Kanna listened attentively as Gabriel explained the current state of affairs regarding the lady's assignment.
Hena, eavesdropping on their conversation, let her gaze wander across the temple's interior with undisguised curiosity. When else would she have the opportunity to visit such a place?
While the building had appeared luxurious from the outside, its interior was *breathtaking*. Stained glass windows blazed with every color of the rainbow, depicting scenes from sacred scriptures in brilliant, jewel-toned light. Statues of the sun god Rael towered throughout the halls, their golden faces serene and watchful.
The parishioners—mostly aristocrats—drifted through the corridors to pray, and the priests who accompanied them wore robes of rich, embroidered fabric. Hena recalled that the priests who helped the poor in the slums dressed in simple, unadorned clothing. Perhaps the clergy here dressed so elegantly because they served nobles?
Or did they deliberately dress modestly in the slums to avoid arousing envy?
_No,_ she thought. _That's probably too cynical._
"Madam, we are honored to welcome you to the temple," a priest intoned, bowing gracefully. "May the light of the sun be with you."
_At least the greeting is the same._
Hena mentally repeated the words: *May the light of the sun be with you.*
They walked along the plush carpet and soon reached the main hall, where a small but exquisitely beautiful fountain stood at its center.
_Aren't fountains usually placed outside?_
Hena gazed curiously at the structure, which seemed oddly out of place indoors. Then she noticed a noblewoman approach, accompanied by a priest. The woman cupped her palms beneath the water, scooped it up, and drank.
Hena blinked in surprise. Aristocrats usually disdained even *washing* with tap water—let alone drinking from a communal fountain.
And besides, was it even safe to drink water from a temple fountain? Uncertain, Hena turned to Gabriel.
"Is it safe to drink the water from this fountain?"
"Yes. It is holy water."
"What?"
"This is holy water."
*Holy water?*
Hena suddenly remembered where she was. Of course there would be holy water here—it was produced in temples, after all. But why was it flowing freely in a fountain?
She stared at the inexhaustible source, and an inexplicable unease coiled in her stomach. Her throat tightened. She was suddenly, desperately thirsty—even though no one before her had been dying of thirst. She squeezed Kanna's hand tightly.
Kanna remained silent, understanding, though Hena's grip must have hurt.
"Not everyone has access," Gabriel explained, his tone matter-of-fact. "As you can see, the fountain is guarded by knights. Drinking from it is a privilege reserved for those who make generous donations."
A reminder that most of the temple's parishioners were aristocrats.
"It is a demonstration of the temple's power."
Gabriel's voice was distant, almost cold. Hena considered his words carefully.
_So the temple places itself above the aristocracy—even though nobles are its primary donors? And forces them to perform acts they would never consider in ordinary life?_
But was that really how a Templar should speak? Calling his parishioners "donors"...
Hena suddenly realized she had never heard Gabriel pray. Although, perhaps he simply refrained out of politeness.
She didn't know the answer. She followed Gabriel in silence.
---
After passing the fountain, they found themselves before a gathered crowd. The painting was here.
"I must warn you," Gabriel said quietly, "this painting evokes... mixed feelings. Some find it beautiful. Others find it repulsive."
There was no need for further explanation. Hena already understood that Gabriel belonged to the second category.
And then, finally, she saw it.
---
*Did she burn?*
The canvas was covered in dull, dirty colors—grays and browns like ash smeared across the surface. The painting was utterly out of place in the temple's gleaming interior of white marble and gold leaf. It was like a drop of ink bleeding into a glass of clear water.
Taking a closer look, Hena felt a wave of nausea rise in her throat.
*Divine blessing? Sanctity?* **_This?!_**
She couldn't believe anyone could call this monstrosity beautiful. These people must have something wrong with their eyes.
Even the most pitiful of men would have looked better at the moment of death. No—even Donau's suicide had been more *dignified* than this.
Against the backdrop of charred boards from a collapsed building—as if just consumed by flames—a blackened torso writhed in a silent scream. It was missing arms and legs. Above it, a single eye glistened, streaked with blood. And from behind, as if emerging from hellfire itself, countless tiny arms reached forward, striving to devour what remained. They resembled wings, for they were woven from innumerable small, feather-like fingers.
_Do the believers know that Donau committed suicide?_
According to the teachings of the sun god Rael, those who took their own lives would never fall into his embrace. So this was a scene from *hell*—where demons came to claim Donau's soul.
"Oh, Rael!"
"Grant us salvation!"
