A cruel irony.

“High Priest!”

The priests standing behind Dietrich were so startled by his sudden confession that they rushed to stop him. The embarrassment was left to them.

It was true—the maid sitting on the bed was indeed strikingly beautiful. Still, there were the standards and dignity of a priest to maintain.

“I-I’ve seen many women in my life, but… she’s truly like an angel sent by the Lord…”

Lacking in tact, Dietrich seemed completely unaware of the look on Shed’s face behind him. But that naive honesty made Liana’s tension break at last.

‘He didn’t sense the black magic…?’

What shone on his face was a pure, innocent admiration so open it was almost embarrassing. There was nothing thick or suggestive in Dietrich’s eyes, unlike the way Baron Godwin had looked at her.

“The head of the household even keeps such a beautiful woman as a maid…”

“High Priest Dietrich Lester.”

A cold voice abruptly cut off the conversation, pronouncing both his title and surname. At the sound, Dietrich jerked his head up and turned to Shed.

“I asked for treatment, not commentary.”

Shed’s expression was sharper than usual, a dangerous glint in his eyes. At the chill in that gaze, the smile faded from Dietrich’s lips.

“Ah, y-yes…!”

Flustered, Dietrich hurried to push his glasses back up and reached out his hand to Liana.

“M-may I hold your hand?”

Startled, Liana looked up at him.

“It’s only for an accurate diagnosis. I assure you, there’s no other intent…”

When Liana hesitated, Dietrich quickly added,

“I really am fine. I’m feeling much better…”

She edged herself further back, pressing into the headboard, forcing a smile.

But—

“Weren’t you burning with fever just last night?”

Shed stood with his arms crossed, looking down at her.

He knew exactly how she was doing. That cold gaze felt like being hauled before a judge.

Liana felt as if she were trapped in a perfect iron cage formed by all the people surrounding her. There was nowhere left to run.

In the end, like an animal led to sl*ughter, she quietly placed her trembling hand in Dietrich’s.

‘Please…’

The High Priest’s hand felt as blisteringly hot as a wildfire about to consume her. Potent holy power surged into her body. For a moment, the divine energy collided with the black magic inside her, twisting violently.

A wave of nausea rose up, threatening to overwhelm her. Agonizing pain, as if her flesh were being plowed open by a sharp blade, spread along the path the holy power carved through her. It felt as though the black magic and the holy power would erupt inside her at any moment.

Liana bit down on her lip and endured.

“Hmm, this is strange…”

Dietrich, who had been observing her, furrowed his brows in clear displeasure. Shed, watching from nearby, took a step forward and asked.

“Strange?”

“I… I sense black magic…”

With a jolt, her heart sank. Cold sweat she hadn’t managed to suppress dripped onto the back of her hand. Of course—there was no way she could hide it. There was no way to conceal black magic from a priest…

“That heretic was said to have attacked with black magic—perhaps it’s the aftereffect?”

Just then, one of the priests interjected.

Dietrich’s gaze flickered restlessly around the room before returning to Liana. She tried desperately to compose her pale features. She felt as if her consciousness would snap at any moment if she relaxed even slightly.

Then, slowly, Dietrich withdrew his hand. The crushing pain vanished in an instant, and she could finally breathe again. Liana tried to calm the turmoil raging inside her as she caught her breath, being careful not to appear overly shaken.

“Yes… that… that could be it.”

She replied, her voice trembling despite her efforts. Dietrich stroked his chin, looking deeply troubled as he nodded.

“Your… your name was Liana, was it?”

When Dietrich asked her something, Liana raised her blurred eyes to meet his gaze. Fearing that her voice would betray her trembling if she spoke, she simply nodded.

Dietrich turned to Shed.

“With my holy power… I… I don’t believe I can heal wounds caused by black magic.”

“You can’t heal her?”

Shed slowly uncrossed his arms at the High Priest’s bold pronouncement. The slow movement made the priest standing beside him flinch and step back. The air grew tense.

“The… the nature of black magic and holy power are incompatible. Using holy power might even make the wound worse.”

Dietrich stammered, clearly cowed by Shed’s intimidating presence. Shed muttered quietly through clenched teeth.

“Priests—so polished on the outside, but empty inside.”

Though his voice was low, it was clear he intended everyone to hear. Unable to hold back, one of the priests finally stepped forward.

“Lord Lester. Mind your words. No matter how powerful a ducal house might be, a High Priest is not someone to be treated so lightly.”

Besides, wasn’t this precisely when Ideana needed the priests’ help the most?

