Chapter Text
A cold Autumn evening enveloped the stone walls; sliding across the stained-glass windows, it lingered in the high arches. Falling from dark clouds, the continuous rain pounded on the tiled roof. Somewhere in the hallways, sleepy ghouls wandered, their claws clicking on the marble floor, whispering to each other in hushed tones, laughing quietly.
But in the office on the third floor, behind a door with a polished brass handle, it was another world. The air was permeated by the smell of incense, musk, and fine tobacco. Terzo sat on the sofa, the collar of his white shirt unbuttoned, and a smoldering cigarette slowly burned between his fingers. A thin stream of smoke drifted from his lips, rising to the ceiling. This was rare. He usually avoided cigarettes, but fatigue had drained him completely, and not even returning to the abbey after a long tour brought him any relief.
Terzo lowered his head onto the back of the sofa with an exhausted groan, feeling a slight throbbing in his temples from lack of sleep and a sense of emptiness. The tour was over — the glory, the camera flashes, even a couple of staged kisses — and now it was back to work. Again. Back to hours of liturgies and secret audiences, endless paperwork. He had missed this routine, but now... now, for some reason, he felt empty. He craved the haze of intoxication, without unnecessary words and pretense.
Taking another drag, he shook the ashes into the ashtray, picked up a class of dry red wine, and rose from the sofa. Walking around the room, he stopped at the window. Drops ran down the glass, blurring the view of the abbey's dark garden. He stood there for a while, his head filling with thoughts, one after another.
A memory from a month ago struck him. Something the ghouls said in the dressing room, a conversation interrupted by laughter and sighs. Images floated before his eyes. One of them had spoken intriguingly about 'relaxation in on click,' while the other scrolled through his phone screen, mesmerised by the racy photos.
Relaxation in one click... Some website... ‘Splash?’ No... but definitely something dirty.
The thought wouldn't leave him alone. Terzo spun around abruptly, took a couple of steps away from the window, and sank into a chair. Resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at his phone screen.
“Fuck...” he exhaled, furrowing his brow in an attempt to remember more details. “What was it called?”
He scrolled through his messenger in hopes of finding a link or at least a mention, but the group chats were filled with useless photos of food, silly memes, and voice messages at two in the morning, where all he could make out was snoring and some kind of strumming. Nevertheless, switching to the browser app, his fingers began to type: “dating site, only for... adults... for... release...”, “anonymous sex dating”, “casual themed encounters”.
The search engine instantly returned a colorful stream of headlines—some too vulgar, others falsely respectable. Terzo grimaced, then smirked, and clicked link after link, but each one looked repulsive.
And there it was... minimalist design, black on dark gray, no flashy banners. The name somewhere between provocative and tasteless — Domnet. The site is full of profiles, pseudonyms, ages, desires, photos. Everything is anonymous, everything is allowed. He didn’t create a profile — not yet, anyway. He just browsed, as if without a goal. As if he were only keeping his eyes and fingers busy. He wasn't even sure he would respond to any of these profiles.
‘Cheerful and passionate.’
‘I love role-playing games.’
‘No foot fetish, please.’
He grimaced, scrolled back, kept clicking. And at some point, he even felt a twinge of shame — for himself, for them, for all of humanity. But his finger continued to move up the screen. One more, and another... And just as he was about to swipe away another profile, something made him stop.
‘Nickname: NocturnalPet’
The design was concise. No emojis, no provocative photos. Just text:
‘I am looking for someone to belong to. Someone I want to belong to. I am open to experimentation and trying new things, I am ready for complete submission. I want to feel protected in strong arms and forget everything except the name of my Master.’
He paused. Next was the description:
‘Young woman, 170 cm, 56 kg, slim build, long dark hair, fair skin, blue eyes, alternative style.’
“Okay, Miss Monosyllabic…” he said, but together with the previous text, an image arose. Not wicked, not vulgar, just... enigmatic. There was something in that phrase — “the name of my Master.”
He put the phone down on the table and leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. Not from fatigue, but from a strange thrill coursing through him. He didn't know yet if he would text her. But, for the first time in the last week, he felt something stir in his chest. Not lust, not hunger. Interest. A small, silly, stubborn sprout of hope.
“Damn...” he exhaled, smiling to himself as the phone was back in his hand. Without hesitation, he pressed the ‘message’ button next to the profile and began to type, slowly, thoughtfully.
