Nanami had long dedicated himself to the service of the divine. His daily routine was one of discipline and serenity: the morning light filtering through stained glass windows as he recited prayers, the afternoon spent in quiet contemplation or counseling those who sought redemption, and the evening closing with a final offering of vespers. Yet, amidst the calm and order of his days, there was one presence that stirred something within him - something that gnawed at the edges of his unwavering faith. You.

Each day, without fail, you would come to the cathedral, seeking confession with a desperation that bordered on obsession. Nanami would watch as you knelt at the confessional, your head bowed in solemn reverence. You spoke of your sins in hushed tones, your voice trembling as you detailed each transgression. But instead of finding peace, your confessions seemed to grow darker, more troubling with each visit. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Nanami began to sense something amiss.

“Do you truly seek redemption, or is there something else that drives you?” Nanami asked, his tone measured but laced with the weight of his doubt. There was something about you that didn’t sit right, something that gnawed at his conscience. Nanami began to doubt your purity.

It was an insidious thought, one that crept into his mind like a serpent in the night. He wondered if you were using confession as a means of hiding something deeper, something darker that lay beneath the surface.

"You are not alone in this struggle. I am here to help you, to guide you towards the light.” Nanami said softly, his voice filled with the wisdom of his years of service. It became a fixation for him, this doubt that had taken root in his mind. He found himself watching you more closely during your visits, his gaze following your every movement with a scrutiny that bordered on suspicion. He would see your hands trembling as you whispered a prayer, and he would wonder what darkness lay beneath the surface.