Chapter 20: Where the Eyes Linger, the Heart Rests (2)

[20] 3. Where the Eyes Linger, the Heart Rests (2)

“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible, Lady Clara.”

As expected, Bishop Ivan was a man of virtue.

He lightly reprimanded the girl without even a single wrinkle on his face.

“If you keep hugging him like that, Rem will have to attend your lessons too.”

“So what? The lessons are just reciting old verses and boring prayers anyway.”

The girl rolled her eyes as if she was dying of boredom, and then she put her arms around the shoulders of the still-frozen boy.

“Rem, you want to stay here too, right?”

The boy couldn’t answer. It wasn’t just because he was too flustered, but also because Ivan had spoken first.

“That would be against the principles.”

Ivan lowered his gaze as if remembering the distant past.

“As you know, a long time ago, the Heavenly God, in His mercy, bestowed upon us three hundred and fifty-two verses and seventy-nine prayers. And…”

“He made it so that anyone who can read and write them can gain power. That’s the origin of holy magic.”

The girl frowned, interjecting with her own words.

“But when everyone started wielding God’s power, the world fell into chaos or whatever. So Saint Thomas found all those verses and prayers and burned them, blah blah blah. He established an order to prevent this from happening again, which became the predecessor of the current religious order, and so on and so forth…”

Then, she shook her head in annoyance.

“I know, I know. You’ve told me this story hundreds of times already. Do you really think I’m that dumb, Ivan?”

“…My apologies.”

Ivan bowed his head. But then he looked at the girl again, his gaze soft yet firm.

“But since you know that so well, you should know why I’m asking Rem to leave.”

The saint averted her gaze, puffing out her cheeks.

“Rem is my personal servant. He wouldn’t be so careless as to go around blabbing about the verses.”

“But he’s not part of the church. And he’s not qualified.”

Ivan said, glancing at the boy’s blunt wrist. The girl’s gaze also landed on his wrist.

“And Lady Clara, you should know very well the punishment for learning holy magic without being qualified.”

Gouge out their eyes and pierce them with hot golden needles so they forget the verses.

It’s called punishment, but it’s practically a death sentence.

The girl finally let go of the boy, grumbling as she got up.

“Fine, fine. I’ll just listen properly.”

“A wise decision.”

She glared at Ivan, who was bowing his head, before looking at the boy.

“Rem, go out for a bit. I’ll call you as soon as the lesson is over.”

“Yes, Clara…”

“My Lady.”

The boy’s shoulder flinched. The girl crossed her arms.

“I told you to call me ‘My Lady’.”

The boy looked up, glancing between Ivan and the girl.

Deep hesitation crossed the boy’s face.

And then, a voice escaped his bowed head,

“Yes, My Lady.”

And with that, the boy ran out of the room as if escaping.

Clara watched him go with a satisfied smile.

Ivan watched him with an unreadable expression.

But this contrast didn’t last long.

Ivan turned to the girl, a kind smile on his face.

“Now then, shall we begin the lesson?”

“…Ugh.”

Disgust immediately appeared on the girl’s face.

But, Ivan, with a face devoid of irritation, began the lesson.

“Now then, I will recite the verse, and you’re going to repeat it back to me while thinking of the meaning. I-conma’ deni…”

***

For a servant, time away from his master is rest time. Being told to go out for a bit was synonymous with being told to go play.

But as soon as he stepped out the door, the boy headed not to his room, but to the kitchen.

The girl always got hungry around the time Bishop Ivan’s lesson ended.

It was better to prepare the food in advance than to have to rush back and forth to the kitchen later.

Or to be precise, the girl preferred it that way.

“…For the would-be Saint’s meal?”

Of course, the head chef didn’t like it at all.

The boy nodded. The head chef looked at the boy in disgust and gestured to the sous chef.

The sous chef soon brought a tray piled high with food. The head chef took it from him and held it out to the boy.

“This is for the Would-be Saint’s meal.”

