Chapter 35
As I collapsed, Karlin rushed to my side and wrapped her arms around me.
“My lady! Are you alright? Oh no… the bleeding…”
Her hands were trembling.
Or was it my body that was shaking?
“Say all that nonsense in the afterlife!”
Vermont grabbed a sword from one of the nearby assassins and raised it.
In that instant, Karlin flung herself over me to shield me.
But I summoned every last ounce of strength I had… and pushed her away.
I wasn’t about to drag someone else down the River of Death with me. That just wasn’t my style.
And then—
ROOOAAAR! Boom! Boom!
The deep, beastly cries echoed through the mountain.
Is someone calling to me?
I opened my eyes and turned toward the sound.
Vermont’s gaze followed mine instinctively.
CRASH—!
A thick cloud of dust erupted nearby.
Dense. Wild.
Water buffalo…?
There was a river nearby, wasn’t there?
But why would a herd of buffalo suddenly come charging this way?
“Wh-what the hell is this?!”
Vermont’s voice cracked in a scream.
He was already turning to flee in panic.
They’re… helping me?
Strangely, I wasn’t afraid of the stampede rushing straight toward us.
I pulled Karlin into my arms.
“M-my lady!”
Her eyes widened with terror.
“Shh. It’s okay. We’ll be fine.”
The certainty in my voice came from somewhere deep inside me.
I could feel it.
RUMBLE—!
The herd stormed past us.
“Get out of the way! Move or you’ll be crushed!”
The air filled with dust and thunder. Vermont’s figure disappeared into the storm of hooves and dirt.
All I saw was the back of a man running—frantically, helplessly—until even that vanished.
And then, still clutching Karlin, I stayed silent and still.
* * *
“She’s dead, right? She has to be. There’s no way she survived being trampled by that.”
Vermont, now badly injured from being chased by the buffalo, had fallen from a low cliff and broken his arm.
But even with the injury, his only concern was whether Irene—and her maid—had truly died.
“Damn it… I should’ve finished it fast…”
This was his last chance—his last gamble.
Cradling his broken arm, Vermont limped onward.
He pushed through the pain, heading toward the ritual site.
Because until he saw the truth with his own eyes, the anxiety wouldn’t leave him.
The crowd gathered for the Rain Ritual was growing restless.
“Why hasn’t she arrived yet?”
“I heard the head of House Mergen isn’t performing the ritual this time… Is that why?”
“Then who is doing it?”
“No idea. Someone said the successor?”
“But didn’t the heir die recently?”
The delay in Irene’s arrival caused unrest among the priests and villagers at the sacred ritual site.
The retainers and even the Lord of Mergen himself, who had been waiting in place, were beginning to grow anxious.
“Why… hasn’t she arrived yet?”
The head of the family turned to a servant.
“I was told they had departed without delay… This is strange.”
“Could something have happened?”
The family head’s face stiffened.
And just then, Chloe rose from her seat.
“It’s well past the scheduled time. We can’t just sit here and wait any longer, can we?”
All eyes turned to her.
“Let’s appoint a representative.”
“A representative?”
“Why not have Abel perform the ritual? Look—these people have been waiting for hours.”
She gestured toward the vast crowd gathered in the ceremonial grounds.
Indeed, a significant amount of time had passed.
“If we cancel now, all sorts of rumors will spread.”
Her words quickly won support.
“She’s right! Let Abel do it!”
“The ceremony must start!”
Their voices came together too easily, almost as if rehearsed.
“……”
The family head hesitated but had little choice.
“Abel. Do you think you can do it?”
Anyone from Mergen would have observed the Rain Ritual enough times to know it by heart.
Though clearly caught off guard, Abel showed no reaction on the surface—just like always.
He paused for a moment.
“When are they going to start already?!”
“This delay’s going to jinx it—we’ll have another drought!”
Impatient voices from the crowd echoed through the mountain.
In the end, Abel stood.
“I’ll do it.”
As he gave his answer, Chloe’s lips curved in satisfaction.
“Prepare him.”
At the Lord’s command, the servants swiftly moved to guide Abel.
Chloe watched the scene with visible delight.
Roosevelt approached her quietly.
“Do you think it’ll actually rain today, sister?”
He spoke in a hushed tone, low enough only for the two of them to hear.
“She seemed certain, didn’t she? But now that things have turned out this way—if it does rain, credit goes to our Abel. If it doesn’t, we pin the blame on her.”
“Do you think Vermont handled things the way we asked?”
“Please. He’s no fool. He wouldn’t bungle something as simple as a delay.”
“I just worry someone might actually get killed…”
Vermont’s role was to slow Irene down.
Roosevelt, though willing to scheme, wasn’t without hesitation. He feared it might go too far.
“As long as she’s alive, it doesn’t matter if she’s a little battered. A few wounds might even help put her in her place.”
