Relative Courage
Actually, right as Pol tried to eliminate us, my mind raced at full speed.
I should go straight to Count Hamilcar and expose the supervisor’s crimes. It seemed like a decent way to make contact.
But that wouldn’t be enough. Contacting just the count would only create a tiny connection. I needed one with the entire Hamilcar territory itself.
After Boshel left, I sat alone in the room and recalled everything I knew about the count.
William Hamilcar. Head of the Hamilcar family. The count himself. Forty-one years old.
Of course he had been married. His wife came from a prominent family in the Hamilcar region. She died shortly after giving birth. That part was ordinary enough. But marrying three more times afterward was rare. In total, the count had been wed four times.
Even his fourth wife had passed away, leaving him single again. Naturally, dark rumors circulated. According to Pol’s twisted logic, he had been “eliminated,” of course.
From my perspective, though, having the count single made completing my divine calling far easier.
My own body was twelve years old, yet the gap between my soul and the count’s age was only six years—well within modern standards.
Still, I couldn’t stomach the idea of a twenty-nine-year-younger man taking me as a wife. I was already touchy about that kind of thing.
Of course, from the count’s viewpoint it must have sounded unfair.
Most men at his age married at fifteen or sixteen—sometimes not until eighteen. Finding a suitable match for someone of his standing wasn’t easy. In modern Korea, age was everything, but here family ties and status mattered far more.
Moreover, the count had only one child. If that sole heir died for any reason, the Hamilcar lands would fall without a successor. Like most border territories, his lands had poor relations with the central kingdom.
The king feared the count’s growing power and ignored royal orders while arrogantly ignoring every request. The count, meanwhile, always played the generous lord—granting autonomy as if he were the one being kind—while barely caring whether his people lived or died. He flew into rages over every small border incident and crushed minor rebellions for sport.
Both sides were honest about their hatred. The Hamilcar people wanted nothing to do with submission and would rise in rebellion if forced.
Thickening the count’s heir line was therefore vital.
Yet his wife had only barely given birth to one son before dying, and the others never even conceived. Rumors now dogged the heir himself. Was the count truly impotent? Had he been secretly eliminating wives who refused to conceive?
I gathered the worst possible stories. The count was a bloodthirsty madman who enjoyed torturing his wives under the guise of discipline. I knew it was exaggerated, but the sheer horror of it made me shiver.
Gerka was ordering me into the arms of such a monster. Is this a god? Is this really a god?
Even our Korean mother—known for her cold practicality—would split Gerka’s skull with an axe if she met him.
No. She would bankrupt him through endless lawsuits, media campaigns, and public warfare. An axe was a local custom I had slowly become accustomed to after twelve years here.
The count must be thoroughly sick of marriage by now.
As long as he lived, the Hamilcar lands would mostly stay safe. After his death, honestly, who cares? He even has a single heir.
But his subjects, especially the local nobles and powerful families, would never accept that excuse. For them, marriage was an absolute necessity, and it had to be with a daughter of one of their own houses. An outsider like me would never do. It made no sense to ally with the king’s inner circle when the goal was to protect the count.
That was why I couldn’t simply drag Pol before the count when he spoke of elimination.
Becoming the count’s wife was not just pleasing him. In this situation, the entire territory had to accept me as his wife.
The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it felt. I was twenty-nine years older than this man and expected to convince an entire region I should be his wife?
No more thinking. Stress was bad for the body.
I lay down on the bed and tried to sleep. When I woke, all this frustration would disappear.
The next morning, Pol arrived carrying a mountain of supplies. The young men who came with him had carried the bulk, but he had come wearing only his thin clothes.
His eyes were dark from sleepless nights, yet his gaze remained sharp. The deal had been struck. He had also verified who I really was.
“I apologize once again on behalf of the Danier family’s young lady.”
Yes. That sounded right.
Pol began explaining the moment I greeted him properly.
“It’s summer now, but the higher you climb, the more the seasons change. You’ll see all four as you ascend. Below is summer, then spring, autumn, and finally winter. Snow covers the peaks of Mount of Light year-round.”
I already knew that much.
“Special equipment will be needed. These two men are excellent mountain guides and have served the supervisor here for years. They know the Grand Hall of Light inside and out. They are your guides.”
His instincts were excellent. I had sensed he wasn’t ordinary when he boasted while surrounded by armed men.
“All right, Pol. Thank you for your hard work.”
I handed a small pouch to Boshel. He shot me a glance. I knew he was furious that I had stolen the money he had risked his life to earn. He had no choice but to perform.
“Why don’t you hurry up and leave?” I stepped on his shoe with my heel. He scowled lightly before tossing the pouch at Pol.
A nearby man leaped forward, caught it, and handed it to Pol with perfect manners.
Whoa. Real physical strength. He must be a basketball player.
Pol checked the pouch and smiled. That smile made him look exactly like a rat.
“It seems the young lady has orders for a lowly man like me.”
Pol smelled the scent of a deal and grew even more proactive.
“Ahem, I’ll have to stay at Gerka’s temple for a while. That’s all.”
“Eh?!”
Pol’s face changed subtly. He looked stunned. “Gerka’s temple? Not the other temples?”
The two young men beside him tried to sway my opinion. “There’s a temple of that sort nearby too.”
But I couldn’t be swayed. My sister wasn’t in any other temple.
“It has to be Gerka’s temple.”
Pol sighed heavily, looking disappointed. “Such a noble young lady bestowing mercy on lowly men… I didn’t expect such a swift parting.”
“Bestowing mercy” meant a transaction between nobility and commoners. “Swift parting” meant the deal would be one-time only.
The problem was I had no intention of making it one-time.
Of course not. I had to survive at the high, freezing peak.
Though the famous temple would make life comfortable, there was no guarantee they would provide everything I needed.
My original plan—building a small personal sales business through the smart supervisor’s friendship—had just been canceled. Why?
Pol never explained why he was still sorry even as he vanished from my sight.
While climbing the Grand Hall, I asked various questions, but the two young men gave no answers.
As a “young lady,” I couldn’t easily speak to commoners. Even the knights avoided casual conversation with the lower class.
Eventually we passed spring, autumn, and reached winter’s snows, yet the young men never spoke.
I finally understood the meaning of “one picture is worth a thousand words.”
A blizzard raged around us.
Was it cold because the monster-fur coat was supposed to be warm? No—the cold came from deep within my soul.
“This is… Gerka’s temple?”
The young guide sighed as if he had expected my question. “Yes, this is Gerka’s temple.”
Hah. It looked like the Parthenon. The Parthenon from the twenty-first century.
So it was once a grand religious building, but now it was only usable ruins.
No roof, only a few columns standing. What kind of temple was this?
Wait. With this blizzard, how could anyone live here?
“Where are the priests of Gerka’s temple, then?”
Everyone else could be ignored. There had to be someone here.
My sister, Pythia the Saint, could not be absent. If she had died in such a place and the count had hidden it…
The worst possible scenario flashed through my mind. The guide pointed inside the temple.
No roof, yet there was…
Upon closer inspection, something lay alone inside the ruins. A small house.
So a tiny home had been built inside the ancient temple that had once been enormous.
Don’t run away! You’re already dead! If you leave too, what will happen!
I had almost decided to turn back and go home, but then…
“I will surely receive the blessing of Lady Pythia.”
Drawing courage from my mother’s fierce voice, I stepped toward the temple.
Perhaps I simply lacked the courage to go home.