Chapter 15: The Broken Candleholder (4)

The palace decided to welcome the black-haired girl as a guest from another world. Stories about the black-haired guest spread quickly.

Rumors included outlandish claims, such as Sua’s face resembling an angel described in the scriptures or that she made the water in the Queen’s pond spring up.

“How ridiculous.”

People love sensational rumors. Already, they were weighing whether the black-haired guest was truly the Saint or not. Abigail, enduring alone amidst these rumors, felt deeply pitied.

It was the first prayer mass since the appearance of the black-haired girl. Abigail was nowhere to be seen in any corner of the emperor’s bedroom. Not even a single strand of golden thread like the sun.

“It is unfortunate, but today the Saint is not able to attend the prayer mass due to poor health,”

Father Revencio’s expression was filled with sympathy. Something felt off. There had been a similar incident recently. Hadn’t they dragged her, who was too ill to attend the mass, and forced her to stand?

“…It seems she must be very tired after studying divination until late into the night, given her frail condition.”

To have dragged her around and now show concern? It was utterly repugnant. She gazed helplessly at the tightly shut bedroom door.

“Alicia, is there someone eagerly waiting?”

The whispering voice sent chills down her spine. Looking up, Lucio was pushing his audacious face into view.

“…For example, the Saint, perhaps.”

What kind of answer does he expect from me? She wanted to ask, but decided to keep her silence.

Throughout the mass, Lucio’s gaze was felt, but she had to deliberately look away and pretend not to notice.

So, until the prayer mass ended, Abigail did not appear.

“Here.”

Sitting weakly on a bench in the monastery, Father Edwin suddenly handed her a piece of chocolate.

“Why chocolate?”

She looked down at the chocolate resting on his palm. Edwin and chocolate seemed like an odd combination.

“…I thought you might like sweet things. I hoped it might lift your spirits a bit.”

Had she been looking gloomy? Without a mirror, she had no way of knowing.

Without a word, she took the chocolate he offered and put it in her mouth. The sweet and slightly bitter flavor spread through her mouth. The sweetness was only momentary, and what lingered was a bitter aftertaste.

“…Take this as well.”

“One piece of chocolate is enough.”

“It would be rude to refuse a hand offered in kindness. Please accept it just this once.”

Instead of chocolate, a letter lay on his palm. The seal of the Count of Milleur was clearly visible.

“…Abigail.”

She hurriedly opened the letter. The handwriting revealed her anxiety, and she could almost hear her trembling voice.

‘Alicia, I want to speak with you in person, but since that is not possible, I am sending this letter through my father. Please, come to the palace to see me. I beg of you. I’m sorry…….’

Abigail, why are you apologizing to me for something you did wrong? She gently traced the hastily written letters with her fingertips.

“…Father, I need to prepare another leave request.”

Alicia, not the nun but the duchess, needed her. For her sake, she could don any mask.

* * *

The heavy sound of footsteps echoed down the desolate corridor of the guest palace. Following the attendant’s lead, she headed to the reception room.

On a chair, lonely in the center of the room, a wilting flower lay. After reverently washing her hands with holy water, she approached her.

“…Alicia.”

Looking at her sitting still like a doll, her heart ached. Her sunken cheeks, resembling a sick person’s, felt pitifully sorrowful.

“Thank you for coming to see me……. I’ve been wanting to see you all along.”

“Abigail, are you alright? You didn’t attend the prayer mass.”

“…There was a reason for that. I called you here to explain.”

Beneath her neatly folded hands, the butterfly brooch I had given her glimmered. The butterfly wings, worn from constant handling, were faintly visible.

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone, Abigail.”

Her eyes twisted as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

“Nothing will happen. As His Majesty said, the girl is just a visitor who has temporarily come to the Empire.”

She continued to soothe herself with words of reassurance. In reality, the black-haired girl who descended from the heavens was the true Saint. She had appeared earlier than expected as a consequence of disrupting the divine plan. I chose to keep the truth hidden for now.

“Alicia, if, just if… that girl is the true Saint, would you leave me and go to her?”

She was asking. The words I had repeated countless times while watching Victor’s departing figure. She was asking me.

“Tell me. You swore to live for the Saint. If that girl is the true Saint, would you abandon me and go to her?”

“You could be a Saint, a countess, a witch, or a sinner… I will stay by your side.”

She had not worn her holy symbol as she was changing clothes. Although she could not make a vow as a clergyman, she swore by kissing her feet.

“Even if you are cast out of the palace because you are a false Saint, I will go with you.”

The words Victor had used to reassure me, I whispered them to Abigail. He had broken the vow he had sworn for eternity and abandoned me…

“I will keep my promise even if it costs my life.”

I will never abandon her.

The corners of Abigail’s eyes curved sadly. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

“…Thank you, Alicia.”

Her faintly trembling voice filled me with guilt. You don’t need to thank me. Abigail, once you learn the truth, you will resent me.

“I have something to tell you. I instructed them to prepare refreshments, so they should be ready by now… Could you help me, then?”

