Contradictorily, he cradled a black Little Lamb in his arms.
The Little Lamb lay motionless in the man’s embrace, gazing along with him at the intruder.
Judging by his attire, the man’s identity was obvious—and the only one who would be here was the Priest the children had mentioned.
Meeting the man’s gaze, Zhong Nian licked his pale lips, his soft voice slightly hoarse from tension. “Hello, Priest.”
Having heard the children say he disliked visitors, Zhong Nian worried he might be chased out and softened his tone with a plea. “May I stay here with you for a while?”
Even if the church felt chilling, it was better than the dangerous fog outside.
Zhong Nian hadn’t expected to be trapped with no way back upon entering.
Fortunately, after staring at him for a long moment, the man shifted aside with the lamb, gesturing for the outsider to enter. “Follow me.”
Zhong Nian’s eyes lit up slightly, and he hurried after, passing through the portico and front hall into the nave behind the Priest.
Unexpectedly, the church interior was clean and spacious—merely old and strikingly empty and cold.
Sunlight filtered through the stained glass into kaleidoscopic hues, casting a hazy glow that softened the dry baptismal font.
Eerily, the statues carved on the interior walls depicted not deities, but goats.
Behind the altar, a massive goat skull rested in the niche, its hollow eye sockets seeming to glare down at the visitor below.
Zhong Nian shivered, immediately recalling how the Devil with the goat head from last night had buried its face against him, licking with that rough, scorching tongue—one lap after another, as if it could flay his skin.
He stepped back—and bumped into the person behind him. His trembling shoulders brushed the man’s arm and the Little Lamb in his hold.
Baa—
The Little Lamb bleated, its round horizontal pupils gazing back at the panicked youth.
“S-Sorry…” Zhong Nian quickly sidestepped, sweat beading on his nape.
The man didn’t mind. “Sit.”
Like a guest in someone else’s home, Zhong Nian felt awkward and followed the host’s lead, perching on the edge of a pew with his back ramrod straight, hands clasped tightly, his bright eyes shimmering with unease.
He avoided looking at the goat reliefs on the walls or the skull ahead, keeping his head down in discomfort.
He appeared frailer than the Little Lamb in the Priest’s arms, shrinking timidly as if the vaulted ceiling were iron bars and he a trapped prey.
“It’s safe here,” the Priest said, perhaps to reassure him.
Zhong Nian forced a smile. “Thank you, Priest.”
“You’re welcome.” The man stood beside him, his gaze lingering briefly on Zhong Nian’s moon-pale face before shifting to the altar. “The church welcomes all who are lost.”
Zhong Nian blinked, cautiously appraising the man.
He seemed unapproachable, but not as bad-tempered as the children had described?
Why hold a lamb, though?
As he pondered, Zhong Nian’s eyes fell again on the Little Lamb—and met its gaze once more.
It twisted its neck into an awkward, strained position to stare straight at him.
Zhong Nian swallowed.
“Want to hold it?” the Priest asked suddenly.
Zhong Nian blinked in surprise. “What?”
“You keep looking at it.” The Priest glanced at the Little Lamb. “It likes you too.”
Zhong Nian: “…”
He’d been misunderstood.
But the Priest said the Little Lamb liked him?
The words dispelled the psychological shadow from last night, and Zhong Nian reexamined the Little Lamb.
Not even two months old, with curly black fur that looked soft to the touch, floppy ears dangling by its face, bright black eyes—like a puppy.
Baa—*
As if greeting him, the Little Lamb bleated and stuck out its tongue.
It was… kinda cute?
“It might be a bit heavy.”
While Zhong Nian hesitated, the Priest placed the Little Lamb in his arms.
The hefty weight settled in, leaving Zhong Nian rigid, unsure where to put his hands. But the Little Lamb knelt on his lap and rested its head in the crook of his arm.
It was so well-behaved.
Its harmless, docile demeanor gradually relaxed Zhong Nian. He tentatively wrapped his arms around it and discovered upon closer touch that it wasn’t so small.
He tried stroking the thick “hair” on its head—indeed soft and warm, though something hard hid inside. He probed curiously, parting the wool to reveal the Little Lamb’s newly sprouted horns.
The novel texture captivated him; Zhong Nian forgot the horrifying Devil entirely and stroked them repeatedly.
The Little Lamb bleated and nudged his hand away.
“Does it not like its horns touched?” Zhong Nian looked up at the Priest.
Perhaps it was an illusion, but the man’s jaw clenched tightly, as if overheated. A flush tinged his pale ears, shattering the austere severity of his features.
He cleared his throat lightly. “Horns are sensitive.”
“Ah.” Zhong Nian withdrew his hand hastily. “Sorry, then can I pet its chin?”
The Priest nodded.
And so Zhong Nian, who’d never held a Little Lamb, petted it like a dog—rubbing its head, scratching its chin. The Little Lamb closed its eyes in bliss.
Once satisfied, Zhong Nian suddenly remembered ignoring the Priest and looked up—only to find the man seated beside him at some point.
Contrary to his stern impression, the man leaned back against the pew with relaxed shoulders, brows eased, eyes lightly shut—as if lost in thought or savoring the quiet.
Zhong Nian zoned out for a moment too before recalling his purpose. Seizing the decent atmosphere, he spoke. “Priest, may I ask you some questions?”
The Priest opened his eyes, silently permitting with a look.
Zhong Nian licked his lips. “It’s… about the Devil. Would you mind sharing?”
Asking such a thing in a church might violate taboos; Zhong Nian tensed unconsciously, hugging the Little Lamb tighter.
His wrist got licked—itchy, the Little Lamb comforting him.
“Go ahead,” the man said.
Zhong Nian exhaled inwardly. “I want to know, can the Devil outside enter homes?”
The Priest replied, “Devils aren’t without restraints. To enter another’s domain, certain conditions must be met—either gaining the owner’s permission or invitation, or…”
The Priest’s indifferent gaze shifted downward, a glint of contempt and cold anger in his eyes. Abruptly, he reached out and yanked a writhing black Tentacle from the shadow at Zhong Nian’s feet.
“…or shamelessly hiding on a human to sneak in and deceive.”
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