| Chapter 8

Lars touched his forehead as he watched the silver hair fluttering like it was illuminating the darkness fade into the distance.

He didn’t expect her to notice. He thought he had completely blocked her view. She seemed to be more perceptive than he thought.

As he traced the location of the house she entered with his eyes, he sensed a presence. It was Yanken, his guard who had been following him like a shadow all the way. Without turning around, he asked.

“What do you think?”

“It doesn’t seem like she heard.”

Yanken answered, scanning the darkness with sharp eyes while keeping his head bowed. His voice was rather rough, like scraping metal. Lars furrowed his brow.

“She might not recall it now due to shock, but things could change once she calms down.”

“It was such a brief moment, and with everything that happened, above all, she doesn’t seem like someone who would know about Freemont, but…”

That was true. Lars raised an eyebrow, and Yanken added in a low voice.

“However, if they were to use a spy, they might use someone who doesn’t raise suspicion like her.”

Lars hardened his gaze. They had conversed in hushed voices, so it shouldn’t have leaked outside, but they hadn’t expected someone to be right at the door when it opened.

To those unrelated, these words mean nothing. However, just the two words, Freemont and Viscount, could make someone recognize their picture.

“It doesn’t hurt to be careful. Keep an eye on her for a few days. See if there’s anyone she contacts.”

“Yes.”

Watching Yanken melt into the darkness, Lars let out a faint sigh.

He didn’t expect the person he encountered in the confessional of the temple to recognize him. He had his hood pulled down, and there was a grated door between them.

Of course, he recognized her easily. Her appearance made it impossible not to. Although she still looked somewhat immature, she resembled the angel statue that was in his house when he was young. The beautiful angel statue that his mother especially loved and cherished, with no expression of joy, anger, sorrow, or pleasure.

Her snow-white skin, tinged red in places with fear, had strands of silver hair stuck to it, disheveled with sweat. Although her eyes were still round and retained the innocent look characteristic of a young girl, he was certain that in just a year or two, there would be no man in the vicinity who wouldn’t know her name.

He had followed her to check her movements in case she had heard anything, and when she changed direction while walking on trembling legs, he sensed it. That it wasn’t just to catch her breath.

Her back view looked that precarious. That’s why his plan to find out where she lived without revealing himself had fallen through.

In truth, Lars didn’t think she was a spy. Even if she wasn’t a spy, she had heard words she shouldn’t have, so if she was trying to throw herself away, it might have been better to leave her be. But Lars didn’t do that.

‘What kind of woman do men not take interest in?’

The face that asked such a bold question overlapped with the face covered in fear and despair.

He flexed and clenched his hand, which still felt numb, then turned his body and pulled down his hood.

He had seen with his own eyes how the trembling child’s body gradually stabilized, and how the ashen eyes that had been dull and lifeless regained their spirit. The revived child eventually even managed to get one over on him.

‘But I don’t think a priest should be in such a place at such a time either.’

Letting out a hollow laugh, he softly murmured her name.

“…Lucienne.”

It’s a pretty name. The expression of her looking at him clearly with the corners of her mouth turned up just before she ran away lingered in his mind, and he shook his head briefly.

Hoping never to see her again.

That would be best for her too.

* * *

Sometimes hell pretends to be heaven to inflict greater pain.

In my case, ‘less hellish’ might be a more accurate expression than heaven.

My daily routine was no different from usual. I worked all day and collapsed, and the next day Mrs. Almon went out early in the morning, so I didn’t see her face. But her absence didn’t mean I had no work to do.

I washed Mrs. Vino’s body, fed her, gathered the laundry, and went to the washing place. Fortunately, the weather was good, so the laundry would dry well.

I thought about going to the marketplace after finishing the house chores. More precisely, I thought about going to the temple.

I didn’t intend to become a nun. I just wanted to have some more casual conversations with the priest.

“Hey, little one. Did you go to the theater the other day?”

I flinched at Marie’s voice suddenly coming from above while I was busily working. Laurel, who was next to me, shook her head and laughed.

