Chapter 9
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 9
Dong. Dong.
The tolling of the spire bell woke the monastery from its lightless slumber.
Dawn was breaking, yet the world remained so shrouded in shadow that without a lamp, Harriet could hardly distinguish the front of her clothes from the back. She rose groggily from her cot.
“Ugh, I’m stiff.”
As she stretched, her joints—pressed against the hard mattress all night—let out a chorus of protests.
She desperately wanted more sleep, but she knew that if she dawdled, she would miss breakfast and earn nothing but cold glares for her laziness.
Harriet moved quickly, splashing her face with water she had drawn the evening before. Then, she applied the toner provided by the monastery.
Ah, what a lovely scent.
She patted the liquid into her skin with her fingertips, inhaling deeply. The scent of lavender always put her at ease.
The herb farm attached to the monastery produced more than just toner; they crafted potpourri, medicines, and essential oils as well. At first, Harriet had expected the quality to be far inferior to the luxury goods she was used to, but surprisingly, the products suited her skin perfectly. Consequently, she had shamelessly acquired a stash of oils and potpourri for herself.
They give it away for free to those staying here—what a stroke of luck!
She even caught herself thinking that once she returned home, she might actually miss the monastery because of these small comforts.
She pulled her nun’s habit over her chemise, cinched the waist cord, and brushed her hair before tying it back securely.
It’s so convenient not having to worry about dressing up. I don’t think I’ll be able to adjust back to high society once I leave.
It took her a mere five minutes to prepare for the dining hall.
Of course, the other noble ladies staying at the monastery were a different story. They refused to wear the humble habits, opting instead to apply light makeup every morning. Their rooms were much larger and more opulent than Harriet’s, and some had even brought their personal maids.
At first, Harriet had wondered if the disparity was unfair, but as the days passed, she found her own simple situation far more comfortable. She chose to keep her mouth shut.
Besides, I’m staying here much longer than they are.
The other ladies stayed for a fortnight at the shortest, or perhaps three to four months at most, before returning to their estates. They were treated as guests. Harriet, however, was serving a full year’s sentence, and was thus treated almost like a member of the order.
At least they don’t treat me like a real nun. And I have more free time than the others.
Harriet dipped a rag into her basin and wiped down her few pieces of furniture and the window sills. Once her room was tidy, she headed for the dining hall.
She offered a brief prayer to the holy icon above the door. As she entered, the nuns lining up at the serving window acknowledged her with polite nods.
Breakfast this morning consisted of rye bread, cheese, olives, a glass of milk, and half an apple. When she first arrived, Harriet had thought it was far too much food to consume before the sun was even up, but now she ate every last olive.
If she didn't eat heartily, she wouldn't have the strength to get through her morning labor.
After finishing her meal, she went straight to work. Harriet had been assigned to the Soap Workshop.
“Sister Harriet! You really don’t have to come this early.”
Sister Sophia, the head of soap production, waved a dismissive hand even as she offered a warm welcome. She was in her early forties with a gentle demeanor—a kind, friendly woman who had done much to soothe Harriet’s initial anxiety about monastery life.
“I didn’t have much else to do. What’s on the agenda today?” Harriet asked, helping Sophia set out the tools.
“Hmm… How about you participate directly in the soap-making process starting today?”
“What? Really?”
Harriet, who had done nothing but run errands until now, felt a surge of excitement. It felt as though she was finally being recognized as a true member of the workshop.
Sophia, however, looked slightly apologetic. “To be honest, it’s quite strenuous work for someone raised as a noble lady. If it ever becomes too much, please tell me immediately.”
“I’ll do my best!”
When Harriet replied with such genuine enthusiasm, Sophia looked at her with a touch of curiosity.
“Sister…”
“Yes? Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, no. It’s just… you’re a bit different from what I expected.”
Harriet paused.
She could only imagine what Sophia must have thought when she first heard Harriet’s background: a noble lady who had caused a massive scandal in high society and been exiled to a monastery for a year. Sophia likely expected someone arrogant, fragile, and self-centered.
