can sometimes peculiarly sour the listener’s mood. In any event, I think the cult would similarly seek to provide reparations under the guise of aid, of course with the prerequisite that they agree to reparations… what do you think, Ministry of Foreign Affairs?”

“100%. You don’t even need to see it, it’s clear. If they were to treat payments genuinely as reparations? I’d happily accept being Ayla’s little sister from that day forward.”

That means it’s highly unlikely to happen.

It was the well-founded confidence of someone well-acquainted with the intricacies of diplomatic martial arts.

“…Hmm.”

Based on the general stance I received from Veronica, I began gathering diverse interpretations from the differing perspectives of the Ministry of Finance and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Apart from the stories shared by family, I had friends working across various ministries during my time as an information officer in the Defense Ministry, so the gathering process was quite swift.

Though each department focused on different aspects, the consensus among Abas officials was clear.

Demanding reparations from the cult immediately was something deemed “realistically impossible,” and at the same time, it was widely believed that the cult had a “high possibility of not being able to fulfill the reparations” or that they would have “no intention of disbursing even a single shilling.”

As a sidelight, one person commented that although full reparations are improbable, they would still make some compensation, this person was a former ambassador of the Kingdom of Abas to the cult; I encountered him when I was first appointed there.

He appeared to have risen quite high in the ranks over our time apart.

Anyway.

The former ambassador raised the possibility of partial reparations. However, high-ranking officials at the Foreign Ministry unanimously shook their heads in disagreement.

The basis for adjustment in the reparations would only be beneficial to the cult.

From the perspective of those possessing claims, it would amount to giving them an equal footing with their enemies.

“Indeed, if compensation amounts drop, it would be the other governments—rather than the cult—whose heads would roll…”

I was strolling through a chilly park in the capital of Abas, a suitcase I’d hastily brought dangling from my hand.

Having returned momentarily to seek a way to persuade Lucia, I found some fresh insights from both Abas government officials and third-country diplomats. However, none seemed likely to sway Lucia’s heart.

Politics, economics, diplomacy—none function on emotions. The reasoning, grounded in rationality by those in power, would invariably clash with irrational sentiments that come in the name of belief. Or even challenge their convictions.

I needed a different kind of reasoning. A fresh perspective that would convince Lucia. Otherwise, I’d have to bring along an expert.

“Taxi!”

“Where to?”

“To the immigration office, please.”

I loaded my suitcase into the trunk, and the taxi navigated through the rush hour traffic.

I had someone to meet.

 

---