“Marie, she’s not the type to go to such places.”

“My friend said she saw a little one just like you. That hair color isn’t common, you know? Plus, Mark, who sells milk, has been asking everyone who comes to his shop about you.”

Ah.

I remembered Mark, whom I had left behind at the theater. As I rolled my eyes, the women started to chime in, giggling.

“The old sayings are never wrong. Those who act prudish always go further.”

“Did you have fun with Mark? That clumsy guy didn’t suddenly grope under your skirt, did he? You should never do what those guys want.”

“You should sell yourself at a high price. If it were me, I’d sell to someone who pays more, not some green boy. For example, the young master of Viscount Hughes’ family.”

“That young master who’s so hideously ugly he doesn’t even show his face at social parties? The second young master of Baron Bickman’s family would be better. I heard he’s quite the ladies’ man who knows how to handle women.”

“He’s a famous beauty, isn’t he? He even flirted with Laurel quite a bit, right? Though he was probably just playing around.”

“I’m not interested in such things.”

“Because you have a lover at the theater?”

The women laughed, turning their arrows towards Laurel. The conversation gradually shifted to lewd talk about whose c*ck was the biggest.

Among the women here, few had lovers, but none abstained from that act. As I half-listened to their stories while wringing out the laundry, Laurel approached me.

“Lucy, did you really go to the theater?”

“I was curious. Mark said he’d show me the performance.”

“Mark isn’t a bad kid, but… the nighttime theater is dangerous for children. If you went, you must have seen the atmosphere.”

Laurel scanned my expression as if trying to gauge my mood. I let out a faint sigh and nodded.

“I just took a quick look and left. I felt nauseous.”

“You did well. Have you finished reading the book I gave you? I need to return it to the library soon.”

Ah, as I rolled my eyes, my thoughts landed somewhere.

“The library, is it the building behind the temple?”

“Yes. The long, round brown building.”

“I’ll take it back for you. I need to go shopping anyway.”

As I readily said this, Laurel gave me a sidelong glance.

“You don’t want to see Mark, do you?”

If I ran into him, I’d probably have to say something about that day, but I didn’t want to see him. I wasn’t interested in that boy.

“It would be nice to go to the library together. Though Mark doesn’t seem very interested in books.”

I nodded halfheartedly and hurriedly gathered the laundry. For some reason, I didn’t want to talk about the priest.

After saying goodbye to Laurel and the others, I returned home and hung up the laundry. Then I went to Mrs. Vino’s room.

As I opened the window wide, a fresh breeze began to drive out the foul smell in the house. After stretching lightly, I checked on Mrs. Vino. Her eyes half-open, she was trembling her lips while staring into space.

“Are you hungry? Or do you need water? What do you need?”

There was nothing I could infer from her reaction. In fact, it would have been more surprising if her gaze had been focused. I wiped away her tears and drool with a damp cloth.

“I’m going to the marketplace. Should I leave the window open?”

After tucking her blanket in well, I stood in front of the mirror before leaving the room. I brushed my tangled hair once more and braided it neatly. Looking down at the tattered hem of my skirt that I had mended a few days ago, I clicked my tongue, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

I knew that no matter how clean I tried to be, this shabbiness would never be shed.

I packed the book and a shopping basket, wrapped a shawl around me, and walked along the forest path. The darkness, fear, despair, and the beautiful face I had felt while walking this path all came together in my mind.

The priest is tall. His broad shoulders and build looked strong enough to fear nothing. He was very different from the monk preaching in the square. The monk’s belly protruded as if he was hiding a large ball under his gray robe.

How hard did he beat that man? Why did he become a priest? Priests probably can’t marry, right? Does he have a family? Why was he at the theater at that time yesterday? I’ve seen the monk drinking on the street sometimes.

The endless questions that had been popping up even as I rushed through my work were once again muddling my head.

Would he answer if I asked? Recalling his gruff yet cold tone, I couldn’t help but smile a little. It felt like my chest was tingling.