When he finished his text, Terzo looked at the screen with satisfaction and reread it twice. Smiling slightly, he pressed ‘send’ and leaned back in his chair. The anticipation was nerve-wracking. He felt like an idiot... or a romantic. Or a madman. He didn't understand it himself, but desire and curiosity had got the better of him. His hand reached for his glass to take another sip, distracting himself from the itch of waiting.
✧✧✧
The night was quiet, except for the monotonous annoyance of raindrops on the windowsill. As usual, Sister Rosalina couldn't sleep. She was laying in bed, surrounded by anything that might distract her from her insomnia — the last book she had taken from the library, a sketchbook with pencils, headphones, and her phone, which glowed dimly, barely illuminating the dark room. She scrolled aimlessly through her social media feed, hoping that sleep would come either from boredom or fatigue. So far her eyes were only sore from the strain. She was about to give up on the idea and put her phone aside when suddenly her gaze caught on a new notification appearing from an app she had nearly forgotten.
🔔 Domnet: New message from Anonymous User
Rosalina had downloaded it a few weeks ago, either as a joke, out of desperation, or on a dare — she couldn't even remember why. But for some reason, she hadn't deleted it, leaving it in one of the apps folders. She opened the app and stared at her plain, dry profile — the one no one had ever noticed before. Until tonight.
The Sister hesitated for a few minutes before clicking on the new message. Finally, she pulled herself together and did it. The profile was empty — no description, no photo, no name, nothing.
Some very cocky anonymous guy, probably with a huge ego and a small dick, she thought. But she decided to reply, just out of curiosity.
Her hand was shaking, but she pressed the ‘send’ button. For some reason, she felt that she would not receive a reply. Like this mysterious anonymous person would simply disappear. But deep down, she continued to wait, no longer feeling sleepy, meanwhile, in another part of the abbey, Terzo's phone vibrated and a notification lit up on the screen.
🔔 Domnet: New message from NocturnalPet
Terzo tensed slightly and, taking a deep breath, opened the message. He stared at the words for several minutes, letting the message sink in, rereading them over and over again, and each time feeling the same mixture of irritation and curiosity. The tone was sharp, bold, almost mocking. She didn't take the hook right away, didn’t leap at the first tug of the leash. A quiet chuckle echoed in the silence of his office. He didn't rush to reply, as if prolonging the anticipation. He typed his message with pauses, taking breaks to sip wine and watch the rain.
Pressing ‘send’, he raised the glass to his lips again, feeling that the game was just beginning.
Fifteen minutes later, Rosalina stared at her phone screen, reading a new message from the same anonymous sender. But now, instead of hostility and rejection, her pulse quickened with curiosity and excitement. She reread parts of the message, her mind picturing everything in front of her eyes, tempting her to agree. The Sister was anxious, doubting, thinking it was a bad idea, because no matter how sweet the words were, she still knew nothing about the person on the other side of the screen. It could be any pervert or criminal just looking for a naive silly girl who would fall for pretty words. And yet, her intuition told her that she would miss out on a lot if she didn't accept his invitation. And so she reverently typed word after word, soon sending another message to the chat.
The message was short but promising. It was sent quickly; Rosalina didn’t bother with silence, she answered straightaway. For some reason, this sudden and completely atypical situation stirred her restless soul.
The phone in Papa's office vibrated — a brief tremor in the silence, disrupting the rhythm of the rain outside the window. The screen flashed, casting a ghostly glow on the table, the wine bottle, and the figure, half-hidden in soft shadows.
Terzo didn't see her answer.
He sat in an armchair, one leg thrown over the armrest, his shirt unbuttoned at the chest. The collar slightly crumpled, as if at some point he had buried his face in his own shoulder, either out of boredom or anticipation, which lulled him to sleep. The empty wine glass was still in his hand, tilted slightly, and the last scarlet drop slowly trickled down the surface near the imprint of his lips, about to leave its mark on his clothes. In his other hand was his phone, almost slipping from his fingers. The long-awaited words glowed on the screen, but Terzo would only see them in the morning.
