From a distance, the two appeared inseparable, much like a pair of lovers in the heat of a deep romance.
The moment they stepped out of the private box, someone immediately approached them.
“Good evening, Madame Noerstein! Tonight’s opera was truly magnificent!”
A portly Count dressed in extravagant finery offered a warm greeting.
Immediately after, a Madam adorned with dazzling jewelry approached with a smile. “Sophia, it has been a long time. Your companion tonight is… quite beautiful. Won’t you introduce her to us?”
In an instant, they were surrounded by men and women in noble attire. Like butterflies drawn to nectar, they flocked toward the pair.
Everyone’s eyes were filled with curiosity and scrutiny, unashamedly sweeping back and forth over Tulia.
Just as she became so nervous that she nearly started tripping over her own feet, Sophia suddenly lowered her head. Her warm breath brushed against Tulia’s ear, her voice soft yet filled with the excitement of a successful prank.
“My little bird, you are currently the center of attention. You wouldn’t want others to find out that you can’t even walk straight because I ‘bullied’ you until you couldn’t stand, would you?”
Tulia froze instantly and looked up in disbelief.
“So…” Sophia’s lips were almost pressed against her earlobe, her voice carrying a hint of seduction, “…be sure to greet them properly. Show them your sweetest smile. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee… that I won’t accidentally ‘let go’ of my hand.”
Sophia’s words, soft yet filled with the threat of a demonic whisper, instantly overloaded Tulia’s brain.
She took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of strength she had left.
“He… Hello…”
The voice was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, carrying an uncontrollable tremble.
However, Sophia seemed very satisfied with this clumsy performance.
“My apologies, everyone,” Sophia’s voice chimed in at the perfect moment, carrying a touch of elegant regret as she pulled Tulia tighter into her embrace. “My companion is not quite used to such lively occasions. Please, do not mind her.”
As she spoke, she used her other hand to gently stroke Tulia’s back.
The surrounding nobles immediately broke into polite laughter, expressing their understanding.
Sophia seemed to have had enough of this “public execution” game.
When another gentleman tried to step forward to make conversation, the smile on her face remained proper, but a flash of impatience flickered in the depths of her eyes.
“Thank you all for your company tonight,” she said, nodding elegantly. “However, it is getting late, and my little bird seems tired. I need to take her back to the nest to rest.”
Under the envious or jealous gazes of the crowd, Sophia practically carried Tulia as they walked toward the exit of the opera house in an intimate posture.
Tulia buried her face deep into the crook of Sophia’s neck, giving up all resistance.
Finally, when they sat inside the luxury carriage that blocked out all external sight, Tulia felt as if all her strength had been drained. She collapsed completely onto the soft seat.
She gasped for air.
“Phew… That scared me to death…”
“Oh?” Sophia sat to the side, looking quite relaxed as she unhurriedly poured herself a glass of red wine. “I thought you enjoyed being the center of so much attention.”
“Like hell I did!” Tulia finally couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I almost dropped to my knees right then and there!”
“Is that so?” Sophia took a sip of wine. Her purple eyes looked even deeper under the dim light of the carriage. She set down her glass and suddenly leaned closer to Tulia, her slender fingers gently hooking under the girl’s chin.
“But,” her voice was extremely low, filled with magnetic temptation, “that look on your face just now — as if you were about to cry but had to force a smile — it was… truly adorable.”
She leaned into Tulia’s ear and left one last sentence in a whisper that only the two of them could hear.
“As a reward for your excellent performance tonight… I won’t ‘bully’ you on the way back.”
—
The carriage drove back to the manor through the silent night. A strange silence filled the cabin, condensing into something invisible that stood between the two of them.
Upon returning to the manor’s study, the fire in the fireplace crackled and popped.
Sophia did not delay for a moment. She went straight to the heavy oak bookshelf, took a well-preserved Peachwood Box from the deepest part, and placed it gently on the coffee table in front of Tulia.