Yet, while the other workshop heads had expressed reluctance to take her in, Sophia had been the one to step forward and accept her.
“Our workshop’s work is the easiest, at least. I’ll adjust the tasks so you won’t struggle too much, so please, Sister, just put in a little effort,” Sophia had said, almost coaxing her, during their first meeting.
Have I improved a little since then?
Harriet suppressed her fluttering heart and offered a light smile.
Making soap was certainly arduous and even dangerous, but for Harriet, who was experiencing manual labor for the first time, it was nothing short of fascinating.
Soon, a veteran nun—acting on Sophia’s request—began explaining the day's tasks with a stern, professional air.
“We will put olive oil, water, soda, and the other ingredients into this cauldron and bring them to a boil. You must stir continuously. Be extremely careful; the mixture burns easily.”
“Making soap from oil… it’s amazing no matter how many times I see it,” Harriet remarked.
“When high-quality olive oil is refined of all impurities and solidified, an invaluable treasure is born,” the nun said, picking up a bar of pure, milky-white soap. It was the same soap Harriet used every day.
“Now that I think about it, this soap really is incredible,” Harriet added.
At those words, the veteran nun’s expression brightened instantly. “Sister, you truly recognize its value!”
She even clasped Harriet’s hands in delight before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “I recommended this soap to the other ‘guests,’ but their reactions were disheartening, to say the least.”
“Oh, really? Did it not suit their skin?”
“If only they had tried it before judging! They simply claimed they use much better soap at home and had no need for ours.”
Harriet felt a pang of pity for those ladies. She had suffered from inexplicable hives and acne for years, yet she had experienced astonishing results after using this soap just once.
“I can guarantee it. This is better than any soap I’ve ever used. It’s mild, it cleanses perfectly, and my skin doesn’t feel tight at all afterward.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Most importantly, it worked wonders on my acne.”
How much ridicule had she endured because of the blemishes on her face? But since coming here and using this plain white soap and the refreshing herb toner, her skin had been steadily clearing. The red, blotchy patches were fading, and her complexion had regained its clarity.
“Hahaha! It gives me strength to know you love our work, Sister. With that spirit, let’s make an excellent batch today!”
“Yes! I’ll work my hardest.”
Harriet smiled brightly and rolled up her sleeves. She was so happy to have found another ally that she felt as though the labor would be a breeze.
*
However, by that evening, Harriet returned to her room and collapsed onto her bed.
“Ugh… I’m going to die…”
She had pretended to be fine until the very end, but stirring a heavy cauldron all day while standing was back-breaking labor. From her shoulders and wrists to her waist and legs, there wasn't a single inch of her body that didn't ache.
“How many more days of this…?”
Her vision felt like it was swimming.
Given the painstaking process the soap went through, its high quality was only natural.
“It’s a traditional method passed down for over two hundred years. These days, factories use chemicals to produce soap quickly, but I believe our way is superior,” Sophia had told her.
Sophia and the other nuns, though they occasionally coughed from the smoke rising from the cauldrons, took immense pride in their craft. By modern, rapidly changing standards, they might be dismissed as old-fashioned. But Harriet had seen the results for herself.
If this were known in Genoa, it would be a sensation.
Harriet shook her head at the thought.
No, noble families would never like it. No fancy colors, no perfumes, and no brand name.
The brands popular among the nobility these days all marketed themselves as "top-tier products used by celebrities." There was no way a noble would open their purse for soap from a poor monastery famous only as a place of exile. Its low price would actually be a reason for them to disdain it.
It was a pity, but there was nothing to be done.
More importantly, Harriet realized that monastery life wasn't nearly as bad as she had feared.
In fact, I think I’m enjoying life more than I did before. The bed is still uncomfortable, but the meals are decent… Hmm? Come to think of it, I haven’t had a single stomachache since I got here.
At the sudden realization, Harriet’s eyes widened.