Chapter 1.4

A confession. It was a topic that had never once come up at their gatherings before. Curiosity sparked in the eyes of several young ladies.

“By confession, do you mean a confession of sins?”

“Isn’t that something people do to atone for wrongdoing?”

The voices of the questioning young ladies became cautious. The very experience of confession could be perceived as admitting to some wrongdoing.

Asking if someone had confessed their sins in high society, where exposing one’s faults was taboo, could be considered quite rude.

Several young ladies glanced at Erta.

They were worried that the new topic might upset her mood.

‘A confession?’

However, Erta had simply felt uncomfortable with the excessive praise directed at her; any other topic was perfectly fine.

Rather, she was paying close attention to Lady Roelbe.

Seeing that Erta didn’t seem particularly uncomfortable, only then did the other ladies turn their attention to Lady Roelbe.

Lady Roelbe lightly shook her head at the question of whether confession was only meant for atonement.

“Usually, one might think so. But Bondridge Cathedral is different.”

“Ah, Bondridge?”

The atmosphere, slightly tense at the mention of confession, changed noticeably upon hearing the name ‘Bondridge.’

Noticing this shift, Erta felt curious. 

Was there something special about that place?

“Actually, I recently visited Bondridge Cathedral, and it was quite relieving.”

“Oh, actually, I’ve been there once myself.”

It seemed Bondridge really was different.

Starting with someone’s personal experience, one after another, the young ladies began mentioning that they had visited Bondridge.

No one asked or revealed exactly what they had confessed, but a deep sense of empathy was forming among them through their conversation.

Women in high society each held secrets they could not share. They undoubtedly had worries different from Erta’s own.

On the surface, their lives appeared glamorous, but in reality, they were lonelier than anyone else. To think there was a place where they could open their hearts—

‘Is that really possible?’

Erta was intrigued. But naturally, a question arose.

“You mean, you can confess without atoning, just opening up your heart?”

“Of course. At Bondridge, that’s perfectly acceptable.”

Unlike typical confessions, Bondridge allowed one to release the burdens stored within, almost like counseling.

“They listen to even the smallest worries there. I’ve heard some even discuss their romantic lives as if receiving counseling.”

“And since it’s said that even stories that would cause trouble if revealed never leak outside, you can feel completely at ease.”

“Oh my, that sounds very comforting.”

Erta was intrigued. It was the most pleasing news she’d heard recently.

‘Really?’

To think she could share her story with someone who would absolutely protect her secrets.

‘Then maybe my story, too…’

Erta became lost in her own thoughts. Her heart fluttered with anticipation, thinking she might finally have found somewhere to speak openly.

“But surely you are different, Lady Geranion. Hoho, unlike us, there’s no way you’d have any worries.”

As Erta stopped participating in the conversation, one of the young ladies who had been carefully observing her mood throughout the tea party attempted to wrap up the topic with a smile.

She had concluded that Erta had no interest in this discussion.

“Oh, right, have any of you visited the new cake shop on Berrington Street?”

“Of course. I immediately sent a servant to buy some on the very first day.”

Although the subject changed like that, Erta found it difficult to pay attention to any of the conversations that followed.

Naturally, she was preoccupied with thoughts about confession, but the young ladies, having never seen Erta wear such a serious expression before, exchanged cautious glances and swiftly brought the tea party to an end.

“Thank you all for coming today. Next time, I’ll invite you inside the mansion rather than the garden.”

“We’ll look forward to it.”

“Inside the Marquis’s mansion! I’m already excited.”

Even as she bid farewell to her guests, Erta’s mind was entirely filled with thoughts of ‘Bondridge Cathedral.’

The young ladies departed happily, chatting about the next invitation as they returned to their respective homes.

‘Bondridge, was it?’

After seeing them off, Erta, now alone, fell deeply into thought.

She felt as if she’d heard the name somewhere before.

Known for her swift decisiveness, Erta immediately summoned the coachman.

“You called, Miss?”

“Do you perhaps know Bondridge Cathedral?”

“You mean the cathedral on East Erman Street?”

Fortunately, the coachman knew the place.

Erman Street. The location was closer than she’d expected. At that distance, it wouldn’t be a problem to visit as early as tomorrow.

“How long will it take?”

“It should take about twenty minutes by carriage.”

That was close enough. In fact, Erta would have gone even if the journey had taken an hour or two.

Excitement naturally lifted the corners of Erta’s lips.

“Prepare a carriage tomorrow morning after breakfast. I’m going to Bondridge.”

“Understood.”

“Oh, and prepare a different carriage, not my usual one.”

“A different one? What kind of…?”

For the first time, a hint of confusion appeared in the coachman’s eyes, who had always obediently followed Erta’s instructions.

It was the first time he’d heard such a request while serving Erta—to prepare a carriage other than her usual one.

“There should be a carriage typically used by the servants; can I use it tomorrow?”

Such a request—to prepare the shabby carriage usually used by servants when running errands—came from her mouth.

He couldn’t fathom her intentions, but nonetheless, the coachman bowed respectfully and answered affirmatively.

“Understood.”

***

The next morning, the carriage carrying Erta headed toward Bondridge Cathedral.

‘What should I say, and how should I say it?’

She’d never spoken about this to anyone before. Erta tried to calm her racing heart inside the carriage, eagerly awaiting their arrival.

“Miss, we’ve arrived.”

Through the carriage window, the cathedral appeared modest. Compared to Marquis Geranion’s mansion, it seemed less than one-tenth the size.

Yet, in Erta’s eyes, it appeared more spacious than any place she’d seen before.

She could vividly understand how a horse, confined in a stable, must feel upon first encountering an open field.

Glancing carefully around, Erta cautiously stepped down from the carriage.

It was early morning, and few people were around, but out of caution, Erta had fully concealed her face.

After instructing the carriage to wait at a short distance, Erta stepped into the cathedral.

“Welcome, Sister.”

A man dressed in a white priest’s robe greeted Erta with a gentle smile and asked about her reason for visiting.

“What brings you here today?”

Just facing him, she felt an aura of holiness radiating from him.

‘Someone like me, in a place like this…’

For a moment, she hesitated, feeling slightly guilty about her somewhat impure motives for visiting such a sacred place. However, having come this far, she had no intention of turning back.

Erta parted her lips slightly and revealed her purpose.

“I’ve come to make a confession.”

“I see. Then please, come this way.”

Following the priest’s guidance, Erta arrived at a room located in a secluded corner at the end of the hallway.

Just by its position, it seemed like a place where she could comfortably speak her heart out without being disturbed.

“You may enter here. Then, may you have a peaceful time under the grace of the Lord.”

The priest who had guided her quickly turned around and left.

‘Finally!’

The moment she had been longing for was right before her eyes.

Erta calmed her rising excitement and slowly placed her hand on the doorknob.

Click—

Stepping inside, Erta looked around the room. The small, modest space felt chilly.

There wasn’t anything special about its structure.

No, perhaps the fact that there was only a single chair made it special enough.

‘I suppose I sit over there.’

The chair with a backrest was positioned facing a certain direction.

In front of the chair, there was only a small hole, just big enough for voices to pass through.

Tap, tap—

Erta naturally walked over and sat down on the chair.

Then, she fixed her gaze on the hole. Nothing was visible on the other side. It was completely dark.

‘On the other side, there’s someone who will listen to my story.’

The hole was large enough to easily fit a hand through, but when seated, it was positioned at about chest height.

This was clearly to ensure neither side could see the other’s face.

Here, no one would ever know Erta’s identity.

To think such a place existed.

Why had I only found out about it now?

Thump, thump.