SALP Chapter 34

"This angel statue is very precious to the Raphlish... no, to Hestan. It reminds them of happier times and urges them to hold onto hope. That alone can make people happier."

Lanthe continued haltingly.

Fiarelle had scorned this sentiment of theirs as foolish self-consolation. And now Vigo was saying the same. But even so.

"You say filling souls has less value than feeding hundreds, and maybe that's true... But letting people see the form of a being they love and recall their memories is also valuable. Even if the church has fewer than ten people now, over time the number who'll stop by and see this angel statue will grow, and the happiness it brings will also increase. So it's premature to argue about its value being small..."

She felt she wasn't expressing exactly what she wanted to say.

Could Vigo understand what I'm saying? Her face flushed with embarrassment. She'd learned to read just three months ago and had barely begun reading books, so perhaps she had no right to be offended at being called ignorant—something she'd heard endlessly.

Someday when she became smarter, her current thoughts might change too.

Even if that were true, right now she didn't want to readily sell something she'd decided to protect for a large sum of money.

"Lanthe."

Vigo smiled faintly.

"You haven't been in Penmark long, so you still don't understand money's absolute importance and think naively."

"Say you're right. So if being foolish makes me happier, just let me live as a fool."

She knew her stubbornness wasn't rational.

Most people would prefer receiving 10 krone in gold coins over a 5 della gift.

But she didn't want to become accustomed to compromising according to the ways of Vigo's world. Once you compromise once, the second time becomes much easier.

"This time I won't deal with you."

Lanthe built up her heart's defenses, imagining surrounding herself with a thorn hedge.

The story Princess Ana had told at the philosophy gathering came to mind.

King Kusante, who'd been assassinated just before becoming Penmark's emperor, had been someone who championed justice. His first act of harming someone had also been for the cause of "greater justice." But after harming countless people while invoking countless causes, he'd eventually become someone who felt no qualms about harming people even without justification, as he'd reflected himself—hadn't she said as much?

What about Derek or Fiarelle? It was a stretch to imagine they'd had a time of innocence like young Vigo.

"You'll regret this for a long time."

Vigo's eyes glinted ominously.

"'My 10 krone!' You'll be kicking off your blankets in your sleep."

Though he hadn't even reached out his hand, Lanthe shuddered preemptively and struggled to push him away.

"Be gone, demon. No matter how you tempt me, I won't deal with demons. I'll never hand over the angel statue."

"20 krone."

"Not selling!"

Ack—she let out a small cry and covered one ear with her hand.

Even if it's cheap, it's absolutely necessary for the church to have one. They might never find another.

"30 krone."

The amount he called soared ceiling-high.

"Ah, I can't hear you, can't hear."

"I don't understand your stubbornness. At this rate, up to 20,000 krone—"

Suddenly he closed his mouth.

That damned 20,000 krone. You said it again, didn't you?

"...Lanthe."

He indifferently received her sharp gaze and grasped her wrist, pulling it down.

His eyes had settled into a strange stillness.

"What? I said I absolutely won't sell."

At his strange gaze, Lanthe's heart stirred uneasily.

She felt she should cover her ears again.

She knew this feeling.

Vigo's about to say something bad...

"What if I said I'd release you?"

The moment his low voice flowed out.

Her mind went blank.

She blankly wondered whether her expectation of hearing something bad had been right or wrong.

"If I said I'd send you where you want to go, would you hand it over?"

Why?

Though he was this close.

She couldn't read his expression. He felt more distant than when he'd stood at the entrance earlier.

What is he saying? That if I just hand over one angel statue, he'll free me? He won't return me to Derek?

Her mouth wouldn't open easily.

Though the answer to the question was only one thing with no other options.

After a long while, she opened her mouth with difficulty.

"...You have no intention of releasing me anyway."

She couldn't feel that he genuinely wanted the angel statue. His gaze, boring into her as if observing her reaction, rather seemed to have completely forgotten about the object she'd hidden behind her back.

Could he be sincere?

Could he possibly be sincere?

"...Will you release me?"

She asked in a breath that started as sound but faded away.

