Episode 3
I went to the temple the following Sunday. I didn’t even know why myself.
It might have been a simple impulse, or perhaps I just wanted, truly, to rest for a day.
Or maybe it was because I was curious about why he had told me to come to the temple.
Martin noticed me as I awkwardly stepped inside and came straight toward me, unable to hide his delight.
“You came.”
At those few words, I understood why I had made my way to the temple. I wanted to see his gentle smile one more time.
So when he said he wanted to introduce me to someone, I nodded without hesitation.
“Henry, this is Amber.”
The man he introduced was the conductor of the temple choir. Henry spoke up immediately.
“Would you like to sing?”
After exchanging a glance with Martin, who quietly nodded, I sang whatever came to mind.
Even to me, the sight of a folk song—something village women usually sang—echoing through a sacred temple felt rather ridiculous. But neither Martin nor Henry laughed; they listened to my song until the very end.
Henry became the first and only teacher of my life.
He corrected my habit of forcing sound from my throat and taught me how to use space properly to create resonance.
And I was a fairly exemplary student. If he taught me one thing, I would come back having thought through two more. I was quick to imitate his demonstrations of vocalization and breathing.
Before long, I became the choir member with the most beautiful voice in the mixed choir.
Soon after, I was even given the role of lead soprano.
The temple needed me. Inside its walls, I was useful—there was a place for me there.
Simply liking that unfamiliar sense of belonging, I began to visit the temple more often and sing.
Martin, who silently watched all of this from my side, was nothing more than a devout priest. He was happier than anyone that my voice was being used for sacred hymns.
“Martin, do you think this will get me into heaven?”
“Amber, do you remember the day we first met?”
On a sunlit day, as he listened to my complaints on a bench in front of the temple, he smiled gently.
“God knows the kindness you showed me that day.”
“Is that really enough? Then wouldn’t that be unfair to you, Martin? I mean—you’ve lived your whole life as a priest. I’ve only been coming to the temple for a few months…”
I said it out of genuine concern, but this time Martin even laughed out loud.
“How could it be unfair? That is the reason for my life.”
Only then did I understand.
Martin saved me.
And for that merit, he would go to heaven.
I loved Martin, but it was a different kind of love than between a man and a woman. There was not a trace of shameful feeling between us.
So I didn’t bother making excuses to Carlton when he drunkenly shouted abuse at me and threw things, accusing me of sleeping with the newly appointed priest.
I didn’t lower my head before the whispering villagers either.
Martin was the first friend I had ever made in my life. After being ruined by Levistan and Carlton, he was the person to whom I wanted to offer my heart once more.
But Carlton’s patience was quickly running out.
Many people came and went from the temple, and in his eyes, Martin and Henry—whom I was close to—were nothing more than men.
As if that weren’t enough, rumors spread that the hymns I sang were beautiful, and even more people began flocking to the temple. His nerves grew razor-sharp.
Then one day, when he saw me smiling and talking with Martin—a smile I had never once shown Carlton—he finally locked me inside the house.
He bolted the door, tied my hands and feet, and didn’t even give me a proper sip of water.
If I had sworn that I would never go to the temple again, that I would never meet Martin again, I would have been released quickly. But I didn’t.
When I failed to appear at the temple, Martin came to the house himself, and Carlton hurled humiliating insults at him and chased him away.
The story spread, twisted and distorted, and the already bad rumors grew even worse. I became an immoral woman, and Martin could no longer remain in the village.
On the day Martin left, Carlton finally untied me. Ignoring the stinging looks and words around me, I ran out of the house.
He was just passing by the stream where we had first met.
“Martin!”
From being locked up, barely eating or drinking, and doing nothing but screaming, my throat was ruined. I grabbed his sleeve.
I wanted to clear his name by any means necessary. But only apologies spilled from my mouth.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—because of me…”
Tears poured out without pause, and I couldn’t continue properly. He waited in silence.
