In that brief moment, countless thoughts tangled like threads.

She was curious about Aaron’s reaction.

Would he listen to these ridiculous, forced rumors?

He wouldn’t be that insensitive, but no man would be comfortable with the fact that his wife was a witch.

That’s just how people are.

When emotions devour reason, even non-existent facts become truth.

If that happened, would she really face Aaron’s resentment?

Though frustrated, Lucilia decided to take a long-term view.

She reviewed her life after being stripped of her sainthood. If asked whether her sacred power had been helpful, she could answer that it hadn’t been at all.

The ability to read minds had actually become poison.

It instilled fear in people and created distance, preventing her from blending in.

It might be better to pretend it had vanished.

Aaron would also need to believe this to treat her somewhat comfortably.

She had already pretended to lose her sacred power, and it would seem suspicious to now act as if nothing had happened.

It would be like undermining her own credibility, so she couldn’t turn back now.

Since things had come to this, I need to take the blame so he’ll believe it completely.

Lucilia spoke with an innocent expression, as if she knew nothing.

“Would you help support me to the front of the mansion?”

“Yes, my lady. Please get up slowly so you don’t fall.”

Bessie took attentive care of Lucilia. Then, occasionally looking back at the greenhouse, she expressed concern about how terrible such a large fire was.

And when they reached the entrance of the mansion, she once again revealed her dark thoughts.

‘Did I make up lies? Honestly, I didn’t create the rumor that you’re a witch. I don’t like you. You enjoyed all kinds of glory just because of your status. While I was wallowing in the gutter.’

“Can you go in by yourself?”

“No problem.”

“Then I’ll go fetch the physician.”

“No, I need to go to the prayer room, so it would be better to call separately later if I feel unwell. You should go help with the work.”

Reassured, Bessie readily met her eyes.

She pretended to be concerned, pretended to be kind, fabricating it all so well.

People are born and raised in different environments. Living as a commoner, she seemed to have layers of resentment and bitterness, but that had nothing to do with Lucilia.

She couldn’t intervene in Bessie’s environment, nor did she have the ability to do so.

Whether one overcomes their environment to live honorably or wastes their life with complaints depends on individual choice.

Bessie had chosen the latter.

A hypocrite who couldn’t raise her voice against the strong but tyrannized those weaker than herself.

As soon as she perceived Lucilia as weak, Bessie’s character, which tried to trample her, was truly the worst.

Lucilia took in the oil-stained hem of Bessie’s skirt.

Suddenly, she wanted to see just how brazen Bessie could be.

“By the way, Bessie.”

“Yes?”

“Have you heard anything about how the fire started? Forest fires can occur naturally on dry days, but since it’s a greenhouse, that can’t be the case.”

“No, I haven’t heard anything. But everyone says it’s ominous that this happened while the young master is away. Sigh… please don’t worry too much.”

Telling her not to worry while deliberately saying things to upset her.

She almost let out a hollow laugh but held it back.

She nearly burst into genuine laughter, but Bessie’s true thoughts came through at the last moment.

‘You’ll have plenty to worry about soon, so enjoy it while you can. Don’t blame me either. Did I push you to become a saint, or did I beg you to marry our young master? This is all your fate, so just accept it. That’s God’s will.’

God’s will?

People say that God is fair.

‘I hope God’s will applies to you too.’

The day will come when you’ll understand painfully what it means to reap what you sow.

Though she didn’t expose Bessie’s sin and voluntarily became a symbol of misfortune, she couldn’t help feeling dejected.

Still, the world goes on, and she had to survive today within it.

* * *

A carriage adorned with the birch leaf pattern, symbol of Tudra and the baron’s family, passed through the arched gate heading toward the prayer room.

The faint smell of smoke unpleasantly stimulated her sense of smell. Lucilia sniffed her pure white dress.

The more she confirmed the indelible stigma, the more sorrowful she felt.

