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Chapter 17
Drip.
Drop.
Orte came out of her memories as she heard the sound of blood falling.
When she looked down, there was so much blood that a small puddle had formed on the ground.
It seemed quite some time had passed while she was lost in thought, because she felt dizzy.
Orte put the dagger away and roughly wrapped her arm with a bandage she had secretly prepared. Blood still seeped through, but she simply pulled down her sleeve to hide it.
Orte took out a firework.
She stared at it quietly, then lifted her head.
Why am I living?
She had thought a small change would change her, but she was still the same.
She had no desire to take revenge on her family, on Casey, or on Yones. After dying three times and now living her fourth life, Orte was simply too tired.
Being betrayed again and again by the people she loved, and still holding onto even a small hope, only destroyed her from inside.
She had realized that far too late.
Orte felt a little sad and regretful that she had no attachment to life.
She wondered if it would be better if she were full of a desire for revenge. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel this empty.
But no matter how much she thought about it, she didn’t want revenge.
That didn’t mean she still loved them.
Orte no longer loved them at all. Instead, she only had negative feelings.
Then why am I still breathing?
She asked herself again.
Her lips moved slightly, but no answer came.
She had planned to do nothing until Yvonne appeared, and then leave. But even though she had made that decision, she still had no will to live.
Orte slowly closed her eyes and opened them again.
She thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be eaten by the host like this.
Until now, she had only been cut by sharp things, so maybe dying in a different way wouldn’t be so bad.
Orte turned her head.
She saw the host slowly approaching her, its head twisted strangely.
Orte looked at its black eyes calmly.
Step by step.
The host came closer.
Orte just stood there, staring at it blankly.
Finally, it came close enough that she could reach it if she stretched out her hand.
The moment Orte closed her eyes—
“Hey!!”
A strong force suddenly grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. Orte fell onto the ground.
Her whole body ached, and she let out a small groan before lifting her head.
Ellen had thrown purification water at the host, then raised his sword and pierced its body.
The black blood flowing from the host slowly turned red.
It had been purified.
“Are you crazy?! Do you have a death wish?!”
Ellen ran his hand roughly through his hair, breathing heavily in anger.
“…I was surprised. I froze.”
“Hah, crazy. And someone like you walked in here alone so confidently? Huh?!”
Orte staggered to her feet on her own. Her arm throbbed, but she didn’t show it.
Ellen walked toward her.
“Hey.”
“Yes.”
Orte answered quietly, lowering her eyes.
Then she brushed off her clothes.
For a moment, Ellen had nothing to say.
Even after a long time had passed and the firework hadn’t gone off, Ellen had eventually entered the forest. What he saw when he followed the presence was Orte just standing there, watching the host approach her.
Ellen had frozen in shock.
But what stayed deeply in his memory was not that scene.
It was the moment Orte closed her eyes.
As if she had been waiting for death, she closed her eyes calmly, without even a trace of fear.
“I’m sorry. I was just too surprised.”
When Orte saw Ellen staring at her, she bowed her head obediently and repeated the same excuse before he could start shouting.
But Ellen felt that wasn’t the real reason she had stood still.
“You…”
His lips moved.
But in the end, before the knights arrived and Orte turned away, he couldn’t say it.
The question—
Did you want to die?
***
That day was the first Saint’s memorial day after Orte returned to the Weekend Duke family.
Even when she lived in the temple, Orte didn’t really like her birthday.
Even though they cared for her, mourning for the Saint always came first.
On that day, everyone burned a special kind of incense. No matter how tightly she closed her doors and windows, the smell always found its way into her room.
Orte hated that smell.
It felt like it was telling her that she was born after killing her mother.
Of course, after the memorial ended, the Pope and Cardinals would send her gifts.
But that was always the next day.
Orte had never once been congratulated on her birthday itself.
As if she didn’t deserve it.
Still, she had hoped things would be different in the Weekend Duke family.
Back then, Orte was only seven years old, dreaming of warm love from her family.
But reality was different.
On her birthday, she woke up early for some reason.
She thought the mansion was quiet simply because it was still early.
She quietly made her bed and waited for a maid.
But no matter how long she waited, no one came.
It felt strange, but since there had been times when the maid slept in and only came in the afternoon, Orte stayed in her room and walked toward the window.
As she looked outside, she saw the entrance to the garden.
The image of the Duke of Weekend getting very angry flashed through her mind.
Why does Father hate it when I go to the garden?
She thought about it, but couldn’t find an answer.
Suddenly, she missed her mother.
Orte had only seen the Saint as a statue, never in a painting.
That was why, even though she had been scolded and punished by the Duke of Weekend, she still liked the garden very much.
Because it held traces of her mother.
After hesitating, Orte carefully opened the door and looked into the hallway.
She didn’t realize how unusually quiet the mansion was. Instead, she felt happy that no one was there and quietly slipped out of her room.
The place she headed to was the garden.
Orte sat down on the ground and placed her hand on the grass.
With a hopeful expression, she began to speak.
“Mother, today is my first birthday spent with my family.”
At the temple, Orte had lived comfortably and received care, but she had always missed her family, even though she had never met them.
“I wish you were here too, Mother. I’m always grateful to you—for giving me this world, and for giving me a family.”
She gently brushed the grass under her hand.
“Mother, I think today will be the happiest birthday of my life.”
Then she smiled softly.
At that moment, she suddenly heard footsteps.
Startled, Orte quickly hid behind a tree without thinking.
It was a reflex from being punished by the Duke of Weekend.
“Elisia.”
It was the Duke of Weekend’s voice.
Hearing him call the Saint, Orte held her breath and listened.
“I miss you.”
In Orte’s memory, the Duke’s voice was always one of two things—full of anger, or colder than ice.
But now, it was neither.
It was a voice filled with deep sorrow.
Unable to resist her curiosity, Orte slowly peeked out.
The Duke of Weekend looked up at the sky as if he was looking at someone and continued speaking.
“For six years, I endured that hell, being torn apart again and again, only for you. And yet… what was waiting for me was not you, but that thing… I still can’t believe it.”
Orte felt her heart drop.
That thing.
He was talking about her.
“Come back, even now. I’ll pay any price, no matter what, so please…”
Orte covered her ears.
She pressed them tightly until she could only hear her own rough breathing.
No. I must have heard wrong. Father would never think of me like that.
The Pope and Cardinals had told her.
They said her family would love her and care for her. That once they accepted the Saint’s death, they would accept her too.
Orte shut her eyes tightly.
Then she repeated it again and again—
Please let Father accept Mother’s death. Please let him accept me. Please let Father accept Mother’s death. Please let him accept me. Please… please let Father accept Mother’s death…
