Fertilizer for Adults – 2

Unlike what Lumen had said, Maria couldn’t adapt to everyday life.

Everyday life. What was that?

Maria asked herself a fundamental question.

Weren’t the days spent with Saint my everyday life?

She questioned herself as she tended to the blade of her greatsword.

As she wrapped an old cloth around the greatsword, she recalled the time she spent with Saint.

When she knocked and entered his room, the Saint, who was a heavy sleeper, would stir in his bed.

Then, she would draw back the curtains that covered the window, greet the brilliant sunlight, and turn to look at him.

The Saint’s face was still lost in dreams.

She would stare blankly at his sculpted face for a moment, then clear her throat and call out to him.

Saint. Saint.

It’s time to wake up, Saint.

When she called him like that, he would move a few times under the cozy blanket before slowly opening his eyes.

Mysterious blue eyes.

After recognizing her through his blurry vision, the Saint would give a smile like the subtle warmth of the spring sunshine and say,

“Good morning, Sister Maria.”

Ah, what a warm resonance that was.

The hand wrapping the cloth around the sword tightened.

While the Saint slowly loosened his body, still heavy with sleep, Maria would prepare his washing water and bring it to him.

Then, she would leave the room for a while.

It was a wait of 10 to 15 minutes, but it felt longer to her than any event or ceremony.

As she waited endlessly for his voice, she would hear him from inside the room.

“I’m ready, Sister Maria.”

Then she would answer brightly, “Yes,” and follow the Saint to the dining hall, half a step behind him.

That was Maria’s everyday life.

Interrogating people imprisoned in a smelly underground dungeon would not be her everyday life.

Maria thought so.

She recalled the night it rained.

Saint was disappointed in me.

The stairs leading to the underground dungeon were long.

As she descended for a long time, she fully felt the musty smell of the underground.

The senses she thought she had forgotten, the senses from before she met Saint, were revived.

She thought.

I have to win back Saint’s heart.

The faint light illuminated the cells.

The unusual thing was that there were no iron bars in the cells here.

That was because it was both a prison and an interrogation room.

Maria opened the door to the assigned interrogation room.

She saw the figure of a prisoner sitting on a cold iron chair.

“Ugh… Ugh…”

The man, with his limbs bound to the chair, trembled at the sight of Maria.

It was all too clear what the appearance of the Inquisitor meant.

“Huang Daris.”

The prisoner’s name came from Maria’s mouth.

“Confess your sins while the Divine Doctor’s mercy remains with you.”

Maria proceeded with the familiar procedure.

“I, I really… I don’t know! I really don’t! Inquisitor!”

The prisoner wept and pleaded with her.

The desperate cry echoed through the interrogation room.

“……..”

Maria closed her eyes for a moment. The babbling of the insolent prisoner was annoying.

Oh, God. Forgive this sinner.

Maria walked to the wall.

The prisoner’s eyes followed her, and he trembled as he saw the tools hanging on the wall.

“Ugh… Uh…! Please…!”

A hammer and rusty nails rattling in a box were taken out.

The man trembled. A foul-smelling liquid ran down his lower body and onto the floor.

Maria frowned for a moment, but soon, as if used to it, she took a nail out of the box.

“Please, please, please… Oh God, please… Pleaaaaaase!!!”

With one strike, the man’s prayer turned into a scream.

Maria hammered a nail into the first joint of the man’s index finger.

The beast’s scream spread through the interrogation room.

Maria brought her face close to the man writhing in pain.

The man’s face was reflected in the green eyes with deep shadows.

“The devil is still in your eyes.”

The cruel Inquisitor concluded.

The Inquisitor is weaker than the Holy Knight.

“I’ll talk. I’ll tell you everything. My sins… all my sins… Ughaaaaaaa!!!”

A nail is hammered into the first joint of the middle finger.

The bound man’s body heaved, and he drooled an unidentifiable secretion from his mouth.

The Inquisitor is weaker than the Holy Knight.

“Ughaaaaaaa!!!”

Another nail hammered into the first joint of the ring finger.

The Inquisitor is weaker than the Holy Knight.

That’s right.

The Inquisitor doesn’t need the power to subdue the target.

She only needed the power to make the target open his mouth.

“I miss Saint.”

Maria, who had never shown such a side to Saint, muttered forlornly.

Before her was a man who had fainted from the pain, twitching periodically, proving his survival.