It's all one flower.

Skinum cries out in his voice.

Roark held the theological student's shoulder and gently slapped his back with his palm and continued to refrain without saying anything.

Whimpering gradually weakens.

A tearful skinum bows down to the dead grass, covering his face with a handkerchief.

Roark sat next to him and held his knee, silently looking at Lake Lacus.

At this time of year, the coast of the usual city of Zerneau is busy with freighters loaded for New Year's Eve or with vessels that produce fine for the year's tightening fishery, but not a single vessel is visible on the lake surface between the mainland of Artel and the island of Lanterna, which stretches beneath the eyes.

... Oh well. Artel is a civilized country.

There is no way to protect yourself from the demons of the lake.

In the dining room on the island of Lanterna, fish dishes were eaten. Islanders will fish from the shoreline like pharmacists (dull) awellana. The port on the island was left devastated during the civil unrest.

"When I was five..."

Looking next door, Skinum also held his knee, clutching the handkerchief and looking at the lake.

When Roark nodded and showed him, Skinum began to speak of potpourri and abominable memories, like a solitaire.

"My cousins and I went to the closest hangar to my parents."

My elementary school cousins were on winter break.

There was a rope banned, but the kids don't care.

Five boys, including a young skinum, lead the oldest cousin with a flashlight, marching back by surprise.

Horizontal holes with no sun at all were not surprisingly cold because the wind would block them.

There are no bugs in the winter.

For some reason there is no cluttered demon.

It's a common adventure without other love.

There are no adults on the lookout, just placards that are off limits.

There are many such trenches in the out-of-town districts that have given up rebuilding. While some of the floaters had settled, the trenches the skinums had gone to seemed untouched.

"You look surprisingly pretty."

"Until recently, did anyone live there?

My cousins got to the deepest part, talking about that.

By then, Skinum was also playing with his fingers as curiosity prevailed over fear and the pattern engraved on the bricks on the walls and floors.

A second cousin picked up a beautiful stone, beside a few rusty empty cans scattered.

It's a hexagonal column, about as clear a stone as a kid's thumb.

Fine patterns are surprisingly engraved on each side.

"Me too! I want to see it too."

"Just a little bit."

"Don't drop it."

The cousins laughed and put a stone on Skinum's little palm.

"Oh no..."

Skinum speaks of memories from more than a decade ago instead of answering Roark.

The beautiful stone glowed pale when Skinum touched it.

When my cousin took a good look, the light went out, as the fire went out. And it came into the hands of one cousin after the other, and beheld, but the light returned not.

"What the hell?

"What's going on?

"Why did you glow?

Let's ask your grandfather.

Relatives gathered because it was the New Year.

Just as my cousin showed a strange stone to the adults who were aligned in the guest room, my grandfather's complexion changed.

"I only glow when Skinum has it, how does this work?

My cousin makes Skinum hold a stone.

When a pale glow dwelt in the stone, just like in the air trenches, the adults froze.

"You haven't shown this to anyone else, have you?

"Huh?... Ugh, yeah. Just us."

"This is a very bad thing. Forget about today and don't tell anyone."

Cousins were taken out to a separate room by servants without understanding the reason, and only Skinum was left behind.

My mother cried down, and my father was looking down at my mother without words.

"I gave birth to the wicked..."

"You were a witch."

"What are you going to put on me at the end of this?

"Wouldn't you mind bothering the clan?

"What are you going to do if you get in the way of our child's conversation?

Usually gentle relatives uncles, aunts, look at my mother and skinum with cold eyes.

The five-year-old Skinum had just completed a vow of faith at St. Astrum's Church the day before the Saint's Birthday. A relative who celebrated with me in church now stares at Skinum with a scary face like someone else.

After all, I regretted that I shouldn't have come in where it said I shouldn't. I offer the "bad stuff" in my hand to get my greatest grandfather to do something about it.

"Disgusting!

At the same time as his voice, he slapped his hand, and a glowing stone rolled down into a luxurious velvet with long hairy feet.

My relatives jumped away softly and turned their eyes to see dirty objects on the glowing stone.

The stone that Skinum had been gripping for so long, the light wouldn't go out when he left his hand.

