Thanks to Ension’s cover, they were able to escape safely to the mountains near the camp.

However, due to the assassins who kept pursuing them, Ension’s help could only extend that far.

Though she blew the whistle at intervals during their escape, it was impossible to know how far the sound would travel.

As the screams rising from the chaotic scene faded, Lucilia stopped Mannea.

“How about waiting for Ension here?”

“Sir Willar barely managed to protect us, but if someone follows us here, we’ll be in trouble. If we go deeper, I’m sure there will be a mountain shelter.”

“Is there really a shelter?”

“Before becoming a sister, I used to gather medicinal herbs with my grandfather, so I know well. In places with many medicinal plants, spaces are often prepared for herb gatherers to rest.”

Mannea uncomfortably frowned at her forehead where blood had congealed.

It would be better to find a place to rest, as wild animals might appear, and Mannea could suffer further hardship.

Lucilia agreed and blew the whistle again—three short blasts.

From the slope, they could see smoke rising from the camp, but as they began to cut through the forest path, the horrific scene gradually receded.

Despite slipping and bruising their knees several times due to their hasty movements, the two didn’t stop.

They tenaciously gripped the slope and pushed against the ground with their feet as they climbed the mountain.

Sweat poured like rain, soaking their backs and foreheads. Their limbs lost all strength, and sensation dulled.

After fleeing for a long time, using every ounce of strength they had, Mannea shouted in a voice filled with joy.

“I found it! There, can you see it?”

Orange eyes rolled following where her index finger pointed.

Her body already felt impossibly heavy, and her lungs felt like they would tear, but finally, they could rest.

A broad smile spread across Lucilia’s face.

“It’s true! Just as you said, there really is a shelter here!”

Suddenly energized, Lucilia supported the exhausted Mannea as they walked.

The shelter smelled musty and was damp from long disuse.

Seeing Mannea stained with sweat and blood, Lucilia felt a mixture of emotions.
Gratitude, apology, and shame.

If not for the fear that someone might attack them from behind, they would have stopped at a stream along the way…

Her clean, modest face was now a mess of wounds.

The only thing Lucilia could do to clean Mannea’s face was to tear off a corner of clean clothing.

Lucilia fumbled for her shirt from her waistband.

She bit the fabric to tear it, then folded it several times and pressed it to Mannea’s forehead.

“Water would be nice, but this should help clean it somewhat.”

“Thank you.”

“…I feel bad that you’re in danger because of me.”

Mannea roughly wiped away the sticky blood and murmured with a sigh.

“Sister Bonizella was right that the infirmary would be safe. The soldiers came together with one mind to protect their comrades. But that’s only for the wounded. I’m certain Sister Bonizella wouldn’t have taken you to the infirmary.”

“She intended to lure me, I suppose.”

“Yes. But… I didn’t see the priest. He might have fled.”

“He fled?”

“It seems so. I just ran away from the infirmary because I didn’t know when I might be caught.”

“You did well.”

Mannea looked down at the blood seeping out and gave a bitter smile. Her eyes were full of betrayal.

“The person who deserves to die escapes, while innocent lives are sacrificed. He’ll truly receive divine punishment.”

Mannea was right.

What good was it if only the wounded were safe when assassins had turned the camp into a wasteland?

How many people had died at their hands?

“What about the assassins disguised as volunteers? Wasn’t it the priest who infiltrated them?”

“I think so too. He probably ran away after fulfilling his role. Perhaps he has a separate meeting place with Sister Bonizella.”

If she had followed Bonizella, she might have been killed by the priest.

The thought sent shivers down her spine.

“So Sister Bonizella and the priest were indeed in league.”

“Yes. I think the priest gave orders to Sister Bonizella and then fled. I was suspicious when he diverted the medicines. But the volunteers’ behavior seemed particularly ominous.”

“Thanks to your timely arrival, I was able to stay safe.”

“I rushed over thinking something bad would happen… Who could have known they were planning something even more terrifying?”

After hearing Mannea’s circumstances, Lucilia felt they had made the right decision to flee together. Mannea could also have been harmed by Bonizella.

Now she felt like a younger sister.

Lucilia looked at Mannea’s youthful face with sympathy.

“Are your injuries alright?”

“This much is nothing. Since it’s come to this, I should have put a hole in the back of Sister Bonizella’s head.”

Mannea bit her lower lip hard and widened her eyes.

She looked ready to grab Bonizella by the hair if she were right in front of her.

Smiling at the fuming Mannea, Lucilia went to a straw mat in one corner of the shelter.

“It’s dirty, but it looks fine for a short rest. Come sit here.”

The two sat side by side, leaning on each other’s body heat. Despite the warmth returning to their bodies, fear didn’t easily disappear.

They tensed at the slightest sound from outside and huddled tightly.

It was more frightening because they couldn’t distinguish whether it was Ension or an assassin.

There was nothing they could do except listen for movements outside.

Admitting this, a sense of powerlessness heavily pressed on her chest.

As she anxiously stared at the flimsy latch, Mannea’s soft voice settled down.

“You don’t know why I’m loyal to the Marquis, do you?”

“That’s right, I’ve always been curious about what kind of story you have. As you know, my father’s reputation isn’t good.”

“That’s just what uninformed people say for entertainment. If they knew the Marquis’s true character, they couldn’t speak like that.”

Is it raining…?

Mannea’s memories mixed with the sound of raindrops falling on the wooden roof.

“I lived in Hemmot with my parents and grandfather. I didn’t know that cultivating the land could be such a fulfilling thing.”

“So you were tenant farmers.”

“Yes, on one of the Marquis’s estates. I thought we would always be happy, but…”

She revealed that they were exploited when a nobleman appointed by the Marquis as his representative unfairly raised the tenant fees.

Her voice, tinged with moisture, was so matter-of-fact that it was deeply sorrowful.

“Naturally, we had no choice but to go into debt. But that fellow said he would forgive the debt, then forcibly made our mother a slave and molested her. Fortunately, the Marquis visited, and I was able to appeal our grievance.”

She said the Marquis then disciplined the administrator under territorial law and had him executed, allowing her mother to return home.

“Of course, I don’t think the Marquis helped us without reason. Many eyes were watching how he would handle it. He might have been cutting off a loose end. Even so, gratitude is gratitude. No matter what anyone says, the Marquis is my benefactor.”

It felt strange—both like her father and unlike him.

The shrewd calculation of advantages naturally reminded her of her father, while his display of generosity floated distantly like an unfamiliar painting.

Lucilia stroked Mannea’s thin back, which had endured difficult times.

“I’m glad he remains a good person to someone.”

“It may be presumptuous to say this, but His Grace would have tried to protect you until the end. He must have reluctantly sent you to Tudra because circumstances didn’t allow otherwise.”

Though it contradicted what Aaron had said, she didn’t want to refute it. She didn’t want to trample on Mannea’s innocence in the midst of this miserable situation.

Perhaps she subconsciously wanted to believe in her father.

It seemed less pathetic to hold onto at least one warm memory.

“I’ll believe what you say.”

“I can guarantee it. It’s true, I tell you!”

Thinking of the grace she received from the Marquis, Mannea’s eyes reddened.

Fearing she might make her cry if she continued the conversation, Lucilia fiddled with the whistle on her wrist before putting it to her lips.

Soon, a signal like birdsong spread out.

She hoped it would travel far, far away through the rain.