First Steps into Berna Monastery
As I crossed the monastery courtyard, the quiet texture of dirt and gravel pressed against my toes. Faint bell tolls mingled with the sound of a broom sweeping the floor, carried on the wind.
"This way."
The young nun turned to me with a soft smile. She wore a white habit draped with a dark gray shawl, her neat and serene demeanor laced with an odd undercurrent of tension. Somewhere in the distance, the low chant of a choir drifted through the air.
Following her through the archway, we entered a solemn, sturdy space where the cloister walls, pillars, and floors were all crafted from ancient stone.
"This cloister is called Saint Berna's Cloister. It's where the nuns circle for their statues and prayers at set times."
As we moved along the cloister, she continued explaining the monastery's layout. "The monastery is divided into four quadrants around the cloister. West is the prayer rooms and chapel, east is the library and scriptorium, north is the nuns' quarters, and south is where the children stay."
I glanced at the old saint portraits hanging on the cloister walls and the small candlesticks beneath them. The marks of time seeped into the bricks, whispering of the monastery's quiet history.
"A day at the monastery starts early at dawn with prayer. The nuns rise at four in the morning, but the children can sleep in until around six-thirty, well after sunrise."
Exiting the cloister, the air shifted slightly. Sunlight slanted low along the corridor—heading south, no doubt. Through the windows on either side, I caught glimpses of the garden, and soft light pooled on the stone floor. The hallway stretched longer than expected, dotted with saint portraits and weathered candlesticks on the walls.
"After a simple breakfast of porridge or bread, there's about thirty minutes of morning worship. Then come the morning lessons."
"Lessons? Like Bible study?"
"No. It's basic knowledge for surviving in this world—common language, arithmetic, history, ethics. We don't force the children to become clergy, even if they want to. Not everyone who wishes can become a nun."
Her tone was kind but carried a mechanical edge, like reciting a procedure she'd repeated countless times in the monastery—plain and matter-of-fact.
"Of course, if they qualify, they can study theology separately to become clergy. And if they have talent on top of that, they might be called as saints or even enter the academy's theology department for the elite path."
A bit further along, a door creaked open at the end of the corridor. Inside the worn wooden door was what looked like the children's dormitory. Not individual rooms—beds lined up in rows. Roughly ten, by my quick count—enough for about ten kids sharing.
"This is your room now, and that's your bed."
The nun pointed to a bed near the edge, by the window.
"It might be inconvenient sharing with so many, but you'll get used to it. Do you have any luggage?"
I shook my head.
"No need to unpack, then... I'll fetch some clothes for you to wear. Rest here a moment."
Once she left, I slowly looked around the room. Sunlight lingered in the garden outside the window, warming the space with a cozy glow. Each bed had faintly different blankets, and small shelves for belongings hung beside them—one per bed. Some were neatly organized, others a bit messy, but overall, it felt quiet and tidy.
My assigned bed had thin but clean sheets. I sat down gingerly on it.
—Creak.
It was clearly just a cheap, unremarkable bed, but it wasn't bad.
Better than I expected.
Back at my old orphanage, we didn't even have beds like this—over twenty kids crammed into a room without so much as a blanket, huddling together. In winter, we'd curl up relying on each other's body heat to sleep... I still vividly remembered one morning waking to find the kid I'd held through the night had frozen to death from hypothermia.
Honestly, I'd worried this place might be as hellish as the last one—but this? It wasn't just 'not bad'; it was pretty satisfying.
A short while later, the door opened quietly, and the nun returned, holding a neatly folded dark gray habit.
"Change into this."
She spoke gently, gesturing to a corner with a small partition. Inside, a full-length mirror—just barely big enough—hung on the wall. It was a makeshift setup, but at least it showed some consideration.
I took the habit and stepped behind the partition. In that brief moment of undressing and donning the new garment, the unfamiliar fabric settled against my skin. The unfamiliar drape. The slightly irritating collar, the awkward waist ties. And yet—something inside me felt quietly aligned.
Moments later, I stood before the mirror. It reflected me in the strange new clothes: gray habit over white undergarments. The shoulders hung a bit loose, sleeves a touch long. Not a perfect fit, but... enough to mark me as part of this place. As a... 'nun.'
I stared into the mirror for a long time, wordless.
I never imagined I'd end up wearing something like this...
It felt uncomfortable, alien, awkward—but threaded with the faintest sense of relief.
Gathering my old clothes carefully, I stepped out. The nun looked at me and blinked in mild surprise.
"Oh, it suits you well."
She smiled briefly, then glanced at the small watch on her wrist.
"Morning worship should be ending soon... This timing's perfect to take you to class. Come on."
As the nun turned to leave— the door opened cautiously, and a girl about my age slipped in. She bowed her head immediately upon seeing the nun.
"Hello, Sister Vanessa."
"Marie."
The nun nodded familiarly, looked at her a moment, then shifted her gaze to me as if remembering something.
"Perfect timing, actually. This is Teresa—she'll be sharing your room from now on."
"A new girl?"
"Yes. She's heading to class now, right?"
"Yeah. I left my textbook in the room and came to grab it. Heading there soon."
The girl spoke a bit defensively, sneaking a glance at the nun.
"Then, could you show her the way?"
"Show her? Oh, sure. I'll do that."
The nun nodded lightly and left the room first. Once she was gone, Marie— the girl called Marie—strode to the shelf by my bed. She rummaged briefly and pulled out a textbook. Then she turned to me.
"Let's go."
"...Y-yeah."
I followed behind Marie as we left the room and walked the corridor. She spoke up.
"Teresa, right?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm, pretty name. I'm Marie. Nice to meet you."
Her tone was blunt, but she didn't seem like a bad kid.
Marie, huh... Hmm?
The name 'Marie' vaguely rang a bell from somewhere, but I couldn't place where.
......
With Marie's guidance, I quietly entered the classroom. The lesson was unfamiliar, the words not sinking in. I barely understood half of it, but I sat carefully, not wanting to disrupt.
Soon, class ended, and the room grew noisy again.
"How was the lesson?"
Marie had appeared beside me, smiling.
"No... I couldn't understand a thing."
"Well, yeah—jumping in mid-lesson. Don't overthink it. Let's grab lunch first. Hungry?"
"Yeah."
I nodded quietly at her words and followed her out of the classroom.
......
The corridor to the dining hall buzzed with students waiting for lunch. Marie and I stood in line quietly, awaiting our turn. That's when it happened.
Suddenly, a group of burly kids shoved past us, cutting in line.
"...!"
My body lurched, but I managed not to fall.
"You okay, Teresa?"
"...Y-yeah."
Steadying my startled heart, I looked up. One of them glared down at me, smirking mockingly.
"What're you staring at?"
They were big, rough-looking kids... the kind that just reeked of sleaziness and bad vibes.