Then he placed a hard-looking rye bread next to the tray.

“And this is for you.”

He pointed at the bread and growled lowly,

“If you steal even a morsel on your way there, know that you’ll die by my hands.”

A fierce scowl and gritted teeth, an unmistakable threat.

But the boy simply looked at him with an indifferent expression.

Putting the rye bread in his pocket, the boy took the tray. Then, without looking back, he left the kitchen with large strides.

As soon as he got far enough away that he couldn’t hear the sounds of the kitchen anymore. The boy spat in the direction of the kitchen.

“Fuck, I wouldn’t eat that shit even if you paid me. A bastard raised with his daddy’s dick for a wooden spoon… Khaak, ptui!”

The harsh curses invariably ended with a spit.

The boy wiped his mouth with his sleeve and started heading back to the Crystal Palace where the girl was.

It was like he was walking naked in the middle of the city.

Cold glares followed him wherever he went.

Orphan, cripple, lowlife. Those were the words attached to those stares.

It had made him cower when he had first arrived here.

But even a dog learns to recite a poem after three years at a Confucian school,

And the boy was three times faster at adapting than most.

(TL Note: A Confucian school is like a specialized school in Korea, It’s about learning the Korean Confucian ideology. Don’t really get it either, but they learn a lot of text and poems there, probably.)

A year had passed, and now the boy had learned to ignore them. It wasn’t hard.

They might hate him, but thanks to his position as ‘the Would-be Saint’s personal servant’, no one dared to lay a finger on him.

That’s right, people…

As he was walking across the grassy field between the Crystal Palace and the main palace.

*Thwack-*

“…!”

The boy, feeling a sharp pain in his forehead, winced. He didn’t drop the tray he was holding, thanks to his countless experiences.

The boy let out a sigh of relief after checking that the food was still intact.

And then, feeling blood trickling down his forehead, he glared in the direction from which the stone had come.

“__!”

Rustling bushes and the sound of something small scurrying away. White priestly robes peeked through the leaves.

They say that children are closer to monkeys than humans.

The boy sighed as he watched the kids his age scatter.

It was the bullying he’d been enduring for a year.

Drawing on his priestly robes, piling up dead insects in front of his room, knocking on his door in the middle of the night and running away…

The list of bullying he’d been subjected to was endless.

He understood them, to a certain extent.

The children in the Crystal Palace had also been there when the girl chose her personal servant.

Their eyes sparkled with anticipation, hoping she would choose them.

But the girl, the one who was said to have been chosen by God,

Didn’t choose the boy with the bright eyes,

Or the girl with the golden hair,

And she definitely didn’t choose them.

She chose the handless orphan.

Moreover, the boy who had been a beggar, stealing and begging on the streets.

They must have wanted to strangle him the moment he set foot in the Crystal Palace.

But that didn’t justify their actions.

“Sigh…”

The boy wiped away the blood and looked back at the Crystal Palace.

It was named the crystal palace, because all its windows were made of stained glass that depicted the history of saints.

The white palace, shining under the spring sun, was truly a beauty worthy of being called the Jewel of the Vatican.

But that beauty was a mockery.

He could almost hear mocking voices whispering in his ear.

[I’m so noble, and you’re so lowly,

And yet you dare to set foot here?]

[Know your place, you wrist-crippled bastard]

The boy grimaced, but what filled his contorted face wasn’t sadness.

Glaring at the Crystal Palace with resentment in his eyes, the boy thought,

I’m not leaving this place until my hand is healed, even if you bury me alive.

***

The girl opened her mouth, her eyes still closed.

“Aah~”

The boy looked at her with a cold expression. Delicious-looking food was laid out before her. But next to them, the girl’s hand was also placed.

“Aah~”

The girl frowned as the food she’d expected didn’t enter her mouth. She opened her mouth again.

The boy finally couldn’t take it anymore and spoke.

