Chapter 155
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 155
Her lady picked a single rose from the vase. Water dripped from its cut stem. It was a cut flower, no longer alive, yet for a moment, Canna thought the rose was shedding tears.
The ornamental flowers sent to nobles were always meticulously trimmed to prevent any accidental cuts. The thornless rose looked utterly submissive in Evangeline’s grasp.
Evangeline plucked a petal from the rose. Her pale, slender hand crushed it.
Her Ladyship was furious. Tearing the petals seemed like a desperate measure to keep her rage in check.
Since her lady always tried to maintain the facade of an ordinary young woman, Canna was certain she was right.
The red petals scattered across the floor looked like drops of blood. Yet, it was almost funny how no one could ever mistake them for her lady’s own.
From what she had heard, her lady hadn’t shed a single drop of blood even when she died.
Canna had heard the story: beneath the cherry tree, her lady had hanged herself with a torn bedsheet, her pure white evening dress hanging limp. The only red on her were her eyes, and even those had been tightly shut.
They said that if a painter had been tasked with capturing the scene, he would have simply returned a blank white canvas.
So when she opened her eyes once more, Canna could only imagine how vividly those red eyes must have pulsed with life. She deeply regretted not being there to witness that monumental moment. Her older sister could never understand her.
Petals fell, one by one.
It felt as though her lady could tear a person's throat out just as easily. Canna’s hand instinctively went to her own neck.
Since Canna had pledged herself as Evangeline's follower, this was only the second time she had seen her so angry. The first time had been, of course, when her lady rescued her from Donau’s clutches.
Canna wore the scar on her neck like a badge of honor. It was why, after her body had healed from unknowingly drinking holy water, she had slit her own throat again without a moment’s hesitation. This was a truth she could never tell a soul.
Anyone who heard would surely condemn her as insane. But Canna needed a physical memory to recall that moment.
She traced the long, sliced wound with her fingertips. To her, this was a stigmata.
Canna was overjoyed to be important enough to stir such emotion in Evangeline. At the same time, she felt a complex mix of feelings, knowing her beloved sister was the cause of her lady's wrath.
Once again, and again.
In the end, Hena would never understand her.
Hena wondered how Canna could be so utterly captivated by their lady. Canna, on the other hand, wanted to ask her sister:
How could you not be?
How could anyone not worship her lady? She was the light descending into the darkness. Canna worshipped Evangeline. She made her a faith.
Canna’s world had once been a single room.
She was trapped in a pit so deep that not a single sliver of sunlight could reach its bottom. All Canna could do was lie there and stare up at the opening she presumed was the sky.
Hena stood at the edge, reaching down and shouting for Canna to take her hand so they could escape together. Looking at Hena’s outstretched hand, Canna had been overjoyed, believing she could finally escape the dark abyss. But their hands never met.
The pit was simply too deep. Hena lacked the strength to pull Canna out. Canna’s hopes were crushed. After this agonizing cycle of false hope repeated itself several times, Canna eventually abandoned all expectation of ever escaping.
Left alone, Canna would look up, waiting for the day Hena might slip and fall into the pit with her. It was then that Evangeline Rohanson, Canna's lady, appeared like a miracle. Declaring that their hands couldn't reach, Evangeline had plunged into the abyss herself to save her.
In a way, this was the stark difference between the two sisters. In the end, Canna never escaped the pit, but she found her light within it. Hena, on the other hand, had never fallen in—and because of that, she had never been saved.
The chasm that opened the moment Canna stepped into Evangeline’s shadow had driven the sisters this far apart.
It was the difference in how willingly they accepted Donau's punishment, whether they called the painting in the temple beautiful or horrific, and how they perceived Evangeline's very existence.
Hena found it incredibly bizarre that Canna so gladly accepted Evangeline's protection. Her tone always implied: How can you be satisfied living in the shadows, never even seeing the sunlight properly?
Hena was truly ignorant. Having never left her room, Canna was already intimately familiar with the shadows.
Sometimes, Hena wished Canna would remain a vegetable, unable to move—even though she knew how much Canna had loathed those days.
Although Canna loved her sister dearly, her affection for her lady was so immense that she felt a furious disappointment upon hearing that Hena had betrayed Evangeline. She loved her sister enough to forgive her even when Hena choked her, but her feelings for her lady belonged to an entirely different dimension.
And her lady had said it: because Hena was Canna's sister, she would not hold her accountable for her betrayal.
A thrill shot through her, paralyzing her senses.
Sister. My lady accepts me completely.
This was undoubtedly a sign of favor. Canna wept. The love of an absolute being was like a tidal wave—a natural disaster, and her weak self could only be drenched and swept away in its current.
* * *
We teleported to the mansion using Pudding’s ability.
"Pudding."
"Yes."
The moment I called his name, Pudding immediately cast his perception-dampening magic. He didn't know the meme, so there was no "Pudding, Pudding!" chant, but his quick grasp of the situation proved he was truly my super-special pocket beastkin, Puddingmon.
