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~Chapter 3~
My desperate hands couldn’t even put up a fight; the plate slipped further and further from my grasp. Given our size difference, the outcome was inevitable.
As soon as the plate left my fingers, it soared through the air. My lifelong wish—an exquisite steak—flew with it.
Fly, steak, fly!
Crash!
The plate shattered into pieces. The steak, so tantalizing just moments ago, now lay miserably on the floor.
It was as if the steak itself was speaking to me:
“My dream was to become a splendid steak, to give my flesh and blood to my master. I never wanted to end as mere trash.”
The steak seemed to weep. I reached out for it.
It hasn’t been three seconds yet. If I pick it up quickly and dust it off, maybe it’ll still be edible…
I scrambled on my knees, but Etienne was faster. His polished black shoe crushed the helpless meat.
“Master… I suppose this is the end. Please, go on without me…”
Thud.
Right before my eyes, the steak’s brief life ended. I wanted to give it mouth-to-mouth, but that steak had crossed the river of no return.
Ah, my precious steak. I had to be reborn, to cross lifetimes, just to finally meet you.
And now, to be parted again? Will we meet in the next life, I wonder?
Only after finally accepting this senseless parting did I look up at Etienne again. He wore the most nonchalant expression, as though he hadn’t just committed a culinary crime.
“What are you doing? If you’re angry, take it out on me, not on my poor friend—my food!”
“I’ll ask one last time. Where are my things?”
“I told you—I don’t know!”
I screamed, and Etienne’s jaw clenched, muscles flexing along his sharp line.
His anger prickled against my skin.
Why is he so furious? Who started playing with food, anyway?
“Oh, so you’re mad? I’m mad too! We could have talked about it! You know, people who waste food go to hell! In hell, the steaks will beat you with meat mallets for all eternity!”
I cursed him with every insult I could muster.
Etienne snorted, then pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and flicked it toward my face.
“Pfft. What’s this?”
I snatched the sheet irritably. Though the writing was unfamiliar, I could read it easily.
—
Divorce Agreement
—
“Sign it. Unless you’d prefer to lose all your fingers.”
His words were half-threat, half-command. I could feel steam rising from my scalp.
“Divorce? You think I’m going to beg you not to? You think I’ll cling to you just because of your so-called handsome face? Ha! I hate men who don’t respect the sanctity of steak! Fine, divorce! I want it more than you do!”
I shouted at the top of my lungs.
Not a shred of regret.
In other novels, the male leads always obsess and refuse divorce. For me, it was all too easy. Good. Perfect.
Etienne watched me with an odd, flickering gaze, then spun on his heel. His legs were so long that in just a few steps he’d disappeared from view.
“What a nasty piece of work. You think good looks are everything? You traitor—I always knew! Am I the only one who dies? You’re not long for this world either! No, actually, I’m going to live. You’ll be the only one who dies! Ptui, ptui, ptui!”
I shouted after his retreating figure.
Still fuming, I signed the divorce papers one by one, cursing all the while—never dreaming I’d regret it before half a day had passed.
No sooner had I finished signing than the priests snatched the paper and seized me by both arms, dragging me away.
I was thrown into a carriage. As it rattled and jostled along, the motion soon made me queasy.
When the carriage stopped at last—
Whoooosh.
The dry wind whipped my thick hair. I brushed it behind my ears, blinking at my new surroundings.
Before me rose a steep flight of steps and, atop it, a half-ruined temple. Its scale hinted at how grand it must once have been—like a vision from Greek or Roman myth.
My jaw dropped.
“Wow, it’s amazing, Sister. I bet it was even more magnificent before it fell into ruin.”
“Yes, everyone praised the Joaddes Temple in its prime.”
The priestess who had been silent until now smiled wistfully, lost in memory.
Oh? So she can talk after all?
“How did it end up like this? What a shame.”
She smiled, squeezing my hand.
“Don’t worry, devotee. Thanks to people like you, it will soon be restored.”
“What could I possibly do? All I can offer is a few kind words.”
I waved my hands modestly. The priestess grinned even wider.
She’s even smiling? Are we getting close now or something? Was she always this shy?
I switched on my trademark positivity. The priestess spoke again.
“Kind words? No, from now on, you’ll be laboring with your own hands.”
“Huh?”
Clank.