Chloe spoke with nonchalance.
Everything was going perfectly—she had no interest in worrying now.
“We’re going to crush that little rebellion of hers once and for all.”
She beamed as she spotted Abel reenter the courtyard in ceremonial robes.
Wearing the family crest and garbed in white, he looked—for a moment—as though he truly were the next master of Mergen.
Chloe savored the glorious moment with shining eyes.
“Let the Rain Ritual begin!”
At last, the ceremony commenced.
Abel stepped up onto the great circular altar.
The crowd watched in anticipation.
“Under this blazing sun? There’s no way it’s going to rain, even if they chant for days.”
“Still, a Rain Ritual’s worth watching.”
“Who’s that performing it though?”
“That’s Sir Abel! The one who earned honors in the war.”
“Oh, so that’s him! Never seen him in person before. Didn’t know he was with Mergen.”
“You really don’t know anything, do you?”
The crowd had no real expectation for rain.
But the ceremony itself was always a spectacle—and they were here for the show.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The drums signaled the start of the ritual.
Abel approached the consecrated water placed at the front of the altar.
Instead of the shattered sacred mirror, a replacement had been prepared. He dipped it solemnly into the water.
Each movement was precise—measured—with an air of sacred reverence.
“Is that Mergen’s heir?”
“So that’s the new face of the family, huh?”
“Wow. He’s way too good-looking.”
“I want to get a closer look!”
The crowd’s attention turned fully to Abel.
From a distance, Chloe looked on with pride.
Just as Abel knelt in the center of the platform to begin writing the sacred invocation, it happened—
“Oh, my goodness!”
“What’s going on?!”
“Is she… bleeding?”
“This is a disaster…”
“Hey! Someone—!”
The crowd’s murmurs grew louder and louder, parting like the Red Sea.
The family head and the gathered retainers turned their gazes toward the commotion.
“What is the meaning of this?! This is a sacred ritual!”
Chloe barked sharply—but at that exact moment, a figure emerged through the crowd.
A wave of pink hair glinting in the sun.
“…!”
“Isn’t that Lady Irene?!”
“What on earth… she’s bleeding!”
Even the retainers rose to their feet in alarm.
Her steps staggered. Her eyes were sharp, angry. Yet her feet never hesitated.
Like a revenant from the edge of hell, Irene climbed the white stone steps to the ceremonial altar.
And once she reached the top, she looked down at Abel and spoke.
“Move.”
The words came out barely above a whisper—but her voice was steady, resolute.
“Unless you want to die.”
To put it plainly—I was furious.
Dragging myself here like this, clutching a torn side and soaked in blood—how could I not be angry?
And after everything, when I finally made it—that Chloe brat was occupying my place.
Of course I was seeing red.
Unbelievable.
I had rushed here without even getting treated. Now I had to finish the ritual myself, in this condition.
Honestly, I didn’t even know how much longer I could stay on my feet.
If I passed out here and now, they’d all say I’d cursed the ceremony again or brought some unholy omen.
“Who did this to you?”
Oh, he was still here?
I’d assumed Abel had stepped aside, but he was now speaking directly to me.
“It’s none of your business.”
“I asked who hurt you.”
“I said, it’s not your concern.”
Every word I forced out chipped away at my strength, fraying my nerves.
Abel clenched his fists at my refusal—and that irritated me even more.
“You need to be treated.”
“This—this opportunity you hovered around, this role you dared to reach for—this is the price. You cling to it with your life. I’ll deal with my own injuries, thank you. You? Go tell your mother I said hello.”
It took everything in me to say it with control.
Only then did Abel finally step aside.
When I turned my head, I could see the retinue of nobles, seated with dignity—or standing in open shock—watching me, blood-stained and defiant.
First time seeing a priestess soaked in blood?
Yeah, I figured.
It was a first for me too.
I lowered myself to where Abel had left the invocation, and picked up the brush.
No time for finesse.
With no idea how long I’d last, I scribbled quickly.
“I don’t have the strength to beg properly, so please just take the hint and help me.”
I couldn’t feel my side anymore.
I wasn’t sure if the numbness was a blessing—or a very bad sign.
“Are we really going to just let her continue like that?!”
A weaselly retainer’s voice cut through the silence.
No one replied.
“Karlin. Drum. Make sure they can hear it even in the farthest corners.”
“Y-yes, Lady Irene!”
Soon, the beat of the drum echoed through the mountain.
Hadn’t Karlin mentioned she used to drum in a street troupe?
She’s surprisingly good at it.
I let myself listen—let the rhythm ground me.
As the world grew dim and the edges blurred, I held on to one last thought:
If I faint, I just hope I don’t fall in an ungraceful heap.
The sounds around me began to fade.
It felt like I was being pulled inward, into a world of my own.
