When Astrid awoke early from exhaustion, Caleb was nowhere to be found.

She washed her face and was tidying the bed when someone barged in without knocking.

“You are to leave immediately.”

It was Fabiola’s nanny, delivering the decree of expulsion without preamble.

Astrid slowly raised her gaze to meet the nanny’s eyes, which were filled with undisguised contempt.

The once polite “Lady, Lady” address had vanished, replaced by open disdain.

Standing up and dusting off her hands, Astrid calmly regarded the nanny. She said nothing, but her silent stare made the woman falter, Astrid if caught off guard.

‘Caleb was right. There’s no need to cause unnecessary trouble, but I won’t grovel either. I have nothing left to lose.’

A faint, melancholy smile tugged at Astrid’s lips.

“Hmph! Leave immediately. Lady Fabiola has graciously arranged a carriage for you. Since you don’t have much to pack, go at once…”

“Is that an order?”

“W-What?”

The nanny flinched at Astrid’s sudden question, her body trembling slightly.

“Lady Fabiola ordered you to leave immediately…”

“I heard you the first time. But where is your etiquette? You know my name is still Bowell now that I’m back, don’t you?”

Astrid was right. Even though she was now a widow and technically a social outcast, she remained a Bowell and a noblewoman.

In Hestian’s conservative society, hierarchy was strictly enforced, along with rigid gender roles.

Realizing her mistake, the nanny belatedly bent her knees and offered a formal bow.

“…Lady, my apologies. Please forgive me.”

It was a reluctant apology.

Astrid straightened her back, lifted her chin slightly, and stood with perfect poise, as if modeling a textbook example of noble etiquette.

Despite having nothing left, Astrid looked down at the nanny with an air of dignity.

“You made a wise decision. If I ever return, I will remember this apology.”

Her words carried the weight of a warning, leaving the nanny speechless and frozen in place.

Even though Astrid was dressed in rags and had nothing, the authority in her young voice was undeniable.

“Show me to the carriage. I should leave now.”

“…Yes, my lady.”

Astrid watched the nanny bow politely, finding little satisfaction. Instead of feeling triumphant, she was left with a bitter taste.

Caleb Lionel was right.

‘Everyone treats me like a criminal, but I’ve done nothing wrong. I must always hold my head high.’

Before leaving, Astrid took one last look around the annex. Though it wasn’t filled with fond memories, it was still a part of the Bowell estate, where she had been born and raised.

She had promised Vanessa she would return someday, but deep down, Astrid knew it was an empty boast. Leaving now meant she could never come back, and she was fully aware of it.

‘…I wish I could have said goodbye.’

Even though Caleb only saw her as a lowly servant, she couldn’t shake the sense of regret.

The plain carriage, devoid of the Bowell crest, began its slow departure from the estate. Astrid didn’t look back, fearing the temptation to jump out.

She didn’t want to face the emptiness left by her father, who would no longer greet her with open arms upon her return.

With her eyes closed, she silently endured the jolting ride.

****

“Hey! Hey!”

Caleb scratched his head as he called out for Astrid. He had expected her to come running like a squirrel, but the girl remained silent, despite his repeated calls.

“What the… Did she go somewhere?”

It was market day, and he had just returned with Cradoc. Caleb dumped the items he had bought onto the floor without care.

The loosely tied bag fell open, spilling its contents: a dagger for self-defense, jerky for emergency rations, herbs for stopping bleeding and reducing fever—essentials for a long journey.

“Lord Caleb, what is all this? I asked you to pick out a gift for Matilda, but why have you gathered all these random items? Are you planning to give them to that little servant? Honestly, you’re impossible to understand. What’s with the sudden whim this time—ack!”

“Mind your own business and focus on your duties, will you?”

“Well, our young lord may seem cold on the outside, but he’s quite compassionate. Just look at how you took in Elkan and Kyle…”

“Enough. Shut up already.”

“…I take back what I said about compassion.”

The items Caleb had painstakingly gathered were meant for Astrid, who was about to embark on a long journey. Though they weren’t particularly valuable, each item had been carefully chosen.

At one point, he considered abandoning the effort, aware that this wasn’t like him. But in the end, he shrugged it off.

Caleb was a man who lived honestly, guided by his desires.

Whether it was mere sympathy or the compassion Cradoc spoke of, he couldn’t say. He simply acted on impulse.

Now, the items were useless—the person they were meant for had vanished.

A strange silence settled over the annex, a void left by the girl’s absence.

“Did she leave without a word? How heartless.”

Grumbling, Caleb picked up a bright red apple that had rolled out of the bundle. The sight of its vivid color reminded him of the rosy hue that once flushed the girl’s cheeks.

He rubbed the apple on his sleeve before taking a large bite. It tasted bland.

Even the apples were tasteless. Just one more reason to despise Hestian.

Chewing the flavorless fruit, Caleb reaffirmed his resolve: he would never return to Hestian.

But that vow would not be kept. Caleb had no idea that three years later, after the monster campaign ended, he would set foot on this detested land once more.

Nor did he know that he would reunite with the girl he thought he’d never see again—Astrid Bowell.