Before I could even react, something snapped around my ankle. Huh? What’s this?
Too thick to be an anklet. Too heavy…
I followed the chain to its end—
A metal ball the size of my face.
Wait! I’ve seen this in movies—those scenes where they whip half-naked slaves as they drag heavy balls behind them…
Whip—CRACK!
Just like that.
I turned to the source of the sound.
A hulking, muscle-bound priest slammed a leather whip against the ground.
And all around me, people were hauling stones, each with the same iron ball chained to their ankle.
This had to be a nightmare.
I blinked.
The ball was still there.
“So… what exactly do you want me to do?”
“Those who steal must repay their debts with labor. Repent, devotee.”
“No! Please, no!”
No matter how I shouted, no one listened.
Well, one person did—
Muscle Priest with the whip!
If I so much as slowed or faltered, he cracked that whip right in front of me.
“I’ll do it! I’m working!”
“Repentance! With a sincere heart!”
If I hear the word ‘repent’ one more time, I’ll vomit.
In the end, I wept as I carried stone after stone.
The air was thick with dust, my hands raw from the weight, my feet bleeding from the chains and rocks. But that wasn’t the worst part.
“Pffft! Look at that new girl. Bet she doesn’t last a week!”
My life was on the line, and they were betting on how soon I’d die?
I shot a glare toward the voice.
A woman in clothes like mine lounged in the shade, flanked by three beefy priests.
What’s with these muscle triplets?
They cracked whips at me, but lounged and laughed with her? Is that allowed?
“What are you staring at, ugly?”
“Ugly?”
She didn’t like my glare, so she spat venom.
Ugly? After I’d just been reborn a beauty?
“Who are you calling ugly with that seaweed mop on your head?”
“Seaweed?! My precious hair—how dare you!”
She jumped up in a fury.
Why pick a fight if you’re that easy to rile up? Please.
“Andera, let it go.”
A supervising priest hurried over to restrain her. But I wasn’t backing down.
“Andera? What an ugly name!”
“What?! Come here!”
She came charging. I wasn’t about to let her grab me first.
She reached for my hair, I grabbed hers. Only when the whip cracked against my leg did I finally let go.
My fist still clenched a handful of black hair. Still, I was the aggrieved party.
She picked the fight. She attacked first!
So why was I the one punished?
“Ugh, it’s not fair! I don’t want to live like this! Send me back to where I came from!”
I flung myself to the ground and wept bitterly.
“Devotee, it’s time for your penance labor.”
“No, I’m not going!”
“If you stole, you must repent. Take her away!”
It had been days since I’d started working on the temple—if that’s even what it was.
After the fight with the Seaweed Girl, I’d earned another shackle.
Now Muscle Priest watched my every move, so there was no slacking off.
My back ached with every movement; my feet were blistered and bleeding.
In my previous life, I thought I was as good as a slave.
But this…
“This is what real slavery is.”
No matter how villainous she was, Dahlia was still a duke’s daughter. Did she deserve this?
“Go get my dad! My daddy’s a doting fool, and if he knew about this, he’d tear the place down!”
It was a lie, of course.
After Dahlia’s escape from the monastery, and Veseth’s rejection, she returned to her family.
That’s when her father, Hinto Lebanovic, finally learned of the humiliations she’d endured.
He was furious—
But not at Etienne, at her.
“How could you not even keep your marriage together? I worked so hard to marry you off to a prince! Useless!”
And so, Hinto had locked her away out of shame.
That resentment, that despair—
“That’s what drove her to stab the heroine in the end.”
I understood her, in my heart.
Of course, wielding a knife was going too far.
“Get up!”
No matter how I whined, the priests never budged. Etienne must have warned them not to be swayed.
“Why do I have to go through this? My only crime is being possessed! I won’t go!”
I wailed, my voice ragged.
“Repent!”
“Repent, my foot! Even my dormant aggression is coming back! I’m one step from becoming a demon!”
Huge priests lumbered toward me.
No, this can’t be happening…
I kicked and struggled, but they dragged me away.
Not to the usual labor yard, but to a dark, unfamiliar room.
They shoved me in and locked the door.
“Hey! Open the door!”
I pounded on the door, then recoiled, clutching my nose. It hurt as if someone had punched me in the face.
I lifted my foot.
Squish.
“Oh, shit. Is this… poop?”