Hena wanted to cover her ears. Could these really be followers of the sun god? Even *she*, who hated Donau, felt pity looking at this painting. How could anyone praise such horror?
"Truly... *beautiful*," Kanna said softly.
"Kanna?"
Unfortunately, Kanna thought the painting was beautiful.
"Ms. Kanna, you apparently see something different." Gabriel's voice was carefully neutral. "I find this painting repulsive. And Hena does too."
Hena nodded emphatically. She wasn't merely uncomfortable—she felt physically ill.
_Kanna likes this painting._
Hena looked around at the other viewers. The people gazing at the canvas seemed petrified, their expressions blank and glazed, like those of drug addicts lost in a trance.
*What kind of magic did the artist use to create such a contradictory work?*
Hena understood now why the painting hadn't been removed yet. Such polarized reactions only heightened its mystique. Those who loved it didn't care what critics said. For them, any objection was merely an attempt to denigrate a masterpiece.
"What's the difference?" Kanna asked. "Between what we see?"
"Who knows..." Gabriel's brow furrowed. "They say it depends on the degree of one's faith."
*That can't be right.*
Kanna, who actively *disliked* the temple, found the painting beautiful?
"Captain!"
"Rafaela?"
"Where have you *been*?! I've been looking everywhere for you!"
"Just a moment." Gabriel turned to them apologetically. "Could you wait here? It seems urgent."
"Yes, we'll wait."
A knight in a white uniform ran up from the distance, speaking to Gabriel with obvious agitation. Gabriel apologized and stepped away.
Hena wanted desperately to leave—to escape this eerie spectacle—but Kanna stood mesmerized before the canvas. She couldn't abandon her sister here alone.
Gabriel departed. Kanna admired the painting in silence for several long moments.
Then, suddenly, she spoke.
"Sister... do you see the same thing I see in this painting?"
Hena's breath caught.
"I think it's an eye."
Kanna turned her back to Hena. From this angle, the painted wings seemed to spread behind her—as if they had sprouted from her own shoulders.
Hena froze.
A chill cascaded down her spine. Goosebumps prickled across her arms. Her legs threatened to buckle, her ears filled with a high-pitched ringing, and the world tilted dangerously before her eyes.
*It can't be...*
An eye? Kanna saw the same thing she saw.
So...
*So Kanna called what I saw... beautiful?*
"Kanna, you..."
Hena wanted to yell at her sister. To demand an explanation. But what could she possibly say? That she was *insane*?
She couldn't hurt the girl who had suffered her entire life from illness—who had only recently started smiling again.
Hena found her words and managed to whisper urgently before Gabriel returned:
"Don't tell Sir Gabriel you see the eye. Tell him the painting seems *sacred* to you. Do you understand?"
There was nothing strange about finding the painting sacred—everyone in the temple thought so. But something was different about Kanna. She saw an *eye* in the painting.
And she called it **beautiful**.
A normal person wouldn't admire a gouged-out eye.
Kanna nodded obediently, her expression unchanged.
Hena, who had long harbored suspicions, finally accepted the bitter truth.
*Kanna's mind was clouded.*
She didn't know whether it had happened after Donau's abduction, or after her meeting with the mistress. Perhaps it had occurred even earlier—hidden behind the veil of her chronic illness.
"Thank you for waiting."
Gabriel had returned.
"You're welcome," Hena said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "We were so engrossed in the painting that we didn't notice how time had flown."
"I'm glad to hear it."
Fortunately, Kanna appeared perfectly normal from the outside. Besides, she was the mistress's favorite. Perhaps it was better to leave things as they were—for her own good.
Hena arrived at this conclusion, but deep down, she knew the truth: she was simply afraid to face it.
Yet she didn't hesitate. Just as when she had befriended the monster disguised as a cat, Hena always chose what was best for her sister.
*Always.*
"Why did they call you?" Kanna asked while Hena was still recovering. "Is it connected to the painting?"
Gabriel nodded.
"My subordinate reported that he found a witness."
"A witness?"
"Yes. Apparently, he was staying at the monastery when—"
"If it concerns the painting," Kanna interrupted smoothly, "I want to hear it too."
Gabriel considered this for a moment, then agreed. Apparently, he decided they had a right to know the truth, since they were already involved in the Donau case.
"I've ordered him taken to the sitting room. Let's speak there."
They had already examined the painting. There was nothing more to do in this hall.
Hena, desperate to escape this unsettling sight, quickened her pace—eager to leave the burning eye behind.