Chapter 11: The Bridge of Salvation (1)

“…You knew everything? Answer me, right now!”

Abigail’s clenched fists pushed against my shoulders. I didn’t resist, allowing myself to be helplessly pushed towards the edge of the terrace.

“What do you want to know?”

I replied bluntly, watching her face twist as if she were about to cry.

“Why did you come to the ball on the day of the coming-of-age ceremony?”

I came to meet you, the one destined to become the Saint.

“I may have become a nun, but my father still wanted me to live like other young ladies of my age. So, I complied, if only for a short while.”

I lied smoothly, my voice cold and detached.

“Did you know about me from the beginning?”

Yes, I knew from the start. I even knew you’d be waiting on the third terrace for a crown prince who would never come.

“Of course. You might not remember, but we met a few times when we were children.”

“…Then why did you act like you didn’t know me?”

Because it’s easier for a duchess to get close to a Saint than just a simple nun.

“…Even if I told you who I really am, it wouldn’t have meant anything to you, struggling as you were after being chosen as the Saint. All I wanted was to offer you comfort, nothing more.”

“Really, is that all there is to it?”

“Abigail, what do you want me to say?”

Do you want me to admit something that would hurt you? Abigail’s hands, which had been hovering in the air, began to tremble slightly.

“And you, Duchess, what is your reason for sticking around, even lying to stay by my side?”

“…Everything I do, I do it for you. I’m living for your sake.”

To protect the Saint. That much was the absolute truth.

“Abigail, I want you to be happy. That’s all I want.”

“Why? Give me a reason I can accept!”

I carefully took out the cross around my neck and brought it to my lips, gently pressing them together. I swore by the truth before God. If my vow was false, my soul would be torn apart by demons.

“I’m a nun of the convent. My mission, my happiness, is to serve the weak and extend a hand of salvation to those in need.”

I reached out and gently caressed Abigail’s cheek. My eyes softened into a gentle smile as I looked at her.

“…Abigail, I hope you’ll open your heart to me like before. So please, continue to listen to my advice.”

Her blue eyes wavered with unease.

“…For your happiness.”

So that, through your hands, I can achieve my goal.

* * *

Rumors about the empire’s Saint curing the emperor’s incurable disease were spreading rapidly. It wasn’t as if the long-standing illness could be completely cured so easily. The rumor had grown exaggerated as it passed from mouth to mouth among the people of the empire.

To think that the divine power I had so desperately sought could be so easily fabricated—it was disheartening, to say the least.

As I walked through the wide corridors of the convent, I stopped Edwin, who was striding past.

“Father Edwin, would you like to accompany me on an outing today?”

“…I’m busy at the moment. It might be better if you go with another sister.”

He was holding a towering stack of documents in his hands.

“No, it has to be you, Father Edwin. There’s somewhere special I want to go with you.”

I raised the corners of my mouth into a bright smile, watching as he struggled to find his words, his lips moving silently.

“I really want it to be just the two of us. Won’t you come with me?”

When I pleaded earnestly, a blush crept up his cheeks.

“…I suppose I have no choice.”

I led him to the carriage, and he sat stiffly beside me, his posture rigid with tension.

“But isn’t there only an old bridge and a slum in that area?” 

Father Edwin asked, puzzled about our destination. Seeing the tension in his face made me want to play a little trick on him today.

“…An old bridge, you say? It’s a secluded, quiet place, isn’t it? Do you really not know what I want to do there?”

I narrowed my eyes playfully, and he quickly covered his flushed face with his hand, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“I understand how you might feel, but no matter what, I’m still a priest, and you are a nun…”

“It’s a bridge that will collapse in two weeks. We’re going there for a preliminary inspection today.”

Father Edwin let out a short sigh.

“But what did you mean by what you just said? That you understand how I feel…”

“…I never said anything like that.”

He feigned ignorance, his expression indifferent as he propped his chin on his hand, watching me.

“If the bridge is going to collapse in two weeks, isn’t it dangerous to go there now?”

“It’ll be fine. The collapse will be due to the ground beneath the bridge, not the bridge itself.”

The carriage came to a jarring stop. I held onto the hem of my nun’s habit as I stepped down. A cool breeze brushed against my cheeks.

“…The Bridge of Salvation.”

It was hard to believe that this sturdy-looking bridge would collapse so disastrously in just two weeks. Aside from the faded paint, the bridge appeared solid, showing little sign of its impending demise.

“It’s strange, but seeing this bridge again… it makes me feel a bit relieved.”

I had once walked across the rubble, searching for victims who might have been trapped beneath the debris. But despite being called a “Saint,” I hadn’t been able to find a single body.

As I stepped onto the Bridge of Salvation, Father Edwin followed closely, his nerves on edge.

“Beneath the bridge is the slum. So, the victims were all from the slum as well.”

I looked down below the bridge. In the shadows where the sun’s rays couldn’t reach, there was their refuge—rows of precarious shacks that seemed ready to crumble with the slightest breeze.

“Father, under the eyes of God, you said that royalty, nobility, and commoners all receive equal judgment, right?”

