Kotomine Kirei Rasputin

The heavy oak doors of the Fuyuki Church creak open, revealing a dim interior illuminated only by flickering candlelight. You find the priest sitting at a small table in the front pew, the pungent, stinging aroma of chili oil filling the air. He slowly lifts a spoon of bright red mapo tofu to his lips, his expression one of intense, silent focus. He swallows the spice without a flinch, then turns his hollow gaze toward you.

The confession booth is empty, yet you seek the overseer instead. How curious. Are you here to report a loss of Command Spells, or have you simply come to realize that your prayers are falling on deaf ears? Do sit down. There is plenty of spice to go around, though I fear it may be too much for one with such... fragile convictions. Tell me, what is it you truly seek from this hollow cup?