As she got out of the carriage, forcibly holding back tears, the priest who had arrived earlier immediately noticed the change and asked:

“Are you unwell? You look ill.”

They would find out soon enough as it would spread by word of mouth.

She would need to be cautious in everything because the Pope’s influence might extend to Tudra, but how could she stop rumors?

In that case, it was better to actively participate in the purification ritual. If she didn’t show herself, anxiety would spread like fog among the villagers again.

Lucilia didn’t hide her distress.

“There was a fire in the mansion’s greenhouse.”

“Oh my! Is that true? Were there any casualties?”

“No, fortunately there weren’t. But I feel terrible thinking that this happened because my devotion was lacking.”

“Negative thoughts ultimately breed evil. So you must consciously distance yourself from dark thoughts.”

Honestly, even having this conversation hurt her pride.

She had always pursued goodness. She hated sin and never did anything against her conscience.

Advice about evil and dark thoughts was uncomfortable to hear, so she covered it with an awkward smile.

The priest offered formal consolation and led Lucilia to the prayer room.

The frustration she had been suppressing exploded when she connected with Sister Mannea’s sincerity.

Whether she had heard the rumor about losing her sacred power or not, Mannea quietly looked into Lucilia’s eyes.

‘Are you having a hard time? I’ll help with prayer. Even if you feel lonely and hopeless, endure it. If you persevere, you’ll eventually see a way to survive. Isn’t that what God wants?’

Bessie had said Lucilia’s downfall was God’s will. In contrast, Mannea said finding a way to survive was God’s will.

With just one statement, her emotions plunged to the ground and then soared to the sky.

Tears welled up at Mannea’s sincerity as she looked into her eyes without hesitation, regardless of any malevolent energy.

Though she couldn’t hear, Lucilia also conveyed her heart.

‘Do you know? No one believes me. Even though I have no malice, even though I want to get along with everyone, no one welcomes me.’

Everyone was busy avoiding her, trying not to be bewitched.

But Mannea was different. Lucilia was grateful just for her sharing her heart without boundaries.

Since she had to pretend to have lost her sacred power, Lucilia hid her touched expression.

As if she didn’t know at all, she blinked her eyes blankly and withdrew her gaze. Then she made a request to the priest standing outside the prayer room.

“What about increasing the frequency?”

“Of the purification ritual?”

“I was already anxious with limited access to the temple, and now with the fire… You said negative thoughts breed evil, right? Right now, I desperately need God’s mercy.”

Villagers passed by around the prayer room.

Cargo wagons entering the castle, farmers heading to the fields, and others passing by for various reasons, glancing this way with curious expressions.

Conscious of the surroundings, the priest smiled awkwardly and agreed. It was actually a good thing that she was willing to actively participate in purification.

After the purification ritual ended, as the carriage carrying Lucilia passed through the south gate, a scream suddenly rose sharply.

“It’s the Mrangel tribe! Aaaaah!”

“Kyaaah! Save me!”

The Mrangel tribe was an immigrant group that had settled in the north.

Were they invading, taking advantage of Aaron’s absence?

Lucilia stuck her head out the window and took in the urgent scene unfolding.

The prayer room was in front of the south gate, and following the main road led to the village. The Mrangel tribe, wearing thick fur hats, had appeared from somewhere and occupied the main road.

Every time they wielded whips from atop their horses, villagers collapsed.

In her field of vision, she caught the priest fleeing to the prayer room, abandoning the people.

Lucilia shouted:

“Stop the carriage!”

“Impossible. You must escape quickly! Go straight to the mansion!”

The guard firmly rejected her request and urged the coachman.

As the carriage rattled away from the south gate at high speed, soldiers defending the castle rushed out, and soon the heavy castle gates closed.

She was confused whether it was right to flee like this.

Staying put is helping? What about the people?

She couldn’t send innocent people to their deaths. As one who served God, it was something that could not and should not happen.

Even though her qualification had been revoked, God still dwelled in her heart.