Having arrived safely in Sersenfers, Henrietta dozed off in the station waiting room for an hour. At first, she received curious glances for arriving without luggage, but as she quietly settled into her seat, people’s interest soon faded.

She had fallen asleep briefly when she was suddenly woken up by someone shouting that the stagecoach had arrived.

The train station at dawn was bitterly cold. Those waiting for the stagecoach moved like people who had just risen from the grave. Henrietta joined the procession and squeezed herself into the coach.

Looking at the long sleeves of Hendrik’s coat, which covered the backs of her hands, she smiled slightly. The coat, which suited her appearance not at all, was a vivid reminder of her impulsive actions the previous night.

As she pulled the well-tailored coat tightly around her, she thought that the journey would have been much more difficult without it.

Once the stagecoach had picked up speed, she naturally turned her gaze to the window. Free from the pale bluish haze of early dawn, Sersenfers looked exactly as it had three years ago.

After passing a narrow bridge over the river leading into the town, a gently sloping, green-covered hill came into view.

Beyond that, after one more stretch through a small forest, the village of Hangderhood — where she had once lived — would come into view.

It wasn’t a place filled only with happy memories. Even so, it was there that Henrietta had first discovered her true talents. She laughed often, ate well, and slept soundly.

The fact that they were freed from senseless beatings and pointless reprimands was reason enough.

“Sister!”

And there, she met that child.

Evelyn Iris, who smiled as brightly as a flower in full bloom, resembling the irises that surrounded her.

“Evelyn!”

After being apart for such a long time, the two of them fell into each other’s arms. Henrietta was surprised at how much Evelyn had grown when she ran towards her. However, once she held her in her arms, Evelyn was still the same young, delicate girl.

‘I’m just glad the flower that bloomed where I was abandoned wasn’t a pansy.’

She was that girl with sparkling eyes, laughing as though the entire world filled her with joy.

From the moment Henrietta first laid eyes on Evelyn, she couldn’t look away—couldn’t stop caring. Even though Evelyn’s circumstances were worse than her own, even though she was clearly more pitiful, Henrietta’s concern for her only grew.

“You really came.”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“When you didn’t come yesterday, I thought you wouldn’t make it again this time.”

Henrietta patted Evelyn on the back a couple of times. Looking her in the eye, she realised that Evelyn had almost grown to her own height. With a small smile, Henrietta reached out and pretended to measure their heights by placing her hand on Evelyn’s head.

“You really have grown a lot.”

It wasn’t much of a comment, but Evelyn blushed deeply.

“I told you in my letters.”

“You did. But you didn’t mention that you’d grown into such a beautiful young lady.”

The once-skinny girl had grown into such a striking woman that anyone passing by would surely turn for a second glance. In that moment, Henrietta briefly reflected on her own actions during those years — Evelyn’s transformation was so dramatic that it made her pause and think.

“Let’s head inside. The bishop’s probably waiting.”

“Yes.”

The Old Faith, or Contiennum, referred to the religious order and church aligned with the Holy See and led by the Pope, who was also the head of Trimenno — a country considered the land of God.

The most significant difference between the Old and New Faiths was their view of the Pope. In the Old Faith, the Pope was considered the representative of God and the most authoritative spokesperson for the divine.

The will of the heavens could only be confirmed through him, and archbishops could only be appointed with the agreement of both the Pope and the Imperial Court.

Following the death of Osborne the Protestant, the symbol of the Old Faith, the number of archbishops was reduced from seven to six, and Jeremy’s seat had remained vacant ever since.

“I hear you’re teaching children now?”

Evelyn gave a shy smile.

“I just help the teachers. I’m not good enough to do it on my own yet.”

“Such modesty.”

Bishop Thomason of Hangderhood, a master craftsman and the village’s spiritual leader, often wrote to Henrietta. Sometimes, he would write about how bright and kind Evelyn was, and how close she was to earning her teaching certification. This made Henrietta, Evelyn’s regular sponsor, feel very proud.

“There’s always a shortage of helping hands around here. I’m sure you’ve been a great help.”

“Yes, but we won’t have to worry about that anymore now that you’ve decided to come back to Hangderhood.”

“That’s true. So you’d better start studying properly now. Not that I think you’ll fail the exam.”

Evelyn gave a small, sheepish laugh but didn’t reply. She always struggled to accept help from Henrietta. The day she could repay her felt far away, and her hands were always empty.

Henrietta had probably decided to help Evelyn because, in her, she saw her own younger self.

Evelyn had always had that thought. What if someone had helped her back then? What if they had given her even the slightest chance? Things might have been different. That painful kind of ‘what if’.

