"Then the tempter came to him and said, 'if you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.'"

Strange, that a prayer would be enough.

It is not the only sign of faith that Yoon has ever doubted, but it is the easiest to doubt. How hard it is to think that words flung out into the air could change a thing—or change a future.

To believe, then, he digs deeper. Words can be blows. Words have struck him like the rocks he used to think would save him. His aim is off; his chances are farther gone still.

(The priest who saved him held him close. If Yoon had shut his eyes, then, he could have imagined that it was his brother, pressing his face against the holy black cloth.)

"I'm afraid he may attempt suicide again," Father Yang says softly, to a circle of men. A circle of men in holy black cloth. And Yoon's heart is beating in his ears, because he does not matter in this moment, his pain does not matter, can never matter, when there are other lives to save. And yet—

Trust broken is trust broken, even when the pages of Scripture bleed black, even when the devil smiles.

It is still Yoon's scars that will reopen and spill life forth from them. It is still Yoon's heart that breaks.

Jesus answered, "It is written: 'Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'"

Hwa Pyung's fist splits his mouth open. Almost, he welcomes it. Welcomes the sting and the salt. Welcomes some kind of retribution for the doubt that sent a man, blind with faith, to his doom.

(Is this despair? Has it come back to him, as the priests believe? Is this despair?)

The detective defends him. Kang Gil-young. She used to stare him down with hard and steady eyes. Her eyes are no less steady, but her voice is open when she speaks to him. She angles shoulder-to-shoulder with him, with Hwa Pyung. She has saved them both. She defends him now, and Yoon does not deserve it—it was he, after all, who failed—but he is painfully grateful.

Yes. Even gratitude knows its own pains.

Later, in his solitary chambers, he prays for them. One rosary after the other after the other. All their mothers are gone. All their hands are empty. Will they not long for love, no matter how much fear tracks them down?

Yoon prays until he falls asleep, until the nightmares come shrieking with blades and smiles.

He wakes with glass in his hand and darkness stinging on his wrist. Here is the sharpest shard of all: Father Yang never promised him the world. He only reassured him that he still had a place in it.

Then the devil took him to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. "If you are the Son of God," he said, "throw yourself down."

He was not brave enough to jump. There are bridges all over Korea, all over the world, probably, where people leap once and for all. But Yoon stood and looked at white and rushing water, Yoon felt his breath rise and fall with the crash of waves.

Yoon was a coward, or braver than he knew. The two things cannot both be true at once, of course, but the truth of that particular story is: he walked away.

They will not survive this. Has not the cock crowed thrice for Yoon?

Only—it is no betrayal, and he is no savior. He is simply a soldier; a foot-soldier in the service of God and man. In the service of two friends, who already lost every hope they had, yet who searched for new hopes like pebbles on a long, gray shore.

He opens his window, and does not even consider whether he will be alive to take the punishment that follows. He stands on the ledge, and it is neither bravery nor cowardice that binds him: only purpose.

Yoon jumps.

Jesus answered him, "It is also written: 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'"

Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. "All this I will give you," he said, "if you will bow down and worship me."

He faced down his demon in the house of the Lord. Who is he to doubt now, as he stands beneath the mountain?

He is no one, no one at all, and he is painfully grateful for that.

He tells Hwa Pyung that he is coming. Into the darkness, into the forest, into the eyes of the man he was so very sure had saved him.

Yoon will not return, but this is no attempt—

And it is farther, still, from despair.

Jesus said to him, "Away from me, Satan! For it is written: 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.'"

Then the devil left him.