“You knew I was out here?”

“You said you wanted to go for a walk, so I thought you might be here.”

But the timing felt too perfect. Too convenient.

Part of Tilda couldn’t shake the feeling that Stella had been watching her all along.

Noticing the change in Tilda’s expression, Stella quickly added, her voice careful and almost apologetic.

“I know it’s uncomfortable. But please bear with it a little longer. I’ll get you back to your room quickly.”

Tilda let out a soft sigh. It felt like she’d frightened the girl without meaning to.

“I don’t find your kind unpleasant; I’m just cautious.”

At these words, the tension in Stella’s grip began to ease. Her hand relaxed and she held Tilda’s hand more steadily and naturally.

“The Turin here, they’re not that different from ordinary people.”

“What do you mean?”

“People say Turin are born with abilities that set them apart from humans, but that mostly happened in the past. These days, only a few people like Lord Calles are born with powers. So you really don’t need to be so afraid.”

If that were true, why hadn’t anyone said so before? Why hadn’t this information been made public?

If the Turin had lost their powers, why were people still so afraid of them?

Tilda found herself questioning Stella’s words. She couldn’t believe them so easily.

But then again, she knew all too well what it was like to speak the truth and still not be believed.

This unexpected revelation stirred her thoughts, leaving her mind tangled with fresh doubts and unanswered questions.

“Please rest. Lord Calles has stepped out for a while, and he won’t be back for a while.”

She gently helped Tilda lie down, smoothing the covers over her.

Click.

Tilda heard the door close as Stella quietly left the room.

Silence settled around her like a blanket. She slowly opened her sightless eyes, then closed them again.

Stella’s words lingered in her mind:

“The Turin here aren’t all that different from ordinary people.”

If that was true, then the world had been persecuting the innocent.

‘Was it foolish? Was it naive to allow one girl’s words to shake the very foundations of everything she had ever been taught? Could a single quiet conversation really challenge centuries of belief?’

Time passed. Gradually, the pure blackness of her vision began to lighten. At first, shapes formed that were faint and blurry, but they gradually became sharper.

Finally, she could see!

Thank heavens! For a moment, she had feared that she would have to kiss that beast of a man again to regain her sight. But this time, her sight had returned of its own accord.

And just then—

Bang!

The door flew open with a loud crash.

Tilda turned toward the source of the intrusion, startled.

“Well, well. Looks like your sight’s already come back.”

Calles said, leaning casually against the doorway.

Though Stella had clearly informed him of her condition, the sharp clarity in Tilda’s eyes must have told Calles immediately that her sight had returned.

“I was planning to restore it myself.”

He said as he stepped closer to the bed where she sat.

“Is that all you ever think about?”

“I’m just being honest about what I want.”

“Having thoughts like that while wearing a priest’s robes is a sin.”

Calles only shrugged.

“I’m not a real High Priest anyway.”

Tilda still couldn’t understand how the Goddess Vallinea could allow a man like him — a fraud, by all accounts — to carry on unchecked.

Then Calles braced one hand on the bed, leaned in towards her and lowered his voice.

“So? Wasn’t it boring without me around today?”

“Thanks to that girl — Stella. The one you assigned to spy on me.”

“Spy? I just asked her to look after you.”

“Sure you did.”

Her sharp retort made Calles sit up straight again.

“I know centuries of prejudice don’t vanish overnight, but still… When will you finally start treating me with a bit more kindness?”

“I’m not your pet cat.”

Tilda snapped, shooting him a withering glare. Calle only chuckled, utterly shameless.

“Should I call you my lady saint instead?”

Tilda turned her head sharply, clearly having had enough of him. But Calles, unfazed, simply sat down beside her. Still facing away, it was Tilda who broke the silence.

“I saw a little boy on the estate today.”

“Komli?”

Calles asked, as if it were no big deal.

‘Komli…?’

“I don’t know his name.”

“Well, the only boy staying here is Komli.”

His name didn’t matter. What mattered to her was the truth. Tilda slowly turned her gaze towards him, her voice firm and direct.

“Is he your child?”

Calles blinked, taken aback. He stared at her for a moment, then suddenly bowed his head and started shaking.

Tilda’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t the reaction she had expected.

And then—

“Ahahahaha!”

Calles burst out laughing.

Calles burst into a bright, full-throated laugh, taking Tilda completely by surprise. She flinched, startled by the unexpected noise.

“What’s so funny?”

Still chuckling as he caught his breath, Calles replied.

“The fact that you thought Komli was my son.”

“…”

“You assumed he was my secret child, didn’t you?”

His tone was amused, almost mocking, and Tilda pressed her lips together in irritation.

“Komli and Stella are siblings.”

