Chapter 40: A Little Story

Gaining strength is pleasurable.

That feeling of every cell in the body exuberantly dancing with pride left Father York somewhat euphoric. He was fixated on random tasks, especially the rewards they brought, partly for this very enjoyment.

It was much like how gym enthusiasts might be hard-pressed to say they don't relish the afterglow of a workout. Just as they often say that fitness is addictive, for him, accumulating points was addictive.

After a while.

The flickering candlelight on either side danced uncertainly.

The night grew deeper.

Not sure how much time had passed, Father York, sitting on the front bench, suddenly shook himself, snapping out of the blissful trance.

"What time is it..."

Looking at the statue of Jesus that had always been there, Father York instinctively pulled out his phone.

[20:53]

Father York shook his head, feeling that time had flown. Two hours had passed unknowingly since the moment he allocated his points.

Importantly, at such a late hour, unless someone truly needed to confess or seek help, visitors were generally not normal, often heralding no good. So, whenever the church was empty, and if not necessarily required, he would choose to close for the day.

Picking up the Bible beside him, Father York prepared to stand up.

Perhaps his daily prayers finally moved God, for before he could get up, the sound of footsteps reached his ears.

With his enhanced all-around physique, his senses were now extraordinarily keen.

"Two people? Adults?"

From the sound of footsteps, an image formed in Father York's mind of two individuals walking across the plaza outside, heading towards the main building, getting closer, until they reached the door.

Father York shook his head slightly again, dismissing the mental image, and turned his attention to the door.

"..."

"Father York, are you there?" The voice came before the people appeared.

This familiar voice made Father York think of a police officer he knew, the one he met in the Tem community.

"Beck? Did you find out so quickly?"

Father York raised an eyebrow, feeling no panic, not even a ripple of emotion, as he wasn't worried about being arrested.

He was no ordinary person but a respected priest in several communities, whose bishop was the current Pope. In other words, unless he left the church, law enforcement wouldn't touch him without substantial evidence.

"Father York!"

Accompanying the shout, two men appeared at the door, one portly, the other slim, both dressed in plain clothes.

Father York first looked at the portly man, speaking softly.

"Officer Beck. What brings you here so late? Is there anything I can help with?"

...

Still only illuminated by candlelight, the previously quiet atmosphere of the hall was interrupted by a soft voice.

"Father York, do you believe there are demons in this world?"

Officer Beck, the portly man, sat beside Father York, glancing at his colleague, who was praying earnestly with closed eyes on another bench. His expression seemed hesitant.

Father York thought seriously. In this parallel world, there indeed were demons, not just them, but even vampires. However, he couldn't make someone who had never encountered them and was atheistic believe in demons.

"If you believe, they exist; if you don't, they don't."

Hearing this, Officer Beck turned his gaze away from his colleague.

"I don't believe, but my colleague here is convinced."

Continuing, Beck's expression turned incredulous in a distinctly American manner.

"Do you know, Father, it's all because of a little story he heard from his mother as a child. A children's tale. And he still believes it to this day."

Unable to understand what these two officers were getting at, Father York, who had been accommodating up to this point, glanced at the praying officer.

"What kind of story?"

"Hmm... let me think," Beck recalled seriously and then continued.

"He said there's a demon wandering the world that can take human form. This demon enjoys punishing sinners. Before taking their souls, it gathers selected sinners in one place and then tortures them brutally..."

As he said this, Beck spread his hands, swirling his finger by his temple, again wearing that distinctly American expression.

"What do you think, believing such stories, is there something wrong with his brain?"

Father York didn't respond but made a mental note of the story. If there really was a demon playing the role of a judge among humans, it was no ordinary feat. Walking among humans was akin to walking under God's watchful eye, if God truly existed.

"Amen."

"Hey, Father!" Beck, noticing Father York hadn't responded but only made the sign of the cross, pressed on with his question.

"You must agree with me, right?"

But just as he finished speaking, a hand patted his shoulder.

"Let's go, dear Officer Beck, who thinks I'm crazy. There's a new case..."

Saying so, the slim officer, having finished his prayers, nodded at Father York and strode towards the door.

Beck was startled, looking awkwardly at his colleague, who had already walked several meters away, having been caught talking behind his back.

"Father, thank you for your hospitality. We must be going, but we'll come again."

As he spoke, Beck picked up his coat beside him and stood up to leave, but after a few steps, he paused, turned back to Father York, and shrugged casually.

"Father, you haven't been to the Tem community recently, have you?"

Father York shook his head, replying calmly.

"No."

"Oh, then I'm relieved," Beck smiled, seemingly in a reminder. "The Tem community has been unsafe recently. A few days ago, several shootouts occurred. Some mysterious person just showed up one day and within a single day, took down all important members of the Vance gang with a gun..."

Pausing, Beck continued, his gaze fixed on Father York.

"Do you think this mysterious person is playing a game of justice?"

Father York remained calm, making the sign of the cross. "That's a bit beyond my expertise, Officer Beck. I'm just a regular priest, not a criminal analyst."

"Oh, right, my mistake," Beck slapped his forehead as if just realizing.

"My apologies, Father York."

Father York calmly replied.

"It's alright."

Beck nodded seriously at the priest and then left, his coat in hand. Soon, he was out of sight.

In the empty hall, Father York was left alone on the bench.

"Were those two fishing for information?"

Father York reviewed the entire interaction, confirming no details were missed. He shrugged indifferently, picked up the Bible, and stood up to count the money in the donation box below the statue of Jesus before closing for the day.