Episode 2
The capital city had walls far stronger and higher than those surrounding this territory.
The fastest route from Harn to the capital took about three days, but it was narrow and treacherous.
For a common woman who had never ridden a horse, the safest way was to catch a ride on the various carts traveling along the main roads connecting villages.
After spending so much time and money, I finally reached the gates of Belphern, the capital, ten full days after setting out.
That day, my farewell with Levistan was over in an instant.
From the very beginning, after leaving me behind, he had never once come to find me. Having already experienced the depth of his affection, I knew he would never hold onto me for long.
Yet he seemed to have a peculiar misunderstanding.
“Amber, are you doing this on purpose?”
“…Excuse me?”
“Are you speaking so harshly just so I’ll feel hurt when you leave?”
Caught off guard, I could only stand there, frozen, unable to resist as he suddenly stepped forward and pulled me into an embrace.
“Oh, my dear Amber. You don’t have to do that. Just go ahead and scold me. Get angry. It’s fine. I know better than anyone how much you love me, so there’s no need for such obvious lies.”
For a moment, I found myself lost in thought, wondering if my words—“I’m leaving for the capital”—could be interpreted any other way.
At the same time, my clearer-than-ever mind quickly ran the calculations.
I grabbed his collar with trembling hands.
“…It’s not a lie. I really hate you, my lord.”
“Yes, yes.”
“You were the one who lied, saying you’d take me with you.”
“You’re right. I truly apologize. But once I settle in the capital, I will come to see you. And, and once I inherit my title, I will surely take you to the capital.”
Hearing that, I once again found no words to respond. It was fortunate that he was holding me, unable to see my expression.
At twenty, I truly trusted him and waited.
One day, trying to avoid my mother, who was eager to marry me off quickly, news arrived at the lord’s estate:
Levistan had formally become engaged to the daughter of a count he had promised to marry long ago.
And I was eventually captured by my mother and forced into marriage. Yet I continued to wait for him.
But after hearing that his grand wedding had taken place in the capital, my waiting came to an end. From then on, I closed my ears to it.
“So don’t say anything about going to the capital. The path is too long and dangerous for someone as fragile as you to travel alone.”
I could only nod slowly, unable to answer.
I recalled words my mother once said:
‘All noblemen are cruel. They take pleasure in abandoning women. The more a woman clings, the harsher they become.’
Having settled alone in this village while pregnant, she often warned me about the behavior of noblemen. From her words, it was easy to guess my biological father’s status.
‘Don’t trust every sweet word whispered in your ear. In the end, men do as they please, and women are the ones abandoned. So don’t trouble yourself and marry a man suitable for your station early.’
In the end, my mother was half right.
When I tried to refuse him, he became restless, yet the moment it seemed I had given in, Levistan regained his composure and poured out sweet words.
If I truly wanted to push him away, the method wasn’t a sincere refusal—it was a feigned yearning for affection.
“Remember, the only one I love is you.”
And once he judged that I had completely resigned myself, he pressed his lips to my forehead and said,
“Goodbye, Amber.”
Thus, he concluded his beautiful farewell.
As soon as I saw him enter the castle, I gathered my belongings and left.
Walking along the empty road, I slowly accepted the situation.
The past ten years. Reuniting with Levistan. The capital.
After Levistan left, I was left utterly alone and lost my mind for a while. I cried every day, couldn’t work properly, and was soon dismissed.
I had no friends I truly connected with. The castle maids all hated me for being favored by Levistan.
Only then did I realize that I had relied solely on him. With him gone, I had no strength left to stand, and I crumbled.
The surroundings were utterly silent, not even the chirping of insects. As I walked, I murmured a song to myself.
‘How long has it been? Five years?’
A smooth melody flowed from my lips.
Without any hope or desire for life, I had lived merely breathing—until a single moment when I discovered light.
It was then, exhausted from loving others, that I first learned to love myself.
At twenty-five, I learned to sing.
For the first time, I became aware of God’s existence and sang for Him. Gradually, it became comfort for myself.
And through all of this, he had always been there.
My husband, Carlton, was selfish, impulsive, and completely self-centered. I could never say, even as a courtesy, that he was a good husband.
Carlton had conspired with my mother to marry me, and I was not unaware that his only goal was to gain the title of the man who married the prettiest woman in the village.
My mother, who insisted it didn’t matter as long as he wasn’t a nobleman, had approved of Carlton for his industriousness and initiative. From that moment, my personal hell began.
Three years into the marriage, after my mother’s passing, his misconduct escalated.
During that bleak married life, the only place I could feel stable was the stream where village women came to do laundry.
Especially in the evenings, when the stream was mostly deserted, I would bring my laundry to match that quiet hour.
That day, after finishing the washing, I hummed a tune unconsciously while staring at the crimson sky.
Songs learned from neighboring women or children playing freely somehow made me feel as if my days were peaceful.
For a moment, there was no Carlton—who stayed out gambling late, who raised his hand when drunk, who demanded hidden money from me.
Worries about the poorly tended crops or the annual burdensome rent could be forgotten, if only briefly.
All my misfortunes stemmed from one person. Yet I deliberately shifted blame elsewhere to avoid further resentment.
‘It’s all my fault. I just wasn’t wise enough.’
It wasn’t out of remorse. If I hated him any more, I might have truly wanted to kill him.
Such fleeting impulses made me feel even uglier, as if everything around me was ruined.
Then, behind me, I heard rustling. Startled, I turned abruptly, wiping my wet eyes with my sleeves, and saw a young man standing at the forest path entrance.
“I-I’m sorry for startling you.”
He lowered his head in embarrassment as our eyes met. I frantically wiped my face again.
Only then did I notice his flowing white garments.
“Are you a priest?”
“Yes, I am. I’m Martin, newly assigned to this temple.”
Hearing ‘priest,’ I felt a partial sense of relief, though I remained cautious as I studied him.
“I heard a new priest was arriving, but this isn’t the path to the temple.”
I gestured to the spire rising opposite the path he had taken. He smiled sheepishly.
“Ah, I see. I must admit I have a terrible sense of direction and have been wandering.”
I stood up from the rock I had been sitting on and dusted my skirt.
“I’ll guide you to the temple. Follow me.”
“But wouldn’t it be too late for you to walk back alone?”
He seemed pleased at my concern but shook his head. I frowned.
“I am not a lady, and it would be more dangerous for you to wander through the forest than for me to walk alone. The wildlife here is quite fierce.”
At the mention of wild animals, he did not refuse. I quickly led him along the narrow shortcut.
It was around dinner time, so the area was quiet. Half a step behind me, he suddenly spoke.
“You were singing by the stream earlier, weren’t you?”
I froze, not wanting him to know that I had been singing so pitifully in solitude.
Yet he continued without waiting for my response.
“While I was lost in the forest, I heard your voice from afar. Following it, I found you.”
“Amber,” I said.
“Amber. That was a beautiful song.”
“It was just something I picked up from the neighbors,” I replied stiffly, embarrassed, glancing away. He still wore a gentle smile.
When we reached the temple entrance, he bowed deeply.
“May God’s glory be with you. Thank you for your kindness.”
I instinctively bowed back. No one in the village had ever expressed such gratitude for such a trivial favor.
Then he asked,
“Do you often come to the temple on Sundays?”
I smiled bitterly. With my husband neglecting the fields, I had never found time to turn to God.
“No,” I answered shortly.
“I hope to see you again on Sunday, Amber,” he added.
That was my first encounter with Martin.
