Death. Kisa gasped at that ominous-sounding word.

Instead of just picking up the notebook, she unknowingly knelt on the floor and covered it with her hands.

Death. Mother’s death. The cat’s death.

The deaths of close ones that Kisa had encountered so far flashed through her mind one by one.

A fear of having seen something she shouldn’t have overwhelmed her.

How foolish! To make the same mistake just a few hours after hearing a monk’s confession.

‘No, it’s not too late yet.’

Let’s pretend I didn’t see it even now.

Close the notebook, erase the sentence I just saw from my memory, then return to the capital.

And when I meet Seyerd, I’ll say this item is something that Monk Maquio asked me to give to you and return it to him.

Then it’s all over. I made a slight mistake, but I can still end this while remaining innocent.

That must be the right answer.

Surely, Monk Maquio entrusted the notebook to Kisa and confessed his sins in detail to teach her a lesson not to pry into other people’s secrets.

Muttering to herself that it was the right thing to do, Kisa tried to put her plan into action.

But strangely, her hands wouldn’t move.

Her two hands were still tightly attached to the notebook, refusing to let go.

Suddenly, this question came to her mind.

‘Is that really the case?’

Why did Monk Maquio entrust this notebook to Kisa of all people?

To Kisa, who had been asking around about Seyerd.

As if throwing her an answer.

If he wanted to, couldn’t he have found many ways to return the diary to his former disciple without going through Kisa?

For example, he could have just left the monastery, gone to the capital, visited the Hillan ducal residence, met Seyerd, and handed it over.

If Seyerd refused to meet him, couldn’t he have asked Gilliam to pass it on?

Even if it went through someone else’s hands, wouldn’t a servant who had dedicated his life to the ducal family be more trustworthy than the fiancée of a disciple from just a few months ago?

‘Perhaps……’

What Monk Maquio intended to convey to Kisa through this notebook might not be a lesson, but something else.

For instance, a real answer.

About what kind of person Seyerd is.

However, Kisa soon shook her head.

It was too sensitive a thought.

If he really intended to let Kisa know the answer, couldn’t he have just told her honestly?

Let’s grasp the facts as they are.

Monk Maquio had simply confessed his sins and entrusted the notebook to Kisa.

But as her mind leaned to one side, something else popped up from the other side again.

‘Did Monk Maquio trust my conscience?’

Even he, who was praised by the monks of the monastery as an excellent person, succumbed to temptation and peeked at someone else’s diary.

Didn’t he anticipate that someone like Kisa would naturally give in to temptation and hand over the notebook?

Ah, I really don’t know!

After agonizing intensely over what the answer was for a while, Kisa soon realized that this was not a matter of answers.

She was not seeking the right answer, but rather struggling between the desire to read Seyerd’s diary and the desire to remain innocent.

Monk Maquio’s true intentions were nothing more than an excuse to rationalize her own desires.

Thus, Kisa pondered which of the two desires to choose.

After a long time, one side finally emerged victorious.

It was the side that curiosity had endorsed.

Kisa very slowly removed her hands that were covering the notebook.

Since coming here, there hasn’t been a single day when I haven’t thought about death.

That sentence existed in the same place, not a single word different from when she first saw it.

She wanted to apologize to Seyerd, but that was simply deception.

Kisa felt a burning thirst and lowered her gaze. A few other sentences followed.

It was my own death, but mostly the deaths of others.

The death of Monk Maquio, who imposed his twisted faith.

The death of the abbot, whose mind was preoccupied only with the money the Hillan family gave.

The death of the impudent and stupid Covi.

Anyway, death, death…….

But even that is insignificant compared to the deaths of those who threw me into this filthy place.

The deaths of those who, as parents, are fooled by trivial superstitions and abandon their children.

The deaths of relatives who don’t know their place and run wild.

The deaths of servants who dragged a child out of the room by force while still having sympathetic eyes.

And the death of my brother, Bishuk.

Kisa turned the page with trembling hands.

The following content did not seem to be a continuation, but sentences of a similar nature to the previous ones continued.

I think about it every day, Bishuk.

We have the same face, the same physique, and the same abilities.

Why do you have everything and I don’t?

Just because you were born a few minutes earlier than me?

Because I’m the seed of misfortune mentioned in that ridiculous superstition?

While I’m trapped here suffering, you’ll be the proud son of our parents as if it’s natural.