“…That’s correct.”

“While those of noble blood indulged in lavish entertainment, the children in the slums had to steal to survive.”

For a noble’s daughter, unless her family falls into ruin, she would never know the desperation of stealing bread to stave off hunger. But for the children in the slums, it was a common occurrence.

“…Yet, they are judged equally by their sins. It seems like an unfair judgment to me.”

“The scriptures are merely a metaphor. At least, that’s how I see it.”

Father Edwin leaned against the railing, looking down at me with a relaxed expression.

“Before the prophecy came, I even questioned the existence of divine power or Saints. I’ve always considered theology to be just another academic pursuit.”

“That’s not something you’d expect to hear from a monastery priest.”

He chuckled at my words.

“I’ve noticed this before, but Father Edwin, you’re more like…”

“Like an arrogant noble, perhaps?”

Did he sense my true thoughts? He lifted the corners of his mouth into a lighthearted smile.

“Yes, perhaps without the ‘arrogant’ part. It’s just that seeing a man as steadfast as you wearing a pure white cassock sometimes feels… a bit out of place.”

“Maybe you’re right,I didn’t become a priest out of devotion. I was simply interested in theology as an academic pursuit. And when I realized that I could work in welfare through it, there wasn’t much to ponder.”

“If you and I hadn’t become clergy, do you think we would have ever had the chance to sit face to face like this?”

“…If I weren’t a priest and you were still the duchess’s daughter, perhaps we might have passed by each other somewhere, nothing more than strangers.”

In a crowd, we might have passed each other by, never noticing one another, destined to remain perfect strangers.

“…I think I like things the way they are now.”

“It seems you’re quite used to life at the monastery.”

I neither affirmed nor denied his observation.

“I just think I like things the way they are now.”

“How bland…”

A gentle breeze swept through his silver hair. As I silently observed his stern profile, he finally spoke again, lifting his lips into a faint smile.

“Do you plan to inform the Saint before the bridge collapses?”

“…No. I’ll let the bridge collapse as it will.”

My response left his golden eyes filled with confusion.

“I actually knew the bridge would collapse even when I was still the Saint.”

“You knew already?”

Yes, even someone like me, with barely any true holy power, knew the Bridge of Salvation would collapse.

“And it wasn’t just me. The emperor, the crown prince—they all knew.”

“Then why did they just stand by and let it happen?”

“A geologist warned that the ground near the Bridge of Salvation was dangerously unstable and that the people living there should be evacuated immediately, but no one believed him.”

That man had come to me, hoping to use the Saint’s influence.

‘If the Saintess were to speak, surely the crown prince would listen! I beg you, Saintess, aren’t even the poor souls living there human beings, just like us?’

His desperate pleas still echo in my mind. That night, I went to Victor.

‘The bridge could collapse at any moment. We need to evacuate the people as soon as possible.’

Victor had scoffed when I told him.

‘You actually believe that senile geologist? He’s been going on about the bridge collapsing for a whole year, and yet it’s still standing perfectly fine.’

But just as that “senile geologist” had predicted, the Bridge of Salvation eventually collapsed in a devastating disaster.

“…It was only after the bridge fell that any significant welfare projects for the poor began. That’s why the bridge needs to collapse.”

“So you’re just going to stand by and let people die?” 

My response clearly displeased him; the lines of frustration deepened between his brows.

“Only five people died when the Bridge of Salvation collapsed.”

“The number of victims doesn’t make their lives any less valuable!”

“…I must have misjudged you, Father. You truly have the heart of a priest.”

Here he was, raising his voice for the sake of the poor, whom even the emperor and crown prince neglected. I offered him a serene smile, narrowing my eyes as I did.

“The five who died… they all starved to death.”

“…What?”

They didn’t die crushed by the debris; they perished waiting for rescue, slowly starving to death.

“They all starved to death waiting for rescue. The poor were waiting for the touch of the Saint, but like a cruel joke from the gods, every place I searched turned up empty. Time dragged on, and when I finally found them… they were already gone.”

All five of them were unharmed by the collapse—just minor bruises, no broken bones. It was as if I had killed them myself. I held their cold hands and wept, consumed by guilt.

‘The Crown Prince told me it wasn’t my fault, that they were fated to die under the rubble of that bridge.’

But Victor’s words brought no comfort.

“…I don’t see it that way. I believe it’s the fault of those who knew the truth and chose to do nothing.”

This time, I would save them with the hands of the Saint.

“I remember exactly where the victims were found.”

The pale faces of the corpses being carried away before my eyes would never leave my memory. I looked at Father Edwin with a resolute gaze.

“I will protect them this time.”

He stared at me, as if lost in thought, before letting out a weary laugh.

“…You always manage to give the most unexpected answers.”

His large hand rested on my head, the pressure causing my veil to slip off. As the sweat-dampened strands of my hair fluttered, he leaned in closer, so near that I could feel his breath. 

“Let’s see how this plays out,” he said with a smile curling at the corners of his lips. 

I looked at him and returned a faint smile of my own.