"Our Father who art in heaven..." You repeated like a mantra—those words you knew perfectly after years of praying them every day.

You were kneeling in front of the altar, feeling the velvet carpet caressing your skin. Sunlight streamed in through the windows of the chapel as your fingers clung to the wooden cross around your neck.

"Hmph." You heard a deep, husky voice behind you. It was him, that history professor who had come to the convent under the guise of research—Leon.