WEERR 09

Chapter 9

“Ishas, are you all right? You’ve seemed a bit dazed for a while.”

Her mother’s gentle voice pulled Trisha back to the present.

She had been lost in thought, thinking about Resh without realizing it.

Both her parents watched her with worried expressions.

Trisha looked up at Lens quietly.

Looking back now, there was no real reason for her to have been so flustered earlier. Even if Lens had seen Resh at the infirmary…

She could have just said he was someone she met there. Why did I panic like that?

No—
That wasn’t even the right question to ask.

“Why did I panic?” was meaningless.

Because Trisha already knew the answer.

She had been shaken—because of that mysterious boy who knew her true identity.

Was I that desperate? For someone, anyone, to recognize me?

She swallowed a bitter laugh and smiled innocently at her mother.

“I’m sorry. I think I’m just a little tired. What were you saying?”

The couple exchanged glances. Their hesitation made it clear—whatever they were about to say wasn’t easy.

“There’s something… we’d like to ask of you, Ishas.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“…Do you remember when we told you we once lost our daughter?”

“Yes.”

How could she ever forget?

Trisha nodded lightly, already sensing where this was headed.

No… it can’t be that.

Even as she thought it, unease coiled in her chest.

Lens finally spoke.

“I think… it’s time we let her go.”

“……”

“We’ve decided to begin preparations and hold the funeral soon.”

Each word came out of Lens’s mouth with visible pain.

Trisha couldn’t even begin to imagine what her mother must be feeling.

I’ve never seen that expression on her face before.

Her chest ached, but what could she possibly say?

So she stayed silent, waiting for Lens to continue.

“We’d like you to come with us, Ishas. To the funeral. To pray for our daughter’s peace….”

Your mother too, after all.

The Count and Countess swallowed the rest of their words. To remind the girl—who didn’t even know she was their real daughter—felt unbearably cruel.

“Of course, if you don’t wish to go, we’ll understand completely.”

Her father, Rato Binz, wrapped an arm gently around his wife’s shoulders.

Judging by how seamlessly he spoke, this must have been a conversation they’d already had. Lens didn’t object; she simply waited for Trisha’s answer.

Naturally, Trisha didn’t want to go.

Attending her own funeral? The idea was absurd.

To stand before people mourning her death, pretending to be someone else—it was no different from mocking their grief.

But if she refused to go?

It would surely wound her parents’ hearts in ways she couldn’t bear.

“…All right. I’ll go.”

In the end, Trisha could only nod.

Preparations for the funeral moved quickly.

The news that the Binz family was arranging a service for their late daughter spread through the capital in no time—but no one was surprised.

Everyone had assumed as much already: the great Archmage Trisha Binz was dead.

What did surprise people, however, was hearing that the Binz family’s newly adopted daughter would be attending the funeral.

“The Count and Countess adored their daughter so much…”
“I heard they even went to the temple with the girl and got her a new name.”
“Rumor has it the adopted daughter looks just like Lady Trisha herself….”

The story quickly took on a life of its own.

The Count and Countess had adopted a girl—one who was said to look strikingly like their late daughter, Trisha Binz—and they doted on her as if she were their own flesh and blood.

Within days, the tale—heavily simplified and exaggerated—had spread like wildfire throughout the capital.

It wasn’t long before the name Ishas Binz, the new young lady of the Binz family, became the city’s hottest topic.

Some even speculated that Ishas might be Trisha’s secret daughter, but most dismissed it as baseless gossip.

After all, speaking ill of the saintly Archmage Trisha Binz made people uncomfortable, as though they were tarnishing her sacred image.

And besides, there were juicier scandals to gnaw on these days.

No one wanted to dirty their conscience by speaking against a “saint.”

“Replacement.”

Among gossip circles, people used that word more than Ishas’s actual name.

The insult spread just as quickly as the rumors themselves—eventually reaching even the gates of the Binz estate.

The Count and Countess, worried that the child might be hurt, ordered the servants to stay silent.

But Trisha—who was far from a child—had already sensed the undercurrent.

If I show up at the funeral, I’ll be a spectacle.

She knew Rato and Lens were doing their best to manage the rumors, but these kinds of stories were nearly impossible to suppress once they caught on.

The gentle, upright Count and Countess weren’t the sort to navigate social politics with finesse.

No matter how hard they tried, there was no way the gossip would die down before the funeral.

Fine. Let them stare. Once should be enough.

And so, the day of the funeral arrived.

Trisha stood before her mirror, dressed in black with the help of maids whose eyes were red and swollen from crying all night.

Her cheeks had filled out slightly, her hair gleamed from careful care—she looked so much like her younger self it made her heart twist.

“I’ll be back.”

With the determination of someone heading into battle, she left her room.

A heavy gloom hung over the mansion.

“You’re here, dear.”

Rato and Lens waited for her in the main hall. Their eyes were red, too.

“……”

Trisha’s heart ached.

The three of them left the manor and climbed into the carriage together.

Their carriage rattled toward the temple where the service would be held.

Inside, Lens explained quietly, “Just stay by our side and greet the guests together. That’s all you need to do.”

“Ishas,” she added softly, “from the moment you received your new name, you became a daughter of House Binz. Hold your head high.”

“Yes,” Rato said firmly. “No matter what anyone says—you’re our daughter.”

They made sure to tell her that just before stepping out of the carriage at the temple, as if to bolster her courage.

“…Yes.”

Trisha knew they said it to reassure her, afraid she might feel small in front of the crowd.

But their words only made her heart heavier.

She stepped down from the carriage beside them.

The moment her shoes touched the ground, she felt every gaze fix on her—on them, but mostly on her.

So that’s the replacement.
She really does look just like her.

She could tell what they were thinking just from their faces.

But she didn’t have the luxury to care.

Because the carriage had stopped in front of the Grand Temple.

For a moment, she thought her eyes were deceiving her.

The Grand Temple wasn’t a place just anyone could rent—and the cost was enormous.

Both in prestige and price, it was leagues above an ordinary sanctuary.

Trisha loved her family and knew it was an old and noble one, but she was also aware it wasn’t exactly wealthy.

She’d already noticed that the Count and Countess seemed to be spending more freely lately, but this…

They rented the Grand Temple?

Had the family’s business suddenly boomed? That didn’t seem likely.

Puzzled, Trisha followed them inside.

“Welcome, my lord, my lady.”

A priest was waiting for them and quickly bowed. His manner was impeccably polite—the kind reserved for the bereaved family of the deceased.

After greeting the Count and Countess, the priest’s gaze lingered briefly on Trisha. She met his eyes squarely, but he said nothing and simply led them onward.

“As you were informed, Lady Trisha’s funeral will be held in the Great Hall of Meditation.”

“Yes, thank you so much.”

“Not at all. His Majesty himself requested it, and the High Priest gave us strict orders to see it done properly.”

At the mention of Trisha’s name, both Lens and Rato’s eyes welled up again. The priest tactfully pretended not to notice as he continued explaining the arrangements.

“Here we are.”

He stopped in front of an enormous door.

It towered at twice the height of a grown man—befitting a place called the Hall of Meditation.

“Please, go in first to greet your daughter. Once you’re ready, we’ll allow the guests to enter.”

“Thank you.”

With that, the priest opened the door slightly and stepped aside before departing quietly.

Even after his footsteps faded, the Count and Countess stood frozen, unable to move.

“……”

Trisha didn’t rush them. She simply waited in silence, hands clasped before her, while they steadied their breathing.

After a long moment, they finally seemed to gather their resolve. Together, they reached for the door handle.