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chapter 19
Velita read in that smile a kind of longing similar to what he himself had felt.
“It was a bit poor, but the director was a good person. For the first time in my life, I had a place I could call home, and I even took some small classes there…”
That experience felt good. Everything was new to me. Sylvester muttered, tilting his chin slightly. His bangs, which had been covering his forehead, fell along the contours of his face again.
“But it didn’t last long. The director was a bit frail… I heard he had a chronic illness. So… well.”
“So?”
“The land was sold. He was the only one who could protect that place, and when he passed… I heard the relatives sold it soon after.”
I understand. Velita hugged his knees, tilting his head to rest his cheek against them as he looked at Sylvester. His hair fell in gentle curls across his line of sight.
“I see.”
Velita had no intention of pitying him. His kind was never one for sympathy.
He listened closely to the voice coming from Sylvester.
“After that, I moved around a few places. My older brothers noticed I had a talent for drawing, so when someone kindly asked me to draw, I earned a little money, ran errands, and that’s how I managed.”
Velita knew humans well. To someone who had lived long enough, humans were always the same—at any time, in any place, there were always the marginalized.
And he had also made contracts with those who, due to exclusion, deprivation, or absence, desperately sought a demon.
In other words, Velita was not moral enough to pity anyone, but that didn’t mean he didn’t understand that Sylvester’s past hadn’t been easy.
“……”
He observed the corners of Sylvester’s deeply settled aura, where a still-bright glimmer remained.
Eyes bright yellow, probably like those of his childhood.
“That’s when I met Mr. Hurbill. The bookstore owner who came with Marquis Roman the other day?”
“Yeah.”
“He helped me a lot. Taught me things, gave me work at the bookstore so I could earn my meals. Anyway, the house I live in now, I bought with money I saved that way.”
It may seem old and shabby to you. In the end, it’s nothing special. Sylvester muttered, closing his eyes with a faint smile.
That smile seemed to carry the entirety of his life within it.
And that simple smile seemed to faintly reveal a childhood Velita had never known.
“……Sylvester.”
Velita spoke almost entranced.
“Yes.”
It was entirely on a whim.
“Since you’ve satisfied my curiosity as promised… I’m thinking of making a bet too.”
A gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers. For some reason, his thirst grew. Likely from running.
“When you complete the painting Roman ordered, see…”
To soothe that thirst, Velita inhaled the humid air scented with summer flowers. Then he exhaled.
“I’ll tell you the one thing you’re most curious about me.”
Velita shook his clothes and stood up. With a soft smile, he looked down at Sylvester.
“…Really?”
Sylvester’s eyes widened. He hurriedly stood, brushing off his pants.
“Really? I heard everything. What’s the condition? What’s the deadline?”
Velita chuckled.
“None. Do whatever you like.”
He then turned around briskly. The frills at the hem of his skirt fluttered like wisteria in the wind.
“I said it twice just now. You said it first, so you can’t back out.”
Sylvester hurriedly followed Velita. In the distance, the trees by the picnic mat swayed.
Leaves shook individually as the wind passed.
The fresh green shimmered under the sunlight, each leaf glinting in scattered brilliance.
Meanwhile, in the Holy Empire of Carta, morning had come.
A young girl, no more than sixteen, carefully checked over a boy much younger than herself.
“Leo, how’s your neck? Breathing okay?”
“I’m fine.”
The boy’s voice was hoarse, like he had a cold.
Even with a single word, the girl’s eyes welled up. She hugged him tightly.
“…Thank goodness. Really, it’s just as that person said…”
The boy patted her gently as if familiar with it. She then stepped back.
Her name was Helena Soleier. She was checking on the health of her younger brother, Leo.
Thankfully, his condition had improved. Helena tidied his hair and looked around.
The room was immaculate and serene, decorated in white tones.
A small round table stood in the center, draped with a thin white diamond-shaped tablecloth reminiscent of a mass veil.
A sky-blue vase sat across the table, with two chairs beside it. Three arched windows completed the room.
The freshly sun-dried bedding was neatly placed on the bunk beds.
It was the cleanest, most perfect room Helena had ever seen. Her lips tightened in tension, then relaxed when she saw Leo.
“Leo. I have to go now.”
“Okay.”
Helena’s kind face radiated love for her only sibling.
‘It’s the first time Leo’s responded like this.’
