Salvation of the Fallen - Chapter 13
The words that came after a long while were unexpected. But relief didn’t come. It just felt precarious, like an empty glass teetering on the edge of the table.
“You did better than I thought.”
At what? All Arsena had done today was endure the pain in her ankle secretly while being dragged around like a doll. What exactly was Viareche praising? Before she could gauge the meaning, her head bowed again like a wound-up doll.
“Thank you.”
“Well, you must be tired, so go and rest. I’ll call for a doctor tomorrow morning to treat your leg.”
At Viareche’s words, which flowed as if she knew everything, Arsena withdrew from the room. She didn’t want to think about anything. She just wanted to quickly shake off the suffocatingly intense scent of Felita.
***
“Bring everything.”
From the morning, there was a quiet commotion in the Count’s residence. The day after formally introducing Arsena at the temple, Viareche had ordered the ledgers to be brought, saying she would make a large donation to the temple.
Usually, Viareche was busy enough with just the Felita brewery. Since her marriage, she had never once asked to personally review the Count’s ledgers. Considering the budget scale of the brewery and the Count’s household, it was natural.
Her gaze was sharp as she examined the mountain of ledgers. Viareche, who had opened the records starting precisely from the year Arsena was born, pored over the dust-covered papers again and again.
The news soon reached the Count. As the Count entered the study, Viareche looked up to greet him.
“You’re here?”
It was the usual greeting. Smiling faintly with a gentle voice. Viareche was still an excellent noble who knew how to conceal her true feelings. But over the past three years, the Count had learned something too. The eyes beneath that expressionless face often showed an unbearable, blatant light.
“My lady. What are you doing now?”
“What am I doing? I’m attending to matters I’ve neglected. It’s embarrassing. To think I’ve left household affairs to the servants, using the excuse of being busy as a wife.”
“Why suddenly…”
“Oh. Did you know? The Duchess who recently returned from her recuperation. Yesterday, when she saw Arsena, she was surprised at how much Rosalyn had grown. She said she mistook her because of the identical blue eyes. Well… Perhaps her eyesight is failing. Come to think of it, she does look similar. To you.”
“What are you trying to say?”
If she had outright accused him of committing adultery, he would have prostrated himself and begged for forgiveness. He would have apologized, saying he had committed a mortal sin, that it was a mistake. But instead, the Count furrowed his brow as if displeased. He hadn’t brought her, nor had he suggested adopting her. Viareche had no evidence to link that child to him.
“This is unpleasant. I’ll go inspect the neglected estate and return, so cool your head in the meantime.”
Yet at the same time, he was afraid. Afraid that his sin would be revealed. The Count fled to avoid exposing his shame.
Viareche, who had been staring at the heavy door that closed with a bang, soon closed the ledger she had been reviewing.
What did she want to confirm?
The massive expenditure was made in the year Morpheus was born. The Count had donated for the construction of a temple in a small village. She already knew this too. It wasn’t just the Count who had sponsored. Many nobles visited the village where the temple was to be built and made large donations. Hoping to get closer to God.
According to the original plan, Viareche would have visited that village with the Count. Due to her sudden pregnancy with Morpheus, only the Count ended up going….
But Viareche glanced at the ledger and closed her eyes as if in pain. The donation she just confirmed was much larger than planned.
And the unknown, regular expenditures. Money doesn’t lie. Rather, the more one tries to hide it, the deeper the marks money leaves.
Viareche vaguely recalled. The Count, felt strangely distant at that time. Back then, she had ignored it, deeming it not worth her attention.
It was around that time that the Count became noticeably closer to the priests. Come to think of it, that was also when the temple began to flourish. The period when nobles, who used to visit the temple out of mere duty, began actively sponsoring.
Viareche cradled her throbbing head.
Could it be a coincidence that this period perfectly matched the age of the orphan with blue eyes resembling the Count’s? Was it also a coincidence that the child was from that village? If it wasn’t a coincidence…
Even just imagining it, unsettling thoughts swirled in her head. It was something that should never be uttered aloud. No, even thinking about it was a sin against God.
But…
Now she could be certain of the identity of the peculiar unpleasantness that had clung to her for three years. The evil stirred within her whenever she encountered Arsena. No, even when her eyes met Morpheus or Rosalyn. Perhaps she had known even before the Duchess mentioned it yesterday. After all, she had been mulling over the Count’s words while tossing and turning at dawn.
She’s the same age as Morpheus.
How did he know? Even she wouldn’t have known without sending someone to inquire. She couldn’t remember the Count’s expression when she said her father had died. Was it around that time that the letters he used to burn without reading stopped coming?
Last night. She recalled Arsena’s fearful appearance. Those blue eyes trembling even in the darkness. They were clearly those of someone who had sinned. Whatever it was. The Count’s eyes today, feigning fear, were no different.
Viareche exhaled a long, cold breath slowly.
She had to reach a conclusion somehow. Before this vicious seed of doubt consumed her.
God. Please guide me.
After closing her eyes and thinking for a long time, Viareche took out the Felita wine made in God’s name and poured it over the pile of documents. It was the best decision she could make right now.
The red wine said to wash away sins, soaked the faded paper. The ink marks that had accumulated over the years spread like darkness. So that no one could recognize it. So that no one could confirm it.
Viareche took out a new wine and poured it down her throat. There was something in her heart that needed to be erased too. That was her conclusion and answer.
However, the burning thirst wouldn’t be quenched no matter how much wine she poured down. Rather, as if she had drunk salt water, it only made her increasingly parched. As if mocking the desperate Viareche.
***
“Sister!”
Rosalyn sought out Arsena again today. In a corner of the Count’s residence. The abandoned garden where herbs were once grown long ago was Arsena’s new sanctuary. Rosalyn couldn’t understand what was so good about that place, filled with damp air where sunlight didn’t reach, but Arsena was always there unless something special was happening.
“My lady….”
At Rosalyn’s call, Arsena, who had been crouched reading a book, was startled and stood up. As if she hadn’t expected anyone to come, her pale face was filled with bewilderment. Rosalyn pouted her lips.
Rosalyn was always a welcomed presence anywhere, anytime. Everyone loved her. Not just family and friends, but even the Emperor. She could have anything she wanted and meet anyone she wished. No one had ever given her the same expression as Arsena.
Why? Everyone likes me.
Arsena was completely incomprehensible to her. Even God loved Rosalyn. The one and only thing – the existence of a sister that she couldn’t have no matter how much she begged her mother – was proof of that gift to her.
But why.
This wasn’t the kind of existence she had wanted. She had wished for someone who would smile kindly, embrace her, and always be with her. A deep bond that she couldn’t have with her mother, brother, or close friends. Rosalyn recalled the daughter of the Baron tightly hugging her sister and smiling. As if she had everything. Despite having nothing.
So why.
Why Arsena, the gift God had given her, was putting up such a wall against her. Rosalyn, who had always been loved without giving anything in return, couldn’t bear it.
