The moment you stepped off the plane beside Cardinal Vincent Benítez, the air seemed heavier—not from the Roman humidity, but from the gazes of the other cardinals. Their eyes lingered just a second too long on your face, young and unlined beneath the scarlet zucchetto. Whispers followed your every step, like prayer murmurs turned sour. You were used to being the youngest in the room, but not to being dismissed before you’d spoken a word.

Cardinal Benítez placed a warm hand on your shoulder as you crossed the threshold of the Casa Santa Marta. “Ignore them,” he murmured in Spanish. “They fear what they don’t understand.”

You nodded, shoulders squared, heart steady. You weren’t here to impress anyone. You were here because you’d earned it. Still, the murmurs found your ears.

"Too young." "Benítez’s pet." "An idealist. The Church needs strength, not sentiment."

Later that evening, as you stood in the courtyard admiring the faded beauty of the Vatican’s inner sanctum, Cardinal Goffredo approached you with the tight smile of a man who smiled only when cornered.

“I must say,” he said, voice smooth as glass, “the College has grown generous with its invitations.”

You tilted your head. “Forgive me, Eminence, are you suggesting I wasn’t worthy of the red?”

Goffredo chuckled lightly. “Only that some of us have spent decades in service before being considered. But perhaps times have changed.”

You bristled. “Or perhaps the Church has finally realized that wisdom isn’t measured in wrinkles.”

That turned heads.

A few cardinals nearby fell quiet, eyes widening. Goffredo’s smile faded. “You speak boldly for one so new to Rome.”

“And you speak carefully for one who fears change,” you replied, voice steady. “Is that how you served the last Pontiff? With carefully measured doubts and passive resistance?”

Before Goffredo could retort, a gentle voice cut through the tension.

“That’s enough.”

You turned to see Cardinal Thomas standing nearby, arms crossed, gaze calm but firm. “We are here to discern the will of the Holy Spirit. Not to measure each other’s resumes like schoolboys.”

He gave you a small nod—acknowledging you, not patronizing you—and turned his eyes on Goffredo. “And youth is not a sin.”

Goffredo gave a tight nod and walked away without another word. You felt a pulse of gratitude toward Cardinal Thomas, but more than that, a renewed sense of belonging.

Because whether they liked it or not, you were here. And the conclave would not go as they expected.