The silence was more than burdensome—it was agonizing. She only stared at his eyes. Though others often said they resembled each other, his purple eyes containing coldness were entirely different from hers—such thoughts ran through her mind.

"No."

Tension shattered in an instant, like suddenly cast ice.

He gazed at her without blinking, then spoke with a faint sneer.

"Just something I said, Lanthe Entridhal."

Vigo rose slowly.

"You said you'd never deal with demons. Turns out your resolve wasn't much at all, was it?"

His retreating figure as he left the room leisurely, having lost interest, seemed more than demonic—utterly inhuman.

"Ha."

Lanthe dropped her head and let out a hollow laugh.

Not much at all?

When my life hangs on it, not much at all?

'What if I said I'd release you?'

Even while suspecting he was merely toying with her, had holding onto hope been such a great wrong?

Had throwing away the opportunity to feed hundreds and choosing the chance to escape from the monster who'd harmed her family been such a great wrong?

Was it something deserving ridicule?

Lanthe argued thus against the voice of reproach sounding in her head.

"Ha..."

Only that voice wasn't Vigo's.

So she quietly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, not knowing at whom she was angry or what made her angry.

7. Hope Sprouts in Darkness

Dawn? Morning? Lanthe trembled at the cold wind as she opened her eyes.

The light that usually seeped through the curtain gap each morning was dim today. The weather must have clouded over.

Vigo hadn't come during the night.

Your resolve wasn't much at all—that wretched conversation had been their last.

She felt somewhat relieved that he hadn't come to sleep, yet also feared he might treat her worse than before.

"Good morning, Lady Lanthe!"

But Rix, who greeted her, was as cheerful as ever. He didn't seem to have heard anything from Vigo or received new instructions. Though it was still too soon for new orders about her treatment following yesterday's incident.

This was Nina's second day absent. Rix had relayed that her father's work had gotten busy, so she was helping him.

"I miss Nina."

"Same here, truly. The little one's chatter keeps things from getting dull, doesn't it?"

"Exactly. She's so tiny and adorable."

Lanthe ate alone and changed into clean clothes.

Spending time in her room without even knowing whom she was waiting for, she suddenly stood up decisively.

"I'm going to visit Father Conor briefly."

When she placed the book she'd borrowed from him and the angel statue in her bag and slung it over her shoulder, it was quite heavy.

"The angel Akaiel..."

Father Conor indeed seemed greatly surprised upon seeing the angel statue.

So was the angel Hestan believed in the same being as Raphlang's guardian angel? Lanthe watched him with a rather tense expression.

"This seems to be a genuine piece made in Northern Oden or the Valdon continent."

Father Conor examined the statue's craftsmanship carefully as he spoke.

"Genuine? Then are there fakes?"

"Ah."

He spoke awkwardly, having been caught using an imprecise word.

"No. I meant it was truly made by a Hestan craftsman, not someone's playful imitation. In that sense, the works by our congregants in our church are also genuine."

He smiled while slightly furrowing his brows. Was he thinking sadly about the church's circumstances where even installing one sculpture was difficult? At his bitter smile, Lanthe smiled similarly.

"Vigo offered to buy it for 10 krone."

She'd hesitated whether to say this or not, but.

"Maybe he just said it to tease me. That donating 10 krone would be more valuable than one sculpture like this..."

She brought this up with what she thought was a rather cowardly purpose.

Wanting forgiveness. Because she'd failed to shake off the voice of self-reproach on her own.

"But I wanted people who come to our church to be able to see this. Everyone from my hometown was Hestan, and they loved the angel so much. Growing up hearing stories about the kingdom the angel protected since childhood... Holding snow angel-making festivals every year..."

Could he understand? Father Conor might. That protecting the angel statue had been the right thing to do.

It was what she revealed with such vague and shameless feelings.

"I think I understand your feelings completely, sister. You did well not giving in for any amount of money."

As expected, Father Conor looked at her with the most merciful expression he'd shown thus far and spoke.

"For that very reason, I cannot accept this angel statue."

Along with an unexpectedly firm refusal.