* * *

A rabbit?

My eyes widened as I rubbed my chin.

The hesitation was brief.

I recalled a rabbit Daniel might have entrusted to Owen.

Nodding slowly, I added that I’d like to see it.

Though I wasn’t certain it was the same rabbit I remembered.

That one had lived near the Nest of Catastrophe, and it had been five years since I’d last seen it.

Chances were slim.

Still, hearing Daniel’s name after so long lightened the gloom that had settled in my stomach.

I wondered if Daniel was doing well. With no news from him, I assumed he was living peacefully.

Hopefully, he hadn’t gotten entangled in misfortune like Kaindel.

Watching Owen nibble on the tomato, I mused over these thoughts.

Though I was slightly miffed that he was only now mentioning the rabbit, I didn’t let it show.

Knowing Owen, he’d likely forgotten about it until recently.

When Owen finished his meal, he rose from his seat.

“Alright. If you’re done eating, follow me.”

I hurriedly finished my meal and followed Owen out, barely chewing the now-cold food.

Luckily, I hadn’t taken much.

---

The temple had two gardens.

One stretched from the main gate to the entrance, welcoming visitors.

The other lay between the main building and the annex.

While most of the maintenance was handled by gardeners, sometimes the clerics, myself included, would water the flowers. It was one of my favorite tasks.

But despite spending a year at the temple, I hadn’t known about a hidden path in the annex garden, leading to a secluded space.

The small garden Owen led me to housed various animals—squirrels, birds I’d seen near the Pope’s chambers, and even a lazy orange cat.

Among them was a brown rabbit with white patches, as if splashed with paint.

At the sight of its twitching ears, I recognized it immediately.

“May!”

The rabbit’s nose twitched at the sound of its name.

Whether rabbits understood their names like dogs, I wasn’t sure.

But its reaction felt like a warm welcome.

I approached carefully, kneeling to avoid startling it.

As soon as I did, May hopped toward me, and I gently stroked the spot between its ears, just as Daniel had taught me.

Its chin pressed to the ground in apparent delight.

Behind me, Owen chuckled softly, watching the scene unfold.

Leaning casually against a tree, arms crossed, he stayed in the shade to avoid the sun.

Although the sunlight wasn’t particularly intense since it was near sunset.

“That rabbit’s name is May, right? What a rustic name. Who came up with it?”

“I did.”

“…On second thought, it’s not that bad.”

I smiled faintly at his sulky reaction.

I knew well enough that “May” was a rather plain name.

Still, I thought it suited May perfectly. Was it really that bad?

Glancing down at May, I sought her silent opinion.

Not that I could expect a response in Daniel’s absence.

The moment I replied, Owen coughed awkwardly as though caught off guard and quickly changed the subject.

“Well then, I should get going. There’s work to be done. Enjoy your rest.”

“Thank you.”

Knowing how busy he’d been lately, I didn’t try to hold him back.

Once Owen disappeared, I scooped May up in my arms.

Her warmth spread through me, gradually easing the knots in my chest.

“How is it you always show up when I’m troubled?”

Five years ago, Daniel used to summon her whenever he was feeling down.

Now, she waited for me on her own.

I couldn’t decide whether to smile or sigh at how little had changed.

“Haah.”

As if finding my embrace stifling, May wrinkled her nose.

Leaning in, I murmured softly so only she could hear.

“May.”

She couldn’t understand me, but I needed someone to confide in.

“There’s someone I truly despise. But if I stay silent, he’ll die.”

I hated Kaindel.

I hated the way he trampled on my feelings without a second thought.

Hated how he could never love me.

When I saw him collapse in Aiden Village, I felt a twinge of satisfaction.

So, I could shake him to his core.

It felt oddly vindicating, knowing I wasn’t insignificant to him.

Yet, despite my hatred, I didn’t want him to die.

It was fine if my existence tormented him, as long as we shared the same sky.

It was a contradictory desire, but it was the truth.

I wanted him alive, to remember me.

If he died, he’d forget.

That would be too cruel.

After all, I couldn’t bear the thought of being the only one left remembering a love that was never returned.

Besides, death was horrifying. Killing could never be justified, no matter the cause.

The revulsion I felt when I heard the Viscount Chernian’s story stemmed from a memory.

The memory of the first life I’d taken—a mother’s child.

The tightly shut eyes of the creature whose life I ended, and Kaindel’s laughter in that moment.

The first kill lingered like a scar, haunting my nights.

People said you grew used to it.

But when? I couldn’t see that day coming.

I could only live with the memory.

And now, as Kaindel faced death, those memories overlapped.

I scowled deeply.

“Ignorance isn’t a sin. But knowing and doing nothing is.”

If I hadn’t overheard Chernian plotting Kaindel’s death, it might’ve been easier.

I wouldn’t have known, and I couldn’t be blamed for what happened beyond my control.

But knowing changed everything.

“I hate him. He’s awful, truly despicable.”

What did I want to do?

The question lingered for hours until, finally, a glimmer of clarity pierced through.

“Why don’t I want him to die, May?”

I already knew the answer.

“I don’t want Kaindel to die. It’s that simple.”

As if finishing a confession, I smiled faintly at May.

Then, brushing off my clothes, I stood.

Freed from my arms, May bounded around joyfully.

“I’ll be back.”

Watching her carefree movements, I let out a small laugh.

Now I knew what I had to do.

---

“Harilson.”

“Gah!”

When I appeared in Harilson’s room, he flinched, startled, ink smudging his face.

His expression said it all—why was I here instead of at afternoon prayers?

Without a word, I reached out and wiped the ink from his cheek with my thumb.

He allowed my touch, only to narrow his eyes suspiciously.

“What’s with the serious face? What do you need?”

“Those gossip rags you read. Mind lending me a few?”

“…Gossip rags? Now?”

Harilson looked bewildered but fetched them, his expression a mix of curiosity and wariness.

Feigning nonchalance, he handed them over but squirmed as I prepared to leave with them.

“Hey, take care of those! They’re expensive!”

“You’ve read them already.”

“Still…”

Ignoring his protests, I flipped through the papers, carefully cutting out letters and phrases.

After some time, a single sentence took shape on the table before me:

[Be careful.]

* * *