"I'll be cooking our own meals from now on," Y/n told Lucas, "do not accept anything the church gives you."

Lucas pouted, an adorable expression on his face. Y/n's hearts were tugged at the strings, and he looked at the child with a pained expression. Did children really deserve to live in such a society? Such a twisted, immoral society? Did anyone really deserve such a cruel fate bestowed on them? Did—did he deserve it? His sanity was slowly being tested and Y/n wondered if Father Anton's goal was to push him until the edge of a precipice: until he could no longer hold on, until he would fall.

The session at the reconciliation room hadn't just been strange. It had been baffling. Anton's supposed intentions and his actions contradicted each other. He was like a walking, living breaking of the word contradiction in itself. He spoke one word: he spoke God's word, then acted like the devil. Like Satan.

"But that's rude." Lucas protested.

"And dangerous." Y/n added, sighing. "Look, kid. It—imagine your favorite candy, alright?"

"I never really had candy," Lucas's shoulder slumped.

"No matter. My mother taught me how to make some sweets," Y/n told him, "I'll make them for you if you're good. But think of something you really like to eat: and then imagine someone puts something dangerous inside—"

"Oh, like those yucky vegetables!" Lucas interrupted.

"Like those," Y/n agreed, "obviously, you wouldn't want to eat those, right? But sometimes the church—they, um, hide those inside. So it's not very safe."

Lucas immediately pulled a ew, yuck! face, and Y/n smiled fondly at him. It was refreshing, and gave Y/n relief to see that at least, he had maintained his previous childhood naïveté. Too many children had their childhoods corroded with the teachings and their naivety whisked away by the unforgiving world they were raised up in, with the strange ideals and less than perfect roles they were given.

To start with, this child has had to witness the destruction of his home and the slaughter of his friends... Y/n swallowed, shaking his head nervously. No. No. Even that horrifying thought was etched in his memory, and as Mills would have put it, burnt into the back of his head.

"But you'll make me some sweets, right?" Lucas pleaded.

"I sure will," Y/n ruffled his hair, "and oh, do you attend school?"

"Only those who make good offerings can," The little boy frowned.

Dang it! Y/n forgot about that, unfortunately. Helen had been the one to create such a horrible hierarchical system.

"It's no good anyways," Y/n said truthfully, "I'm no expert myself, but I can still teach you the basics: arithmetic, language, and basic survival skills."

"Isn't this rebelling against the church?" Lucas fiddled with his fingers, "I'm a sinner. The people told me so. Should I really be—be—"

Y/n understood Lucas's fears. In fact, he shared the same visceral sentiment. This was risky. A sinner helping another sinner was extremely risky, especially when said sinner was teaching a little boy the very opposite of what the church encouraged them to learn. But Anton hadn't exactly specified on teaching what, right? So Y/n was willing to take the risk for now.

"Anton—Father Anton allowed it."

Only a half lie.

"Oh," Lucas brightened up, "okay, then. Thanks, um..."

Y/n knew that the children didn't exactly know how Father Anton looked. They had only heard myths, stories—and they revered him. Like he was God.

"Y/n." Y/n said, smiling gently at the little boy, who had begun to recover some sort of that eagerness and joy into his eyes, "you can just call me that. We will be living together from now on, so let's get along, shall we?" He raised a hand up, and Lucas returned the high five with renewed vigor.

"I really like the strawberry candies," Lucas beamed.

"I'll find the ingredients and make them for you."

"I thought you would say something like if you behave," Lucas mumbled. "They always say that in church. But sometimes I can't help but sneeze during the worship, and they punish me. I haven't eaten much in a few days," He frowned.

....I think you have been through enough already.

"You're a good kid," Y/n whispered. His hands unconsciously reached out to Lucas and wrapped him in a tight, comforting hug. "Remember that, alright? Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Even if it was just a little bit—no matter how minimal his effort was, no matter how small—he could ensure that at least someone would be able to have a childhood. That at least someone wouldn't be imprisoned by this regime. That at least—

Still I shouldn't get too attached, Y/n noted. It'll only make leaving harder. He would treat Lucas well, of course, but he would still have to put a considerable distance between them, so that it would make escaping easier. Better yet, if he could find a way to bring him along—

Y/n was getting too far ahead of himself. There were plenty of things that had yet to get even solved, starting from the game origins itself, Father Anton's motives, and leveling up. His inventory currently had a few useful things, and because he leveled up, he was entitled to a spin. He could always do it later, though. For now...

Lucas returned the hug, burying his head into the fabric of Y/n's clothes. His small frame almost seemed to quiver slightly, like he was—like he was amazed at this foreign thing called affection.

"Come on now," Y/n pushed Lucas away from him gently, "go wash, and dinner will be ready soon."

"Will you be eating with me...Y/n?" Lucas asked hopefully. He seemed to add the name as an afterthought. It was sweet, really.

