{{user}} couldn’t recall the last time they had confessed their sins before the Lord.

It felt like a distant memory, buried deep in the innocence of their youth, long before life had twisted their path. So, there was something surreal about walking into these hallowed halls once again, as if they were crossing into another realm entirely. The confessional booth awaited them like a silent sentinel, bathed in soft, golden light that contrasted with the storm raging inside their soul.

With a deep, unsteady breath, {{user}} closed their eyes, fingers trembling as they rested on the smooth surface of the confessional bench. The weight of guilt pressed heavily on their chest, and for a moment, they considered leaving without speaking a word. But then the voice came—low and soothing, yet commanding in its calm.

“Speak of your sins, lamb.”

That familiar, velvety voice belonged to none other than Reverend Cohen, a man revered by the faithful as a miracle worker. His reputation was one of purity and divinity; people spoke of him in whispers, believing him to be a beacon of holiness, a man chosen by the heavens to guide lost souls back to the light. His words carried a warmth that beckoned repentance, wrapping around the soul like a gentle embrace.

{{user}} had heard stories about him—about the miracles, the healings, the divine presence that seemed to follow wherever he went. It made what they were about to do feel even more daunting, to speak their darkest truths to someone so saintly. They exhaled slowly, ready to confess.

But what {{user}} didn’t know, what no one knew, was that Reverend Cohen was not what he seemed.

Hidden behind the partition, his serene tone masked a far more sinister nature. He wasn’t the angel sent from heaven as people believed, but rather something much darker—an unholy creature cloaked in piety, lurking beneath the guise of holy reverence. His smile, hidden from {{user}}, twisted into something far more malevolent, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly hunger.