The miracle bestowed by the Sunlight Princess had not worked as expected. The gods of the solar pantheon—any one of them—possessed power far beyond mortal reach. After her brief surprise, Maria quickly reined in her emotions. As a scholar, she needed to keep her mind calm.

She hoped her mother, Ruth, could answer the questions weighing on her heart.

"I'm sorry, Maria…"

Ruth's sunken features showed a trace of regret and helplessness. She clearly understood her own condition, yet for reasons she kept to herself, she refused to speak of it.

Perhaps telling it would make no difference. Perhaps she intended to carry that secret with her into the grave.

"Why?"

Maria bit her lip and asked in a low voice. She could not fathom what kind of secret was worth guarding even unto death. Did her father, Lynn, know of it? Was living truly such a difficult thing? If so, why still live with such unyielding grace?

After so many years as Maria's mother, Ruth could not possibly miss the subtle feelings behind her black-clad daughter's hurt and confusion. She remembered well that winter night eight years ago, when a little girl was brought to her—beautiful crimson eyes filled with unease and defiance, like a young beast driven to the edge of survival.

From the start, Ruth treated this unexpected daughter as her own.

For eight years, she cared for her with all her heart, softening Maria's cold resistance toward the world, until at last the elder daughter grew into a kind and gentle nun.

"When you're older, you'll understand someday."

To a parent, a child is always a child. Ruth coughed lightly several times. The high-grade divine spell she had just received had given her some strength, yet her life still ebbed away faster than before. After a few words with Maria, that lingering, inescapable weakness returned to her body.

Even so, Ruth still gripped Maria's hand tightly.

It was the same as when she had held the hand of the little priest's daughter to take her outside—two hands joined without the slightest barrier. She had one request for her wise, considerate daughter. It would be her dying wish.

"Promise me, Maria."

"I'm listening."

"Look after Lynn in the days ahead. The thought of leaving to serve the Lord before he does brings tears to my eyes… He is a good father, a good husband, but not necessarily a good…" Her voice broke into another fit of coughing before she could finish.

Maria wanted to ask more, but her father Lynn entered the room.

No doubt, after releasing the divine spell earlier, he had come to check on her. His eyes held a faint, fragile hope, but when he saw his wife still so weak, that glimmer died. He stood there like an empty shell. In that moment, looking at the silent priest who was her father, Maria suddenly felt she had done something irrevocably wrong.

"Father."

"Papa…"

Felia clung to her sister's arms. Her blinking eyes grew heavy, lulled toward sleep by the warmth and safety she had not felt for so long. Maria, who had been half-smothered by her younger sister's affection all day, held her like an oversized doll. She figured it must be the coolness of her own body that drew Felia so much.

Thankfully, she was still young. If she were older, Maria suspected she might not be able to keep up with her clinginess.

"I'm sorry, Father. I failed."

"By the Lord above, you've been like this since you were a child." If she did not try for herself, Maria would never accept the outcome. That kind of temperament could well be called pride. "Take Felia to rest. You've been riding hard to return here, you must be tired. I'll watch over Ruth."

With no better solution at hand, and with her body aching from the long ride, Maria nodded and carried Felia out.

The door closed softly.

Once his daughters were gone, Lynn sat by his wife's bed. He took her dry, frail hand and pressed it to his forehead. He remembered—on their wedding day, he had done the same.

Only now, when alone with her, did the priest—so composed before his children—finally break down. Tears streamed from his eyes. He could not lose her, could not lose the partner of his life.

"Ruth, I love you."

"You told me that twenty years ago… but I will never tire of hearing it." Though her features were withered, the priest's wife was still beautiful when she smiled.

……

When they had first arrived in Seth Town, Maria had been so small, so timid.

Her foster mother, Ruth, had been like sunlight breaking into her new life. She loved to pull the tiny, adorable Maria into her mountainous embrace, dressing her up in the prettiest clothes.

Back then, Maria would wear a sour face every day, fighting her mother's relentless schemes to dress her in every style of frilly outfit.

Now, she almost missed those days.

"Sis, will Mama get better?"

"Of course."

Maria answered with certainty. Even if the miracle of the Sunlight Princess had failed, she had one last card to play—her own blood. As ruler of Cainhurst, she was one of the so-called Tainted Bloodline. Within her blood flowed a strange longevity and vitality that could save a life.

What troubled her was that her lineage carried both chaotic and higher powers—delicately balanced so as to draw no notice. Used as raw material, her blood could easily cause unpredictable mutations in anyone who consumed it.

So unless it was the final moment, she would never use that card.

Maria had faced the results of such power firsthand and knew well that a non-human form born of chaos and higher power was a fate worse than death. No sane person would make a loved one risk becoming such a thing. In that form, death was mercy.

"Mhm. I believe you, Sis."

Felia had always had a strange closeness and trust toward Maria, and now she accepted her words without question. In truth, with her white-platinum hair, Felia looked almost like Maria's real sister—if not for the difference in their eyes.

"Mama and Papa are hurting so much. Even if they don't say it, I can feel it."

"Don't worry. Your sister is here."

Though fear still gnawed at her heart, as long as Maria was beside her, Felia felt she had the courage to face it. There was nothing—nothing—that gave her more courage than the cool, steady presence of her sister's embrace.

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