Chapter 12: The Masquerade Ball(1)

After finishing the long relief work, we finally returned to the Archelio Monastery after sunset.

I watched helplessly as the line of Sossilion family carriages disappeared over the hill, and then eventually entered the monastery.

I sat beneath the World Tree, gazing up at the night sky. Unlike the smoky, polluted sky I had seen from under the collapsed bridge, this one was clear, without a single cloud.

I began counting the stars spread across the night sky.

“One, two, three…”

Just as I was about to run out of fingers to count, I sensed someone next to me. Turning my head, I saw that it was Father Edwin.

“…Eleven, twelve, thirteen.”

He was counting the stars I had been counting, his face showing signs of exhaustion and weariness. Father Edwin and the night sky full of stars—it didn’t seem to match at all.

“…Why are you smiling?”

He asked, curious.

“It’s nothing. I guess I feel relieved now that we’re back at the monastery.”

“…Finally, we can catch our breath.”

Father Edwin’s long sigh blended with the night air. For a while, we sat side by side in silence, gazing up at the night sky. Sometimes, it wasn’t bad to enjoy the quiet without exchanging any words.

My dry, parched lips slowly parted.

“…Soon, Abigail will be a Saint admired by the people of the empire.”

Even if a true Saint were to appear, I would ensure she had a strong support to prevent her from wavering.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

A mere shell of an empress, a facade of a Saint, a failure created by Father Livencio’s hands. Because she was an imperfect creation, I could finally bring forth a true Saint.

I took a deep breath. The clear night air filled my lungs, leaving my chest feeling lighter.

“Here, this is for you.”

Father Edwin pulled out a letter from his coat and handed it to me.

“…What’s this?”

“It’s a letter from the butler of the Sossilion family. He asked me to pass it on, but with everything going on, I’m only giving it to you now.”

A letter from Butler Brian? The letter bore the familiar seal of the imperial family. Unable to shake off the uneasy feeling, I opened the letter.

“…A masquerade ball invitation.”

For a moment, Jaylon’s words came to mind.

“There must have been some mistake.”

The invitation was indeed addressed to the daughter of the Sossilion Duke’s family. But as a nun of the monastery, it held no significance for me.

“If you don’t need it, I can tear it up and dispose of it.”

Father Edwin responded indifferently, propping his chin on one hand. His long fingers picked up the edge of the invitation.

“Since it was personally delivered by my father, I’ll keep it.”

At this, Father Edwin’s eyebrow twitched slightly.

“Are you planning to attend the ball?”

“…It just reminded me of the past, that’s all.”

I stared at the torn imperial seal. The masquerade ball was held after the collapse of the Bridge of Salvation.

The sensation of holding those lifeless children in my arms hadn’t faded, yet I had to wear a ridiculous mask and dance at the ball.

While those who had lost their families wept bitterly, the aristocrats indulged in their extravagant games. The horrific sense of dissonance still lingered with me.

“Do you miss the social gatherings?”

I neither confirmed nor denied Father Edwin’s question.

“…If you wish, we could hold a small party at the monastery. Inviting the members of the monastery and the believers for a gathering wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

A party at the monastery? The budget is already tight, and it’s hard enough to cover food expenses.

“So, I’d rather you not attend the ball at the palace.”

He lowered his head like a timid wildcat.

“I don’t want you to run into the Crown Prince again. Like last time…”

He trailed off, uncharacteristically hesitating. After letting out a short sigh, he ran his hand through his silver hair, making it messier.

“…There’s no need to cause unnecessary trouble by encountering someone you shouldn’t.”

I looked into his golden eyes. Beneath the coolness, there was a gentle kindness.

“Thank you for your concern. I’ll make sure nothing you’re worried about happens.”

Did he take my words as an agreement? The tension in his expression seemed to ease a little.

“What do you think about having a party at the monastery? We could bake a big cake and some pies, gather together and sing hymns all night.”

I imagined a solemn monastery party where we’d sing hymns and stay up all night, just as he described. The thought was so far-fetched that I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. Edwin scratched his head awkwardly, seeming unsure of what to say.

* * *

“…Licia, my Saint.”

A deep voice pulled me from my half-asleep state. The moment I recognized the man standing in front of me, a dull ache spread from my temples.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

As I looked at his vivid red hair, rich like autumn leaves, a wave of nausea surged up for no apparent reason.

“No, no. I must have dozed off for a moment, lost in thought.”

I hadn’t been able to sleep properly for the past few days. Every time I closed my eyes, the last images of the starving poor being carried away flashed before me. The sorrowful wails that had settled over the dusty winds still echoed in my ears.

My soul was still trapped on that pile of ruins, clawing at the debris, screaming in denial of reality. I couldn’t possibly sleep soundly while being tormented like this.

“Are you still troubled by the collapsed bridge?”

Victor asked bluntly. Even though you witnessed that horrific scene firsthand, how could you speak so indifferently?

“Licia, my Saint. It’s all in the past now. If even the Empire’s Saint couldn’t do anything after getting personally involved, it means those lives were already destined to be taken by God.”

