Chapter 10 : Requiem Mass (4)

As the sound of the organ filled the cathedral, I slowly opened my eyes. Lucio, slight in stature, was at the organ, playing alone. When I approached, his delicate fingers paused over the keys.

“Alicia, did I disturb you?” he asked, his voice gentle.

I shook my head and replied, “It’s alright. I didn’t know you could play the organ, Lucio.”

“It’s just something I learned at the seminary. Would you like to try?”

He scooted over, offering me half of the narrow bench. We sat together, each with one leg on the seat.

“Now, place your fingers here…”

Lucio must have realized it was my first time playing the organ, as he carefully guided my fingers, placing them on the keys one by one.

“Go ahead, try pressing it.”

A solemn organ sound resonated throughout the vast cathedral. As the clear notes filled the air, the haggard image of Abigail seemed to dissolve like mist.

“And next…”

Before Lucio could guide my hand again, I began to play on my own. It was a piece I had been corrected on countless times by my governess. The memory of being the Duke’s daughter, living a smooth, untroubled life, where daydreaming by the window had been my only pastime, drifted through my mind. Somehow, it felt like a distant, unreachable past, a time I could never return to.

“You can play the organ, I see. And there I was, trying to teach you with my clumsy skills.”

“Did I surprise you?”

I responded with a bright smile, which made Lucio blush, looking slightly embarrassed.

“…Will you stay at the Archelio Monastery?”

“Well, the truth is, I wasn’t originally a nun from Archelio. I came from a small, old monastery on the outskirts of the empire, with fewer than ten worshippers.”

“Are you planning to go back there?”

“…Probably.”

Once my plan was successfully completed, there would be no reason for me to continue living as a nun. In the first place, my decision to become a nun was merely a means to avoid the temple’s selection.

However, I would not return to the Duke’s household. I would have to pay the price for leading the true saint and the crown prince to ruin, with Abigail’s help.

To atone for my sins, I intended to spend the rest of my life as a clergyman, serving the weak.

“The monastery is very small, without even a single priest.”

“…If you return there, I’ll become the priest of that monastery.”

Lucio spoke with the bashfulness of a boy confessing for the first time.

“It’s a very old monastery. A young priest like you is more suited to a large religious institution like the Central Temple or the Archelio Monastery.”

“Well, I can be quite stubborn when I want to be.”

Despite my attempts to dissuade him, Lucio smiled, his eyes narrowing with determination.

If he were to become the priest of the Opherial Monastery, the nuns there would be overjoyed. The funding that had been cut off might be restored.

“If you do become the priest of the Opherial Monastery, the nuns will be very pleased.”

With a bright smile, I expressed my gratitude, and Lucio’s cheeks flushed a deep red, like those of a shy adolescent boy.

***

The palace maids bustled around Abigail, moving swiftly before her eyes. They layered her dull, lifeless face with a fresh coat of white powder. Unnatural color was applied to her pale, lifeless lips.

“Saintess, you are as radiant as ever today.”

As she became more accustomed to the title of “Saintess,” the name Abigail Miller had long faded from people’s memories, as if she had never existed in the first place.

“How beautiful you are, truly the reincarnation of a goddess.”

The reincarnation of a goddess… A bitter laugh escaped between Abigail’s lips at the maid’s sycophantic flattery.

As she looked at her reflection, at the unnaturally pale face in the mirror, she thought she resembled nothing more than a corpse in a coffin, painted to look presentable.

“His Highness the Crown Prince will be utterly mesmerized.”

“Yes, he will be very pleased.”

Abigail’s fingers trembled as she clenched the hem of her dress tightly beneath the vanity table.

Was her appearance meant solely to please someone else? Of course, she had never forgotten her place. The Saintess of the Empire was nothing more than a trophy to elevate the stature of the future emperor, the Crown Prince.

“…Shall we go?”

And today, Abigail was to dine with the Crown Prince, serving as nothing more than a trophy. Though it was merely a meal where they would sit across from each other at a table laden with food, she had risen early and busied herself with her appearance, all to satisfy the Crown Prince.

As the dining room, vast and barren, stretched out before her, she saw the Crown Prince seated at the far end. His red hair was perfectly in place, and his reddish eyes, like those of a rabbit, gave off an unsettling feeling.

Their relationship was bound by nothing more than a twisted prophecy. The initial impressions they had of each other during the ceremonial dance had long since faded into the past.

“…Have you been waiting?”

“It’s an honor to wait for such a beautiful lady.”