“I thought you were lying.”

“You really do see me as a liar, huh?”

“You’ve never given me a reason not to.”

She knew he had saved her. Logically, she knew he might be useful. But she still burned with shame at the memory of her breaking down and crying at his gentle words. In hindsight, they were just part of a calculated seduction.

She hated him for that. She resented him.

It was that resentment which made her voice so sharp. Words he had once used to comfort her now sounded insincere, like sugar-coated bait intended to lure her in.

But Calles, as always, appeared completely unfazed.

Her coldness and barbed words seemed to him no more threatening than a kitten’s playful paw swat.

“All the staff here, including Komli and Stella, are Turins. They don’t have powers, so they can’t change their hair or eye colour like I can. I use my ability to maintain a human appearance for them.”

Tilda’s cold gaze gradually softened at his unexpected words. Stella had said something similar, after all.

“So you’re saying they really are no different from ordinary people?”

“Other than the fact that they’re called ‘Turin,’ no.”

If what he said was true, then children like Stella and Komli, without Calles’s protection, could easily have been found and killed just for being Turin.

It was a horrifying thought, and yet… not hard to imagine.

“If I swore on the Candlestick again, would you believe me this time?”

“…There’s no need.”

Even if only a day had passed, she had seen and felt enough to no longer deny it outright.

“I wonder, if the truth has changed your mind.”

Tilda said nothing. Her eyes dropped as she lowered her head, overwhelmed by the storm of thoughts in her mind.

If the Turin were truly being persecuted without reason, then stopping that injustice should come first, even before her own grudges or thirst for revenge.

It might be the only thing she can do.

And as Calles had reminded her, she was still the sole heir to the Pope.

And yet, a quiet fear still clung to her.

The thought of standing before the public, of being acknowledged by the grandfather who had ignored her for so long, filled her with dread.

But if she were to help Calles with what he asked, her own strength alone wouldn’t be enough. She would need her grandfather’s influence.

“It will take time for my grandfather to return to the Empire.”

He was currently overseas, offering counsel on famine relief and the extermination of demonic beasts. It would be months before he returned.

Calles didn’t seem concerned. He replied with easy composure.
“Then use that time to solidify your role as heir—and build your support.”

“Build my support?”

“You have revenge to take, don’t you?”

He said it so casually, so plainly, and at the word revenge, Tilda felt a familiar weight press down on her chest. Heavy. Cold. Unshakable.

“Don’t tell me… you still haven’t made up your mind?”

Tilda didn’t answer right away. She took a breath, organizing her swirling thoughts. Then, at last, she lifted her head and spoke.

“As you said… I’ll pay the price for my life by helping you meet the Goddess Vallinea. She always taught that debts, once owed, must be repaid.”

“To receive and repay… how perfectly like you. It’s honestly a little frightening.”

“I can’t say I trust everything you’ve told me about the Turin, but I do feel a sense of responsibility. If there’s truly been some misunderstanding, then I’ll do what I can to set things right.”

“How will you get your revenge?”

The quiet question, paired with his steady, weighty gaze, struck something deep within Tilda.

In that moment, she understood—instinctively, undeniably—that if she let him become involved in this,
there would be no turning back. He would become a part of her life in a way that could never be undone.

That realization sent a jolt of fear through her, rekindling the guardedness she had allowed to slip. It coiled tight in her chest like a taut wire.

“That’s none of your business.”

Her eyes gleamed with the same frigid edge, reflecting the emotionless expression etched across Calles’s face.

“I don’t need your help, either.”

For the first time, something shifted in his gaze.

The sharp glint behind his eyes faltered, not softening, but hardening further. It was tense. Almost dangerous.

Thud.

He pressed his hand against the wall beside her and leaned in.

From this close, his black pupils seemed impossibly dark, bottomless, stripped of their usual mischief. There was no hint of his familiar smugness now. Only weight. Stillness. Pressure.

He was different—heavier somehow, and the teasing air he always carried had given way to something nearly menacing.

“Since you still don’t seem to understand, let me make it clear.”

“…”

“That night, when I pulled you from the sea…you and I became deeply, irreversibly entangled.”

“…”

“It means, you and I can never go back to being strangers.”

His eyes flashed like crashing waves: fierce and consuming. The warning in his gaze was silent, yet absolute — heavy and suffocating.

Tilda swallowed hard; her throat was dry.

“Back off.”

Despite her quiet demand, Calles slowly stepped away. As the warmth of his presence faded, a cold emptiness crept in, brushing her skin like frost.

“Hesitating to take revenge — does that mean you still have feelings for your ex-husband?”

Though the storm around him had calmed somewhat, his words remained sharp and cutting. His tone made it clear that he was displeased.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”