Victor’s words offered no comfort. Amid constant self-reproach, I couldn’t help but think of the unthinkable. Would the guilt have been less if they had died instantly under the collapsed debris rather than slowly starving to death?

“Ugh…!”

“Licia, are you okay?!”

The temporary solace of escapism quickly dissolved, leaving only a sticky self-loathing behind.

“Victor, I’m in so much pain because of this guilt. If I couldn’t even save a single child dying under the ruins, can I really call myself a Saint?”

“…They were people who didn’t even pay taxes and just lived as they pleased under the bridge. Even if you feel compassion, they’re people you should mourn for a day at most.”

Victor, I wish I could shake it off as easily as you do. If I could rationalize it away by thinking they were going to die anyway, would I feel at ease?

“Look in the mirror, Licia.”

He pointed his fingertip at the vanity mirror where I had been sitting. My head, which had been hanging limply, lifted toward the reflection in the mirror.

There stood the Saint with a pale face meticulously adorned by the maids and the crown prince in his formal attire.

“You’re so beautiful, and the entire Empire praises your beauty. Isn’t that enough? What more do you need to worry about?”

Victor’s fingers brushed against my cheek. I wanted to ask him. Was the position of Saint I held, the power I could wield as the crown princess, all built solely on my appearance?

If I were to have my skin peeled from my neck to my face with a sharp blade, would I then be reduced to a mere commoner in an instant?

“…What would happen to me if I were to get burned on my face?”

At my offhand remark, Victor lazily smiled and shook his head.

“No matter what happens, I’ll protect you. I won’t let even a single ember touch your fair skin.”

Victor, I wished your answer had meant more than just protecting my skin.

Even if I were to suffer burns and my face became disfigured, if the golden hair that the Empire admires were to be entirely burned away, even if the blue eyes they long for were to melt, I would still be me. I would still be the crown princess standing by your side. I wished you had said that instead…

“…Victor, thank you. You’ve comforted me,” I said, swallowing the bitterness rising to my throat and uttering a lie. It’s always difficult to lie to someone you love.

“So, what mask did you prepare?”

Despite the raw emotions clearly displayed on my face, he didn’t seem to notice.

“…I chose a plain mask. I don’t want to stand out.”

At the masquerade, I wanted to be a mere extra, not the main character.

“No matter what mask you wear, I’ll recognize you instantly, my Saint.”

His lips brushed lightly against my cheek with a faint, rustling sound before pulling away.

“No matter how hard you try to hide, it’s useless in front of me. Go ahead, try hiding as much as you like.”

The playful breath against my ear felt particularly unsettling today.

“Ah…”

Once again, a dull headache throbbed at my temples. I clenched my eyes shut and grasped my head. At this rate, I wouldn’t be able to attend the masquerade; I would be bedridden instead.

I couldn’t bear the headache any longer.

“Ugh…”

My golden hair was matted with cold sweat, tangled and disheveled. I glanced up at the ceiling through the strands of hair. It was the cramped yet cozy ceiling of a nun’s room.

“…Really, I told you not to appear in my dreams again.”

Was it because I received the invitation from the palace? I had another dream about the crown prince.

Even though I had fully awakened from the dream, the dreadful headache that pounded in my skull showed no sign of abating.

“Why is this here…”

Sure enough, the masquerade invitation lay on my bedside. I should have let Father Edwin tear it up without hesitation. Of all times, why did I have to dream about those days again…

‘No matter how hard you try to hide, it’s useless in front of me. Go ahead, try hiding as much as you like.’

Victor’s playful voice lingered in the air, as if he had seen through all my plans, taunting me leisurely.

* * *

The emperor’s complexion looked noticeably better as he sat on his bed. I felt a sense of fulfillment as I saw his face brighten more with each weekly prayer service.

How was it in the past? Despite the regular prayer services, the shadow of death loomed ever closer with each passing day.

“This is all thanks to you, Saintess.”

The Emperor let out a hearty laugh. Abigail, with a serious expression devoid of any hint of a smile, spoke up.

“You flatter me. I merely fulfilled my duty as a servant of the divine.”

At her words, Father Revencio’s lip curled slightly. Just catching a glimpse of that sly gaze was enough to make my breath catch in my throat.

The Emperor’s long-winded praise of the Saintess seemed finally to be coming to an end. Father Revencio, who had been waiting silently for an opportunity to interject, was just about to speak when—

“Then I shall take my leave.”

Abigail exited the Emperor’s chambers, one step ahead of him. The sight of Father Revencio’s gaze following her retreating figure was nothing short of chilling. But only for a moment, as he quickly redirected his attention and resumed his flattering words toward the Emperor.

“Go, follow her quickly.”

Father Edwin urged me on. I carefully stepped out of the Emperor’s chamber and began heading toward the designated meeting place.

The corridor leading to the Imperial Guest Palace. Beneath the walkway lay livestock pens, ensuring the terrace remained deserted.