Chapter 4: The Trap of Original Sin (4)

The directions of the Viscount of Miller and the Duke of Sossilion were opposite. Despite causing inconvenience, I climbed onto the carriage.

“I’m sorry. I tried to take a private carriage, but I didn’t have nearly enough money.”

“I should be the one apologizing. I should have recognized you right away, but your peculiar appearance threw me off. If you had been dressed differently, I would have remembered immediately.”

His words about my peculiar appearance made me feel uneasy. Touching the hem of my plain nun’s habit, I spoke up.

“I became a formal nun at the monastery a while ago.”

At the mention of becoming a nun, the Viscount of Miller’s face was filled with confusion.

“…Just like Abigail, neither you nor kids your age can understand.”

Come to think of it, the Viscount also had a daughter, just like me. I retraced my steps to the past, where memories lingered.

Yes, did that child also hide her face like me? The blue eyes that peeked from behind the Viscount still lingered in my mind.

[Helena, can blood truly be deceived? Abigail and Alicia, aren’t they as alike as sisters?]

The Viscountess herself brought two dresses she had personally tailored. They were identical pure white dresses with ribbons of different colors attached to the chest.

As Abigail and I were dressed in matching dresses, the sight of the two women happily comparing us as if we were twins lingered in my mind.

“…Were we really that alike?”

Yeah, that child must have had the same blonde hair and a thoughtful gaze like mine.

As a cool spring breeze brushed against my cheeks, an inexplicable sense of unease washed over me. No, it couldn’t be. It must be because of the nonsense I heard in the marketplace.

Lost in my thoughts for a while, I suddenly found myself gazing at a familiar scenery beyond the carriage window.

“Thank you so much. I’ll be sure to tell my father that you brought me here.”

“Instead of thanks, how about visiting Miller Manor when you have the time? Abigail, that child lacks social skills, so she doesn’t mingle well with her peers.”

“I’ll definitely do that.”

With a faint smile and narrowed eyes directed towards the Viscount of Miller, I carefully stepped down from the carriage, holding onto the hem of my nun’s habit.

“Was it this big?”

I vigorously shook the large bell hanging at the entrance gate.

“You’ll burst my eardrums.”

Not long after, the butler Brian walked out to the gate. His face was filled with annoyance, perhaps wondering who the visitor was, ringing the bell for the mansion to leave. However, as our eyes met, his stern expression softened like melting snow.

“Miss Licia.”

***

Abigail, who had stumbled onto the floor, propped herself up with her hands and lifted her head. Looking around, she found herself inside a building painted entirely in pristine white.

An elderly man, dressed in immaculate white garments, approached Abigail with slow steps. As Abigail gazed at the cross pendant hanging around his neck, she soon realized that this place was a religious sanctuary.

“Where… where am I?”

“This is the Central Temple, where we worship the divine.”

“Why did you bring me to the temple?” Abigail’s question barely left her lips before a sense of injustice surged from deep within her chest.

“I… I didn’t steal anything!”

Abigail suddenly shouted at the old man standing before her. Tears of injustice welled up in her eyes.

“I really didn’t steal anything…”

With a weak shake of her head, Abigail recalled the events from just a few hours ago. She was walking through the marketplace as usual. The owner of the fruit stand unexpectedly offered her a ripe strawberry to taste, and she took a bite without hesitation.

But as the sweet and tangy juice filled her mouth, the demeanor of the shopkeeper abruptly changed. Despite initially urging her to try it, he suddenly erupted in anger, accusing her of being a thief.

“…I understand. How unfair must this be?”

The wrinkled hands, dotted with age spots like blotches of ink, gently overlapped Abigail’s hand.

“I am Father Revencio, the leader of the Central Temple. And what is your name?”

Father Revencio’s smile was as white as any clergymen, but Abigail sensed an underlying unease in it.

“If you tell me your name, I am willing to pay for the items.”

“I didn’t steal anything! And as for that small amount of money, if I tell my father, he can pay ten times that. But I really didn’t steal anything!”

“Fairness dictates that I should hear their side of the story as well.”

When Abigail refused to disclose her name, Father Revencio’s gaze turned cold. Still smiling faintly, he turned to the fruit vendor with emotionless eyes.

“What wrong has this girl done?”

“Father, those strawberries were the first harvest of the year. They were the finest, meant to be offered to the temple. But that girl suddenly took one without even asking.”

“I did not!”

“That’s impossible! They were the ones who urged me to try it first!”

