The night in the monastery was long.

It was because everyone, including the priests and widows, went to bed early in preparation for the dawn prayers.

Only Astrid, who stayed behind in the library to transcribe manuscripts, remained awake, illuminating the monastery’s night. As she wrote under the faint light of a single candle, her eyes gradually grew dry and irritated.

She paused, stretched her body, and pressed her tired eyes with both hands. After blinking a few times, the fatigue seemed to ease slightly.

“I think I can barely meet the deadline. Time should be…”

Astrid mentally calculated the remaining hours. If she gave up sleep, she still had an hour or two to spare.

Carefully surveying the dark surroundings, Astrid slowly took in the library, now enveloped in shadows. She was alone, as expected. Still, she double-checked to ensure no one else was around. Once certain, she cautiously stepped forward.

The Forbidden Zone.

It was a place only a few senior male priests and the abbot were permitted to enter—a space that housed the banned books of Hestia.

Astrid picked up the book she had been reading last time. The scent of old books and dust, along with the texture of the dry pages, made her heart race.

‘Just a little more. Just a little more reading, then I’ll leave.’

The last time she was caught was because she had lost track of time while reading until dawn. Without the Abbot Julio’s protection, the punishment would have been far worse than confinement in the underground prayer chamber.

“Sister, you must never set foot here again. Even my patience has limits. Understood?”

“…Yes.”

“You’re avoiding my gaze. Tsk, tsk. So obvious. Like a child wandering too close to danger.”

“Abbot!”

“In any case, I’ve warned you. If you enter the Forbidden Zone again, you’ll face serious consequences. I’m worried, you know. Curiosity can sometimes lead to death.”

Julio’s chilling warning echoed in Astrid’s mind. Despite his usual kindness, Julio had once been an inquisitor before arriving at St. Francesca.

Remembering that unexpected past made Astrid’s hair stand on end.

‘Pointless thoughts. He’s practically my benefactor…’

Rustle.

“Huh?”

A faint sound made Astrid sharpen her hearing. She thought she might have imagined it and returned her gaze to the book—when suddenly, a large hand clamped over her mouth from behind, stealing her breath.

Startled, Astrid struggled, but the grip did not loosen.

“Shh. You and I are both trespassing here. It wouldn’t be good for either of us if we’re caught, right?”

A deep, half-rasped voice whispered from behind. Astrid, desperate, nodded vigorously, silently promising not to scream.

“Good. If you cooperate, I won’t lay a finger on you.”

When she nodded again, the crushing force around her vanished in an instant.

Astrid’s eyes widened as she turned to face the man in front of her. Despite the darkness, the face was familiar, though a fresh scar now ran across it. If anything, it only made his features more striking, adding an air of danger.

Caleb Lionel.

The man who once offered comfort when Astrid had lost everything.

‘Lord Caleb?’

Their reunion, in this unexpected place, felt surreal. Caleb’s demeanor was subtly different from three years ago. His face, sharp and handsome, was unchanged. Yet, his imposing physique and the scar across his face exuded a menacing aura.

Caleb looked down at her with a lazy, almost languid expression, a faint smile on his lips. But Astrid knew better than to be deceived by appearances.

Her instincts, honed through years of navigating dangers in the monastery, warned her:

‘This man is dangerous.’

Unconsciously, Astrid took a step back, but it was futile. Caleb closed the distance with two steps, moving with the ease of someone collecting a trapped rabbit.

“Wh-what!”

Astrid stammered as Caleb leaned in closer. She tried retreating further, but he only chuckled softly, making no effort to stop her.

“The History of Imperial Civilization?”

He merely murmured the title of the book she was holding. Startled, Astrid dropped it.

“Ouch!”

The book landed on her foot, and she let out a cry, collapsing to the floor. Fortunately, her voice did not escape the confines of the library—thanks to Caleb, who swiftly covered her mouth again.

His face now inches from hers, Astrid’s eyes widened in shock.

“Shh.”

Overwhelmed with shock, Astrid nodded faintly, even forgetting the pain in her foot. Only then did Caleb slowly release his hand.

“Hah!” she gasped, catching her breath.

But it didn’t end there. Caleb swiftly grabbed her ankle in one fluid motion. Astrid tried to pull free, but his grip was unyielding—strong enough that it felt impossible to budge. His hand was so large that it easily encompassed her slender ankle, with room to spare.

