The church doors slowly opened with a low, tired groan, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the vast quiet within.
Drogo stepped inside.
The Catholic church stood tall and ancient — its stone walls rising like silent sentinels. Sunlight streamed through towering stained-glass windows, scattering shards of color across the marble floor. Blues, crimsons, and golds shimmered faintly, giving the air a crystalline glow, as though the light itself had been blessed before entering. The place felt suspended in time; Untouched and reverent.
Empty.
His footsteps echoed softly as he moved down the aisle, his gaze lifting briefly toward the vaulted ceiling before settling on the far end of the pews. There, seated alone in the first row, was a solitary figure dressed in black.
Drogo’s pace lessened.
Before joining him, he veered toward the statue of Mary cradling Christ. He knelt with a bowed his head, making the sign of the cross with practiced familiarity.
His lips moved soundlessly for a moment, words meant for God alone — he then rose and took his seat beside the man in black.
Silence wrapped around them.
The man’s hands moved steadily, the rosary beads slipping between his fingers in a quiet rhythm. His head was slightly bowed with his lips murmuring prayers under his breath.
He was dark-skinned, his face lined with age and wisdom, gray hair and beard framing features that had softened rather than weakened with time. His brown eyes — when they finally opened — carried a depth that made lies feel pointless.
He finished his prayer and turned his head slightly.
“Good morning, Father.” Drogo spoke first.
Father Richard smiled faintly. “Wonderful of you to finally visit… After all this time.”
Drogo exhaled. “I apologize. It’s just—”
“You needed something to happen before you came looking for help,” Father Richard interrupted gently. “I understand.”
Drogo sighed. “It’s not like that, Father Richard. You know how demanding the community has been since I moved there.”
“Hm…” The priest’s smile widened just a fraction. “I’m guessing from the long text message you sent me, you have a new employee at the office.”
That did it.
Drogo’s composure cracked like thin ice.
“Father,” he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face, “She is so infuriating.” He let out a sharp breath. “Honestly. A menace. A delinquent… And any other words that describe unstable insanity in a person.” The source of this chapter is g.com.
Father Richard didn’t try to hide the mirth in his widening smile.
“There is something- I-… I don’t even know the words to frame how psychologically wrong she is.”
Father Richard chuckled quietly. “Anyone willing to go through that much trouble just to work with you is certainly not well-adjusted.”
Drogo shot him a look. “That is not helping, Father.”
“She shot herself,” Drogo continued, voice lowering. “Deliberately. And she didn’t even seem to feel it enough! She wanted to add a second bullet before I immediately succumbed to her demands.”
“A woman that knows what she wants. That’s important in character.” Father Richard’s voice sounded more serious than he intended.
Drogo glared at him with a tut, throwing his comment under the rug.
He went on… “And today she’s acting like nothing happened. Smiling. Reading handbooks. And even asking questions she has no business asking. Father, there is something very wrong with her and she is fully aware of the discomfort her presence alone causes me.”
Father Richard listened, unhurried.
“Father, she’s connected to things I don’t want to be connected to,” Drogo groaned, tension tightening his jaw. “She had people search for me on the dark web.” His voice dropped further. “Do you know what I went through to erase every trace of myself? Every single one? And now someone is digging it all back up.”
Father Richard lifted a finger mildly. “Not erase,” he corrected. “Leave behind.”
Drogo fell silent.
“I… I understand the difference,” he said after a moment. “But the point is, Father, her coming into my life—into my work space —is not good for me. I am trying to leave all of that behind. And she comes with connections, with access, with questions.”
Drogo shook his head. “I don’t even know where she got the gun. Why she’s been watching me for days. But I know this… If I am not careful, she will drag me into something I worked very hard to escape.”
Father Richard’s voice remained calm. A long exhale dragged from his nostrils. “I can see where your fears are coming from… Quite understandable actually.”
Drogo looked at him with a grimace.
“But if we look at this optimistically… She could be a project for you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Drogo frowned.
“Drogo,” Father Richard’s hand rested on his shoulder. “You have always had the divine gift of empathy and psychological depth. Maybe, this girl that has crawled so deeply under your skin, is one those obstacles in your profession that might help you discover a part of yourself and even more.”
“Father, this girl is not a normal person with conventional—” This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“Your profession is not meant for the normal nor the conversational.” Father Richard calmly interrupted. “And so are you. Besides, anyone who makes a living from listening to people’s problem can never be well aligned mentality.”
Father Richard suddenly paused. “Shoot… Forgot I’m a priest… That’s by the way! My point is, perhaps she was sent to you for a reason.”
Drogo stiffened. “Please don’t say that.”
“Perhaps God—”
“No.” Drogo cut in sharply. “Do not even suggest the Lord is testing me with that girl. There is nothing redeemable enough in her that requires this.”
Father Richard smiled knowingly. “That’s bold, coming from you.”
Drogo swallowed. His shoulders dropped. “Okay… Maybe those were poor choices of words but…”
He then leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, with fingers lacing together as his head bowed. “I don’t want to go through this again, Father. I don’t.” His voice softened. “I thought moving this far away… starting over… I thought that was enough.”
“You are more than capable for this challenge before you. The only problem is, you have let her trigger you so deeply, you are looking through an emotional lense. And those are the eyes panic sees through.”
Drogo gulped softly.
Father Richard then placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “You’ve walked through fire before, my son. And you survived. This is just mere smoke. You trust the Lord, don’t you?”
Drogo looked up slowly. “…Yes.”
The priest smiled. “Good. Besides, if God kept your life too peaceful, you wouldn’t meet such interesting people.”
Drogo huffed softly. “That’s one word for her.”
Father Richard chuckled. “Menace is another.”
Despite himself, Drogo let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Well then… What’s the worse that could happen? I involve the police?”
“I think with the information you’ve given me about the girl so far, a cell would be the last thing that can detain her.”
“Fair point.” Drogo let out a bitter chuckle.
Oh God… The plead rang in his head as he looked up to the altar. “What sort of test is this…”
The church settled back into silence, sunlight still dancing across the floor, as if God Himself was listening.