Chapter 397: Hellfire (9)

In the dim tunnel, Muen followed behind the nimble little girl called Rabbit, quickly making his way deeper inside.

The passage was narrow again—narrow enough that Muen had to bend over to pass—but at least it no longer rose and fell vertically. It was smooth now, as if simply walking straight ahead would lead them to their destination.

After some observation, Muen roughly came to believe that this passage had indeed been dug out by the little girl before him.

The tunnel walls were full of pickaxe marks—each mark almost identical, clearly the work of the same person and the same tool.

And judging by the degree of weathering, the deeper they went, the older the excavations became.

This entire complex maze of tunnels really did seem to have been dug out bit by bit over an immense span of time by the girl herself—with those thin, bamboo-stick arms and the rusted pickaxe in her hand.

Her filthy white dress fluttered ahead of him, and in Muen’s mind, a picture appeared: a stubborn little girl chipping away at the earth with her pickaxe, then struggling to carry out the dirt and stones with her slender hands.

Time passed, day after day, without end.

“Hey, Miss Rabbit.”

Muen suddenly asked,

“How long have you been digging?”

“I don’t know.”

Rabbit didn’t even turn her head as she replied,

“It’s probably been a very long time. I can’t remember anymore.”

“No one helped you dig?”

“No.”

Rabbit shook her head.

“There were people who thought I was doing something foolish—that I was blaspheming the Goddess. They wouldn’t let me dig. Hmm... that was before that round moon thing came out.”

“The Goddess... do you remember Her sacred name?”

“The Goddess is the Goddess. What’s a sacred name?”

Rabbit turned around, looking puzzled.

“Oh.”

A faint, hidden light flickered in Muen’s eyes. He gave a small smile. “Then just think of it as me rambling nonsense again. Back to what you were saying—before, they didn’t let you dig. What about now? After that round thing appeared?”

“Now... no one can even get out of here, so they don’t care about me anymore. But they still think I’m doing something stupid.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Rabbit tilted her little head. “Maybe what I’m doing just looks stupid to them.”

Muen’s heart tightened for no reason.

Yet Rabbit’s expression remained calm, as if she were answering a question that had nothing to do with her.

Something was in her mouth, puffing out her cheeks a little, making her words come out muffled.

It was the fruit pit from earlier—she hadn’t wanted to spit it out, holding it in her mouth as though it were candy.

But Muen knew that most fruit pits weren’t sweet at all—some were even bitter.

“Then... can I ask, why are you digging these tunnels?”

Muen looked into Rabbit’s pitch-black eyes and asked carefully.

After circling around it so many times, he still couldn’t hold back the question.

“Why dig?”

Rabbit’s small face went blank, as though she’d never expected anyone to ask her that.

She stopped walking, scratching her head, as if searching back through very distant memories.

“That... I have to think. It must’ve been a really long, long time ago... ah, I remember.”

After a brief silence, Rabbit’s dark eyes suddenly brightened, as if a warm light had reached their depths.

“I want to see the sun!”

“The sun?”

Muen froze.

“Which sun?”

The moment he spoke, he wanted to slap himself.

What other sun could there be? Of course she meant the one outside this land—the sun that shone on all beings and brought warmth.

Because here, there was no sun.

“My mother once told me,” Rabbit said, “that the sun has the peel of an orange, the warmth of a hearth, and the kindness of an old grandpa. I don’t know what an orange or a hearth are, but they must be wonderful things. So I want to see it.”

Her black eyes blinked rapidly, and that small face—once so numb—now carried a smile of hope.

Even the grime on her cheeks seemed somehow endearing.

“So...”

Muen paused for a moment.

“You’ve been digging all this time, going through so much trouble, just to see the sun?”

“Mm!”

Rabbit nodded hard. “If I can, I also want to see the moon. Mama said that the moon isn’t as warm as the sun and doesn’t have an orange peel, but it holds people’s longing. When people reunite, they look at the moon together—it’s something very gentle.”

“The moon...”

Muen’s lips moved. He wanted to tell her she’d already seen it—the round thing she’d mentioned.

But the moon in Rabbit’s heart was something as /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ beautiful as the sun. How could it possibly be that cold, indifferent false thing hanging over this land right now?

A little girl chasing a sun she had never seen—it was like something out of a fairy tale.

“Can I hug you?” Muen said suddenly.

“Eh?”

Rabbit seemed unable to understand.

“I want to hold you,” Muen repeated, making his expression as gentle as he could.

Rabbit stared blankly at him. “You smell like something I hate.”

“Ah...”

“But.”

Rabbit smiled. “I don’t hate you.”

Muen smiled too, bending down to wrap the little girl in his arms.

“So warm,” Rabbit murmured, rubbing her face against his chest.

“Is the sun this warm too?”

“No.”

Muen held her, gently stroking her head, answering firmly,

“The sun is even warmer than this.”

...

...

“We’re here.”

The road after that wasn’t long. Rabbit led Muen through the final stretch of tunnel until they reached an exit.

The exit was extremely simple—just a broken wooden plank propped up like a makeshift door.

But the last person who’d gone through seemed to have forgotten to close it. The door was half open, and from beyond it came a cacophony of noise—like the wailing of damned souls from hell, scraping against the nerves.

Muen silently scanned the marks around the broken door and nodded.

“No doubt about it. Liya was here.”

“Then my job’s done.”

“Mm. Thank you, Miss Rabbit.” Muen offered sincere gratitude.

Rabbit looked at him for a long time. Just as he was about to step forward, she couldn’t help asking,

“Don’t you want to ask about other things?”

“Other things?”

“Mm. About us, about what’s inside... about the natives.”

Rabbit’s gaze seemed to pierce through the half-open door, yet also stay fixed on Muen.

“I know a lot about those things. Since you gave me so many fruits, I can tell you.”

Muen blinked, then smiled and shook his head. “No need. I think I’ve already guessed—about you all, about the natives, about the Church’s purpose, and... about what lies beyond this door.”

“So...”

Muen’s hand grasped the edge of the door.

“I don’t need to ask those questions. I only have one regret.”

“Regret? You regret coming here?”

“No. I regret letting Liya come here alone.”

Holding his breath, he listened to the chaotic, maddening sounds in his mind—noises that felt like they could shred a person’s soul.

Quietly, he said,

“For someone as kind as Liya, the scenes inside must be terrifying.”

“You like that person named Liya?” Rabbit tilted her head.

“Yeah,” Muen answered. “Just like you like the sun.”

“Then don’t give up.”

Rabbit swung her pickaxe like a general brandishing a sword, baring her teeth in a fierce grin. “I don’t know if the sun is waiting for me, but she’s definitely waiting for you.”

“You little brat, what do you know?”

Muen laughed and cursed. “Do I look like the type who’d give up?”

Yes, of course he wouldn’t give up.

Because he’d told the girl to wait for him.

So even knowing how terrifying the things inside were, he still stood here.

“I said I’d make you a Saintess.”

Muen pushed open the door, stepping into a world of both darkness and light.

“I’m here to keep my promise, Liya.”