In truth, Catherine no longer cared whether Samuel was a priest or not. Even if he were a priest, claiming to be a high priest was still a serious crime. While there was no issue with a priest ordained under God’s grace calling himself a “candle,” specifying which numbered candle he was presented a different problem.

Only certain high priests were allowed to identify themselves this way, and there were merely eleven of them.

“I bear no guilt in that matter,” Samuel declared solemnly. “I have only revealed the truth to you.” 

His demeanor remained unwavering. Catherine observed Samuel, who had fallen silent again, and noticed the unusual piety settled on his time-worn face. There was a glimpse of the heavy, profound atmosphere characteristic of someone who had served God for many years.

It was unlike his usual appearance, which always seemed somewhat slack and worn down by fatigue. Catherine furrowed her brow. It was strange that his outlandish claims didn’t feel like lies.

“It is proper for Lady Cavendish to doubt me. However, I hope you will consider that what you believe to be proper may not be the complete truth.”

This was the longest and most eloquent response Samuel had ever given in their conversations. The Samuel that Catherine knew was always too exhausted to have much energy, someone who would only answer direct questions without volunteering explanations.

Perhaps Samuel’s claims were true. At the very least, it was certain that the person standing before Catherine now was not the physician she knew.

“If I must beg forgiveness from Lady Cavendish, it is for the circumstances that forced me to deceive you against my will these past four months. Beyond that, I swear before God that I am innocent and have no ill intentions—”

Catherine, who had been quietly observing Samuel, suddenly realized something oddly disconcerting in his words and raised her hand to stop him from continuing. At Catherine’s gesture, Samuel immediately fell silent.

His gaze was calm, looking at Catherine with apparent innocence and confusion. Catherine pressed her temples, which had begun to throb again, and spoke.

“Four months?”

“…?”

Samuel appeared bewildered by Catherine’s question.

“I… don’t understand what you mean,” he said, tilting his head as though he didn’t comprehend her question. But Catherine equally failed to understand his reaction.

Catherine had met Samuel one week before marrying Saul. More precisely, it was right after Catherine had entered Cavendish as the prospective co-master and had first signed the marriage contract.

As soon as the marriage was arranged, Saul introduced Samuel to Catherine before even the butler. Because it was such a unique circumstance, Catherine remembered the event clearly.

“Four months? Are you mistaken about the date?”

The date Catherine remembered marrying Saul was when she signed the document and received the family ring. Therefore, Samuel should have met Catherine only three months ago. Four months? Catherine had never set foot in Cavendish before then. Naturally, she had no memory of meeting Samuel either.

Seeing Catherine’s serious expression, Samuel also fell silent for a moment, seemingly trying to recall his own memories.

With a contorted face, his lips moved slightly, counting dates, lightly ticking off numbers on his fingers. Then, with a face suggesting something was amiss, he shook his head slightly and answered.

“Four months is correct. Don’t you remember? It was pouring rain when you first came to the castle. The roads were in terrible condition, which delayed your arrival beyond the scheduled time…”

Samuel, who had been slowly recounting his memories, gradually stopped speaking. As he continued, Catherine’s face grew increasingly pale.

“My lady?”

Samuel unconsciously reverted to the familiar form of address. Even after that, he didn’t seem to realize what he had called her as he stared at Catherine’s tightly drawn lips.

Catherine’s firmly closed lips were trembling. Her hands resting on her legs were also shaking, uncertain what to do.

“Lady Cavendish,” Samuel called to her again. Only then did Catherine part her trembling lips.

“I don’t have it…”

Her voice shook terribly, almost unintelligible. I, I… Catherine was confused. In an unclear voice, repeating what she had just said, she buried her face in her hands. Then slowly wiped downward. Catherine exhaled deeply. Only then could she speak more clearly.

“I have no such memory.” Not at all. Unable to hide her confusion, Catherine murmured.

Pouring rain? Catherine pressed her throbbing head as she carefully reviewed her memories. But contrary to Samuel’s words, Catherine had no such recollection. On the day Catherine first set foot in this castle, not a single drop of rain fell.

The day Catherine remembered was one with a dry wind blowing, so clear it seemed almost drought-like. It was a day when white marguerites bloomed in clusters, their flowers in full splendor.