A few hours later, soft light filled the room through the still wet windows. Outside, the rain had turned into a barely noticeable drizzle, as if the night had cried itself out and now, exhausted, was dozing along with the city. Terzo slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the sun's rays. His head throbbed with a dull, pulsating pain, a reminder of the wine he had drunk and the silent waiting. He placed the empty glass on the table, pushed it toward the bottle, feeling the dried red drop on the glass with his fingertips. Then his gaze returned to the phone. The unlocked screen immediately displayed a notification — one message. From her.
His eyelids fluttered. A memory flashed through his still sleepy mind — her boldness and his interest. He leaned forward slightly, his disheveled hair falling lightly over his face. Opening the site, he read what she had replied last night. Terzo ran his tongue over his dry lips and smiled with the corner of his mouth, not without fatigue, but with that slight excitement that comes over a hunter who has found traces of prey after a long silence.
“Finalmente*...” he exhaled contentedly, leaning back in his chair. His eyes darkened with expectation. Today he would text her... but not right away. Let her wait a little. Now he was setting the pace.
__________________________
* Finalmente (it.) - finally.
__________________________
Terzo ran his hand over his face, lazily wiping away the remnants of sleep, and ran his fingers through his hair, slowly, with a slight carelessness, as if awakening himself with his touch. His shirt, crumpled and almost open, slipped off his shoulder, and without looking, he unbuttoned it as he walked past the windows. Throwing the shirt on the back of the chair where he had been sleeping just a moment ago, he stepped toward the bathroom, unhurriedly, with the calmness that comes to those who know that the morning has begun on the right foot.
✧✧✧
Meanwhile, the annoying alarm clock woke Sister Rosalina from a restless sleep, so restless that she didn't even notice when she fell asleep while waiting for a reply from the mysterious anon. When she woke up, she didn't immediately remember their brief nighttime chat and, instead, started another day full of duties and chores. Everything was as usual, she followed the familiar routine she had memorized perfectly — getting ready, breakfast, morning service, Latin class... The routine of everyday life in the abbey was not a burden to her; on the contrary, her duties, sometimes even the most difficult ones, distracted her from her thoughts. And that was exactly why she had given up everything, all her memories and echoes of the past.
Towards noon, during the quiet hour before lunch, Sister Rosalina settled down in the garden, allowing herself a rare moment of peace, enjoying the soft Autumn sun that had finally appeared after the night's thunderstorm. The pages of her sketchbook rustled in her hands in the light breeze, and her charcoal pencil quietly scratched across the thick paper, leaving one stroke after another. Not a single anxious thought crossed her mind, only silence and peace. Until she remembered.
He hadn't replied to her.
She grabbed her phone, frantically opening the app and going into the already familiar chat, rereading her last message, written late at night. Silence in response, not a word, not a reaction, nothing. Something inside her tightened, either from hurt or anger. Thoughts swirled in her head, different possibilities and ideas as to why he was ignoring her.
Maybe it was just a joke? Or did he change his mind? But why?
Rosalina sighed with irritation and annoyance, locking her phone and putting it aside. Well, the idea had seemed much better at night. But now she felt rather dumb and awkward, deciding that she would never get an answer.
Towards midday, Terzo managed to arrange a meeting place for the equally mysterious stranger. The apartment was certainly not very sophisticated, but it was ideal for his plans. He took a favor from an old acquaintance, someone who always knew how to find a place where ‘no questions are asked and no one peeks through the windows.’ After a couple of phone calls and a quick transfer to the bank account, he received the address and door code for a spacious but almost empty apartment in a new building on the outskirts of town.
Now that his morning duties at the abbey were done and he still had some free time before the evening ones, he sat down at his desk in his office, leaned back in his chair, and crossed one leg over the other. Lazily pulling out his phone, he was finally ready to text her back. At least the address and time of the meeting. Before he could even touch the screen, he heard quick, sharp footsteps in the hallway — heels tapping impatiently. Realizing that the footsteps were approaching his office, he sat up straight, placing the phone face down on the desk. A few moments later, the door opened without a knock. Sister Imperator appeared in the doorway, with one of the ghouls behind her.
“Terzo,” she said in a dissatisfied tone, entering his office without wasting a second on unnecessary formalities. Her pupils darkened as they locked onto him. The faint crease between her brows wasn’t quite a frown, but something far worse: weary, unflinching censure, as if he were a stain on her patience she’d long since learned to tolerate. “You haven't forgotten about the reports for the Prefecture archives, have you? You were supposed to submit a summary to them by the end of the week, and that's the day after tomorrow. I received a reminder this morning.”
