WEERR 10

Chapter 10

When the door opened, sunlight poured into the once-dark corridor. The prayer room inside was filled with light.
Through the tall windows placed throughout the chamber, warm rays streamed in, and the white marble bathed in that glow gleamed so brightly it was almost blinding.

Flowers surrounded the coffin in full bloom—so much so that if not for the single coffin standing prominently at the center, one might have mistaken the place for a wedding hall rather than a funeral. It was nothing like the somber funerals Trisha had ever seen.

“Trisha…”

At the tearful voice, Trisha lifted her head. Lato and Rens were standing there, eyes glistening as they gazed at her coffin.

“Dear.”

After a brief moment, it was Lato who first managed to collect himself and comfort Rens.

“…Let’s go, Ishas.”
“Ah, yes.”

Still shaken, Rens wrapped an arm around Trisha’s shoulders. From that touch, Trisha could feel the deep sorrow and tangled emotions within her foster mother.

The three of them walked together toward the coffin.

Inside the half-open casket, where a body should have lain, there were only flowers—countless blossoms filling every inch of space.

Lisianthus…

Among them, the most abundant were white lisianthuses, Trisha’s favorite.

“They couldn’t find the body.”

Lato’s voice, heavy with grief, reached her as he spoke as though explaining it to her.

“That’s why we’ve held on all this time, unable to let go of our daughter… But seeing you now, I think it’s time we finally did.”

He spoke gently, running his hand through Trisha’s hair with fatherly affection.

“Thank you. We could only send her off like this because of you.”

No! Don’t send me off!

Trisha screamed silently, but the Count and Countess could not possibly hear her. Her voice, as always, refused to come out. She could only burn in frustration while the couple finished their prayers.

Never in her life—or death—had she imagined she would one day watch her own parents praying over her coffin.

I mean, who could have expected to attend their own funeral?

After wiping their tears, the couple straightened their clothes and turned.

“It’s about time we started greeting the guests.”

Many people came to pay their respects. It was only natural—this was the funeral of the hero who had defeated the Evil God and saved the world.

Even so, only those of high rank or personal acquaintance were allowed inside the prayer hall. Yet, the Vins family barely had a moment to rest as they greeted the endless stream of mourners.

“Is that the adopted daughter?”

Some guests whispered as they glanced at Trisha.

Trisha shut her ears. Whatever they were saying could only offend her, so what was the point of listening?

Just then, someone broke through the crowd and strode toward the coffin.

“Lady Forest!”

It was Asha Forest, one of Trisha’s former comrades. Ignoring the greetings of those who recognized her, Asha walked straight to the coffin.

“Trisha…”

Her voice was filled with sorrow.

“You’ve come, Lady Forest.”

Only when Count and Countess Vins approached did Asha turn to them, regaining her composure.

“A funeral? But… they haven’t even found Trisha’s body yet.”
“I know well how hard you’ve searched for her,” Lato said softly, “But…”

Their gazes turned toward the coffin.

Seeing it, Asha seemed to realize her mistake, a flash of guilt crossing her face. No one could feel the pain of that empty coffin more than Trisha’s parents.

“It’s time to let her rest now, don’t you think?”
“…I spoke rashly. Forgive me.”

Asha bowed deeply in apology.

“Think nothing of it. We understand your heart.”

The Count gently patted his shoulder, comforting him. Their kindness only made Asha feel all the more ashamed. He bit his lip hard.

The next to arrive was Lanife Sturba, another of Trisha’s comrades. After quietly greeting the couple, she stood beside Asha. The two stood silently before the coffin.

Watching her comrades mourn her with such genuine sorrow, Trisha felt both gratitude and despair.

I’m here. Trisha Vins is right here. I’m not dead. I’m alive. I’m right beside you.

She wanted to scream those words, but her mouth would not obey.

By the time the guests had mostly been received, the Count and Countess began to look around subtly—the ceremony could not proceed without a priest.

But the one who appeared was no ordinary priest.

“His Eminence, the High Priest!”
“His Eminence himself is officiating the funeral…”

Lato’s face showed both surprise and confusion.

“It’s only fitting for the hero who saved the world,” the High Priest said, unbothered by the murmurs, turning toward the audience.

“I also bear a message from His Majesty the Emperor. Please, maintain silence.”

At his command, solemn stillness fell upon the hall.

“She protected us all and met a noble death.”

The High Priest laid flowers upon the coffin, his tone heavy with mourning.

“His Majesty the Emperor, honoring Trisha Vins’s sacrifice in defeating the Evil God, bestows upon her the sacred name of ‘Lamb’ and elevates the Vins family to the rank of marquis, granting them a fitting domain.”

The name “Lamb” symbolized sainthood—a title befitting the hero who had saved the world.

“Ah… Lady Trisha…”

Someone murmured her name in grief. Everyone in the room wept. Everyone—except one.

“Look at that girl over there. Not a single tear.”
“How shameless—to take Lady Vins’s place and not even pretend to grieve.”
“Well, can you blame her? From a street orphan to a count’s—no, a marquis’s—daughter overnight. Of course she’s pleased.”
“Poor Lady Trisha, losing her place to that child…”

Trisha quietly sighed, listening to the whispers around her.

Then—

“His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince, enters!”

Her final comrade had arrived. Unlike Asha and Lanife, this was the one she had not seen since awakening.

Crown Prince Ales Round.

“I’m a little late, it seems.”

Even after all this time, he was still dazzlingly handsome as he stepped into the hall. After greeting the Count and Countess, his gaze fell upon Trisha.

“…So this is the girl you’ve adopted?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Lato answered.

Ales’s eyes narrowed, as if assessing something.

“She’s remarkably similar. Too much so to call it coincidence.”

He bent down, leveling his gaze with hers, and extended a hand.

“What’s your name, young lady?”
“Ishas… Vins.”
“Ishas—‘dawn.’ A lovely name.”

He murmured softly, then took her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing the back of it with his forehead—a formal greeting for a lady.

Trisha flinched. When their eyes met, his sharp, penetrating gaze startled her.

I know who you are.

That was what his eyes seemed to say.

Ales always had sharp intuition, she thought. To rise from third prince to crown prince couldn’t have been easy.

Hope bloomed in her chest. Perhaps—just perhaps—this comrade had recognized her.

But then—

“What a strange turn of events. A funeral, of all things.”

The atmosphere shifted.

“Don’t you think this is rather hasty, Marquis? Ah—pardon, I should call you Marquess now.”

Trisha couldn’t tell if his tone was mocking or merely sympathetic like Asha’s earlier.

“Please understand, Your Highness,” said Lato calmly. “It’s time we let our daughter go…”
“That’s the hasty part,” Ales said, a faint smirk on his lips.

“Because I’ve found Trisha.”