The duke shot the priest a glare, his icy stare enough to make the priest take a half-step backwards instinctively.

“I am minding my words. But must I be even more courteous to those who can’t do anything to help?”

The priest realized just how reckless he’d been and clamped his mouth shut. Any further protest, and he might very well lose his head.

“It seems you’re all quite incompetent here. Perhaps you could show your talents elsewhere.”

Shed remarked, his eyes flicking towards the door as he dismissed the priests.

Dietrich hesitated, glancing at Shed before turning his gaze back to Liana. She kept her expression composed as she struggled to endure the internal injuries caused by the *ssault of the holy power.

“I—I heard the heretic sought Miss Liana out… What did he say to you when he came?”

Perhaps worried Shed would throw him out as well, Dietrich fidgeted with his glasses and hurried his words.

Liana swallowed dryly past her aching throat and parted her lips.

“I don’t remember…”

It was a clumsy excuse. But there was nothing else she could say.

“You… you don’t remember?”

“That day, I was so unwell… I realized someone was there, but I wasn’t in any state to hold a conversation.”

Liana forced out a voice and pressed down on the pain welling inside her.

The accompanying physician nodded in agreement.

“Of course, she could hardly have known who it was. Her condition was so poor that it was a miracle she had woken up at all. She had only just regained consciousness after spending several days in bed when the heretic appeared. With such a high fever and severe injuries, there was no way she could have spoken properly.”

“I… I see…”

“Dietrich.”

Shed called out, as if urging him on. Dietrich acknowledged Shed’s intimidating tone with a heavy sigh and a nod.

“Very well. I’ll attend to some other matters. May the Lord be with you.”

He shrugged his shoulders and hurried out of the room, followed by the other priests.

Shed watched them leave before turning back to Liana. Feeling guilty, Liana lowered her gaze and pressed her lips tightly together.

He regarded her in silence for a moment, then turned on his heel and left the room.

Once everyone who had accompanied the duke had left, Liana was alone.

“Cough… cough…”

It was only then that she grabbed the handkerchief beside her and pressed it firmly against her mouth, her body wracked by violent coughs. A thick, bright blot of blood burst onto the cloth, staining it deep red.

Shivering, she curled up, gasping for breath. The place where the holy power had torn through her lungs felt shredded beyond repair — each breath was like swallowing knives and needles.

She clutched the handkerchief tighter over her mouth, muffling her coughs so that no one outside could hear them. Again and again, she spat blood onto the handkerchief. By the time the once-white fabric had turned blood red, she was alone.

Just as she had always been.

🌺⟡───⟡🌺 🌺⟡───⟡🌺

She was moved to a small room next to Shed’s bedroom. She was plagued by nightmares she had long since forgotten over the following nights.

She felt as though her father might burst through the door at any moment and stab her. Sometimes, it seemed as if the hands of the dead were reaching up from the floor to drag her down to hell.

But she did not cry. She had no tears left — not enough to waste on old memories or nightmares. Instead, Liana lay awake through endless nights, waiting for her body to grow accustomed to the scent of her homeland.

The strangest thing was that, despite how painful it was, she didn’t hate the scent of her homeland entirely. Even after everything she had suffered and all the horrors she had endured, she felt a deep sense of nostalgia when she saw these familiar landscapes. She found this absurd, even to herself.

The warmth of the sunlight streaming through the window, the budding lemon blossom on the tree, the familiar birdsong and the soft, unique wind all pressed in on her skin. Even the orange rooftops beyond the broken white walls pierced her heart with their bittersweet beauty.

Perhaps the curse she bore was not just black magic. She hated what she loved and loved what she hated. She feared Ideana, but she pitied it, too. She longed to run away, yet part of her wanted to stay. It was a cruel irony.

“Liana! Are you feeling any better today?”

A bright voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned her head to see a maid entering, carrying a meal on a tray. Janet, the red-haired maid, had taken care of Liana’s meals and small needs ever since she’d arrived.

“It must be so hard for you, being stuck in bed like this and unable to get up!”

Janet set the tray down on the bedside table, her cheerful voice filling the room. However, it was too loud and shrill, throbbing painfully in Liana’s head. Liana watched the maid smile, putting on an exaggerated display of cheerfulness and boldness that felt cold rather than warm.

Liana knew all too well what kind of people behaved like this.

‘What she really means is, “Because of you, it’s hard and inconvenient for the rest of us. You must be enjoying yourself, lying in bed all day.”’

There was no mistaking it—Liana was clearly hated here.