"I will," Y/n assured, "wash up, and take your utensils."

"And the prayer...?"

Fuck this cult.

"We'll go over it. It's a special occasion," Y/n said breezily, "not all occasions require such formalities. But, do note that if someone from the Church tells you something, you follow it. We can't be so quick to rebel against them openly; but in the confines of this place, our house, you are free to do whatever you want."

"Alright!" Lucas chirped, "I'll wash my hands. Thanks, Y/n." He sent a sheepish smile, and Y/n smiled in return , before he headed to a corner and sat down.

Alright, now to spin the wheel...

He wanted to provide a sense of normalcy for this innocent child. Just something. Something that would allow himself to feel human amongst all this. Something for him to cling on to some semblance of humanity—even if it was selfish.

And now to spin the wheel...

[ Congratulations! You have obtained the land's savior: scroll >> you will be able to access ancient texts! We hope this will aid you, player! ]

What? A scroll? Some sort of ancient text, it seemed.

And something that would supposedly aid him...then perhaps it would be good to use it now. Y/n feared that if he didn't use it immediately, then the inevitable would happen: his death.

[ Using items ... .generating resources....ping! It has been unlocked. ]

[ Open. ]

A scroll popped up. Its image was similar to that of a hologram, and Y/n squinted his eyes to look at the array of small, printed text.

The Oracle, it read. In the near future, the people of the land will receive a blessing from the gods coming from another world. The person will save the land of its evil—the person will...

Then nothing. The rest couldn't be uncoded—more like, yes, it was written in English, but the words were so jumbled up and so messily typed and written that it was simply incomprehensible. Helpful? It seemed pretty unhelpful to him. All it talked was about a savior from another world, and—

Another world.

....Him?

Y/n let out a small laugh in disbelief. No way, right? Absolutely no way. No fucking way—

"Y/n!" Lucas chirped, "I'm done!" He came bounding into the room. His eyes lightened up and spread on the table. Though Y/n might not have seemed like it, he was an incredible chef. From the stupid, meager resources that they had been given, Y/n had somehow managed to cook a thin, warm and flavourful broth with the vegetables cooked at the side. He had to make do with the sparse items they had been given, but he had also used a bit of the coins from his inventory to his liking. He would rather have used coins for a child than to use it for some stupid offerings.

"It's so delicious..." Lucas murmured, "you're such a good cook! I haven't had such nice food in ages."

"Eat up." Y/n told him, "there's plenty."

Oh, come to think of it, Y/n also needed to sort out the stock they had on the fridge. It would be best to label the things he bought himself and name the food the church provided. Y/n was not going to take chances regarding the stupid stock. Who knew if there was poison hidden inside?

"I need to check something," Y/n ruffled Lucas's hair with a gentle smile, whispering softly as he brushed a strand of hair from the child's face.

"Do you need help?"

"It's alright. Focus on your meal."

"Okay," Lucas chewed on his food, cheeks flushed with pleasure.

As Y/n exited, unbeknownst to him, the doorbell rang. Lucas stood up, eyebrows furrowed. I'll go get it, he thought, as he slipped away, I don't want to trouble the kind mister.

Y/n's words of caution were still fresh in his mind, so he couldn't help but feel a tinge of apprehension as he opened the door, to reveal—

He seemed familiar. And he looked like a painting or sorts—like a—like an angel. In his hands, were a beautiful bouquet of bright, blooming flowers.

"Hello," The man greeted Lucas with a sweet smile, "you must be Lucas."

Lucas blinked in surprise.

"Um, thank you....?"

"Anton." The beautiful male tilted his head to the side. "As I expected. You live here now."

"F-Father Anton—!"

"Is Y/n your friend?"

"Y—Yes, Father Anton."

"How sweet," Anton hummed, "can I meet him too, then? He's your father, is he not?"

Father. What a nice expression. For such a nice person to be his father...felt like such a comforting thing to Lucas. He hesitated,  remembering Y/n's warnings, but this was Father Anton. He couldn't possibly be a threat.

"I'm sorry," Lucas said at last, "I can't let strangers into the house."

"Ah." Anton replied softly, "I expected as much." But then a smile was on his face. He held out the bouquet of flowers, looking at Lucas with such gentleness in his expression the little boy felt at ease.

"Pass this along to your father, then."

"Alright..." It had a pleasant scent. How wonderful of Father Anton to give them such gifts! He bounded to Y/n, who was busy checking the food supplies.

"...Why do you have flowers with you?" Y/n looked at Lucas and then back at the door. "What..."

The scent was overwhelming. The petals were almost too vibrant, like they were a warning. A sigh. A flag.

"Father Anton!" Lucas chirped.

Y/n's heart sank as with shaky fingers, he took the bouquet of flowers.

Roses, he realized with dread. Anton was three steps ahead of him.

Anton knew everything about him, down to his little movements.