Chapter 19
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 19
Following the Young Lady’s orders, Canna continued to listen to Gabriel’s explanation while Hena took the opportunity to diligently observe their surroundings. She figured she might never have the chance to visit a place like the Grand Temple again.
As magnificent as the exterior was, the interior was twice as extravagant. Brilliant, five-colored stained glass depicted verses from the scriptures, and statues of the Sun Goddess Rachel were placed throughout the halls.
Most of the visitors who came to pray were nobles, and the clerics guiding them wore incredibly lavish attire. Hena recalled the priests who occasionally volunteered in the slums, dressed in simple, unadorned clothes of poverty. Did the clerics here dress so flamboyantly because they catered to the nobility?
Or did those in the slums wear modest clothes on purpose, a mere performance to avoid inciting envy? No, she decided that was perhaps too cynical a thought.
“My Lady, thank you for always gracing us with your presence. May the sunlight always shine upon you.”
The greeting, at least, was the same. May the sunlight shine upon you, Hena repeated to herself.
As they walked along the carpeted main hall, they came upon a small but extremely ornate fountain.
Aren’t fountains usually kept outdoors?
Finding the indoor fountain awkward, she kept glancing at it until she saw a noblewoman, accompanied by a cleric, approach it. The woman cupped the fountain water in her hands and moistened her lips.
It was the first time Hena had ever seen a noble act that way. Weren’t they the type to complain that even their washwater was dirty?
Beyond the question of hygiene, she wondered if it was even permissible to drink from a fountain in a temple. Having no way of knowing, she turned to Gabriel for an answer.
“Is it alright to drink that water?”
“Yes. It is holy water, after all.”
“Pardon?”
“That is holy water.”
Holy water? Hena was reminded once again that this was the Grand Temple. Of course, holy water was made in temples, so it was only natural for it to be here. But why in a fountain?
The sight of holy water springing up endlessly gave Hena a somber feeling, and she unconsciously gripped Canna’s hand. Seeing someone else quench their thirst made her feel parched herself. Canna’s hand was squeezed tight, but she must have sensed Hena’s unease, as she remained quiet and allowed it.
“It isn’t open to just any visitor. As you can see, there are knights guarding it. It’s a privilege granted to patrons who provide generous donations.”
Gabriel added that most people who entered the Grand Temple were nobles anyway.
“It’s a performance to show off the temple’s wealth and power,” he said, his tone surprisingly cold.
Hena chewed over his words. Did he mean that while the temple accepted nobles as customers, they maintained the upper hand by making them do something a noble would normally never consider?
But wasn't that a cynical thing for a temple knight to say? Calling the faithful ‘customers’… Hena realized she had never once heard Gabriel offer a prayerful greeting. Of course, it was possible Sir Gabriel simply refrained from such greetings out of consideration for others.
Unable to find an answer, Hena followed him in silence.
Beyond the central fountain, a crowd had gathered. That must be where the painting was hung.
“I should warn you beforehand,” Gabriel said. “Reactions to this painting are split into two extremes. One side finds it incredibly beautiful, while the other finds it repulsive.”
Even without further explanation, it was clear which group Gabriel belonged to.
And then, Hena stood before the painting.
* * *
Was it burned?
For a moment, she thought she had misunderstood. The canvas was filled with colors so dull it looked as if it were coated in ash. It was a painting that did not belong in the pure white, brilliantly colored Grand Temple at all. It was like a drop of black ink falling into clear water.
The moment Hena looked closer, a wave of revulsion made her want to gag. God’s blessing? Holy? This? She doubted the aesthetic sense of the people who were uttering praises before such a pile of filth. Were their eyes even functioning?
Even a depiction of the most pathetic person’s final moments would be more beautiful than this. No, the scene of Donau’s suicide she had witnessed would have been better.
Against the backdrop of a collapsed building’s wooden floor, which looked as if a fire had just been extinguished, a cracked, charred lump of coal—a mere torso with no limbs—was screaming. A single, blood-soaked eye blinked from atop its head. From its back, countless tiny hands, as if sprung from the fires of hell, reached out to swallow the deceased. They resembled wings only because the small fingers were so tightly intertwined that they looked like feathers at a glance.
Did the believers know that Donau’s end was a suicide? According to the doctrines of the Sun Goddess they so blindly followed, those who took their own lives could never be embraced by Rachel. Therefore, this was a scene of hell coming to claim Donau.
