SOTBW - 220

Back then, Emaydis’s tears—shed out of genuine sorrow for Kieron’s plight—were real. They weren’t the hollow comfort of hypocrisy but came from a place of truly wishing for Kieron’s happiness…

Kieron had envied, hated, and long resented his sister, Emaydis, who monopolized Mahilen’s care and their mother’s attention with her immense magical power. Yet, there was a time when he hoped she wouldn’t end up like him—desperately yearning for even a scrap of their mother’s warmth, only to lose herself in the process.

Though Kieron and Emaydis shared little emotional connection as siblings and were estranged to the point of being less than strangers, there had been a fleeting period when they both wished for each other’s happiness. Recalling the image of his sister happily bidding him farewell as she left for the border with Sainth, Kieron grimaced.

“…If only you hadn’t betrayed me…”

The fake Luna—Kieron—muttered under his breath, soft enough that Najane couldn’t hear.

As punishment for breaking the taboo, Kieron’s mind had shattered beyond repair, leaving him with less reasoning ability than a newborn. All he remembered was that Bersha had become a monster because Mahilen and Emaydis deceived him.

For thousands of years, despite forgetting everything else, Kieron clung to that one memory.

Thinking of Bersha, who still suffered, Kieron’s complicated emotions toward Najane quickly dried up. Shaking off his earlier nostalgia, he brazenly looked at Najane through Luna’s face.

One thing was certain: just as Emaydis prioritized his own happiness, Kieron too had begun to think only of himself—or more precisely, of Bersha.

He didn’t regret killing Sainth that day. Even if it led to this outcome, everything he did was for Bersha.

Immersed once again in madness at the thought of Bersha, the fake Luna gripped Najane’s hand painfully tight and whispered in a calm voice:

“…This time, don’t abandon me, Sister. Okay? Never betray me. We promised, we promised….”

---

A loud crash suddenly echoed from the storage area where dishes were kept.

The maids, who had been drying tableware with dry cloths, jumped in surprise and hurried inside. Didina, who had been carefully dusting off the fine serving plates stored in the cabinet, stood staring blankly at the floor.

One of the maids approached Didina with concern. Fortunately, the fallen object wasn’t porcelain but a silver platter.

The maid cautiously picked up the silver platter and handed it to Didina. Snapping out of her daze, Didina finally met the maid’s gaze. Offering an awkward smile, she took the platter and murmured softly:

“I thought it broke because of the loud noise…”

At Didina’s words, the maid chuckled lightly.

“Housekeeper, really—it’s a silver platter. It can’t break.”

The maid was right. Silver platters don’t shatter.

In truth, Didina’s claim about thinking it broke due to the loud noise was just an excuse. She had been polishing a cherished dish when the sudden sound startled her.

The silver platter, which had been placed atop the cabinet like a decorative piece, had inexplicably fallen to the floor. There was no wind, no mouse to blame—it was as if the platter itself had decided it no longer wanted to stay there and plummeted downward.

Normally, Didina would have muttered something about ghosts upon picking it up. But as the beautifully gleaming flat platter spun like a dancer, circling before coming to an abrupt stop near the door, an unsettling premonition washed over her—a feeling as though someone dear was about to leave.

Naturally, Didina thought of Najane. Though it seemed overly pessimistic to read so much into a single accidentally dropped platter, given Najane’s current health, interpreting such small incidents as ominous wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

Thankfully, the expensive silver platter was unscathed. It was something Didina had brought along when fleeing to the Kingdom of Bastronia. After her daughter became engaged, she began collecting silver tableware piece by piece, intending to gift her a complete set for her dowry. But with the country’s fall to the Seriths, she never managed to complete the set.

When fleeing, she thought selling some silver spoons or platters might allow her to rent a small room in Bastronia where she and her daughter could live. But her beloved daughter, whom she had raised with such care, disappeared into the Serith-infested hell to search for her fiancé and never returned.

Fortunately, Didina became the head maid of the Romsoa Knights, saving her from worrying about rent. Silver tableware was a luxury for a housekeeper like her. She had placed the platter on the cabinet to use for entertaining important guests but had forgotten about it amidst her busy life.

Holding the nostalgic silver platter, Didina glanced at the maids peeking in from the doorway. Sensing her gaze, they scurried back to their posts.

Didina gently traced the clover pattern engraved on the edge of the silver platter when she heard hurried footsteps approaching from afar. She turned her gaze toward the window just as a maid opened the door leading outside and called out to her urgently.

“Archbishop Spello wishes to see you, Housekeeper! He says he has something important to discuss regarding Amelia... You must hurry!”

Startled by the maid’s words, Didina quickly followed her lead, her steps hastening with growing concern. Archbishop Spello seeking her out over an issue involving Amelia? 

She couldn’t begin to guess what trouble Amelia might be in, but she fervently hoped it wasn’t anything serious. Or perhaps it was related to some unknown debt that had landed Amelia in difficulty.

As she reflected on any possible connections between Gwyneth and Amelia, Didina arrived at the housekeeper’s lounge where she usually handled paperwork. Worrying momentarily if she’d left her desk untidy, she knocked and entered.