“Tsk. Lucky the bone didn’t break. It’ll bruise and turn black by tomorrow, though. You’ll be in for a rough time,” he remarked coldly.

“…Let go, please,” she whispered in a barely audible voice.

Hearing her speak for the first time, Caleb shifted his gaze from her foot to her face.

‘Does he recognize me?’ Astrid wondered nervously, shrinking into herself like a turtle retreating into its shell. But no recognition crossed his face.

“A novice priest? What are you doing here at this hour?” he asked.

“I-I’m on night duty. But you, who are you…?”

“Ah, night duty,” Caleb cut her off before she could finish. His lips curled into a smirk, softening his otherwise rugged features. Even the scar that slashed across his face seemed insignificant compared to the charm of his smile.

Yet his next words were anything but gentle.

“The History of Imperial Civilization, huh? That’s Howard Viscount’s famous work. It’s banned in Hestian, isn’t it?”

“…!”

He was right. Every imported book in the Holy Kingdom of Hestian was strictly monitored by a papal institution. Only state-sanctioned scholars, high-ranking officials, and clergy had access to controlled information. For women, such knowledge was perpetually forbidden.

Astrid stiffened, unable to say a word. If she were caught again, even the abbot wouldn’t be able to save her.

‘This time, I’d face harsher punishment. Exile from the monastery, or even sentencing under religious law, might be inevitable.’

“Hey, little priest?” Caleb’s voice broke her thoughts.

The strange nickname startled her, but he continued without waiting for a response.

“They ban the most boring books. This one’s a snoozefest. What’s changed in this country since three years ago?” he muttered, shaking his head.

At the mention of “three years ago,” Astrid’s blue eyes wavered, lost in thought.

“What? Am I that scary?” Caleb chuckled softly, watching her reaction.

“N-no,” she blurted, shaking her head vigorously. She didn’t want any misunderstandings.

Her panicked movements made Caleb chuckle again.

“So, not scary?” he teased.

“It’s not that! I mean, you’re not exactly not scary, but… Anyway, if anyone finds out we’re in the Forbidden Zone, it’ll be trouble. Please, turn a blind eye. If you do, I’ll…”

“Ah, a deal, is it?” Caleb’s eyes gleamed with interest.

Backed into a corner, Astrid decided to face him head-on. After all, they were both trespassing. Surely Caleb had his own reasons for being here.

What could he want? Astrid’s mind raced to find the answer.

“Are you looking for a specific book or document?”She asked cautiously.

“And if I am?” His dark eyes deepened, glinting with intrigue.

Caleb crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as if inviting her to continue. It was an opportunity—a fleeting one she couldn’t afford to miss.

‘There’s no retreat now.’

Astrid swallowed hard, determined. A widow expelled from the monastery would have nowhere to go but the streets. If she couldn’t persuade him, there would be no place for her in Hestian.

“I’ve worked here for three years. I can find whatever you need, even if it’s a banned book,” she offered boldly.

“Heh.” Caleb chuckled at her audacity, making her bite her lip nervously.

Watching her lips pale from pressure, he finally spoke.

“I’m looking for books or documents on potion-making. State secrets, essentially. You’re willing to betray your country for that? Sell out your people?”

“Since three years ago!” Astrid’s voice trembled, her lips quivering.

“I have no country anymore. If I can sell anything to survive another day, I will. Living to see tomorrow is all that matters to me.”

A distant memory surfaced in her mind—words spoken to her long ago.

“It’s self-defense,” someone had told her.

“Self-defense?”

“Yeah. Those who treat you like a criminal? You don’t owe them anything. Just survive.”

“…!”

“So live. No matter what, fight to survive.”

It might have been a thoughtless remark, just words spoken out of fleeting pity or whimsy. Yet, those words had become Astrid’s driving force for the past three years.

Day by day, month by month, year after year—for three long years, those words had been her mantra, her special spell to endure another day.

Astrid made up her mind.

‘Yes. I must survive somehow.’

She resolved to stake everything on Caleb—the man who had shown her a small measure of warmth—rather than continue living a life of devotion to Hestian, the nation that had ruined her and taken everything away.