The church smelled of candle wax and worn-out hope.
The pews were polished by decades of repentant knees.
The stained-glass windows told stories of redemption and divine fire.
And in the middle of it all, Samuel Book stepped down from the pulpit with a tired smile, as applause and hymns still echoed against the stone walls.
"Brother Book," said an older woman, taking his hand. "Your message reached my soul."
He gave her a calm, warm look — as if he truly were the man he pretended to be.
"I'm glad to hear that, Sister Margaret. May God bless you."
She walked away, wiping a tear.
He walked back, behind the altar, where no one could see him.
There, in a small room lit only by a yellow bulb, he opened a wooden cabinet. Inside, there were three things:
A bottle of holy water.
A jar of sleeping pills.
And a black notebook, filled with handwritten names.
One was underlined.
Daniel Reyes.
The judge who sentenced an innocent man to death.
The man who signed verdicts for money.
The same man who prayed every Sunday… just to avoid suspicion.
Samuel closed the cabinet.
"It's time," he murmured. "Time to do justice."
II. The Night Does Not Sleep
The rain had stopped when he arrived at the south district.
A place even the police avoided after nine.
Abandoned houses. Broken lights. Interrupted lives.
In a rundown building, on the third floor, Daniel Reyes was preparing for bed. Dressed in an expensive suit, smelling of tobacco and whiskey. On the nightstand, his personal Bible, open to Matthew 7:2.
"For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged."
Not a coincidence.
Reyes claimed to believe.
But he also believed faith had a price.
And he knew exactly how to collect it.
Suddenly, he heard a noise.
"Who's there?"
No answer.
He got up. Walked into the living room. Nothing. Just silence. But something was off. He felt it before he saw it.
An open Bible on the table.
Same edition.
Same bookmark.
Romans 12:19.
"Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord; I will repay."
He lifted his head.
Samuel Book was there. Standing. In the same black clothes. The gun wrapped in white cloth hung from his arm.
"You…" Reyes whispered.
"Yes," the pastor replied. "I've come to take you home."
Reyes backed away. His hand searched under the table. The gun was gone. Already taken.
"What do you want? Money? I have..."
"I don't want your money," Samuel interrupted. "I want your soul."
"You're insane."
"It's not me who stands before death," Samuel said, stepping closer. "I'm only the messenger."
Reyes swallowed hard. His eyes searched for an escape. There was none.
"Who sent you? The government? The reporters I silenced?"
Samuel shook his head.
"I didn't come for them. I came for you. For your choices. For the lives you destroyed in the name of law… and profit."
Reyes dropped to the floor. Shaking.
"You can't just kill me like this," he said. "I am a child of God."
"Do you really believe that saves you?" Samuel asked, voice low. "After sentencing children to the electric chair for money?"
Reyes didn't answer. He couldn't.
Samuel grabbed him by the collar. Lifted him with force.
"Confess," he ordered.
"I... I... I confess my sins!" Reyes cried, sobbing. "Jesus is my Savior!"
Samuel released him.
He looked up at the sky.
Closed his eyes.
"Then go in peace."
And he pulled the trigger.
III. The Dark Confessional
Later that night, Samuel returned to his church.
He took off the black clothes.
Washed the blood from his hands.
Put on the white robe.
Sitting inside the confessional booth, he received a young man in his early twenties.
He was trembling. Sweating. Looking like he might vomit.
"Father… I have sinned," the boy said, voice broken. "I stole. I lied. I got drunk. I fought. I am weak."
Samuel observed him from the other side of the screen.
"Have you done anything worse than that?"
The young man hesitated.
"I think so."
"Then tell me."
"I killed someone," the boy blurted out, crying. "It was an accident. I was drunk. I hit a man. No one knows."
Silence.
Samuel didn't move.
"Do you regret it?"
"Yes… yes, I do."
"Would you turn yourself in to the police?"
"I would… except I have a little sister. If I go to prison, she'll be alone."
Samuel exhaled slowly.
Then he extended his hand.
"My son…" he said. "A repentant heart is an acceptable sacrifice in the eyes of God."
The boy breathed in relief.
"Thank you, Father. Thank you for hearing me."
Samuel fixed his gaze on him.
"But there are more ways to pay for your sins," he added. "And you're going to learn them."
The boy looked at him, confused.
Outside, the rain began again.
As if the heavens could no longer cleanse what happened on earth.