Suppressing her unease, she opened the door to find Gwyneth smiling warmly and waving at her.

“Welcome. You’re Didina Elocks, the head maid of the Romsoa Knights, correct? We’ve crossed paths often enough.”

Gwyneth greeted her warmly first. Didina bowed respectfully and took a seat before him.

“Shall I prepare tea…?”

As Didina reached for the teapot, Gwyneth waved his hand dismissively.

“No need—I’ve already imposed by sitting here without permission. Having tea too would make me feel even guiltier. I intended to wait outside, but my backside grew cold. That place isn’t easily warmed, even with my flames.”

At Gwyneth’ explanation, Didina rested her hands demurely on her lap instead of preparing tea.

“May I ask why you’ve summoned me, Your Grace?”

“Hmm. It’s about Amelia Royan. I hear she borrowed money from you and the other maids of Romsoa?”

“Yes, that’s true, but…”

“I’ve come to repay all her debts. If you have any promissory notes or similar documents, I’d appreciate it if you could show them to me.”

Didina’s eyes widened in shock at Gwyneth’ unexpected declaration. Stunned, she could only gape like a fish out of water, despite knowing she should respond promptly. Why would a divine power-wielding archbishop pay off Amelia’s debts? Was there some barbaric custom within the Holy Church requiring sacrificial offerings? Had Amelia agreed to become such an offering to repay her debts?

Overwhelmed, Didina swallowed hard and took a deep breath to steady herself. Once she regained her composure, she pressed her palm firmly against her chest and asked quietly:

“Your Grace… may I ask why you’re repaying Amelia’s debts?”

“Do you really need to know? As someone who lent her money, wouldn’t receiving repayment suffice?”

“I didn’t lend her money to burden her with debt. Even if she couldn’t fully repay me, I hoped she’d save enough to live her own life…”

Didina gazed at Gwyneth with a worried expression.

“Please, Your Grace. Why are you repaying her debts? Surely, she must have offered something in return for this favor.”

“Hmm. In a sense, yes, she did offer something.”

Gwyneth replied calmly to the anxious Didina.

“Amelia Royan is going to become a priest.”

“…What?”

Gwyneth chuckled softly at Didina’s stunned expression.

“Amelia has placed her fate before the world.”

At that moment, Didina recalled the silver platter that had abandoned its place as a mere decoration and fallen of its own accord. The memory of it spinning under the sunlight brought tears to her eyes. Thinking of the shimmering clovers along its silver rim made it impossible to stop crying.

That silver platter… it was you.  

It was you, Amelia…

Gwyneth wouldn’t have forced Amelia to become a priest—he wasn’t that kind of person. This was Amelia’s own choice.

Gwyneth watched silently as Didina wept quietly. To him, she resembled a mother sending off her daughter, who had willingly chosen a difficult path. A mother who longed to hold her child back but respected her decision, shedding tears instead of uttering words of protest. A mother whose tears carried the hope that her thorn-ridden journey would bring happiness beyond measure…

Amelia had likely been able to endure her life thus far thanks in no small part to Didina—or perhaps to the quiet support of people like Didina who had secretly cheered her on. Their compassion and belief in her had kept Amelia going.

Gwyneth handed Didina a handkerchief. Embarrassed by her emotional display, she accepted it with a faint smile and wiped her tears. After composing herself, Didina gazed out the window with a bittersweet expression.

“Amelia will… leave Romsoa today, won’t she?”

“I’ll inform Maximón myself.”

“Where is she now…?”

“She’s probably gone to see Najane.”

“Ah, I see…”

Didina fiddled with the tear-soaked handkerchief before nodding calmly.

“When she told me she wanted to become a soldier, I thought, ‘What on earth is this?’ and my heart sank. And now, a priest? She truly is an extraordinary person. I thought only Najane could surprise me like this, but Amelia is no less remarkable…”

Placing the handkerchief on the desk, Didina let out a small laugh.

“Please take good care of Amelia, Your Grace.”

Regaining her composure, Didina bowed deeply to Gwyneth.

“Amelia will be at the Noctis Cathedral from now on. If you wish to see her, feel free to visit anytime.”

Gwyneth comforted Didina as if to say that this wasn’t a permanent farewell—there was no need to worry.

Didina opened the drawer to retrieve the promissory notes. But as she sifted through the neatly organized papers, sorted by date and name, tears began to fall again like raindrops. She had thought she’d calmed down, but the realization that Amelia was truly leaving stirred up an inexplicable sense of attachment, bringing fresh tears to her eyes.

Didina laughed through her tears. Though she had bid farewell to many maids during her time as head maid, none had felt as joyous—and yet as heart-wrenching—as this.

Finding the promissory notes, Didina handed them to Gwyneth. He meticulously calculated the amounts, including interest, and handed over the exact sum. Didina carefully placed the money into a small pouch while organizing each of Amelia’s debts one by one.

The dozens of burdens Amelia had carried for years were quickly erased.