“Because of me… I’m so sorry this happened. I understand if you regret being kind to me. You can think that. I really wouldn’t blame you. I shouldn’t have said those things back then. I shouldn’t have let you introduce me to your teacher. It’s okay if you think that. Truly.”
My heart pounded as if it would burst. I wanted to die right then and there if it meant proving he had done nothing wrong.
I knew all too well how painful the cold stares and careless voices could be—I had experienced it in the lord’s castle.
That was why I couldn’t bear the villagers calling such a good man shameless.
He had given me so much, and I had given him nothing in return.
After quietly listening to me, he finally spoke.
“Your throat is badly damaged.”
I stood there, mouth open, at a loss for words.
Martin was smiling. When he blinked, the tears pooled in his eyes spilled down his damp cheeks. He was wearing the priest’s robes from the day we first met, smiling just as he had then.
“You’ve lost weight too. And you skipped meals again because you found it troublesome.”
As if nothing were wrong, he asked after me in the same everyday tone he always used. Then he continued.
“Keep going to the temple. Henry knows the situation, so he won’t be harsh just because you missed a few weeks of practice.”
“You were driven out because of me. I was selfish. I’m really sorry, Martin. I—”
I stepped back half a pace, clasping my hands together so tightly they nearly turned white, as though in a confessional. Looking down at me, he spoke again.
“You are a blessed person, Amber. Your voice is a gift from God, and I’m happy that I was the first to discover it.”
I was a cursed person. I could never be happy, and everyone who stayed by my side became miserable—the maids I worked with, my mother, perhaps even Carlton.
He would be no exception. And yet I couldn’t bring myself to say that.
“I don’t regret meeting you.”
I had hoped he would say that. His words always brought me great comfort.
If it could ease my guilt, I knew that kind-hearted Martin would say the same thing again and again.
Then, at that moment, he said:
“Would you like to come with me?”
I jerked my lowered head up.
“What?”
At my startled expression, he smiled bitterly.
“I’m returning to the central temple in the capital. If you wish, I can take you with me.”
“I…”
I hesitated.
The capital where Levistan was—the capital I had never gone to. And now, perhaps, where Martin would be.
Everyone had left me behind and gone to the capital. Once again, Levistan’s face overlapped with Martin’s.
Five years had passed, yet he was still in the capital and had never once come to Harn.
Go to the capital? Now?
My heart sank coldly. I was afraid. I had lived my entire life in Harn and had never once left it.
I had always wanted to leave, but I had never thought I truly should.
And in that moment, I realized it.
“I’m sorry.”
Even in death, I would never be able to escape this place. I had been rooted here for too long. What could I possibly do now?
I had no pride left. Martin would gladly take me to the capital for my sake, but I knew.
If he took me with him, he would once again do many things for me. And that would mean sacrifice. I was afraid of that.
In the land of Harn, I was unhappy—but at least I knew it well. That was what kept me sitting here, unable to move.
Reading my expression, Martin reached out and gently wrapped his hand around mine. At that feather-light warmth, I suddenly came to my senses.
“If you ever come to the capital, please visit the temple. I will always be there.”
He said it without a hint of disappointment. Because he always spoke from the heart, I answered with difficulty.
“I will.”
At my reply, he smiled without a crease.
“You know the way from here, so I’ll take my leave now. Go inside. It’s cold.”
And with that, he left.
The village didn’t change just because Martin was gone. The whispers about me continued alongside countless rumors, and Carlton’s behavior remained the same.
He magnanimously said I could return to the temple if I wished. But I never went back after that. Nor did I go to the capital.
Because my damaged throat never fully returned.
The hoarseness healed quickly, but I could no longer sing. The clear voice that once rose without obstruction now turned into a rough, metallic sound beyond a certain point.
Now, there was truly nothing left that I could do.
I only remembered the voice that had called me blessed.
In my life, covered in dull, colorless tones, those brief days were as vivid as the stained-glass windows filling the temple walls.
Martin was the only person I loved until the day I died—
my friend.