"Skinum......"

My mother's eyes are crimson and bright red.

The only one on this occasion, was not staring at Skinum.

Called again in his usual gentle voice, Skinum jumped into its arms. Relieved by the warmth of her soft breasts, she weeps. My mother also cried, stroking Skinum's back.

My father kept his mouth shut as my grandfather and relatives discussed something.

Someone of my relatives told me something and my mother hugged Skinum full of strength.

One deep breath, my mother said softly, letting go of the skinum and in a hard voice.

"Okay. I am responsible for this child..."

My mother's hands wrapped Skinum's thin neck.

The chillness of the trembling hands still remains in my neck.

"Wait. The kid's in the main house."

In a word from my grandfather, my mother raised her face.

Crying and laughing distorted (snoring) expressions still make me dream sometimes.

Someone of my relatives contacted me somewhere and there came people I didn't know at home. When they heard the details from their grandfather, they pulled Skinum's arm and forced him to stand, pulling him away from his mother.

My mother is tied in the back hand, grabbed by her hair and stood up.

My father watched the glowing stone without saying anything, whether Skinum cried or my mother did terrible things.

He was put in a car by a stranger and taken to a square in the center town.

This is where free markets, live amateur bands, and star signs (servants) speeches take place during the holidays. There are department stores and other nearby and there are many people.

Skinum couldn't get his coat on.

None of the adults care about a toddler trembling in the cold.

In the center of the square, the firewood was piled like a mountain, centered on a thick pillar.

I call out loud to passers-by as the women wave the star road flag.

"We are star markers, Ignikerns Branch."

"From this, I will cleanse the filthy witch."

"If you have time, please join us in the prayer of purification"

About half the passers-by stopped on their feet.

Some people contacted me somewhere on the device.

At the time, there were few devices with cameras, so not many people took pictures like they do now.

Surrounded by people my mother does not know, I am taken before the firewood. The pedestrian walls get thicker and thicker. Relatives who came later in another car joined there, and their mother was invisible.

My grandfather holds my grandson's shoulders from behind.

My father blocked my mouth, and Skinum couldn't call my mother.

Slightly between, my mother, bracketed in a pillar, went out over the head of a swollen hedge.

It's far away and I don't know the expression.

A woman who named herself the "star sign" uttered a word of prayer in a common language.

Same prayer I heard at my grandmother's funeral.

I studied theology. Now I know.

"The body of this world has passed away."

To the ghost, the soul, the void of the immortal mood, and the laying of its body.

"The power of the fire that lies in this world, wrapped in darkness, is wrapped in ashes."

Smoke rises across the pedestrian walls and the air stinks of burning.

More and more people join the prayer while the gathered people join their voices and repeat the same prayer.

I raised black smoke, the fire grew stronger and bigger, swallowing my mother over people's heads.

My father and grandfather have been saying nothing and holding Skinum back.

"Then, for a year or so...... I was locked in the house. Apart from the bathroom and the bathroom, they can't even get me out of the room, and the servants take care of me around them... no one talks to me anymore..."

The disappearing voice of emotion tells the story.

Roark couldn't see Skinum's face.

"As soon as I enrolled in seminary, my father remarried. Only the Dean and the Augur Priest know I have dirty powers."

"Huh?"

The side of Skinum I saw unexpectedly was tears dried up in the wind of Lake Lacus, restoring calm.

"Those who do not dye their hands in evil and walk righteously and holy star paths, even if they possess filthy power, will be able to invoke miracles with a stronger faith than anyone else…"

"A miracle...?

"My grandfather said he would put me in the army because my brother was born. I was used as a heir... but the priests sheltered me."

... that? Wait a minute. A magical priest's "miracle"...

"So I learned better than anyone, to be a special priest..."

"Mr. Skinum, that means that the Church has acknowledged the existence of a priest with magic, right?

When Roark confirmed, Skinum slowly circled his neck around him.

Make sure it's just the two of us, turn to Roark, and snort firmly.

"The priests said it was confidential because the general faithful, who do not know the depths of the scriptures, have to be confused"

Roark nodded silently and indicated that he would not speak otherwise.