She remembered gazing at them for a long time, charmed by their beauty. She also remembered walking along the stone path abundant with those white flowers, holding Saul’s hand and conversing with him.

That day, Saul had picked one of those white flowers for Catherine, who was wearing a white dress and carrying a pale yellow parasol. She remembered it clearly because it was the first gift she had received from Saul. At least, that’s how Catherine remembered it…

But now, pouring rain? Catherine groaned softly. Suddenly, her already throbbing head seemed to grow more painful. Like someone gripping her head and applying pressure, a dull pain surged endlessly. Enduring this pain, Catherine thought.

It was truly strange. If it had rained heavily on the day Catherine entered Cavendish, as Samuel claimed, she couldn’t possibly have forgotten it. She should at least remember that there had been heavy rain. But she didn’t remember. Not at all.

The throbbing pain seemed to descend to her eyes. Catherine closed her eyes tightly, then opened them and rubbed the bone structure that slid to the end of her eyebrow with her fingertips. She applied firm pressure, rubbing a couple of times before dropping her hand.

Her vision blurred momentarily before coming back into sharp focus. Nevertheless, the pain reverberating through her head showed no signs of subsiding. Catherine narrowed her brow and, trying to maintain her cool expression, opened her mouth.

“I can’t listen to any more of this.”

Taking a deep breath, Catherine gathered her thoughts. Though her mind remained confused, one thing was clear: she couldn’t trust Samuel. Everything he had been saying was utterly unbelievable. The twelfth candle, prophet… now he was even questioning Catherine’s memories.

“How dare you mock the mistress of Cavendish.”

No matter how much she tried to recall, she couldn’t remember the day Samuel described. She thought about it over and over, but the result was the same. It seemed Samuel was lying. At least Catherine clearly remembered her first entry into Cavendish.

If, as Samuel said, Catherine had first set foot in Cavendish four months ago, then Catherine should have remembered that day three months ago as an entirely different day.

Three months ago, the impression Catherine had when first entering Cavendish, the conversation she had with Saul while walking along the stone path where white marguerites bloomed abundantly, the servants who greeted Catherine, and all other minor details… should have been different from what she remembered. But the day Catherine remembered was clearly that of someone encountering everything for the first time.

So that day couldn’t have been anything but her first visit. The day when white marguerites bloomed in profusion was the day Catherine first entered Cavendish.

“I will not overlook this matter.”

If Samuel’s words weren’t lies, nothing Catherine remembered made sense. Catherine spoke coldly as she rose from her seat. Though she staggered from weakness, she stubbornly stood up, straightened her body, and moved toward Saul’s desk. She intended to ring the bell to summon someone immediately.

“Catherine, wait a moment.”

But before Catherine could take even one step, she hesitated at the touch of a hand holding her back. Catherine lowered her gaze to follow the hand that held her. It was David. Still kneeling at her feet, he was holding onto the hem of her skirt.

“Please, wait a moment,” David said, looking up at Catherine with an inscrutable expression. His tone was calm.

Facing him, Catherine exhaled a long, deep breath, her shoulders visibly dropping. Judging by his surprise earlier, David also seemed unaware of Samuel’s true nature, so it was puzzling why he would try to give Samuel a chance.

Samuel and David had only met a few days ago… Catherine glanced briefly at Samuel and David. Whatever relationship they had formed in that short time was unclear, but it seemed certain that there was something between these two.

“David, let go. I can’t trust you anymore either,” Catherine said coldly.

This was a natural reaction for Catherine. Since she could no longer trust Samuel, she couldn’t trust David who was defending him either. Catherine gave David a cool look, signaling him to release her hand. If he didn’t let go, she planned to pull away.

But immediately afterward, Catherine blinked in slight surprise. She saw the gaze that met hers wavering slightly. Surprisingly, David looked hurt by Catherine’s words… though she couldn’t be certain. The moment their eyes met was brief, and in the instant she blinked, David turned his head and dropped his gaze.

His white forehead, which had been visible, tilted, and his expression was hidden beneath the hair that fell over it. Catherine’s gaze narrowed. She couldn’t see his face clearly.