Abigail struggled to rise from her chair, her prominent ribs showing through her dress.

“…Is the meal still just vegetable pieces?”

Her steps faltered at the unintentional remark.

“…How did you know?”

“What?”

“How did you know that I’m being treated like a strict vegetarian because of weight control? I haven’t told anyone.”

Her lips, which could not reveal the truth, were firmly shut.

“Abigail, do you remember what you said before? You said that looking at my face was like looking into a mirror.”

‘You’re like my mirror. When a smile spreads across your lips, I want to smile too, and when you seem sad, I feel like I might cry for some reason.’

It was a conversation we had while sitting together on a narrow vanity chair. Her bright smile lingered in my mind.

“…Yes. I still feel the same way.”

Even though only a few seasons had passed, her body had been devastatingly damaged. It was as if I had pushed her off a cliff with my own hands.

“I’m the same as you. Abigail, I can understand even if you don’t tell me.”

Because I was the Saint, and you were you.

“Alicia, you’re really a strange person. Sometimes it seems like you know all my inner thoughts or what’s going to happen in the future…”

Abigail stopped mid-sentence and, with a pale face, gave a faint smile.

“Haha, that can’t be true. If it were, you wouldn’t have let me become like this. Someone as kind as you wouldn’t do that… right?”

In a fleeting silence, I tasted guilt as terrible as hell. I forced a smile and looked back at her.

“…It’s an interesting thought.”

The moment I lied to her, my soul plummeted into the fires of hell.

As Abigail said, a neat spread of refreshments was arranged on the tea table.

She swallowed hard as she looked at the colorful cakes on the dessert tray.

“If you think the attendants might come in, let me know. Please, eat quickly.”

At my words, Abigail hurriedly began to eat the cake.

“Ugh…!”

Before the smile could spread across her lips, a rejection response came from her body.

“Abigail, breathe slowly. It’s probably because food went into an empty stomach.”

I carefully patted her back and wiped the cream-stained corners of her mouth. As I met her gaze, tears were welling up in her eyes.

“It’s so miserable; I don’t want to live like this anymore…”

Drip, drip. Her tears mixed with the reddish tea. It was just as I was about to sit facing her.

Knock, knock, knock.

Urgent knocking followed. Without permission, a nervous attendant entered.

“I-I’m sorry, Saint. The black-haired guest wishes to join the refreshments…”

With a dull thud, the young attendant fell onto the carpet.

Following the attendant’s gaze, the black-haired Saint from my memory stood there, waiting.

“May I come in too?”

A sharp voice pierced my ears without warning. Forgotten memories from the past surged like a storm.

The black-haired girl who descended from the heavens. The true Saint chosen by the gods, the one who had cast me into the abyss.

‘Sua…’

Her black hair tickling my shoulders and her jet-black eyes resembling obsidian. Even with her eyes wide open, it felt as if she was still wandering in a nightmare.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, and I wanted to spend some time alone with her.”

When Abigail expressed her refusal, Sua’s eyes twisted into a pouty, childlike expression.

“…You’re rejecting my kindness?”

She soon began to cry like a child.

Crash!

With a dull noise, the firmly closed glass window shattered into pieces. Amidst the shattered glass, a black crow was flapping its wings and struggling.

“What is this…”

A flock of crows began to rise in a line through the broken window. 

* * * 

“Noble and beautiful.”

Father Revencio gently caressed the statue of the Saint. A Saint willing to sacrifice herself for the empire’s people was truly a reincarnation of the goddess herself.

“…In contrast, the Saint in the palace is utterly ungrateful.”

He had rescued her from the muddy waters and placed her in the seat of the Saint, only for her to try to climb higher without knowing gratitude. Perhaps he should have chosen an older woman from a third-rate troupe instead. If he had known she would be so presumptuous and disrespectful, he would never have selected her as the Saint.

“Father Revencio, Lord Rossmann has arrived at the palace.”

“The long-awaited guest has arrived.”

Revencio welcomed the visitor with open arms. Rossmann was an old friend of Revencio and the Imperial Physician of the palace.

“Please, sit down. I’ll have a warm cup of tea brought to you.”

Rossmann’s hands, gripping the teacup handle, were trembling. During their time apart, Rossmann’s complexion had become as pallid as that of someone near death. Judging by his white hair, it seemed that his days as the Imperial Physician were numbered.

“…So, how is His Majesty’s health?”

“He has improved enough to take a walk in the palace gardens with assistance.”

The arrogant woman’s pointless actions had caused the emperor, whom they had barely managed to push into a coffin, to slowly crawl out again.

‘This can’t be allowed, it can’t.’

He had to quickly place the obedient Crown Prince on the throne.

Aging and death were miracles bestowed by the gods equally to both the poor and the nobility.

Revencio looked down at the age spots on his own hand. Thanks to the miracle bestowed by the gods, it would not be long before he, too, would become a living corpse like the emperor.

Before that, he wanted to taste even a little bit of sweet fruit. A mere bishop would be forgotten in history. He absolutely had to become the pope.

“If it’s you, I trust you with this.”