The office smelled faintly of incense and old wood. Rays of late morning light filtered in through tall stained-glass windows, painting fractured colors across the crucifix mounted on the far wall. A heavy oak desk sat in the center, its surface stacked with hymn books, worn Bibles, and neatly folded papers. Behind it sat Sister Agnes, her veil perfectly arranged, a member of the management, her sharp eyes fixed on the girl standing before her.
"Purity Salvation, you... "
Before the nun could finish, the brown-haired girl in front of her interrupted with a polite smile.
"Winter Eckstein," she corrected smoothly. "It's been eleven years, Sister… and you still can't grasp it."
The correction was soft, almost gentle, yet it carried an edge that made the air in the room tighten.
Sister Agnes's palm slammed down on the desk with a sharp crack, rattling the ink bottle and startling Sister Rebecca, the younger nun seated quietly to her right. But Winter didn't flinch. She only kept smiling, serene and unbothered, like a child mocking her teacher.
"For eleven years," Sister Agnes thundered, "you have been nothing but a terror in this holy place! Always carrying that evil aura, refusing to cast it away. Only you refuse to pray. Only you run from worship. Only you sneak out of the dormitories. Only you strike fear into your fellow students. That name, Purity Salvation was meant to cleanse you, to save you! But since you reject it, the devil clings to you still. You nearly murdered your roommate!"
Her voice rose, filling the small office until the stained-glass panes seemed to shiver.
Winter's smile remained. Calm. Daring. Her words, when they came, were simple.
"She deserved it."
Sister Rebecca gasped, her hand flying to her chest, but Winter's tone was chillingly casual, as though she were talking about a spilled glass of water.
That was the breaking point.
"I am done harboring evil!" Sister Agnes shouted, her voice trembling with fury and...helplessness. "I want you out of this place before the day ends!"
Sister Rebecca turned to her in shock. "Sister Agnes!" she cried, horrified by the finality in her superior's voice.
But Winter simply rose, unhurried, brushing down the hem of her uniform skirt. She gave a small bow of mock politeness.
"Very well."
And without another glance, she turned and walked out, her shoes clicking softly on the polished floor. The door closed behind her with a quiet thud that seemed louder than a slam.
The room fell into tense silence.
"Sister Agnes, you..." Sister Rebecca began, her voice trembling, but Agnes raised a hand to silence her. The elder nun sank back into her chair, her face shadowed, her knuckles white against the armrest.
"Her heart is blackened by hate and darkness," Sister Agnes muttered, her anger cooling into weary sorrow. "I cannot help her. She is her own only redemption now. May the good Lord be with her."
She leaned back, her eyes flicking toward the crucifix on the wall as though searching for strength in its silent gaze.
"But…" Sister Rebecca whispered again, unable to let go of the worry.
"She will be fine," Sister Agnes cut her off firmly. "Go. Attend to the students."
Sister Rebecca hesitated, then obeyed, rising quietly. Her soft footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving Sister Agnes alone in the incense-laced office, surrounded by silence, her frustration pressing heavy on her chest.
The light through the stained glass shifted, painting the room in red and shadow.