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Father Antonio stepped briskly out of the great sanctuary. Though it was a weekday morning mass, the pews were unusually full with Easter approaching. As he passed through the cathedral doors, he paused to greet every parishioner on their way out. The elderly, who made up the majority of the morning congregation, were especially fond of Father Antonio—young, warm, and always present with a kind word. Only after the last goodbye did he return to the rectory office. There, seated quietly on the couch, was Cecilia. Her real name was Kim Yoonyoung. She served as president of the church's youth fellowship. “Sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting long?” “Not at all. When do the parishioners ever let you go early?” She smiled softly and shook her head as if to say it was nothing. Her neatly combed bob shifted gently, releasing a trace of something pleasant in the air. “You said you had something to discuss?” At Father Antonio’s question, the smile lingering on Cecilia’s face began to fade. She lowered her gaze to the hydrangeas arranged on the table—flowers Sister Rita had placed there to welcome spring. The two sat facing each other in a modest church known by its nickname, The Light of Truth Parish, located on the outskirts of Seoul. With around six hundred parishioners, the parish was served by two priests and two nuns. Father Antonio, now thirty, had joined the parish three years ago as an associate priest, overseeing the youth ministry. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring this to you, but… I can’t stop thinking about it.” “It’s okay. Is it something personal?” “No. It’s about the church. Eunyoung from the choir... she ran away from home last weekend.” “Anna? What do you mean by that? Tell me everything.” Choi Eunyoung—better known among the congregation as Anna—was someone no one could miss. A cradle Catholic, she had attended church since childhood and, even now as a college student, hadn’t missed a single week of worship. When Father Antonio first arrived at Light of Truth Parish three years ago, it was Anna, then still a high school girl, who had run up to him, hooked her arm in his, and greeted him with bright excitement. “She left a letter on Sunday morning, and then disappeared. It was her brother who told her friends, and that’s how it reached the parish—since Eunyoung is close with Jiyoon.” Father Antonio lifted his eyes to the calendar hanging on the office wall. Today was Wednesday. If Cecilia’s account was accurate, that meant Eunyoung had been gone for four days now. “There's still no word from her. Her phone’s been off.” For Father Antonio, who oversaw the youth ministry, it was a deeply unsettling revelation. He had always believed he shared a close bond with the young members, and yet, he had noticed no signs of emotional distress from Eunyoung at all. “Eunyoung… running away? I can’t believe it.” “Father, there’s something more—There’s a disturbing rumor going around.” “What kind of rumor?” “This morning, some of the young adults gathered and talked about Eunyoung. Someone said… she ran away because she got involved with a cult.” Father Antonio’s expression stiffened. He had occasionally read news reports about cults in the media, but had always thought of them as distant—irrelevant to a Catholic priest like himself. “Anna? You really believe that?” He recalled how Anna would sit in the front row during youth mass, hands folded in prayer, always reverent and present. The idea that she might have been drawn into a cult—it was beyond anything he could picture, no matter how hard he tried. “At first, I couldn’t believe it either. It’s Eunyoung, after all—not just anyone. But the things I heard today… they were too specific. It’s really shaken me.” “Specific? What do you mean?” “Yongbin, remember? He was taking catechism classes last fall—preparing for baptism, and sang in the choir.” “I’m not sure. The name rings a bell, but I can’t quite place him.” “He started coming to church last fall. I’m sure you'd recognize him if you saw him—tall, almost celebrity-like looks. He was really popular with the girls at church.” As Cecilia spoke, a vague image surfaced in Father Antonio’s mind. There had been a young man—strikingly noticeable—among the catechumens last fall. A pale-faced youth who sat silently in the corner during every class, his beauty so surreal it seemed as if he’d stepped out of a television screen. Seeing him in that modest church classroom had felt almost unreal. “Yes… we didn’t speak much, but I think I know who you’re talking about. Are you saying he’s connected to Eunyoung’s disappearance?” Cecilia lowered her head and seemed to hesitate, her expression caught between uncertainty and conflict. After a brief silence, she looked up again. “Father, I think it’d be best if you heard the rest from the choir members directly. They should be finishing up their practice around now. I’ll ask the ones who’ve heard the rumors to gather separately. Would that be okay?” “It’s about Eunyoung, of course it’s okay. Shall we meet in the small meeting room in ten minutes?” “Yes, I’ll let them know.” As the morning sunlight began to retreat behind a mischievous cloud, shadows