Catherine gazed blankly at young Saul’s actions. Watching his small back as he buried his face in the man’s neck, she unconsciously opened and closed her fist repeatedly.

She recalled the man’s hand that had held hers, thin yet revealing strong will.

Remembering the sensation of those prominent knuckles in her palm, she curled her fingertips as though grasping them, then straightened her body that had unconsciously leaned toward young Saul.

A complex emotion, difficult to explain, simmered below her throat. This unfamiliar side of Saul, one she neither knew nor imagined, felt strange to her.

She understood that Saul must have had a childhood, a time when he was vulnerable and dependent on others. Catherine herself had experienced such a period, and everyone naturally passes through similar phases, though circumstances and degrees may differ.

However, the Saul she remembered had always been dry and stubborn, seemingly enduring something alone. It was difficult to accept that he could trust someone enough to seek comfort and lean on them so unreservedly.

Moreover, the object of his trust was neither his father the Count nor his mother the Countess, but someone else entirely.

Beyond these complex emotions, something puzzled her. Catherine blinked slowly, gradually adjusting to the darkness as she observed the man’s faintly visible face. Had Saul been devout, she wouldn’t have found it strange that he sought comfort from a priest.

But Saul was far from pious, so much so that he didn’t even employ a priest to manage the chapel. While he made ritual offerings to the Central Temple at appropriate times, this was more like a duty for those of noble blood rather than an indication of devotion.

Regardless of Catherine’s questions, the priest’s manner of holding young Saul seemed natural and even familiar. The priest quietly embraced young Saul, turned around, and began moving toward the corridor where light shone.

His footsteps on the thick carpet were barely audible, but those heavy, careful steps captured Catherine’s attention.

The pitch-black robe swayed gently as it moved away. Now Catherine was staring at young Saul’s thin hair, disheveled and swaying beyond the priest’s neck. She watched it flutter like dust motes in the faint light amid the pitch darkness.

In contrast, she observed the small hands that clung to the priest’s neck without the slightest tremor.

Catherine felt a ripple across her calm surface. The sight of him clinging so desperately made her stomach churn, and she placed her hand over her chest to press down the sensation. 

Feeling her heart pounding beneath her palm, her throat inexplicably parched.

Catherine bit the inside of her mouth and wondered: Who exactly was this priest? What was he to Saul? Why was the evil thing showing her this?

She slowly closed and opened her eyes. The continuing incomprehensible scene made her uneasy, or perhaps she felt tense at glimpsing the past days of her loved one that she didn’t know: Saul’s undisclosed, intimate secret.

Catherine took a short, deep breath. After gauging the closed door and the quiet beyond for several seconds, she finally moved to follow the priest.

Fortunately for Catherine, the priest carrying the child wasn’t walking particularly fast, so despite her exhausted, heavy steps, it wasn’t difficult to follow.

By the time Catherine caught up with them, the priest carrying Saul had turned a corner and was entering that corridor lined with long windows. Catherine suddenly paused at the moonlight coming through the windows.

The sky, covered with thin clouds like mist, was calm without rain or wind. With no strange figures or shadows clinging like barnacles beating against the windows, Catherine found this scene almost unreal.

The tranquility resembled a peaceful dream. Noticing the shadows tilting, Catherine raised her chin to look outside. In the moonlight, clouds drifted hazily.

The moonlight, veiled behind the dim clouds, looked pale. Catherine slightly squinted at the sight.

“Sorry…”

The voice was so muffled it sounded like mumbling. Catherine turned her head. At first, she thought she had misheard.

Had the footsteps on the carpet not faltered for an instant, Catherine would have missed the sound entirely.

The priest’s steps slowed, almost to a standstill. After hesitating, he finally stopped in the middle of the corridor. Until then, young Saul remained motionless with his face buried in the priest’s shoulder.

He appeared to be asleep, but his hands gripping the priest were tense, and his shoulders trembled slightly.

The priest seemed to notice this and tilted his head as though trying to examine the somewhat intimidated young Saul.

But when the boy buried his head deeper into the shoulder rather than looking up, the priest leaned close to the back of his head, almost touching his cheek, and asked:

“What are you saying?”

The tone was polite and calm. And kind. Even Catherine, who knew nothing about the priest, felt it, so young Saul must have felt it too. The small hands around the priest’s neck twitched. Soon, his fingertips fidgeted as though playing with something.

He seemed to be debating whether to speak. Young Saul remained silent for a while. Only after a long pause did he mutter:

“You’re lying because of me…”

The clouds were quietly drifting away.

As that serene movement continued, the light cast through it rippled faintly. No, it wasn’t the light that was wavering, but the tree branches swaying and casting their shadows in that shape. 

Catherine found the dark form covering the back of her hand strange, and she tilted her hand to watch it move before suddenly looking up.

The shadows also poured over the heads of the two people ahead, scattered here and there like they had trudged through heavy snow. With the wind that had just blown, the shadows shook violently, making it look like they were standing amid falling snow.

The sound of their fierce movement seemed to engulf the surroundings. Amid all this, the priest remained perfectly still.

Catherine observed the priest’s back. She frowned as she looked at his motionless stance and the small head of young Saul buried in his neck. She felt somewhat bewildered and simultaneously frustrated.

Throughout everything, Catherine couldn’t guess what the evil thing was trying to show her.

What did he mean by lying? What was young Saul referring to? Why was such deep guilt embedded in his voice when he said the priest had lied because of him? And why was that guilt directed at the priest?

Catherine’s lips tightened in confusion at these unanswerable questions.

But the priest seemed to understand. After standing silently for a moment, he gently gripped Saul’s small shoulders. Though it lasted only briefly, the affectionate gesture clearly conveyed its meaning.

Under the pale moonlight, Catherine witnessed a wordless understanding. In the priest’s quiet grasp of young Saul’s shoulders, there was an unspoken empathy that understood without requiring explanation.

Catherine, looking somewhat dazed, watched the priest’s hand rest heavily on young Saul’s shoulder for several seconds before slowly sliding down. She observed that hand gently covering his back, sharing warmth.

For a moment, the priest’s shoulders slowly sank, like someone exhaling a long breath. His demeanor suggested someone who had put down a heavy burden or shared a deep concern. 

That was all. The quiet conversation ended there. Catherine stared at the priest’s back as he began to walk slowly again, watching the two figures move away.

After they had moved several steps and the distance between them and the stationary Catherine widened, she could finally push the heavy fragments of breath past her throat. Yet she pressed down on her chest, unable to bear the frustration.

Below her neck, something indescribable seemed to boil again. Catherine didn’t realize her tightly sealed lips had parted until she saw the small hands readjusting their grip around the priest’s neck, at which point she came to her senses and closed her mouth.

But it opened again shortly after, as though about to spill something, then closed again. Her lips quivered.

Yet Catherine couldn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. That’s how strange the silently continuing conversation felt to her.

What was that just now? Catherine hesitated, not even thinking of following the two as they moved away.

Though she knew they couldn’t see her and she couldn’t interfere with them, she couldn’t shake the impression that she had witnessed something intimate and forbidden.

This impression wasn’t due to the trust young Saul showed the priest, nor the wordless understanding and empathy the priest showed young Saul.

Rather, it was the priest’s attitude, the inexplicable sense of discomfort underlying it, that disturbed Catherine.