Chapter 6
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 6
The Kailas Ducal House, the family that had led the Kifren War to victory, was held in the highest esteem. When every other noble house had hesitated, claiming there was nothing to be gained, the Kailas family had stepped forward to lead the front lines out of pure loyalty to the Imperial Family. Had it not been for them, there was no telling how far the Kifren War would have bled into the Empire’s heartland.
The price the Ducal House paid for that victory was immense. Having sent their own nursing staff to the front, the sisters of Saint Clarissa Convent were well aware of that sacrifice.
“Heavens…! How could anyone be so utterly shameless?”
“The House of Listerwell was quite specific. They requested rigorous discipline so that Lady Harriet might truly repent,” Agnes said, recalling the letter. It had been a stark departure from the usual polite requests for admission sent by other noble families.
“I believe we should brace ourselves. A young lady that willful isn't likely to endure the quiet life of a convent without a fight.”
The list of her offenses was long: she had impersonated another, stolen a brooch belonging to the Duke of Kailas and worn it to his own victory celebration, and had been effectively abandoned by her own kin. Now, she was arriving for an unprecedentedly long sentence of penance. With those facts alone, the difficult days ahead seemed all too predictable. Catherine and Agnes shared a weary look, closing their eyes in unison.
“We may have offered special considerations to noble daughters in the past, but we must deal with Lady Harriet firmly.”
“Since it’s a long-term stay, should we have her live exactly as the sisters do?”
“That would be for the best. Especially since the House of Listerwell specifically requested it.”
“And if she protests that her treatment is beneath her station?”
Catherine’s brow furrowed slightly. “If she wishes to protest, tell her to take it up with the family that sent her here. And make it clear: if she does not follow the convent’s rules, she does not eat.”
“Oh, dear. What if she starves herself until she collapses…?”
“Haa… Let us cross that bridge when we come to it.”
No matter how they looked at it, a storm was approaching.
* * *
With a final, jarring lurch and the clatter of wood on stone, the carriage came to a halt.
“My lady, we have arrived!”
Harriet took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The journey in the rattling carriage had been agonizing, but she knew the days ahead would be worse.
I never imagined I’d end up living in a convent.
The weight of the unknown felt like a physical pressure in her chest. Yet, she couldn't dally any longer. Shaking off her lingering regrets, Harriet smoothed her crumpled skirt, gripped her travel bag, and stepped out into the open air.
“Oh, my lady! I could have carried that for you…!”
“It’s fine. It isn’t heavy enough to require help, and I’ll have to walk the rest of the way alone regardless.”
“Still…”
“I’m truly fine. I’ll head in now, so you should start back, sir. You’ll want to find a hot meal nearby before the sun sets.”
Harriet had managed a bit of bread in the carriage, but the coachman had been driving since dawn without breakfast. She bid farewell to the man, who remained hovering and helpful until the very last moment, and turned toward the convent.
The building was imposing—high walls, narrow windows, and a sharply pointed roof. Patches of dark, soot-like moss clung to the gray stone, adding to the air of somber decay. The only indication of its purpose was a stone plaque hanging above the heavy entrance.
「Saint Clarissa Convent of Elown – 128th Temple」
I thought it would be grander, given its reputation…
Its appearance was so bleak it made the Imperial dungeons look inviting. Surrounded by nothing but gnarled olive groves and jagged rocky hills, there wasn't even a view to offer comfort.
Harriet sighed again and struck the iron knocker against the door. A moment later, a small viewing slit slid open. A pair of eyes peered out at her.
“Are you the young lady from the House of Listerwell?”
“Yes. I am Harriet Listerwell.”
“We have been expecting you. Please, come in.”
The door groaned open to reveal a corridor that remained dim even in the height of the afternoon. The gloom was unsettling, but the nun who greeted her was more so; despite her youthful face, her expression was sharp and cold.
Harriet had no choice but to follow. She glanced around the plain, austere interior as they walked. She expected some word of welcome or an explanation of the grounds, but the nun remained silent. Finally, upon reaching a heavy wooden door, the woman spun around to face her.
“You are about to meet the Mother Superior. Straighten your posture and mind your tongue. Under no circumstances are you to raise your voice or meet her gaze with insolence.”
“...I understand.”
The nun’s brow twitched, seemingly displeased by Harriet’s slight hesitation, before she knocked on the door. Her expression shifted instantly, becoming a mask of docility.
“Mother Superior. I have brought Lady Harriet Listerwell.”
“Enter.”
The door opened.
Inside, an elderly nun sat at a desk piled with documents, a younger nun standing at her side. The younger one had a softer face, but the Mother Superior—thin, upright, and wearing silver-rimmed glasses—looked as unyielding as the stone walls of the convent.
“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Harriet Listerwell. I will be in your care for the coming year.”
“You have had a long journey. I am Catherine Emillosa, Mother Superior of Saint Clarissa. This is Sister Agnes Valerie, the Vice-Superior.”
Harriet offered an awkward, tentative smile, but the atmosphere didn't thaw. Catherine moved straight to the point.
“Life here will not be as lavish or comfortable as what you are accustomed to. Since you have come here to reflect on your actions, I trust you are prepared for that much.”
Harriet swallowed hard. Her worst fears about this place were beginning to take shape. Catherine continued, ignoring the girl’s obvious unease.
“The sisters here eat simple meals, wear only their habits regardless of the season, and labor to produce what we need from the Lord’s bounty in the olive groves and herb gardens. You, my lady, will live exactly as we do.”
“Ah…”
“I am aware that physical labor is foreign to a noblewoman, but through that toil, you will find the opportunity to reflect on your past vanity and excess.”
Though she had never been one for "vanity and excess," Harriet could do nothing but nod.
“Emma, who escorted you here, will explain the details. Emma, please see to her.”
“Yes, Mother Superior.”
Emma bowed obediently, then turned her sharp, cold gaze back to Harriet. “I will show you to your quarters.”
“Yes. Then…”
As Harriet turned to leave, Catherine added one final remark.
“One more thing. Starting tomorrow, we shall address you as ‘Sister.’ You are to consider yourself a true nun and live a life of penance before God.”
The word penance stung like a whip. The injustice of it all surged within her. Harriet wasn't the one who should be repenting.
Why am I being treated like a criminal? I didn’t do anything wrong! Why me…!
She pressed her lips together, but she couldn't stop the heat from welling in her eyes. She hastily wiped a stray tear away with the back of her hand and lowered her head.
“I... understand.”
She couldn't say more. If she spoke, the sob trapped in her throat would break free, and she knew that crying would only confirm their low opinion of her.
Emma let out a heavy, pointed sigh. “Follow me.”
Harriet avoided the gazes of Catherine and Agnes as she turned to follow. She knew there was no sympathy to be found here. Just as it had been back home.
“Oh, look! She’s crying! She must think someone will actually pity her.”
“Even Bella, who suffered because of her, is composed. She has no shame.”
The voices of those who had condemned her still echoed in her mind. However, her grief turned into pure dismay when they finally reached her assigned room.
Can a human being actually live in a space this small?
The room held a bed barely wide enough for one person, a small chest that served as a wardrobe, and a tiny table with a simple wooden chair. There was no carpet; the floor was nothing but cold, bare stone. This was to be her world.
As she stood there, staring in disbelief, Emma spoke in a dry, mechanical tone.
“I will bring you a meal and your habit shortly. However, starting this evening, you must report to the dining hall at the appointed times. Meals are served at seven, noon, and six. A simple snack is provided at three.”
Harriet snapped back to reality. Survival, after all, was a practical matter.
“Where is the dining hall?”