Soldiers stormed into the quiet little church, breaking the solemn atmosphere they had, freezing both the speaker and the congregation.

"What madness is this?" the one on the pulpit asked, fuming. "This is the house of God! It will not be defiled by such madness!"

"Sorry," the head of the team said sarcastically. "I never got the notice. What I did get," he said, pulling out a piece of paper from his uniform. "was an order to make all men who believe in Christ to renounce their faith or die. This world does not need such frivolous doctrines."

Guns were aimed at the congregation, the atmosphere was tense.

"Renounce or die!" he screeched. "The choice is simple, a myth or your life?"

"Jesus is not a myth," a woman firmly responded. "He is God."

She was tall, hair styled as intricately as that of the other women, but unlike them, she had a fiery gaze. Her eyes challenged him, her stance declared that she was sure. Security was quite a rare thing in turbulent times like these, and he could not but help admire that, in an odd, twisted way.

"So I take it that you will not renounce?" he asked coldly, as he took out a glimmering blade and held it at .

She was shaking, but she swallowed her saliva and quietly said no. She could not shake her head, the blade might be sharp enough to slice through her as soon as she did so. This man looked formiddable.

"Who else?" he asked. "Who else is brave enough to stand up for this God that you call? Anyone?"

Someone raised his hand tentatively, and fearfully spoke, "I will renounce."

The congregation held back the stiffling gasp that was threatening to come due to shock. One of them had just given up, given in. The ice was broken; surely there will also be those that will follow his lead.

One by one, more people renounced their faith.

Her eyes were glimmering, but he did not know why. Was she breaking? For what or because of what?

"Are these all?" he asked, as the sounds of guns clicking, preparing to fire were heard. In the deafening silence that had engulfed them the moment he and his men had come, every single click was like a knife, slowly cutting the ropes that held their lives, as the Fates both weave and cut the strings of life of every mortal that have stepped foot on this earth.

Silence answered his question, and he took it as a yes.

"Pull down that cross," he commanded, nodding his head towards the cross that hung behind the pulpit.

The cross was laid on the floor, right in front of him and his hostage.

"Here is the cross of that man that you call God. The man that you all say willingly died the gruesome death of the lowest and most despised of all criminals even though he was innocent of any crime," he proclaimed. "Those of you who say they will renounce, step on it.

"We all know how the holy must always be clean, don't we? But since you've renounced, that should not be quite a problem for you," he slurred.

One by one, they stepped on the cross that lay on the ground. The woman behind his knife clenched her fists, grinding her teeth. Her eyes were closed--she did not wish to witness how people she'd once called brothers and sisters defile the symbol that carried their saviour's suffering, their forgiveness and salvation.

"Now," he said, after the last person stepped on the cross. "Gather them."

The soldiers gathered those that renounced their faith.

"What is this?" one demanded. "We have renounced! We have renounced!"

"Yes, and for that," he said, retracting his blade from the base of . "You will die. Religion and idyllic beliefs in things that don't exist may not have a place in this world, but those who betray their beliefs and the people that they have been with for so many years prior to the threat have even less a place in this world. Take them."

Soldiers dragged them out of the remaining congregation's presence kicking and screaming. The sounds of gunshots being fired and the thudding of bodies falling lifelessly on the ground were heard, and they knew that there was nothing more they could ever do for their fallen comrades.

"Why?" she asked weakly.

"Why what?" he asked. "Such people should not mean anything to you--they've betrayed you and your faith. Men without loyalty are of no use, especially not to your survival. Not now."

He walked out of the presence of the congregation, or at least what's left of it, followed by his men. She crumbled in her spot, crying. People were dead. People she knew.

~°~

"Miss Choi?" the secretary asked. Sooyoung snapped out of her daze and responded. "This way please."

Sooyoung followed the secretary into the office. She knocked on the door and a muffled reply came from the other side of the room, and Sooyoung was allowed in.

"It's been long, hasn't it?" he asked, then he motioned for her to sit. "Please, have a seat."

"I still don't understand what you meant to say to me all those years ago," she said.

"From what I've learned in my lifetime, a person's greatest testimony is his or her life. What he does, what he says, what he thinks. All these things contribute to the image that will be built up of those affiliated with him; they will become the stereotype that marks forever.

"We are all living under the same government, we are of the same blood. But some steps are necessary to take in order to protect the greater people than just a few."

"That's murder."

"Unfortunately, it is. But when you are at war, you only have one thing left: protect what needs to be protected at any cost. At camp, we are always told that the easier way out is to die for what you believe in than to live for it. But faced with that, even dying was something they cannot embrace, even though dying would give them the escape that their bodies have longed for and the return that their spirits have yearned for.

"In such cases, if a man cannot be trusted to be loyal to the faith that he has chosen of his own volition, how can he, then, be loyal to a cause he is merely compelled to be with? If a man cannot love the brother that he sees, how can he love that which he does not see? In that context, those people who died were surrounded by the brothers and sisters that have loved him for quite some time. They betrayed not only God but also their brothers and sisters, their mothers and fathers, children and friends. Who is to say that they will not rat us out to the enemy if given the opportunity to save their lives and be given a reward? Ms. Choi, do not forget that there are always casualties in war. And there will always be sacrifices to be made.

"I'm not saying that I have not regretted what I have done, and that I have not admired the courage by which civilians such as yourselves were willing to die for what you believe in. I am sure that with just a little bit more thought, you would understand. It's not that much different from your life as a Christian."

~°~

It's not that much different from your life as a Christian.

Those words echoed in her head constantly. Ever since that day, all those years ago, there was nothing but pain and anger in her heart and that agonizing scream of why? She had lost much of her faith; she had witnessed them die in the hands of men who were supposed to protect them. She had seen their blood trickle through the door and into their sanctuary.

Sanctuary? How was that place to be sanctuary? Instead of being saved, all of them were threatened, some of them killed.

What was Christianity now? Just another thing that gives both false hope and false promises?

Anyone who thinks sitting in church can make you a Christian must also think that sitting in a garage can make you a car, she read. This simply had to be the queerest telegram she'd ever received.

"Do you understand now?" he asked, shocking Sooyoung out of her train of thought.

"Who let you in here?" she demanded.

"Your maid," he shrugged. "I had hoped that you would not mind the company."

"Mr. Suho-"

"Sanctuaries can only be sanctuaries if there is something meaningful there. A temple is treated as sacred only because it is where people believe that their gods reside. And your church could only flourish if its members were really in it for the accomplishment of the cause that you were all supposed to be after. As such, the country can only rid itself of the shackles of conquerors if it rids itself of traitors.

"Ms. Choi Sooyoung, did you know that every man and woman killed that night had something to do with the weak effects of the military's attempts at shaking off the foreign shackles?

"No man who truly believes in God will believe that it is the conqueror's right to destroy them, not when we are to be made slaves. God is not heartless to punish those that follow Him, He just asks that you wait for His answer. And they did not. They turned to something else and prostrated themselves to a foreign power that would get rid of them any time they were deemed useless.

"So, now, where do you stand?" he asked.

Sooyoung's eyes scanned the words in her hands before she spoke. "I still stand on the same ground."

"That's good to hear," he said, as he replaced the hat on his head. "Shalom, Ms. Sooyoung. I hope that the whole world will be able to hear the testimony of more people like you."

Suho left as though he simply made a detour.

Shalom. Peace.

Sooyoung shot out of her seat only to discover that he was gone, out of her sight. Forever...?

A/N: The telegraph message is a quote from Garrison Keillor, and shalom means peace in Hebrew.