She held his hand tightly, guiding him to a chair. From her pocket, she pulled out a small paper envelope.
“Here.”
Leo looked up at her, puzzled.
“The priest who guided us, remember? I got this from him on the way here.”
Helena unwrapped the envelope with care.
“Cookies. You’ll start your morning class tomorrow, but since I have class today, take this and wait patiently, alright?”
Leo nodded. Helena kissed his forehead and stood.
“Even if it’s a little boring, you’ll wait quietly here. Promise?”
Leo extended his pinky. Helena hooked it with hers.
“Take care.”
A faint voice saw her off. Helena smiled at him and left the room without hesitation.
“Have you come out?”
“Ah! You startled me!”
As expected, a priest was already waiting outside. Helena clutched her startled heart.
“Sorry to startle you. You’ve probably heard some introductions, but let me formally greet you. I am Elcade, the professor who will teach Helena music intensively.”
Helena blinked her large eyes at Professor Elcade, then quickly bowed.
“Ah, hello, Professor Elcade! I’m Helena Soleier. Please take care of me.”
She straightened stiffly. A gentle smile appeared on Elcade’s face.
“Pleased to meet you as well. I assume you’ve brought everything with you?”
“Yes, we can leave immediately.”
“Good. Follow me. Today, I’ll guide you along the way, so pay attention.”
After a brief introduction, Elcade walked ahead. Helena followed, exploring unfamiliar places.
After winding through long corridors, turning corners, and descending several flights of stairs, the entrance appeared.
Elcade guided her to a low-rise building on the left. Inside, beautiful statues lined the corridors.
“This is the school. Helena will receive her music lessons here.”
They went up to the second floor, stopping at the third room visible from the central stairs.
In it were instruments she had only read about in books.
“Ahem.”
Elcade stood at the podium. He pointed to the only desk-and-chair set, inviting her to sit.
“Since it’s your first day, I’ll explain the rules of living here, the teaching methods, and your future schedule.”
Helena spread the book on her desk, like a diligent student. Elcade’s eyes filled with satisfaction.
“And I’ll also assess your abilities right away. Is that alright?”
White hair shimmered under faint starlight. Long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings.
Leaning her chin on the window sill, Zion gazed out at the darkened sky. Connecting the stars in her mind, a familiar face emerged.
“Where did they go…?”
Zion’s clear, glass-like eyes imagined someone’s face.
“Monsignor Zion.”
At that moment, a knock came at the door.
“Mail has arrived from Carta. It’s from Raul.”
“Come in.”
Zion got up and walked to the door. The worn inn floor creaked.
A fellow priest entered, handing Zion an envelope sealed with gold wax.
Zion opened it, revealing contents regarding Helena.
“Hmm…”
His sky-blue eyes scanned the lines down to the bottom. The corner of his eyes curved gracefully.
“Just as I expected.”
He folded the letter back into the envelope.
“You’re saying she has abilities?”
Zion turned, walking to the table by the window. He set the letter down and sat, a soft smile on his face, nodding in affirmation. The priest swallowed nervously.
“So that means…”
Zion took out a quill, ink, and paper from his bag.
“We must guide Helena to become an excellent believer, and at the same time, seek out other individuals with abilities.”
Pleased that his prediction was correct, he dipped the quill in ink and began writing.
“Has the altar functioned properly?”
The priest asked cautiously.
Zion’s thin, rounded handwriting formed sentences.
“The altar is more accurate than anything else. You needn’t worry about that,”
Unlike Raul’s letter full of formalities, Zion’s was straightforward.
The letter, being concise, was finished quickly. He fanned it with his hands to dry the ink.
The priest patiently waited until Zion handed it over.
‘He seems like a child, yet there’s a pure innocence in his actions.’
Zion shook the nearly dried paper a few times. Letters appeared clearly on the fluttering sheet.
Instructions: anyone suspected to have abilities, like Helena, must be brought to Carta immediately.
The priest thought: Zion may appear childlike and pure, but he is by no means weak or easy to deal with.
Otherwise, how could he have become Monsignor at such a young age, commanding the respect of many priests?
Zion’s presence was both saintly and severe.
Difficult to approach, with an aura that made personal contact rare.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Soon, Zion folded the dried letter into a prepared envelope. Handing it over without a seal, he smiled gently at the priest.
