"And with that, we finish today's service. For those who are supposed to be baptized, please follow me and write your name on that stone to show your love to our Savior," Mr. Whitmore said as the church echoed with soft murmurs.
He walked behind the blinds at the back of the church, robes brushing against the floor.
Leonardo followed him slowly, blending into the crowd without drawing attention.
He watched quietly as person after person stepped forward, dipped their head in the water, and left the church claiming they were "born again." Their faces were full of peace… or maybe just ignorance.
Leonardo thought to himself,
These people really think they've found God. They're truly weak. They don't even know the sins this man has committed.
When the last person walked away smiling, Leonardo stood up. His steps were slow, deliberate, almost respectful. He approached the baptism bowl as Mr. Whitmore placed a gentle hand on his head.
"Did you also repent for your sins, pastor?" Leonardo asked, voice calm.
Mr. Whitmore let out an amused laugh.
"Yes, indeed."
Leonardo chuckled softly — then grabbed him by the throat.
Lifting him effortlessly off the ground, he whispered,
"What a lie you live by."
Mr. Whitmore gasped, legs kicking, hands clawing at Leonardo's wrist.
"There's no point fighting for your pointless life," Leonardo said coldly.
"W-wait," Mr. Whitmore choked out. "I can provide you with money—anything you need—just don't kill me, sir. I have a family."
Leonardo laughed. A low, sharp sound.
"It's ironic hearing that from you. You're the same man who told me I didn't deserve a name."
He tilted his head.
"And pretending to be the perfect husband and father… while sleeping with more than five prostitutes a week? What a pathetic parasite you are."
Leonardo tightened his grip, watching the pastor's eyes widen with fear.
"Any last words, pastor?" he asked calmly.
Mr. Whitmore only struggled, throat clicking as he tried to speak.
"I guess not," Leonardo said.
He plunged the pastor's head into the baptism water — the same water people believed would save them. Mr. Whitmore thrashed, gasped, and finally went limp as the water swallowed him.
Leonardo let the body drop, smiling faintly as he reached into the robe and took Mr. Whitmore's wallet.
He left the pastor lying there, lifeless and half-submerged.
As he exited the church, he passed the old lady he had sat beside earlier. He gave her a gentle wave.
Outside, the cool air of Clockspire brushed against his face. Leonardo sat on a bench, pulled out his notebook, and drew a clean, slow line through Byron Whitmore's name.
He leaned back and stared at the towering statue of the great Inglebert Hoffmann, the city's founder, standing tall above the plaza.