Father Revencio approached, peering into Abigail’s frightened blue eyes. The muscles in Father Revencio’s face, filled with excitement, began to tremble.

“Even if everyone else says you stole, I believe your words. Let’s make a deal. Instead of sending them away, you just need to tell me your name, following the rules of this temple.”

Father Revencio’s smiling face came closer to Abigail.

“I am the daughter of Viscount Miller.”

As the words left her mouth, Father Revencio theatrically retrieved the list of candidates for the chastity test from the table.

“Miss Miller underwent the chastity test a few days ago and returned, so why doesn’t Miss Miller recognize her?”

In place of Abigail, the girl who went to undergo the chastity test was a maid in the Viscount’s household. She had deep orange hair that appeared yellowish in the light. Her age and stature were similar enough to Abigail’s that she could safely complete the chastity test and return to the mansion.

“Her behavior and mannerisms seemed somewhat rough, not quite fitting for the Viscount’s daughter. It looked as if she were uncomfortable, as if she were wearing someone else’s clothes.”

Was it a mistake to send her off dressed in the lace-trimmed dress that the maid cherished the most?

“Oh, I see.”

Father Revencio, revealing this insight, gently took Abigail’s slender wrist.

“You’re wearing a disguise, aren’t you?”

Abigail’s heart pounded against her chest. She clutched her tattered heart and quietly stepped back.

“I understand. It must be worrying to send such a precious youngest daughter alone…”

Understanding her father’s choice? At Father Revencio’s empathetic words, Abigail’s chin trembled slightly.

Perhaps, since she had answered honestly, he might not inquire further and simply send her back home. False hopes began to swell in Abigail’s chest.

“I won’t ask for any responsibility. Just undergo the proper chastity test like other ladies have done.”

“That’s…!”

But even her small hope shattered into pieces.

“It’s just a procedure. If you don’t even do that, then the Viscountess Miller is guilty of sacrilege. Isn’t that so?”

In her naive purity, Abigail couldn’t bear to see Viscountess Miller being branded as a heretic because of her rash actions.

“Hurry and change your clothes.”

Abigail reluctantly received the Saint’s habit. As she shed the cumbersome dress and donned the pristine Saint’s attire, her fingertips momentarily froze.

Abigail peeked through the slightly parted curtain and saw Father Revencio settling the fruit payment with the merchant. But the amount he paid for just one strawberry seemed exorbitant. Something was off. It was clear that something was amiss.

“Setting a trap to catch a snake….”

At Father Revencio’s lips, an inexplicable phrase slipped out, and Abigail suddenly felt a disturbing shiver run down her spine.

Having donned the Saint’s attire, she took a hesitant step forward.

“You look truly fitting… Young Lady.”

The raucous laughter of a madman, an unsettling sound. Father Revencio began clapping obstinately.

“The pristine Saint’s gown, the light golden hair, the pale skin as white as snow, and the fearful azure eyes…! There is not a single flaw anywhere!”

Clap, clap, clap, clap. The applause echoing through the silent Central Temple was so chilling, it bordered on terrifying.

“Now, step up onto the altar.”

Father Revencio pointed to the altar, where crimson stains were vividly visible.

“Blood…!”

“It’s just a simple verification… Once the ordeal is over, we’ll promptly summon a carriage to take you back to your family.”

As Father Revencio forcefully pushed Abigail’s trembling shoulders onto the altar, she collapsed weakly onto it.

“Now, place your hands like this.”

“…N-no, I don’t want to!”

Despite her trembling resistance, Father Revencio’s wrinkled hands pressed down firmly on her slender neck.

“N-no, s-stop!”

Her throat was gripped so tightly that she could barely breathe. Rebellion’s saliva trickled from between her parted lips.

“Pitiful, sacrificial, and beautiful…!”

“Ghh, ugh!”

As her throat tightened to the point of suffocation, tears streamed incessantly from Abigail’s eyes.

Within her blurred pupils, the image of a demon, consumed by madness, was reflected. It was the devil adorned in the guise of the elderly priest.

“Noble sacrifice! Honorable death!”

As she lost all strength to resist and slumped limply, the wrinkled hand that had been choking her finally receded. With her support gone, her body staggered perilously.

“Cough, ugh!”

Father Revencio forced her to rise from the altar, where she had collapsed, coughing incessantly.

His wrinkled hand descended onto her cheeks, now stained with saliva and tears. It was a delicate touch, akin to handling precious porcelain.

“Saint, I have searched for you for a long time.”