Soaking in the bathtub felt so comfortable that I never wanted to leave. At least, not until my eyes landed on the dress hanging on the rack against the wall.

  No embroidery, no frills. Just a pure white fabric, so plain it was almost nothing at all. And yet, to me, it was beautiful to the point of suffocation.

  I wanted to wear it. Right now!

  So I stood up, stepped out of the bath, and slowly walked toward the dress. Since my eyes were fixed on it, I only noticed once I got closer that beside the rack was a table. On it lay a neatly folded white towel, a wooden comb, and a wall mirror, its glass fogged by steam.

  I should probably dry myself first. Otherwise, the dress would get soaked.

  I picked up the towel and began drying myself slowly, carefully. My skin reddened; though the water had washed away dirt, it could never erase the scars—those old marks from when I was still in Loran, when I fell on stone pavements or was beaten for stealing food. They were ugly. I hated them.

  When I finished, I reached for the dress. But the moment my fingers brushed it, I froze.

  The fabric… it was strange. Softer than anything I had ever touched. Not rags, not discarded clothes pulled from a trash heap. Was I really allowed to wear something like this?

  No. Don’t think too much. Just wear it—

  What’s this? …Forget it. All I need is the dress.

  “Hm…”

  Dressed at last, I stepped before the mirror, frowning as I stared at the reflection. It was me, of course—but also not me. So different from the girl I used to see in puddles after the rain in Loran.

  What’s different?

  Perhaps… I’m prettier now?

  Ah! No, that’s not it!

  I only look cleaner. No more dirt smudging my face. Back in Loran, people said I looked no different from a stray beast. That’s the difference.

  Enough staring. I should comb my hair. I don’t think I’ve brushed it once since the church burned down. When you barely have food to eat, who has the energy for things like that—even if, deep down, I had always wanted to.

  After all, I am still a girl. I want to be tidy, clean… and maybe a little cute.

  No! Just tidy and clean, that’s all!

  Why am I even overthinking this!?

  I grabbed the wooden comb and began working through the tangles in my messy hair. It hurt a little, but it was bearable. Unlike the blows from others, this pain didn’t force me to curl into myself.

  It was comforting. The sensation reminded me of Sister Agnes—she used to comb my hair every day. Now I had to do it myself. She wasn’t here anymore. In this room, I was alone.

  Even though here I had hot water instead of rain, meat instead of scraps, new clothes instead of rags—still, I was alone.

  If only she were here… if only, back then…

  “Grandmother… I miss you so much.”

  No. Stop thinking like this. If I go on—

  “Luneth? Are you finished yet?”

  Huh? The maid’s voice.

  “Y-Yes! Just a moment!” I clumsily gave my hair a few final strokes, folded the towel neatly, placed it with the comb on the table, then hurried to the door.

  Wait—almost forgot. My old shirt. I had washed it earlier, but that only made it look less filthy. Torn and ragged, yes—but it had been with me the longest in Loran.

  Better hide it. Valthor and the maid wouldn’t like it.

  When I opened the door, the maid was already waiting outside.

  “Took you long enough. Now I’ll—”

  “W-Wait…”

  That look in her eyes… why was she staring at me like that? Had I done something wrong? Because I bathed too long? Or something else?

  Could she know I’d hidden the shirt? Impossible—I tucked it behind me.

  “Is something wrong…?”

  “No, I suppose not… with that size, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

  What was she talking about? I didn’t understand.

  “Come with me.”

  “Y-Yes!”

  Without further explanation, she turned on her heel and led the way.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The castle walls were veined with black stone. Torchlight stretched long shadows across the floor. I followed her, clutching the hem of my dress so I wouldn’t tear it, or trip, or do anything wrong.

  I mustn’t let her look at me like that again.

  We stopped at a large, plain wooden door—unremarkable, compared to the ornate doors nearby. She opened it and pushed me inside, remaining outside herself.

  “This is your bedroom. Lord Valthor wants you to rest here.”

  “My… bedroom?”

  A bedroom.

  For the first time in my life, I had a room of my own. Back at the church, I only ever laid a rug in the farthest corner.

  I froze on the threshold.

  “Can I… really go in?”

  “Of course. Lord Valthor commanded it. From today, this is your room.”

  “You’ve been awake all night. Get some sleep.” Her face was drawn with exhaustion.

  True—on the entire journey, I hadn’t dared close my eyes, not once. That man… he kept staring at me. Who could sleep with eyes like his on them?

  But the maid—hadn’t she driven the carriage all night as well?

  “Y-You should rest too! You look so tired!”

  “Since when do I need you to worry? Enough talk. Sleep.”

  Why was she angry? After snapping at me, she slammed the door and left.

  Did I do something wrong again? Best to listen. If she returned to find me awake, she’d yell again… maybe even hit me.

  I turned back to the room. It was vast, clean, magnificent. In the center stood a great bed with pristine white sheets.

  The pillows were high, the mattress thick. Just looking at it made me want to leap onto it.

  Beside the bed, a small oil lamp glowed softly on a wooden table. At the far corner, a tall arched window was veiled by thin gray curtains.

  I approached the bed. Deep inside, I truly wanted to lie upon it. But… I didn’t dare.

  It felt too sudden. Like a beggar being handed the key to a grand castle by a stranger. It looked wonderful at a glance, but who knew what hid inside? A demon, a monster, or something worse.

  With that thought, I couldn’t climb onto the bed. Couldn’t touch the pillows. Couldn’t believe something so beautiful was meant for me.