“I’ll say it again—you have a rare and precious talent.”

What’s more, Evelyn had a natural gift for writing. It was far too great to waste away in a quiet rural village like this.

When Henrietta first read something that Evelyn had written, she felt a shiver run down her spine, but she also couldn’t help worrying. In the Barón Cohen Empire, a woman with talent so dazzling that it could rival the gods was little more than a curse.

“Um…”

Just as Evelyn parted her lips as if she had something to say, the two arrived at the bishop’s office.

“Why? Is something wrong?”

Henrietta paused and looked at her, encouraging her to continue. But Evelyn shook her head.

“Later. Let’s go in first. The bishop has been waiting a long time.”

When Henrietta saw Evelyn smiling awkwardly, she was suddenly overcome with a sense of foreboding. But just then, the door swung open, breaking her train of thought.

“Bishop.”

Thomason, who had been about to step out, looked momentarily surprised to see them standing there. He quickly forced a smile, though.

“You’re here, Henrietta.”

“Were you just about to go somewhere?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.”

He seemed to be trying to act as if everything were normal, but he was clearly flustered. This was an unusual sight for someone like Thomason, who had always been as calm as a peaceful forest. Henrietta’s eyes narrowed slightly at this unusual behaviour.

“Come and have a seat over here.”

Thomason, the bishop and head of Hangderhood, was tall with grey-streaked hair, deep-set eyes, and a kind smile. He looked almost exactly the same as he had ten years ago when she first met him; it was as if time hadn’t touched him at all.

To Henrietta, he was the most admirable clergyman she had ever known. He was also the one who had shown her that the world might be worth living in after all.

He had taught her about equality before God, true compassion and the beliefs a person should uphold. She had also learnt to see the world through a completely different lens.

“You must be very tired.”

And yet now, he was trembling. So visibly that he could no longer hide it.

“Bishop?”

“Yes?”

‘Is something wrong?’

Evelyn, who had been preparing tea, also seemed to have noticed that something was wrong. She glanced at the bishop, then at Henrietta, shaking her head slightly as if to say that she didn’t know what was going on either.

“You don’t look well at all. Are you feeling unwell?”

As Henrietta looked at Thomason with concern, her gaze fell on a sheet of paper in his hand. A sudden wave of dread washed over her and she exhaled sharply.

“Bishop… where did that letter come from?”

He didn’t respond, seemingly lost in deep thought even in that short moment, as if he hadn’t heard her at all.

“Bishop!”

Only after Henrietta called him again did Thomason finally lift his head with a start.

“Hm? Did you say something to me?”

“That letter… does it contain bad news?”

Henrietta’s voice sharpened as she met Thomason’s wavering gaze. When he hesitated to answer, she stood up and walked over to his desk. There, she saw the familiar seal on the envelope.

A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she leaned briefly against the desk for support.

“Did the letter come from the Duke of Schutzman’s estate, by any chance?”

“Yes, it did.”

Swallowing hard, Henrietta tried to steady herself.

“Please, tell me exactly what it says.”

“Well, the thing is, I just received the letter myself, so I’m not entirely sure what’s going on yet.”

“I’m sorry, Bishop, but may I read it myself?”

Thomason hesitated for a moment, but eventually handed the letter to her.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the signature at the bottom, written in strong, fluid handwriting that she knew all too well. There was no hesitation whatsoever in Robert’s signature — the man she had once loved with all her heart.

“… Ah.”

Sersenfers was one of the Osborne estate’s major holdings, located in the eastern diocese. Each diocese was assigned a bishop, and Bishop Thomason oversaw the Sersenfers region from Hangderhood.

This large religious and social institution included a school that trained skilled professionals, as well as an orphanage and a relief office for the poor.

But it wasn’t just a welfare facility. It held symbolic significance as a place that had endured the empire’s darkest moments alongside the Osborne family, whose history stretched back centuries.

Though Hangderhood was technically part of the Osborne estate, it had for some time been operating on funds provided by the Schutzman family.

The letter, devoid even of a simple greeting, contained a cold and one-sided notice: this large-scale social facility would soon be shut down.

Henrietta closed her eyes tightly, knowing the others would grow anxious. Behind her closed eyelids, she saw Robert standing on the train platform, calling her name sharply.

‘Why was he going this far?’

Robert had clearly warned her—warned her cruelly—what would happen if she continued to defy his will.

Still, Henrietta had chosen to act according to her own convictions, not his.

It wasn’t because she believed she couldn’t succeed in doing what Robert wanted.

It was because she believed he wouldn’t actually go through with it.