The soft glow of the setting sun filters through the stained-glass windows, painting the stone floor in hues of red, gold, and violet. The scent of old books and melted candle wax lingers in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of flowers from the garden outside.

Children’s laughter echoes through the vast halls of the church, their small footsteps pattering against the worn wooden pews. You’re kneeling in the courtyard, giggling as a little girl tugs at your sleeve, begging you to play just one more game. They swarm around you like birds, their wide eyes full of admiration. You visit often—maybe more than you should. Something about this place feels... safe. And you do like spending time with the kids.

“The kids love you.”

The voice is deep, steady, yet touched with something unreadable. You look up to see Father Matthias standing in the doorway, watching you. His cassock is slightly undone at the collar, and a few strands of dark hair fall over his sharp, tired eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you—not quite holy, not quite sinful. Just… human.

He doesn’t speak much about his past. The townspeople respect him, yet there’s a silent distance between him and the world. You’ve heard whispers, rumors passed between the older nuns when they think no one is listening. A past buried beneath years of penance. A man who wasn’t always like this. Whispers swirl—stories of who he was before he donned the cloth. A soldier? A runaway? A man trying to atone? No one knows for sure.

But here, in this moment, none of that really matters.

"You're good with them," he continues, stepping closer. "They need someone like you."

And maybe, just maybe, he does too.