“……”
Though his face was hidden in shadow, there was no mistaking who it was. Tall, with a slouched posture, and an imposing presence that weighed on her even from a distance—it was Curtis. He had traveled from a distant estate to this place just yesterday, when the last child was declared cured. A warning to keep her promise.
Roxana bit her lip and turned her head sharply—just in time to be embraced by Sister Elin.
“Sister Roxana! Do you know how worried I was?”
“Sister…”
“You left so suddenly! What about the people you left behind? You should know we barely slept a wink, taking care of the children and praying for you.”
“I’m sorry for worrying you.”
Her tone could’ve sounded like scolding, but it was filled with affection and concern. Roxana smiled faintly, her heart warming. Sister Anna, who had been watching, quietly stepped in.
“Sister Elin, there’s no need to say things that don’t need to be said. Sister Roxana must’ve gone through a lot too.”
“Sister Anna…”
“Thank you for coming back safely. Even if it’s a bit late to say.”
“Thanks to you, I managed to return safely.”
After hugging Sister Anna as well, it was finally time for Mother Superior Maria to step forward. She gently stroked Roxana’s cheek and softly issued a dismissal.
“I’m sure Sister Anna and Sister Elin have things to attend to.”
With those words, the two nuns quietly left, and the previously light and joyful mood settled into a solemn stillness. As Maria met her eyes with a knowing, tender gaze, Roxana suddenly felt as if the Mother Superior knew everything.
“Do you know why I opposed your final vows, even as I taught you basic doctrine and biblical theology, Sister Roxana?”
“…No, I don’t.”
It was a question that had lingered in her heart for two years. The Mother Superior had always brushed it off, saying it was too soon. Now, finally, she was about to explain. Roxana swallowed dryly.
“You are someone others would covet, Roxana. You’re smart, courageous, proud. You never sacrifice for yourself—but you give your all for others.”
“Mother Superior…”
“As much as I’d like to hold you back, you have the right—and duty—to see more of the world, to feel more, to experience what you never could in a closed-off place like this.”
Her every word was filled with sincerity and kindness. Roxana listened, heat rising behind her eyes. Maria took Roxana’s hands and gently patted them.
“I heard everything at dawn. Pack your things and go to Count Russell’s estate immediately. No need for farewells.”
“But—”
“There’s no need for goodbyes between family.”
Maria’s gaze drifted toward the spot where Curtis had stood earlier.
“Save Frey. I’ll do anything in return.”
“She’ll become a mercenary. Not like she’d go to heaven anyway.”
“I’ll bring you the daughter of the disgraced Marquis Dalton. If she does anything to harm the sisters or acts out of line, tell me immediately. But—no one can know I was ever here.”
He was the boy who had brought his blind sister, tattered and broken, after losing everything, begging for help. He had clawed his way out of hell and gained much—but had to lose something even more precious in the process.
“So, the Count has arrived.”
The name made Roxana’s eyes tremble. Maria gave a bitter smile. The daughter of a criminal.
Curtis had often checked in through letters after abandoning Roxana at the convent—under the pretense of having saved her through death. It was unlikely he had good intentions for taking her to the estate now. Still, he pushed her forward, knowing full well the road ahead would be rough—for one reason: ironically, despite standing on opposite ends, the two resembled each other like mirror images.
“Remember this, Roxana. You’re always welcome to run back here. This is your home. I am your mother. Sister Elin and Sister Anna are your sisters.”
“Mother Superior!”
Tears falling, Roxana threw herself into Maria’s arms like a child.
“The weight of sin is too heavy. I’m trying to push through, to endure—but it’s so hard. I feel like I’ve barely escaped a swamp, only to find an endless wasteland ahead.”
She had tried to hold back, but the words came out in sobs. Held in the warm embrace that felt like a mother’s, her past came rushing back. Days lived under the tyranny of her father, guilt pressing down on her, powerless to rebel.
She had been hated simply for being the daughter of Marquis Dalton, scorned by her fiancé, nearly killed by the very butler who served her for years. Though she always stood back up, she was covered in wounds. Her worst fall had been learning why Frey had lost her sight. The weight of that sin crushed her—one she could neither flee from nor escape.
“My poor Roxana.”
Mother Superior gently hugged her trembling shoulders, fingers softly stroking her red hair.
“When you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff… remember, there’s someone down below, looking up at you.”
A riddle-like remark. Roxana looked up—but the Mother said no more.
—
The inside of the carriage was so silent it felt suffocating. Alone together, Curtis said nothing, and Roxana’s eyes kept drifting shut from exhaustion.
“Roxana.”
Amid the silence, she heard a voice she missed dearly. Her mother’s. A voice from childhood, gently braiding her red hair, repeating the same words over and over:
“No matter the situation or person, if needed, show mercy and forgiveness. That’s how the world works—and how it should work.”
“What if I just can’t? What if I hate them too much to want to understand?”
Roxana had sobbed as she looked at her mother through the mirror. It had been the day her father took her pet rabbit away. The day she buried its cold body and fell into her mother’s arms, her face a mess.
“My sweet Roxana.”
Her mother had kissed her on the crown of her head, hugging her tightly.
“Step back. Try to see them differently.”
“Differently?”
“No one lives without a story. No one is born evil. If you try to understand them from their side, you’ll come to realize something.”
She hadn’t understood those words then. Not fully now either.
Just as the memory merged with Maria’s words, the gentle movement of the carriage was interrupted by a sudden jolt.
Roxana opened her eyes. Curtis, legs crossed, glanced at her from where he was looking out the window. He opened the carriage door just as Greg rode up.
“One of the wheels fell into a ditch. You’ll need to step out for a bit.”
With a small sigh, Curtis exited. For him, it was easy. But for a woman in a long skirt, hands bound, it was impossible without help.
Roxana hesitated, flustered. Curtis, watching silently, held out his hand.
The unexpected gesture froze her in place. She wavered, and Curtis raised an eyebrow.
Pressed by the unspoken urgency, Roxana finally placed her hand in his.
Just like last time—it was a large, calloused hand. More like a warrior’s than a noble’s. It was warm where he touched her skin, but the moment passed quickly, like a fleeting illusion. Before she could think too deeply, Curtis withdrew his hand and gestured to a corner.
“We’ll have to push from behind. Step aside so you’re not in the way.”
Roxana nodded and moved to where he pointed. Curtis loosened the reins of the horses and began pushing the carriage with Greg and the coachman. Watching him, Roxana remembered her father—standing with arms crossed while servants struggled in the mud. Most nobles would’ve done the same. Curtis, in that sense, was different.
As she watched in fascination, a rustling sound came from the bushes—a deer dashed across the path. The horses startled, rising onto their hind legs.
Startled by their neighing, Roxana stumbled backward and twisted her ankle, falling. Curtis, just having freed the wheel, snapped his head around.
“Roxana!”
It was the first time he had said her name properly. But before she could even process it, he was at her side, scanning her quickly.
“Fortunately, your ankle’s fine.”
Roxana looked up at him in surprise.
“Thank y—”
Before she could finish, Curtis grabbed her under the arms and lifted her to her feet. As she stood awkwardly, he pulled a dagger from his coat and swung it.
Roxana instinctively flinched, eyes shut tight. But Curtis only cut the ropes binding her wrists. Leaning in, he whispered into her ear:
“You’ve got a collar anyway. This was unnecessary.”
Shocked, Roxana quickly covered her neck. Curtis, indifferent to her glare, climbed back into the carriage without another word.
