Endless Debt Chapter 1161 - 21: Justice Bound Hand and Foot

York’s brow furrowed as he gazed upon the sprawling ruins extending into the distance. Laborers toiled diligently amidst the debris, excavating rubble and searching for entombed bodies. Many were already decayed and dry, yet familial recognition remained swift and undeniable.

Now and then, heartbroken cries would erupt from the ruins, the raw grief echoing and stirring York’s own heart. He reverently touched the cross adorning his chest before lowering his head in silent prayer.

Upon lifting his gaze once more, York observed a throng had materialized on the ruins, engrossed in what appeared to be a fervent discussion. Muffled curses could faintly be discerned.

Concerned by the growing unrest, York moved to de-escalate. Weaving through the crowd, he saw a distraught woman clinging to a partially decomposed corpse, her sobs relentless.

Such somber scenes had become tragically common in the wake of Gray Stone Town's devastation. York found himself puzzled as to why this particular instance incited such a strong reaction.

"Priest… Father York…"

Spotting York, the woman cried out his name in anguish. Without preamble, she fully unveiled the corpse for his inspection.

York now grasped the depth of her sorrow.

The deceased was her son, yet his body bore signs of violation, stripped bare of all clothing and adornments.

York recalled that prior to the calamity, her family had been among Gray Stone Town's most affluent. It became evident that someone had pilfered the deceased's possessions.

"What has occurred?" York inquired gently of the bystander.

"We searched this area days ago and found nothing. But today, a body suddenly appeared. We excavated it, only to find it in this condition."

The speaker was the town's sheriff, his meager police force decimated by the disaster. His face, much like York's, was etched with exhaustion.

"We suspect someone exhumed it elsewhere, absconded with all valuables, and then re-interred it here."

"Desecration!"

York’s expression contorted in fury, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

The disaster had already inflicted unimaginable pain, and York was appalled that anyone would stoop to desecrating bodies amidst such profound tragedy. Even his gentle nature was overcome by righteous anger.

"Are there any leads?" York asked.

"None," the sheriff replied, glancing up at the towering surrounding walls. "At night, visibility is practically zero here."

The woman continued her lament, softly cursing the perpetrator who defiled the body, vowing they would endure a thousand arrows piercing their heart.

Kneeling beside the deceased, York took the stiff hand and offered a final prayer over the remains.

"Thank you, Father," the woman whispered.

"It was my duty."

His prayer concluded, York rose and scanned the vicinity, his attention drawn to a solitary figure in the distance.

Though his vision was somewhat obscured, York recognized the man – it was Gami.

In that instant, York's mind flashed back to the previous night's confession.

"I have committed a transgression; I took wealth from the departed that was not mine."

Now, observing the subtle change in Gami's attire, the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place – Gami was undoubtedly the culprit.

Suppressing his rising indignation, York moved through the throng and approached Gami. Noticing York's advance, Gami initially displayed a flicker of alarm but quickly composed himself, a peculiar smile gracing his lips.

Gami often exhibited this demeanor, lurking in shadowed alleyways and flashing that unsettling smile at passersby. It was said he resembled a snake flicking its forked tongue.

"Did you do this?" York’s voice was a low, resonant growl.

A fleeting look of panic crossed Gami’s eyes, but he quickly regained his composure. "What do you mean, Father?"

"Cease this pretense; it was you, wasn't it?"

York grasped Gami's hand, his gaze fixing on the silver ring adorning Gami's finger, noting the faint traces of dark red blood within its intricate carvings.

Gami wrenched his hand free and stepped back, drawing the surrounding shadows closer.

"Are you accusing me, Father?" Gami challenged defiantly. "You require proof."

"Your own confession to me last night!"

York advanced again, a flicker of hope that Gami had turned over a new leaf quickly extinguished upon realizing he had merely continued his descent into darkness.

"Confession? To you?" Gami retorted. "And if I did confess, how would you verify it was truly me?"

York was momentarily silenced, the surge of anger subsiding somewhat. Church doctrine strictly mandated a priest's absolute protection of a confessor's privacy, compelling him to feign ignorance even when the identity of the penitent was known. Moreover, in the darkness of the previous night's confession, York had not clearly seen Gami's face.

"I will not shield a criminal," York stated firmly.

"You brand me a criminal, yet where is your evidence?"

Gami stood resolute. "Someone confessed to you in the dead of night, you surmise it was me, and you suspect I committed this act. Father, you cannot malign an innocent man."

York found himself momentarily speechless. As Gami had pointed out, he possessed no concrete proof of Gami’s transgression. The sole account available was Gami’s own admission to him.

"Are you planning to broadcast the confession made to you by that individual, allowing others to pass judgment?" Gami pressed further, his gaze unwavering.

"Without substantiated facts, wouldn't that act constitute a breach of your convictions?"

York’s expression darkened, his silence a heavy burden, while Gami’s smile widened. He then tapped his hand against York’s chest in a cross-like gesture.