Terzo grimaced as if he had been put in a bright spotlight.
“Santa merda*...” he exhaled and rubbed his temples wearily. “Couldn't someone else have been assigned to do it?”
______________________________
* Santa merda (it.) - Holy shit.
______________________________
Sister Imperator approached, leaning on the back of the chair opposite.
"The official request was specifically for you. Your signature, your responsibility. They need analysis based on the Latin originals, explanations, all serious stuff. And you'll probably need someone who can work quickly and accurately with the archives. Your pathetic ghouls won't help us in this situation." She glanced back at the ghoul standing in the doorway with his eyes downcast in shame.
“I'll start right away, Sister.” Terzo snorted, looking away.
As soon as Sister Imperator disappeared behind the door with a quiet approving grunt, he drew in a breath irritably, glancing at the ghoul.
“Omega...” he called, and the ghoul standing in the doorway looked up at his master, taking a few steps forward, showing his complete attention and obedience.
“I need a librarian. Someone who knows how to work with Latin scrolls, reads quickly, and doesn't ask stupid questions. Find me one and bring them here within an hour. Got it?”
Omega nodded and silently disappeared from the office, catching the door handle with his tail and closing it behind him. Terzo picked up the phone again, left alone with the chat. He typed quickly and confidently.
No preamble. No clarifications or unnecessary words. The message was sent in an instant, and he closed his eyes for a second.
✧✧✧
Omega lurked in the shadows between the abbey columns, almost blending in with the stone pattern of the walls. In this dim light, he felt at home. His steps were silent, his movements precise. He watched, distinguishing the figures of the Sisters of Sin in their identical black robes, easily and habitually telling them apart. The ghouls knew how to seek, thanks to their inhuman nature. They saw more, heard more, and felt more strongly than any human on earth.
When he noticed her, there was no doubt. The one sitting in the garden, lost in her thoughts and absorbed in her drawing. Omega stepped out of the shadows and quickly found himself right behind her. So close that goosebumps ran down her spine.
“Sister Rosalina, is that right?” His voice was soft but firm. He took a step closer, bowing his head politely. “Papa would like to see you in his office. He has a task for you.”
He didn't explain the details; he didn't need to. All he had to do was give her the task and wait for her to follow him.
That's the last thing I need right now , flashed through her mind. She was already in a bad mood, and talking to him could easily make it worse. In all her time at the abbey, she had barely crossed paths with Papa, seeing him only at Friday evening services and at the most important masses, where he preached instead of their usual priest. But even this minimal contact was enough for her to form an opinion of him — a pompous, narcissistic, arrogant womanizer with whom she didn't want anything to do with.
“Well...” With a heavy sigh, she put her sketchbook and drawing supplies into her bag, throwing her phone and headphones in without looking, and got up from her seat, dusting off her dress and silently following the ghoul into the ministry building.
Omega walked slightly ahead without turning around, sensing that Rosalina was right behind him. One turn, then another... and finally, a wide staircase leading to the top floor. Reaching the door he was looking for, massive and dark, with carved symbols above the jamb, the ghoul stopped. For a few seconds, he just stood there, as if listening to something in the empty hallway, then knocked twice and slowly turned around. His gaze was strangely calm.
“He is waiting for you,” he said quietly, nodding toward the door. And before the Sister could ask or clarify anything, the ghoul stepped back, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway, leaving her alone. She did not have to stand alone for long.
“Come in,” she heard from behind the door a couple of seconds later.
No matter how she felt about Papa as a person, his title still made her feel uneasy inside, she could hear her own pulse in her temples from the growing anxiety. She grabbed the door handle and pulled it toward her, entering quickly, trying not to prolong the already anxious moment.
Rosalina had never been in his office before, and the first thing she noticed was the scent. Heavy and bitter-sweet; a mixture of tobacco, incense, and men's cologne, it only made her headache worse. Despite it being the middle of the day, the room was dimly lit, with thick curtains drawn, blocking out almost every ray of sunlight. The only sources of light were candles in candelabras on his desk and several tables by the sofa and armchairs in the other part of the room.
The atmosphere is pretty depressing, no doubt about it... she thought, closing the heavy door behind her with a soft but sharp sound. She remained standing at the entrance, not daring to take a step closer.