crept into the office interior. Only the statue of the Virgin Mary, standing quietly in the corner of the empty parish office, seemed to watch over Father Antonio in silence. Ten minutes later, Father Antonio stood at the center of the sanctuary, his eyes lifted toward the choir loft on the second floor. The youth choir, preparing for the special Easter mass, was deep in rehearsal, following the conductor’s hand with precision. They were working through the final bars of Agnus Dei, followed by Alleluia, which would close the liturgy. Though small in number—barely fifteen members—the choir’s harmonies, complete with tenor, bass, soprano, and alto, were well above what one might expect from such a modest group. Father Antonio watched in silence from a distance, waiting for the music to come to its natural close. When the rehearsal ended and the singers began to drift off in small groups, he made his way upstairs to the small meeting room. As he stepped inside, the young people who recognized him turned their heads and greeted him warmly. There were four choir members gathered with Yoonyoung; Ko Hoon Michael, the choir director; Song Jiyoon Rosa, the alto section leader and Eunyoung’s close friend; Oh Yumi Elizabeth, the choir secretary; and Ahn Youngmi Maria, the accompanist. At Yoonyoung’s lead, Father Antonio and the four young choir members sat around a round table. Under different circumstances, they might have been chatting easily, light-hearted and relaxed. But given the situation, every face in the room carried a quiet weight. “What we’re about to share hasn’t been told to anyone else,” Yoonyoung began, glancing at Father Antonio. “It’s not confirmed, and we didn’t think it would help anyone for rumors to spread.” “Thank you,” Father Antonio replied. “I just heard about Eunyoung’s disappearance. If there’s anything you know—anything that might help—please, tell me.” At his words, all eyes turned to him, cautious and uncertain. For a moment, the room was filled with silence. It was Song Jiyoon Rosa who finally spoke. “Eunyoung’s brother called me yesterday afternoon. He said she had run away from home and asked if I knew anything. The last time I saw her was during Friday evening practice last week. She seemed completely normal, so I had nothing to say. Still, I was so shocked I ran to her house right away. I read the letter she left behind… the handwriting was definitely hers, but I couldn’t make sense of what it said.” Jiyoon and Eunyoung were both freshmen in college—friends of the same age who had been inseparable at church for years. If even Jiyoon hadn’t noticed any warning signs, then Eunyoung Anna’s disappearance was no small matter. “As soon as I heard, I told Cecilia and Michael,” Jiyoon continued. “Even if no one else knew, I felt like the youth group president and the choir director needed to be informed.” “What did the letter say?” Father Antonio asked gently. “She said she wasn’t leaving out of resentment, and that we shouldn’t worry. But the next part… I couldn’t understand at all. She wrote that she wanted to experience a new world she’d heard about from someone. It was so out of character—I’d never heard her talk like that. It really shook me.” As Jiyoon spoke, Ko Hoon Michael, the choir director who had been listening in silence, finally added his voice. “After Jiyoon contacted me last night, I asked Yumi and Youngmi to talk briefly before today’s rehearsal. There’s something they told me a while back, and I’m starting to think it might be related to Eunyoung’s disappearance.” Michael had been with the youth choir since his college days, and even now, at twenty-seven, he remained its dependable leader. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a calm but commanding presence, he was someone the other choir members naturally relied on. After speaking, he turned toward the accompanist, Ahn Youngmi Maria. “I really didn’t think what I said would turn into something like this…” Maria spoke hesitantly, sensing Michael’s gaze. With a petite face framed by oversized black-rimmed glasses, she carried the quiet poise of someone accustomed to discipline and focus. She had graduated from a prestigious music school in Seoul, and was currently preparing to study abroad. “I invited my cousin to our Christmas choir concert last year,” Maria began, her voice calm but hesitant. “She’s not a member of our church, but she’s a Christian and loves music, so I told her she could come without feeling pressured. The day of the concert was hectic—I didn’t even get a chance to say hi. But earlier this month, we finally met up for a meal, and that’s when she told me.” Maria paused, steadying her breath, then glanced around the room before continuing in a more careful tone. “She said that when she saw Yongbin singing in the choir that night, she suddenly remembered something from years ago. Back in her old church—about seven years ago—there had been a boy who lured several high school girls to run away. He took them into a cult called ‘The Celestial Gate.’ She’s not completely sure, but she has a strong feeling… that Yongbin might be that same guy.” “The Celestial Gate?” Father Antonio tilted his head, confused. Maria nodded, now speaking with more conviction.