“Take it.” Sophia’s voice was calm, devoid of emotion. “Every letter is in here. Not a single one is missing.”
Tulia looked at the wooden box that held decades of time. For a moment, she didn’t even dare to touch it.
She took a deep breath and slowly opened the lid.
Inside, a thick stack of letters was neatly arranged. The envelopes had yellowed slightly with age, but each one was as flat as if it were new, and the wax seals were perfectly intact.
The handwriting on the top few letters was exactly the slightly childish script from Tulia’s memory of Ella.
“You…” Tulia looked up, her eyes filled with confusion and a lingering trace of anger. “Since you’ve had them this whole time, why are you only giving them to me now?” She thought of that unrestrained hand back at the opera house, and her tone sharpened. “After doing… all that?”
Sophia walked to the window and stood with her back to her, looking out at the heavy night. Her silhouette, illuminated by the flickering firelight, showed a rare sense of loneliness.
“Because I needed to be sure,” Sophia’s voice grew low. “I needed to confirm that even when you hate me, even after I’ve treated you in the worst possible way… you would still choose to stay within my reach just to get news of Ella.”
She turned around. Complex emotions were difficult to decipher in her deep purple eyes. The playfulness and control from the opera house were gone, replaced only by a weary honesty.
“Look, Tulia, this is the kind of person I am. Despicable and skilled at exploiting every one of your weaknesses.”
She forced a faint, bitter smile. “But I have fulfilled my promise. Now, they are yours.”
Tulia gripped the wooden box tightly, the cold texture of the wood pressing through the fabric of her clothes.
She looked at Sophia — the woman she had loved, hated, feared, and despised. At this moment, Sophia had stripped away all her disguises, laying her wretchedness and schemes bare before her.
Anger still burned in her chest, but a deeper emotion, mixed with understanding and sorrow, was quietly spreading.
She did not offer forgiveness, nor did she say thank you.
She simply held the wooden box tightly, as if clutching the half of her life she had finally regained, and turned to leave the study.
Sophia gazed at her departing back until the sound of footsteps completely vanished at the end of the hallway.
She slowly raised the hand that had both comforted and harmed Tulia at the opera house, pressing it gently against her forehead as she let out a sigh that was almost inaudible.
Perhaps she had once again used the wrong method to push the already faint possibility between them even further away.
***
Tulia returned to the guest room and opened an envelope with trembling fingertips.
To Tulia:
I became a Candidate Saintess today.
Standing in the Grand Hall of the Holy See, wearing these white robes, I looked down at a sea of people.
They say I am the closest person to God, but my mind is entirely filled with you.
Ten years have passed, and I am still looking for you.
At first, I searched street by street. Later, I used my authority in the Church to check the old files of the Water Snake Gang. I’ve even been to the morgue three times.
Every time I pushed open those iron doors, my hands were shaking.
It wasn’t until today that Sister Maria finally told the truth — you’ve known where I was all along, you just didn’t want to see me.
Do you think that because I am “clean” now, you are no longer worthy?
Tulia, how can you be so silly.
I still have nightmares at night. They aren’t about failing my evaluations; they’re about you pushing me onto the roof while covered in blood.
I can recite the entire Sacred Canon now, but what I remember most clearly is you telling me to “Live on—.”
You taught me how to survive on stolen bread and how to protect myself with deception.
The person I am now is nothing more than someone using the second life you gave me to live the way you wanted me to.
Yesterday, I saw a rusty key in the Relic Vault. They said it symbolizes opening the Gate of the Secular World.
I burst into tears — you are my secular world.
If the price of being a Saintess is losing you, I would rather go back to that drafty shack and share a piece of dusty bread with you.
I won’t look for you anymore.
But you have to promise me one thing: live well. Take care of that version of yourself that is covered in wounds. Those scars are what you left behind for me.
Yours forever, your Little Beggar,
Ella Sfield