"Lady Evangeline. You won't be visible to their eyes."
"Good job, Pudding."
I patted his head in praise. Just as Pudding said, people couldn’t perceive me. It felt like I was intruding on someone else’s dream. Or maybe it was just that I couldn’t believe the scene unfolding before my eyes.
"Oh my goodness..."
Canna covered her mouth, glancing at me warily as she took in the scene. The situation was far worse than she’d expected. Though I had promised to overlook Hena’s involvement, she seemed worried I might go back on my word now that I saw the extent of the damage.
That was just how disastrous the Rohanson Mansion looked. It had always been gloomy and eerie, but it had possessed a certain antique elegance. Now, it was nothing more than an abandoned ruin.
"It's a total mess."
A sudden surge of anger welled up inside me. I felt so hollow I could cry. It’s only natural to be angry and sad when you leave home and return to find it burned to the ground. Perhaps, without realizing it, I had started to think of the Rohanson Mansion as my home.
Fortunately, the cherry tree was safe. Mother had loved that tree; it would have been deeply frustrating if it had burned down.
Mother? The word surfaced in my thoughts, flustering me. But even setting ‘Mother’ aside, it would be hard to find anyone who disliked the Rohanson Mansion’s cherry tree.
The sight of the lush, fully bloomed cherry blossoms fluttering in the wind was so beautiful it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it looked like a fairy tale illustration brought to life.
In fact, if even the cherry blossoms had burned, poor Melek would have starved, so it was a close call. The solitary, radiant tree, standing next to the blackened mansion, felt incredibly out of place.
I averted my eyes from the mansion and looked at the people. The mansion's residents, who had escaped the flames, were taking refuge in the garden, but they were not in good shape. Some were covered in soot, others had burns. Several shapes were covered with cloths. From their silhouettes, I realized there had been casualties.
A chill ran down my spine at the thought that my own people might have been seriously hurt, and I quickly scanned their faces.
"My lady. Look, Daisy is over there. And Doline and the butler too!"
Canna spotted them faster than I did. Whether due to a factional split or simple ostracization, only those who could be considered my close associates were gathered together in a corner.
Fortunately, Daisy and the children were safe. Doline, however, was in poor shape. She was curled into a ball with her head buried in her knees, muttering endlessly to herself. The butler was completely unconscious.
"Jelly and the Princess aren't here."
Pudding confirmed it, which meant the two of them must have gone with Bishop Marik. Though one of them was definitely taken by force.
"Why did they leave the others behind?" Canna tilted her head.
I wondered the same thing. Why did Bishop Marik leave the mansion staff alone instead of slaughtering them or taking them captive? Bishop Marik’s track record was far too… illustrious… for me to believe she suddenly started valuing human life.
Did she do it to use them as hostages so I would come to the Rohanson Mansion?
Or, since Jelly and Hena were already enough as hostages, did she have some other purpose for them?
Perhaps Bishop Marik spared them to paint me as the ultimate villain. It was hard to grasp the schemes of a mastermind whose character was already in the gutter.
As if they had just survived a great war, the people were exhausted and incredibly quiet. Then, a sobbing sound broke the silence.
"Sniff... I want to go home..."
Hearing a young maid whimpering made my anger flare up once more. If a child wanted to go home, they should have been quietly sent off in a carriage. Had the knights forbidden them from leaving?
It seemed the knights surrounding the mansion were there purely for surveillance. You'd think they would help tend to the injured or the dead, but Bishop Marik's knights did nothing but watch. Bishop Marik really was a dirty, petty piece of trash.
The young maid’s crying seemed to be a trigger. The atmosphere shifted, and murmurs began to ripple through the crowd.
"Damn it. M-Me too...!"
"I miss my mom..."
"Please, just tell me this is a dream."
All sorts of complaints burst out from here and there, but the knights didn't even bat an eye, merely snorting in amusement. Unable to bear the contempt, a man suddenly leaped to his feet. All eyes turned to him. What was his name again?
After transmigrating, I had done my best to memorize everyone’s faces and names. It was part of my effort to shed the villainess image and maintain my persona as a kind lady to the servants. Racking my memory, the name vaguely came to me. Kochia, I think.
"It's—it's all because of Evangeline Rohanson!"
Excuse me, but I'm right here, you know?
I’d asked Pudding to cast perception-dampening magic so the knights wouldn’t see me, but it seemed the mansion staff was included in its range as well. That’s why he was talking trash right in front of my face, completely unaware of my presence.
"How dare that filthy human bastard say such a thing to—!"
"Pudding, stop."
"But, Lady Evangeline!"
I stopped Pudding, who looked ready to pounce at any second. The broad-minded beastkin could let it slide just this once.
Unaware that his life had just been spared, Kochia shrieked with uncontrollable rage. The knights had no intention of stopping his outburst and merely watched with amusement.
"That wench is the demon, so why do I have to suffer like this? I was just hired to work here!"