As if it’s natural to receive the service of the servants.

As if it’s natural to go wherever you want.

As if it’s natural to eat quality food.

As if it’s natural to be educated as the heir.

As if it’s natural to inherit the position of duke.

As if it’s natural to own vast wealth.

As if it’s natural to marry and have a family.

As if it’s natural not to feel any particular gratitude for all the things you have.

Because you had that right from the beginning, and you will continue to do so.

Kisa turned one more page.

I can never accept it.

So I’ll take it away.

Everything you have.

No, even the things you couldn’t have.

There were a few more sentences after that, but most of them were scribbled over with black ink, making it impossible to see the contents.

Only two sentences were written in a way that could be recognized.

The things you wanted to have but couldn’t.

I’ll have them all.

After staring blankly at the two sentences for a while, Kisa quickly turned the pages.

However, almost all the remaining pages were blank, or there were only a few curses or names that appeared earlier.

After checking the contents several times.

Kisa closed Seyerd’s diary.

She was just tired.

The next day, Kisa, who woke up from sleep, tossed and turned on the bed for a while and slowly got up.

There was no longer any reason to stay here.

She told Lily to prepare to return to the capital.

Since the original purpose of coming here, visiting the monastery, had already been achieved, Lily followed Kisa’s orders without much response.

The return journey passed faster than expected.

Already, it was the capital.

The Hillan ducal carriage dropped Kisa off at the Vanspelt viscount residence.

Returning home after a long time, Kisa collapsed on the bed and fell asleep.

She slept for nearly two days straight.

In her sleep, she heard the nanny muttering that she must have accumulated fatigue.

Even after waking up, she still lacked energy.

Kisa wasted time lounging in her room under the pretext of taking a break.

Then one day, the Hillan ducal residence sent someone.

It was time for Seyerd, who had gone down to the estate, to return to the capital.

Reading his short letter saying that he wanted to have dinner together on the day he returned, Kisa became lost in thought.

Time passed quickly, and the day he said he would arrive in the capital came.

The Hillan ducal carriage came to pick up Kisa at the promised time, and she rode in the carriage to a place that had become quite familiar.

The servants of the ducal residence guided her not to the dining room or drawing room, but to the duke’s bedroom.

It was the first time, but Kisa didn’t express much question and obediently followed them.

Finally, when she opened the door and entered Seyerd’s bedroom.

“Welcome, Kisa.”

Seyerd, who seemed to have washed not long ago, as his hair was still slightly damp, greeted her in a comfortable indoor attire.

“This is your first time here, right? I was thinking that I should invite you sometime.”

Seeing him, Kisa came to an abrupt halt.

The anxiety that had been dormant inside her for the past few days began to stir.

Since the day she read his diary, Kisa had been agonizing over how to accept it.

In a way, it seemed like a terrifying record filled with old grudges and murderous intent, and in another way, it seemed like the outcry left by a boy in his adolescence who had gone through an ordeal he couldn’t handle on his own.

Seyerd was both frightening and pitiful.

“Why are you doing this?”

Seeing the man who was looking at her with concern for her unusual reaction, Kisa became extremely curious.

Does he still hold the emotions of that day?

Or is he living a new life, having tied up the past as he said before?

She barely moved her lips.

“I, Seyerd.”

“Please speak.”

But the words wouldn’t come out.

She had no idea how to start the conversation.

Seyerd embraced her trembling shoulders with both hands as if to comfort her.

“Oh my, I had something urgent to tell you today, but it seems I’ll have to postpone it.”

“What?”

Only after asking reflexively did Kisa remember what had happened before leaving for Bondsmos.

“By the way, Kisa, I have something urgent to tell you the next time we meet.”

Ah, right. That happened.

She had completely erased it from her memory.

Feeling apologetic for that fact, Kisa shook her head.

“No. Tell me now.”

“Is it okay?”

“Yes, I want to hear it now.”

In fact, she wanted to calm her raging emotions while listening to his calm voice.

If only that happened, Kisa felt that she could also naturally confess about the diary and ask him sincerely.

Are you still trapped in the past?

“What is it that you urgently need to tell me?”

“Kisa.”

The reddish-brown eyes looked straight at Kisa.

The well-shaped lips parted.

“I love you.”

Before Kisa could even understand the meaning of those words, the face in front of her slowly approached.

And something soft touched her lips.

Only after some time passed did Kisa realize that she was kissing him.