***

It had been three years since her husband, the Count, had passed—a man she had never even shared a proper conversation with.

Astrid had grown into a mature young woman of eighteen. She had spent those three years in a convent for noble widows, living a life far removed from the opulence of nobility.

Unlike common widows, she didn’t lack food or clothing, but the life was austere.

In the cold, gray world of the convent, widowed women filled their days with prayer, meditation, and simple tasks like sewing to fend off the monotony.

For those with nowhere else to go, each day at the convent felt eternal. But for Astrid, it was different.

She had seen, heard, and learned much during her time in this gray world.

The library of St. Francesca’s Convent had become her sanctuary. For three years, except for time spent praying, eating, and sleeping, Astrid devoted herself entirely to it.

Scratch, scratch.

Today, like every other day, Astrid busied herself with her pen, lost in thought and work.

***

At the convent’s library, Astrid was assigned to the task of transcription.

“He who eats must work.”

The rules of the convent were strict.

No matter their noble lineage, women who arrived at the convent as sinners were required to work. Their duties were limited to tasks like sewing or crafting small items.

Astrid, however, was different. Thanks to her father, she was fluent not only in Croatan and the imperial language but also in ancient tongues like Swalin and Aspet. Thus, she alone handled the transcription work in the library.

“Transcription is strictly the domain of priests! How can a woman, and a sinner at that, presume to do such a task?”

This was what the priest in charge of the library had said when Astrid first volunteered for the role. Unfortunately, there were few priests at St. Francesca’s Convent capable of transcription.

Most were female priests and widows, and among the few male priests, those skilled enough for transcription were rare.

In the end, it was fortunate for Astrid. Despite the grueling amount of work that left calluses on her third finger, she gained much more in return.

To her, the library was a gateway to another world. Through books, she heard the voices of great figures, walked the paths of adventurers, and absorbed the reflections of renowned thinkers.

As a result, a new desire awakened within her—one she never thought she would have.

She began to dream of venturing into a broader world. It was a fleeting dream, but one she clung to every night, and that impossible dream kept her going.

Thud.

Rubbing her tired eyes, Astrid glanced at the thick book placed beside her.

“Sister, have you still not finished the transcription I assigned two days ago? The Abbot requested it urgently. You must complete it within three days.”

“But…!”

Even finishing it in a week would be a challenge, let alone in three days. At her small protest, the young priest frowned deeply.

“How dare you complain! You should be grateful to take part in such noble work despite your status as a woman and a sinner. Do you wish to be confined to the prayer room again?”

Faced with this thinly veiled threat, Astrid pressed her lips together and nodded. The priest, now satisfied, gave a curt nod.

“Fine. as a special favor, I’ll grant you permission to use the library late at night and provide three candles. But only for three days. And…”

The priest, who was puffed up with self-importance, scanned Astrid from head to toe. He clicked his tongue in disapproval at her short, boyish haircut and plain attire.

“Can’t you do something about that hair and those clothes? It’s indecent!”

“The Abbot gave me permission. I’ll do my best to complete the transcription on time.”

“Hmph. See that you do. If you slack off while the Abbot is away, you won’t escape punishment.”

Astrid nodded silently. She wanted to ignore him but had no desire to return to the vermin-infested underground prayer room.

At eighteen, Astrid had learned to mask her feelings and compromise with the world when necessary, maturing into a pragmatic woman.

“If you dare trespass into forbidden territory again, not even the Abbot’s protection will save you. Remember, Sister—you could be charged and face a religious trial.”

“Yes, Father.”

With her head bowed, Astrid kept her gaze lowered, and despite her plain appearance, her beauty was blossoming daily. Neither her simple clothes nor her short hair could hide it.

Even though the convent provided no luxuries like soap, Astrid always exuded a fresh, clean scent.

The priest leaned in, as if to inhale her fragrance, pretending to inspect her work.

Astrid always, there were no mistakes in her transcription.

“No errors, but the handwriting! I’ve told you before—write with more strength and confidence. This delicate style is suited for dime novels, not sacred texts…”

“Enough. I get it.”

Astrid shifted back, trying to distance herself from the priest as he leaned in closer.

“Look here at this part—”

“Father Dylan.”

“Ah! Ab…Abbot!”

Startled, Dylan jumped away from Astrid. Standing before them was Julio, the head of St. Francesca’s Convent.

“I need to speak with Sister Astrid. Please excuse us.”

Dylan trembled under Julio’s calm, yet unnerving, gaze. Though the Abbot wore a gentle smile, there was an unmistakable chill in his eyes.

“Yes, of course.”

Astrid Dylan retreated with slumped shoulders; Julio’s gaze followed him coldly.

“I see you’ve nearly finished the task I assigned, Sister. How have you been?”

“Very well, thanks to you.”

“Good. Otherwise… I would’ve been quite upset. And anger is unbecoming of a clergyman. Fortunately, there’s no need for that.”

Though his words were directed at Astrid, his gaze lingered on the direction Dylan had left. Astrid had never seen Julio truly angry and hoped she never would.

Julio, despite his serene demeanor, harbored a core of iron resolve. Astrid both respected and feared him, sensing the formidable strength behind his gentle facade.