Victor rose from his seat and handed Abigail a bouquet of flowers.

“They say today is a day for giving flowers. Did you know?”

Abigail quietly looked down at the lilies cradled in her arms. Lilies, the symbol of purity and of the Saintess—flowers she had seen far too many times to find any joy in them.

“I thought those flowers would suit you best.”

The scent of lilies lingered at the tip of her nose. It was a fragrance she had smelled to the point of exhaustion. Ah, a wave of nausea welled up within her.

“Thank you. Lilies are my favorite flowers.”

To survive as the Saintess in the imperial palace, Abigail would need to become proficient in lying. Her mouth was filled with a bitter taste as she uttered the false words.

Abigail glanced down at the dishes that crowded the table. She had only nibbled on small bits of vegetables over the past few days.

She swallowed, and for a moment, worried that Victor might have heard the sound. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Please, go ahead.”

Despite her hunger, she knew she couldn’t devour the food ravenously in front of the Crown Prince. She carefully transferred a slice of meat to her plate.

Just as she was about to take a bite, Victor began to speak.

“…There’s no need to rush into becoming the Crown Princess.”

The words made Abigail place her utensils back down gently. She had hoped to avoid such conversations, at least during the meal.

“I don’t know what the Archbishop of the Central Temple has been saying, but there’s no reason to hurry.”

“…Are you saying it would be alright if I didn’t become the Crown Princess?”

Victor’s tone, which had been neutral up to that point, suddenly turned icy.

“That’s not something we have the liberty to choose, is it? The partner ordained by the divine prophecy.”

*’The one who bears the blue gem beneath the rays of the sun shall become the light of the Emperor.’*

Nowhere in the prophecy did it explicitly state that the Saintess must become the Emperor’s consort. If one were to interpret the ancient text in its original form, it suggested that the Saintess’s role was to become the Emperor’s aide, guiding the Empire’s future.

“It seems the Saintess of the Empire isn’t too keen on marrying me, is she?”

There was a subtle sting in Victor’s words. Abigail’s heart shattered into pieces under his sharp gaze, as if it were the very meat he was slicing.

“…Of course not.”

“Then, please continue.”

Abigail forced herself to lie smoothly, picking up another piece of meat and placing it in her mouth. She couldn’t taste a thing; it was as if she were chewing on rubber.

“It’s delicious.”

She feared that the trembling corners of her forcibly upturned lips would give her away. The texture of the meat in her mouth became increasingly revolting, almost unbearable. She couldn’t even remember how she managed to finish the meal.

“Ugh, ugh…”

After the meal, Abigail vomited everything into the bucket brought by the maids. The undigested chunks of meat came up whole. Her strength drained, she clutched her stomach as she leaned against the bedside.

“My stomach hurts…”

Today, more than ever, she missed her mother and father back at the Count’s estate. If she became the Crown Princess, maybe she would have more freedom than she had now. She could visit her family at the estate or even invite them to the palace for a chat.

“Yes, that’s what I need to do.”

Muttering to herself with her gaze lowered, she noticed a crumpled piece of paper under the bed. It was the note Sister Alicia had handed her after the prayer service.

“She really is a strange person.”

Why would she shed tears on her behalf just because she didn’t want to become the Crown Princess? With a mix of skepticism and curiosity, Abigail unfolded the note.

The contents were so unbelievable that they seemed like a far-fetched story, too absurd to be true.

“This is nonsense.”

The note was a cleverly crafted piece of fiction. Abigail placed it neatly on top of the dresser.

[“And whether you use this to strike a deal with the Emperor or offer it as a gesture of goodwill, that’s for you to decide”]

Abigail recalled Alicia’s voice, which had seemed so earnest. That voice lingered in her mind, refusing to leave, until she finally steadied her churning stomach and stood up.

She read the note again, but its contents still seemed untrustworthy. If she acted on Alicia’s advice and it turned out to be false, she could be charged with attempting to assassinate the Emperor. No matter how revered a saint she was, such a crime would not be easily forgiven.

“Saintess, your audience is ready.”

Today, as always, people seeking the blessings of the gods would have flocked to her like ants. She needed to get up and fulfill her duties as a saintess.

[“Abigail, I want you to be happy.”]

Alicia’s voice echoed in her mind. It was like rain falling on parched earth. To quench her overwhelming thirst, Abigail decided to follow where Alicia’s voice seemed to lead.

“Postpone today’s audience. I’m going to see His Majesty the Emperor right now.”

Truly, Alicia was a strange nun.