“O Rachel.”
“Grant us salvation as well.”
Hena wanted to cover her ears. Were these people truly followers of the Sun Goddess? Even Hena, who held a grudge against Donau, felt a sliver of pity for the version of him in that painting. How could they look at this and utter praises?
“Indeed. It is beautiful.”
“Canna?”
Unfortunately, Canna also seemed to find the painting beautiful.
“It seems the painting looks different to you, Miss Canna,” Gabriel observed. “I find it extremely unpleasant, and I imagine Miss Hena feels the same.”
Hena nodded. It was beyond unpleasant; it was nauseating.
So Canna found this beautiful. Looking around, she saw the other viewers staring at the canvas with vacant expressions, as if they were on drugs.
What kind of magic had the painter used to create such an ambivalent piece?
Hena suddenly understood why the painting was still hanging in the temple. The polarized reactions only made it seem more mysterious. To those who found it beautiful, any attempt to speak the truth would be dismissed as mere slander.
“What causes the difference?” Hena asked.
“Who knows. They say it’s a difference in faith, but…”
That couldn’t be it. Canna, who felt uncomfortable in the temple, had called the painting beautiful.
“Commander!”
“Raphaella?”
“Where did you go? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“One moment,” Gabriel said, turning to them. “Would you two mind waiting here for a second? It seems to be an urgent matter, so I must go speak with my subordinate.”
“Yes. We’ll wait here.”
A knight in a white uniform had hurriedly approached Gabriel from a distance. Hena nodded as Gabriel asked for their understanding. She wanted to leave this area as quickly as possible, but since Canna was staring at the painting in a trance, she couldn’t leave alone.
Long after Gabriel had disappeared, Canna, who had been admiring the painting with a smile, finally broke the silence.
“Does the painting look different to you, Sister? To me, that pattern looks just like an eye.”
Canna turned away from the painting to look at Hena. Because of the angle, it looked as if wings were spreading out from Canna’s back.
Hena’s breath caught in her throat. Goosebumps erupted down her spine and arms. Her stomach tightened, and her knees buckled as a ringing filled her ears and the world began to spin.
No, this can’t be.
An eye? What Canna described was no different from what Hena saw. Then Canna…
Canna called the same thing I’m seeing beautiful?
“Canna, you…”
Hena wanted to press her, but what could she say? That you’re not normal? She couldn’t bring herself to say such hurtful words to a child who had been sick her whole life and was only now finally able to smile.
As she struggled to find the right words, she saw Gabriel returning. Hena lowered her voice and whispered urgently.
“Don’t tell Sir Gabriel that you see an eye. To you, this painting just feels holy. Understood?”
Since the temple members also considered the painting divine, that wouldn’t be a problem. But Canna’s case was different. Unlike the others, Canna recognized that sacred image as an ‘eye’ and still called it beautiful.
A normal person does not look at an eyeball torn from a human being and call it beautiful.
When Hena urged her, Canna nodded obediently. Hena finally decided to accept the truth she had suspected for a long time but couldn't bring herself to believe.
Canna was broken in some way.
She wasn't sure if it had happened after Donau kidnapped her or after she met the Young Lady. Perhaps it had been there all along, hidden behind her frail health.
“Thank you for waiting.”
“Not at all. We were so absorbed by the painting we lost track of time.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
The fortunate thing was that, on the surface, one couldn’t sense anything wrong with Canna. Besides, wasn't Canna receiving the Young Lady’s favor? To stay by the Young Lady’s side, it might be better to just leave things as they were.
Hena reached that conclusion, even as she wondered if she was just rationalizing it all because she couldn't face her sister.
Her hesitation was brief. Just as she had eventually held hands with the monster that acted like a cat in the past, Hena’s choices were always for her sister’s sake.
“By the way, why did they call for you just now? Does it have something to do with that painting?”
While Hena was composing herself, the other two were already conversing. Gabriel nodded at Canna’s question.
“My subordinate said they just took a witness into protection.”
“A witness?”
“Yes. Someone who was at the monastery…”
“If it’s a story about the painting, may I hear it as well?” Canna asked when Gabriel hesitated.
Gabriel seemed to think for a moment before deciding to include the two people connected to the Donau incident.
“I’ve asked for them to be taken to the reception room. Let’s go hear the details together.”
Now that they had seen the painting, there was no reason to linger. Hena, desperate to get away from the ominous artwork, quickened her steps.