  So I sat down on the floor, leaning against the bedframe. Cold, hard—the feeling was familiar. Just like the walls of Loran’s houses.

  I sighed. This cold… at least I knew how to endure it.

  Time slipped by. My body grew heavy, my legs numb, my eyes sinking shut.

  “So soft…” I poked the edge of the mattress.

  I pulled my hand back at once, as if burned.

  No. I couldn’t. I wasn’t that kind of person. I wasn’t greedy for luxury. Who knew what price lay behind touching it?

  Exhaustion overcame me. I lay down on the floor, arms spread wide, eyes on the ceiling. A great golden chandelier hung above, though unlit.

  “If only… just once… I could sleep on that bed…”

  My eyelids drooped. It had been so long since I tried to sleep anywhere but an alley or snow. Here, in this warmer place, I wanted to rest.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  The door creaked. A voice.

  I shot upright, heart racing.

  Valthor stood there. The black cloak still draped his shoulders, but his eyes… they weren’t cold, nor angry. They looked… surprised?

  “You…”

  “No, my wife…”

  What was he saying? I barely heard. More importantly—he was striding toward me.

  Too fast. My fear tangled with confusion.

  “L-Lord Valthor! I-I’m sorry, I was just tired—”

  He didn’t let me finish.

  In a heartbeat, he lifted me effortlessly, as if I weighed less than a towel. My body froze, feeling the warmth of his arms… the faint scent of his cloak.

  “This is where you sleep.”

  He laid me on the bed.

  Wait—really? I was on the bed?

  Soft. Warm. Far better than the floor.

  He turned away, removed his cloak, folded it neatly atop a dresser. Beneath, only a white shirt clinging to his body and short trousers. Then he faced me again. For some reason, I averted my gaze. My heart lost its rhythm.

  The mattress dipped. He… climbed onto the bed? Was he going to sleep here too?

  Not surprising. Who wouldn’t?

  “Hey.”

  “I never imagined you’d be this beautiful.”

  M-Me? He was talking about me? I turned toward him without thinking.

  He leaned down, forehead against mine.

  “You’ve eaten my dinner. Now I’ll eat you.”

  What…? Eat me? Was he a man-eating demon? But this wasn’t Hell. He didn’t even have horns.

  His lips brushed closer, biting lightly at my neck. It didn’t hurt—just tickled enough to make my whole body shiver.

  “L-Lord, what are you doing? Stop!”

  I pushed with all my might. He didn’t budge. To him, I was nothing more than a kitten resisting a hound—powerless.

  Still, I kept pushing, though the result never changed.

  Wait—he didn’t mean to devour me. He—

  “Stop!”

  A slap.

  My hand.

  I had slapped him. Without hesitation.

  He froze. Then slowly turned back, face unreadable.

  I drew my hand back instantly, clutching my wrist as if to punish it.

  “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… I just…”

  He said nothing. Then his hand struck me. Hard.

  My vision spun. Heat seared my cheek.

  The taste of blood… I must be bleeding. My body felt numb.

  “You’ve ruined my mood.”

  Through blurred sight, I watched him walk away. He opened the door, left it ajar.

  I stayed there. On the soft bed. In the warm room. Silent tears streaming down my cheeks. Not sobbing—just lying still.

  My heartbeat slowed. My breath faltered.

  Why?

  What had I done wrong?

  I only ate his food, wore his dress. I only… didn’t want him to—

  “Be careful of strangers who seem kind. Everyone has their reasons, except the gods.”

  Sister Agnes. Why did her warning come back now?

  It was true—I was greedy. I wanted good food, clean clothes, a warm bed, though I did nothing to deserve them.

  I opened my eyes. For the first time, I understood Valthor’s kindness.

  It wasn’t a gift. It was a bargain. I ate his food; I had to do whatever he wished—even the cruelest demand.

  Even if he wanted me dead, I would have to take my own life.

  I forced myself upright. I would leave this cursed bed. This dress—I didn’t need it anymore. I would return it, return everything.

  Thank goodness I had kept my old shirt. Patched from scraps, yes, but it asked nothing of me. Unlike the white dress—wearing it cost me my life.

  Changed back, I gazed at the window. My escape.

  Without hesitation, I climbed onto the sill. Opened it. Below… the sea of stars. But so far down.

  Ah… so this was where he would order me to jump one day. I wouldn’t wait for that command. I’d do it now.

  Better death than waiting.

  I’d never touched the sea, never walked on sand, never heard waves this close. If I leapt now…

  I’d touch it, before I died. The first and last time.

  Thanks to Valthor, at least, for bringing me to a castle by the sea. I’d stolen that much from him—along with the roasted meat he’d never reclaim.

  It was time.

  Dawn—the sea at its most beautiful. If I delayed, I’d miss it.

  So I leaned forward, let myself fall.

  “Wait, I—”

  “LUNETH!”

  V-Valthor!? Why had he returned?

  Too late. I had already fallen.

  Wind screamed in my ears. I opened my eyes to the sea, stretched my hand to touch it sooner.

  Would I see Sister Agnes after death?

  What—!?

  A sword? A sword appeared in the air—impossible!

  It blocked my path to the sea. Inevitably, it pierced my chest just as my fingers neared the water. A scream tore from my throat, splitting it raw.

  A divine blade? The gods forbidding me from touching the sea?

  Why? Why did everyone treat me like prey? What had I done to you? Why me? Why not anyone else!?

  I hated it. I was so tired.

  Perhaps this was the end. But why? Just a little more… Was even this too much to ask? Just to touch the sea…

  Why…