⁜ Episode 7. Relative Courage
The moment Paul tried to “exterminate” us, I was racking my brain furiously.
Wouldn’t it be a good idea to march straight to Count Hamilcar and expose the crimes of this insolent overseer? That way, I’d make a connection.
But in the end, I didn’t. Because if I did, the connection would only be with the Count. What I needed was a connection with Hamilcar himself.
When Boshel left and I was alone, I recalled what I knew about Count Hamilcar.
William Hamilcar. Head of House Hamilcar. Count Hamilcar. Forty-one years old.
Of course, he had been married. His wife was the daughter of a prominent family in the region. She died shortly after giving birth.
That part was nothing unusual. But the fact that he remarried three more times—that was. Yes, Count Hamilcar had been married a total of four times.
And when his fourth wife died, he was once again single.
Naturally, rumors spread. As Paul the Rat-Catcher might put it, people whispered that his wives had been “exterminated.”
From my perspective, though, Hamilcar being single was a convenient condition for completing my divine decree.
Technically, my body was only twelve years old, but my soul was just six years younger than Hamilcar’s. Even by modern standards, that gap wouldn’t be illegal.
Still, regardless of my soul’s age, the thought of marrying a man twenty-nine years older than me made my stomach churn. I’ve always had a weak stomach.
Of course, if you asked Hamilcar, he’d probably feel a little wronged.
Here, people married at fifteen or sixteen, and by eighteen it was considered late. For a man his age, finding an “appropriate” bride wasn’t easy.
In modern Korea, age was a critical factor. But in this world, family and political ties were far more important.
Besides, Hamilcar only had one child. If that only heir were to die for any reason, the county would be left without a successor.
Like most border counties, Hamilcar’s relationship with the central kingdom was hostile.
The king thought Hamilcar was growing too powerful and deliberately ignoring royal orders, acting arrogantly. (Not wrong.)
Hamilcar thought the king had no right to throw tantrums after granting autonomy to defend the border, especially while doing nothing for the suffering of the people. (Also not wrong.)
Both sides were right—so their mutual hostility was all too real.
And so, strengthening the succession line of the Hamilcar family was an urgent matter.
But only his first wife had managed to bear him a single son before dying. The rest had never even conceived.
Now people were beginning to suspect: was Count Hamilcar infertile? Were the wives eliminated because he feared the truth coming out?
The rumors I’d gathered were the worst. Some said he was a sadist who tortured his wives under the guise of punishment. Others that he was a maniac who delighted in killing.
Maybe they were exaggerated—but still, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.
And the god Gerka expected me to become this madman’s latest wife.
“This is a god? THIS is a god? Even my cold, no-nonsense Korean mother would split his head open with an axe.”
No, wait—Mom wouldn’t use an axe. She’d bury him in endless lawsuits, drag him through the media, and ruin him financially. The axe was more this world’s style. After twelve years here, I was starting to get used to it.
Maybe Hamilcar was simply tired of marriage by now. As long as he lived, the county would survive. What happened after his death—well, who cared? He had one heir already.
But to his nobles and local lords, that was unacceptable. For them, Hamilcar’s marriage was a matter of survival. And of course, his bride had to be a local noblewoman.
Someone like me, an outsider? Out of the question.
So when Paul had talked about extermination, I couldn’t just drag him to Hamilcar to forge a connection.
To become Countess Hamilcar, it wasn’t enough to win the man’s heart. I had to win the approval of the entire county.
The more I thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. Me, trying to win over an entire county just to marry a man nearly thirty years older?
Forget it. Stress is bad for the body.
I lay down to sleep. Maybe after a nap, the irritation would fade.
Two mornings later, Paul arrived, his young assistants carrying bundles of goods. He himself came empty-handed.
He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, but there was a sharper light in them. He’d clearly spent those days thinking—and calculating.
“Once again, I apologize to the young lady of House Danier.”
Yep. He’d figured it out.
When I accepted his bow with noble grace, Paul began explaining.
“Though it’s summer now, as you climb the Hallway of Light, the seasons will change. You will see all four seasons in order—summer, then spring, then autumn, and finally winter. At the summit, the snow never melts.”
So far, nothing new.
“Special equipment is required. And these two young men are skilled climbers, often called by the overseer. They know the Grand Hall well, so I brought them as guides.”
Sharp move. I’d guessed from the start that Paul wasn’t just any rat.
“Good work, Paul.”
I handed Boshel a small pouch. He gave me a look, clearly questioning why his hard-earned money was going to that bastard. So I stomped on his shoe heel with my boot until he grimaced and tossed the pouch.
One of Paul’s assistants leapt and caught it with ease before presenting it respectfully.
Damn, what physical ability. Was he a basketball player in another life?
Paul peeked inside, then grinned. With that grin, he looked even more like a rat.
“It seems the young lady has orders for a lowly man such as myself.”
The scent of a continuing business relationship was thick in the air.
“Yes, I’ll be staying at Gerka’s temple for a while, so—”
“What?!”
Paul’s face twisted in disbelief.
“Did you say Gerka’s temple? Not another?”
The two young guides also tried to persuade me: “There are… other temples there too, my lady.”
But no. The other temples didn’t have the king’s sister.
“It must be Gerka’s temple.”
Paul sighed deeply, giving me a pitying look.
“Alas. I thought such a noble lady might show mercy to humble men like us… but it seems our parting comes sooner than I hoped.”
His words meant this: dealing with me was like trading with a noble patron. But our relationship would end quickly.
The problem was—I had no intention of letting it end. I’d be living atop that freezing peak. I needed my own “door-to-door salesman” in the valley below.
But Paul, even while clearly reluctant, still declared the deal over. Why? He never explained.
On the climb, I asked the two young guides questions, but they remained silent.
As a “lady,” I couldn’t press too much anyway. Even knights disdained talking with peasants.
So I climbed through spring, autumn, and finally into the snows of winter, with no answers.
And then I saw it for myself.
A blizzard raged around us.
Was that why I felt so cold? No. I was wearing enchanted furs famed for their warmth.
This cold wasn’t from the air. It seeped straight into the soul.
“This… is Gerka’s temple?”
For the third time, I asked in disbelief. One of the guides sighed.
“Yes. This is Gerka’s temple.”
Ha.
It was like the Parthenon. The one in 21st-century Greece.
Once, it must have been a great temple. Now it was only ruins.
No roof. Just broken columns. And this—this is supposed to be a temple?
Wait. In a storm like this, there’s no way people could actually live here.
“Then where are Gerka’s priests supposed to be?”
There was supposed to be someone here. Someone who could not be absent.
The king’s sister. The Pythia Saintess.
If she’d died in this place, and Hamilcar had hidden it…
Just as my mind went to the worst possibility, the guide pointed.
At first, I saw nothing. But then—inside the ruins—a small hut.
Yes. A tiny hut, sitting inside what had once been a towering temple.
Don’t abandon me too, hut. My soul’s already leaving me.
I almost turned back. Almost.
But then I remembered my mother’s voice:
“I expect you to secure the Pythia’s support.”
It wasn’t courage that carried me forward into the ruins.
It was the lack of courage to go home.
