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Chapter – 12
The boy’s puppet knelt before the prince’s puppet. Shattered fragments of memory flashed through my mind. It was nothing more than a puppet show—so why did I keep overlapping myself with that boy?
Strangely, my head began to throb. Pressing my palm hard against my temple, I tried to focus on the performance again.
“The princes were exceedingly merciful people. The First Prince took in a homeless child and gave him work at the royal palace. As the child grew, he became a trusted servant of the court. In time, he fell in love with a woman. She was extraordinarily beautiful.”
The headache steadily worsened. My vision blurred, and the shadow puppets onstage began to overlap, doubling and tripling. Then someone grabbed my shoulder and shook me. I forced my eyes open and turned my head to see the young lady staring at me with concern. In a hushed voice, she whispered near my ear.
“Priest, are you all right?”
“I’m… I’m fine. Just a migraine. Please don’t worry—focus on the play.”
She clasped my hand tightly. Somehow, the sensation steadied me. I returned her grip, breathing heavily.
She adjusted her posture so that I could lean my head against her shoulder. Normally, I would have refused, insisting I was fine, but the pain was too intense—I needed something to lean on. I obediently rested my head on her shoulder and closed my eyes.
While I struggled to concentrate, the story moved quickly forward. The beautiful woman who loved the Second Prince. She endlessly pursued him, only to be firmly rejected. The prince already had another woman he loved.
When I opened my eyes again, the black puppets were still darting chaotically across the stage.
“One day,” the narrator continued, “the woman, seeking revenge against the prince who would not look at her, attempted to kill his fiancée. But by God’s grace, the fiancée did not die!”
The speaker laughed and raised his voice theatrically.
“However, the woman was executed.”
The black puppet symbolizing the woman collapsed. For some reason, my chest ached. The spotlight did not shine on her—not even once. As though she did not deserve light.
“The boy could not forgive the royal family for killing the woman he loved. In the end, he murdered the entire royal household. Ah, what an ungrateful child!”
The children in the audience booed loudly, shouting that he was a villain. The parents struggled to calm them down.
I felt the grip on my hand tighten. Glancing sideways, I saw the young lady’s expression had darkened. Perhaps she disliked the story. Maybe suggesting we see a puppet show had been a mistake. I gently stroked the back of her hand with my fingers.
“That child—the villain—plunged the nation into danger. Through endless slander and intrigue, he threw the kingdom into chaos and even tried to manipulate the king.”
The boy was clearly portrayed as the antagonist. He had murdered an innocent prince. And yet, suddenly, a question arose in my mind.
Were the princes truly innocent?
Once the doubt surfaced, it kept growing. What if there had been hidden truths in the boy’s past? What if the woman he loved had not acted out of blind jealousy after all?
“Then,” the narrator proclaimed, “a hero appeared before the boy. This hero was one who descended from another world—a hero who appears only once every thousand years when the kingdom is in peril. And the hero said, ‘You ungrateful wretch! I will never forgive you!’”
A sudden appearance of a hero. Puppet shows often progressed this way—heroes arriving to punish evil.
A bright spotlight poured down upon the hero’s shadow puppet, as if he had been blessed by the gods themselves. Drawing his sword, the hero swung it at the boy’s puppet.
“With his mysterious power, the hero defeated the villain and restored peace to the kingdom. He was revered by the people and eventually ascended the throne as the next king. Becoming a wise ruler, he governed the land steadily and brought happiness to many.”
As the hero pretended to stab the boy’s puppet, the figure collapsed lifelessly. Soon after, the hero puppet sat upon the throne.
With the narrator’s closing words, thunderous applause erupted from the audience. The children cheered, shouting, “Long live the hero!” It was a familiar, textbook tale of good triumphing over evil.
And yet—why did my heart feel so unsettled?
I lifted my head from the young lady’s shoulder and looked forward. The narrator stepped out and bowed to the audience.
Before the performance had even fully concluded, she abruptly stood up. Startled, I looked up at her. She appeared furious. Grabbing my hand, she pulled me out past the tent where the puppet show had been held.
“Priest, are you all right? That puppet show was just… well…”
She didn’t seem angry with me. It was the performance itself she despised.
She tidied my disheveled hair, still fretting over me. Her behavior was unusual enough to puzzle me. The headache had been intense, yes—but it wasn’t reason enough for such worry.
“I’m truly fine. But, my lady… did you dislike the play that much? You seem upset.”
“Yes. To be honest, I didn’t like it at all. No—rather than that, it was terrible. Not because it was a puppet show, but because the story itself was awful.”
“…I’m sorry. We should have gone to see something else.”
Nearby, operas and other plays were also being performed. There had been no need to come to a puppet show specifically. Regret weighed heavily on me.
“No, it’s not your fault. If anything…”
“If anything?”
She trailed off, clearly holding something back. I waited for her answer.
“It’s all God’s fault.”
She muttered the words under her breath, her expression still hardened. My eyes widened. I desperately hoped no one passing by had heard her.
She needed to adapt to the Empire as quickly as possible. In this place, to insult God was tantamount to abandoning any hope of a peaceful life.
Before she could say anything more sacrilegious, I searched for a way to lift her mood. My headache was long gone. All I wanted now was to make her smile.
“…How about we go to the lake, just to change the mood?”
“The lake?”
It was a spontaneous idea. Not far from here lay a breathtaking lake—one not widely known, hidden behind towering trees. Only those in the know visited it occasionally, to swim or enjoy boating.
I thought taking her there might help her feel better.
When I was young, back when life at the temple felt unbearably dull, I used to sneak out alone to relax there. It had always been my secret place—one I’d never told anyone about. Yet somehow, sharing it with her felt right.
“Well, since we don’t really have anywhere else to go… the lake sounds nice. It’d be a shame to head straight back to the temple.”
She accepted my suggestion. I guided her toward the lake. After walking past the busy streets, the number of passersby gradually dwindled. By the time we arrived, no one else was around. There was a reason it had remained my private refuge.
A breathtaking sight unfolded before us. Sunlight scattered across the rippling water, turning it silver, as though fragments of the sun itself had settled upon the vast lake. Vibrant flowers bloomed all around its edge.
Birdsong drifted through the air. Leaves rustled softly in the breeze. Everything combined to make the place even more beautiful. She smiled brightly—her usual expression—clearly pleased by the scenery.
A small rowboat, large enough for two, rested by the shore. When I was a child, fear had kept me from riding it. Now, I felt confident enough. I stepped aboard first and extended my hand to her.
“My lady, please take my hand.”
“I’ve never gone boating before.”
Despite her words, she bravely took my hand and stepped into the boat. She settled inside while I untied the rope and took hold of the oars. As I rowed, the boat began to glide smoothly across the water.
It had been a long time, but my body still remembered how to row. A cool breeze brushed against my cheeks.
“I assumed you’d gone boating at least once.”
“I spent most of my childhood indoors, and after turning eight, I lived at an academy in another country. I didn’t have many chances to experience the outside world.”
She had missed out on more than I’d thought. Though she didn’t care much for studying, it seemed she hadn’t truly learned how to enjoy leisure either.
Tilting her head, she peered into the lake. Her reflection shimmered in the clear water. Perhaps she was watching the fish beneath the surface.
For a long while, she remained silent, simply gazing down into the water.
