Outwardly, the Baron appeared to struggle with even the smallest movements. Though he couldn’t move freely, his eyes remained intense.

He was busy staring at Lucilia with eyes drained of vitality.

He seemed unconcerned whether she could read his thoughts or not.

From the Baron’s eyes, a determination bordering on stubbornness clearly washed over her.

Don’t ask for help, just please stay quiet.

How could he let his hard-won family name crumble because of her?

How long must they lick the Marquis’s boots?

His resolve not to surrender his precious life in vain pierced her heart.

She recalled scolding the maid earlier.

She had confronted Bessie after reading her thoughts.

She shouldn’t have done even that.

She should have just been a guest.

She shouldn’t have touched or tried to change anything belonging to the owners of this place.

The most ideal ending would be to stay inconspicuously and leave when the time came.

Her chest tightened, forcing her to secretly draw in a breath.

“I understand what you’re saying. Don’t worry. I was already planning to ask my father to help me return to our main residence.”

Though she was sincere, the Baron burst into skeptical laughter.

He didn’t trust her father.

He clearly believed her father would use the oath of allegiance as an excuse to leave them with the aftermath.

With both Aaron and now the Baron showing such cold reactions, Lucilia began to grow increasingly worried.

‘What if my father really pretends not to know? If I have to live as a foreigner in Tudra until I die, then what? How could I face these innocent people?’

Especially when thinking of Aaron, she felt as if her body was sinking into a deep pit.

The Baron’s voice carried a faint mockery.

“Is that so? If that happens, I couldn’t ask for more.”

“I’m truly sorry for what’s happened to you, Baron.”

“Anyway, don’t forget my request. If you display your abilities, they will claim that our family is possessed by evil spirits and exterminate us.”

“I will do as you say.”

“I’ve said all I needed to say, so you may leave now.”

The Baron turned his face away without hesitation.

It would have been a hardship for him to keep her there for conversation, so it was better to leave and let him rest comfortably.

Lucilia left the bedroom, swallowing a sigh.

The strong scent of herbs had permeated her body, transferring a sense of depression with every step she took.

* * *

Though she had resolved to be composed, it became impossible after her private meeting with the Baron.

She was helplessly swept away by waves of emotion.

Last night, she had cried so much from the sorrow.

How ironic that the saintess who had comforted believers by telling them to never let go of hope in times of despair had ended up like this.

In the end, she too was merely human.

Now that she had fallen into the swamp of despair herself, she felt that the path to survival had receded beyond her reach.

Even her belief that her father would surely find a way out was eroded by the cold wind.

She couldn’t help but waver.

The assumption of “what if” cast a veil of fear. Fear easily manipulated humans to the point where absolute trust in God would not surface.

She needed to consider the possibility of not being able to return to her father’s house, but her mind simply wouldn’t open to it.

In truth, she had vaguely imagined the worst scenario. The weight was too heavy to bear, so she had deliberately ignored it.

Lucilia gently pressed her swollen eyes and pushed up her eyelids.

The small bedroom, permeated with the rich scent of wood, was the only space allowed to her in Tudra Castle.

She had decided to stay here as much as possible today.

Since her very existence was considered ominous, hiding herself was the considerate thing to do.

Sitting up, Lucilia leaned against the headboard and pressed her rattling heart.

Helplessness surrounded her entire body.

She was barely breathing, no different from a rag doll.

“I need to stay calm. I absolutely must not act rashly until I receive a reply from Father.”

She had no choice but to remain still as the Baron had requested, anticipating the day she would leave Tudra.

Knock knock—

Lucilia, who had been rubbing her rough skin, quickly closed her collar at the sound of knocking.

“It’s the head maid.”

“Come in.”

Karen, who opened the door and entered, exuded an atmosphere quite different from yesterday.

Without coming close, she kept her gaze fixed on the fireplace and briefly conveyed her message.

“The wedding schedule has been set.”

“Ah…”

News of the young lord’s marriage would spread quickly throughout the estate…

If possible, she would have preferred to live quietly without anyone knowing. However, she couldn’t arbitrarily ignore the procedures.

If only there was a way to avoid this situation without shackling Aaron.

“In three days, Father Michael from the Tudra parish will officiate the marriage ceremony.”

“It seems rather rushed. I’d prefer if we set a date with more time to prepare.”

As if she had heard something absurd, Karen dismissed it outright.

“The young master’s schedule is not so flexible. If you postpone a family affair for personal reasons, the young master will bear the full consequences.”

“The young lord will also need time to prepare.”

“He has already given his consent.”

“He must have been conflicted…”

“Not at all.”

She had clearly told Aaron she would return to the capital.

If he protected her temporarily and sent her back later, there would be no impact on him.

Had he perhaps judged it impossible?

Or had he decided to marry first and then expel his wife later by citing her wrongdoings?

Since Aaron had made the decision, there was no reason to persuade him otherwise.

Karen glanced at Lucilia’s dark expression.

Just as she was about to raise her head to acknowledge understanding, Karen quickly averted her gaze.

When they first arrived at the mansion, Karen had been angry about the saint’s shabby appearance. But now she showed no goodwill.

There was no sign of sympathy either.

It was evident she intended to distance herself after hearing the rumors.

As if to prove this, Karen stiffly added:

“The schedule is tight, so we need to hurry with the ceremonial dress. A tailor is scheduled to visit today, and I’ll inform you as soon as they arrive.”

“I understand.”

Just as she was imagining the ceremony to be held in the temple, she suddenly realized that today was a holy day.

Not observing a holy day was unthinkable. The days had been so urgent that she had completely forgotten.

She would have no excuse if God punished her.

Lucilia hurriedly got out of bed and became flustered.

“What’s wrong with me? I’ll be late for mass at this rate.”

There were many things to prepare.

She needed to bathe, offer personal prayers, and meditate on the scriptures before receiving God’s will.

She couldn’t skip the routine she had faithfully maintained until now.

Her heart pounded heavily at the thought of such laziness bordering on blasphemy.

As she was inserting her fingers into her tangled hair and combing it down through the sparse gaps, Karen displayed an openly astonished expression.

“Are you saying you want to attend worship now?”

Why ask about something so obvious?

For Lucilia, it was beyond obvious—it was a life she wore like her own skin.

It was a saint’s duty to go to the temple, restore piety, and gain wisdom. Before standing before all people, she had to undergo hours of arduous self-reflection.

Separating worship from life was something that could not and should not happen.

Whether aware of this or not, Karen put on the brakes without a second thought.

Two emotions collided within her.

The thought that she could compromise on everything except her devout life mixed chaotically with the idea that she should exercise altruism as a saint.

She wanted to firmly cut off interference, saying it was none of their business. She wanted to speak up that even without invoking her status as a saint, it was her personal right that should not be infringed upon.

But the echo of needing to have altruism operated more strongly.

It was because of her added guilt.

Imagining what would happen if she went to the temple, a dizzying scene unfolded first.

The appearance of an alleged witch would not only disturb the emotions of many believers but would also disrupt the mass itself.

Regardless of her pure intentions, the consequences would be utterly severe.

Lucilia decided to set aside her desires and judge coldly.

What use is goodwill if it doesn’t benefit others? It would be fortunate enough not to be condemned as evil.

Her throat stung as if she had swallowed a sharp needle.

The hardened sorrow couldn’t burst outward and instead clawed at her from within.

Lucilia’s head naturally dropped as she lost motivation. She looked down at her bare feet standing on the floor.

“I suppose it’s better to rest today. My wound hasn’t healed yet, so it’s difficult to move.”

What does the place matter anyway?

It’s fine. This sort of thing depends on one’s mindset.