“…You’re the one with perfectly good hands, Clara, why do I have to feed you?”

The girl opened her eyes, her red eyes narrowed.

“My Lady, and use kind words.”

“…My Lady, why are you asking me, the one without hands, to feed you when you have perfectly good hands?”

The girl pondered, resting her chin on her hand, then said.

“Just because?”

The boy rolled his eyes and thought to himself.

“Is she really fucking crazy?”

No, he said it out loud.

The girl, hearing his curse, puffed out her cheeks.

“I told you to use kind words.”

“No, fuck…”

“Kind words! Kind words! Kind words!”

She shouted, slapping the boy’s mouth as if she could instill kind words into him that way.

“Okay! Ow! Okay! Ow! I got it!”

In the end, it was the boy who surrendered.

It wasn’t because it hurt. It was because he thought she might knock over the food.

The girl, with a huff, sat back down on the bed.

“Aah~”

And this time, she opened her mouth without closing her eyes.

The boy rolled his eyes and picked up a piece of bread topped with cream, using both his blunt wrists. He carefully placed it into the girl’s mouth.

“…!”

The girl squealed like a boiling kettle, as if it was delicious. The boy chuckled and wiped his wrists on a handkerchief.

“Is it that good?”

“Mhm!”

Then she picked up a piece of bread and held it out to the boy.

“So, Rem, you open your mouth too.”

Disbelief filled the boy’s eyes. He quickly turned away, saying.

“I-I already ate. I’m not hungry.”

“There’s always room for one more piece of bread.”

“I’m really full.”

“Rem, I’m sorry, but I don’t care. Open your mouth now.”

The girl’s voice was stern. But the boy kept his mouth shut.

He wanted to eat it,

But he knew that if he were to be caught, he’d have to endure the priest in charge of education nagging him all night.

And that priest was a crazy bitch who always checked the boy’s breath every day.

The problem was, the girl was just as stubborn.

“Oh, you’re going to disobey me again?”

The girl jumped up from the bed.

The boy, instinctively, stood up as well.

A mischievous smile appeared on the girl’s face.

The boy’s eyes were filled with worry, but a playful grin had appeared on his lips.

“If I catch you, I’m going to stuff it up your nose!”

“Come on, My Lady!”

And with that, the chase, no longer surprising, began.

The boy and the girl ran around the spacious room, laughing.

Knocking over jewel-encrusted chairs,

Running across a table made of gold,

Blocking each other’s view with the silk curtains,

But the chase didn’t last long.

“Huff… Huff…”

The girl, panting, placed her hands on her knees.

There was no way a girl who spent most of her days lying in bed could catch a boy who had survived the slums thanks to his quick feet.

The boy caught his breath and smiled faintly.

“That’s why I told you to exercise…”

“Rem…”

Clutching her chest, the girl looked up at the boy with teary red eyes.

“My chest…”

And then she collapsed onto the carpet.

In that instant, the boy’s body moved before he could think.

“My Lady! Are you…”

“Stu-pid.”

The boy didn’t even have time to form a confused look on his face. Because the girl immediately knocked him down onto the carpet.

Before the boy could react, the girl was straddling him.

“Hah… Hah… Got you…!”

The girl’s chest rose and fell.

Her red eyes shone with triumph, and she raised a piece of bread that had lost its shape into the air.

“Open your mouth! If you don’t, I’m really going to shove it up your…”

Suddenly, the girl stopped speaking mid-sentence.

Confusion appeared on the boy’s face, who had secretly been expecting this to happen when he went to help her.

And then, hearing the words that escaped her lips, his eyes widened in shock.

“Blood…”

A sticky sensation that wasn’t sweat dripped down his cheek.

A wound he’d gotten while carrying her meal.

The boy opened his mouth.

“My Lady, this is…”

“Who did this?”

But the girl was faster.

She placed her hand on his cheek.

Her hand was warm, but her eyes were cold.

“Rem, I’m asking you, who did this.”