“Good afternoon, Papa. Did you request to see me?” she said in the calmest and most neutral tone she could muster, holding her gaze on his gloomy figure.
Terzo sat at a massive desk, leaning his elbow on the armrest of his chair and twirling a pen between his fingers with his other hand. Not for writing, as it was dry. But these movements gave him a pensive and mysterious look. He did not immediately respond to the Sister's words. His gaze was fixed somewhere off to the side, as if he had just returned from his own thoughts, where he was clearly interested in matters far less official.
“Oh, thank Satan, you’ve come.” he whispered to himself, looking up at Rosalina. He leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs under the table, and tilted his head slightly, studying the young woman from head to toe. “...Sister Mina, you're in charge of the archives and the library, aren't you?” he said, deliberately drawing out her name.
The Sister's eyebrow twitched involuntarily as soon as she heard his words. Did he deliberately call me by the wrong name or did he just make a mistake? Either way, he's clearly not very bright... I don't understand how he ended up in such an important position, the thoughts flashed through her mind, which she, of course, did not voice.
“My name is Rosalina. And yes, I am the archivist of our library.” She kept a neutral expression on her face, but her voice, which had become lower with annoyance, gave her away. She stood motionless, her hands clasped in front of her, her fingers nervously fingering the beads of her rosary.
Terzo noticed the change in her voice but decided not to pay much attention to it. “Rosalina, what a beautiful name...” he corrected himself after her remark and immediately bowed his head in a feigned apology. “I apologize. So many names, so many beautiful sisters… well, you understand.”
Papa smiled more broadly and rose from his chair, slowly moving closer to her. His shirt, casually unbuttoned at the neck, involuntarily caught her attention.
“Please don't worry. It's just a simple task, not torture... although sometimes one doesn't negate with the other.” He smiled again, trying to defuse the situation with a silly joke and show that he was definitely not to be feared. He walked toward her, running his hand along the table and lowering his gaze to the spot where his fingers touched the tabletop, and continued his speech.
"I have a job for you... a specific one. It requires your library insight and keen intuition. You know about these things, don't you, Sister Rosalina?“ He deliberately pronounced her name again with excessive clarity, as if to emphasize that he remembered it. ”I would like you to accompany me to the archives to search for important documents needed for a very urgent report." His gaze rested on her, waiting for her reaction and response.
However, his feigned politeness and desire to win her over, as he did with all the other easily influenced Sisters, only made her feel sick to her stomach. She clenched her teeth and the rosary in her hands, just so that her true emotions would not accidentally slip out. She didn't want to accept this. She didn't want to get involved in this, she didn't want to see him more often than she had before. But who was she to say no to him? After all, she wasn't here just for fun, but for the good of the clergy.
"Sure... Of course I'll help. Should I start today? I don't see any reason to delay," she replied, almost without thinking about what she was saying.
Her words sounded simple, casual, but they echoed strangely in Terzo's mind, like a faint reflection of something recently heard.
On the stairs, in the hall, between masses...?
He stood still for a moment, squinting his eyes slightly, trying to remember something. But, as is common with such thoughts, this one fell apart before it could take a shape.
"The report is due the day after tomorrow." Terzo hummed quietly and, as if brushing the phantom thought aside, took a few steps back, grabbed his jacket from the chair, and headed for the door again. "So we have a very tight deadline and a lot of work ahead of us. We may have to stay late into the evening..."
Stopping at the door, he turned to her over his shoulder, with that peculiar expression that teetered on the edge between a joke and a hint.
"...Or even stay in the archives overnight." The lock clicked, the door opened with a soft creak, and Terzo took a step to the side, holding out his hand in an elegant gesture of invitation for her to pass through first. "If you wouldn't mind, of course. I would be extremely grateful for your... assistance."
He spoke politely, with unfailing courtesy, but his words hid all those talks with the Sisters, all that soft flirting in the hallways of the Abbey, all those women's sighs and blushing cheeks. Rosalina couldn't hold back a faintly irritated eye roll at his ‘subtle’ hints that left a disgusting sticky feeling on her soul.
"I wouldn't mind helping you with paperwork, Papa." she replied dryly, but with a restrained formal smile, emphasizing the word "paperwork," and then she left the hated office, trying not to look at Terzo again, so he didn't have any reason to make another cheesy comment.