The orphanage was, in essence, a small church.

After Sunday service, the head nun allowed the children their afternoon nap. Reading and meditating were her hobbies, her habits. Today was a day for meditation. She sat by the sunlit window, eyes closed, sitting upright in her chair. Though it was called meditation, she wasn’t thinking of anything profound. Her thoughts, more personal than religious, often wandered to her concerns for the future of the orphanage.

When winter fully set in, they’d need more firewood.

She opened her eyes and glanced at the fireplace next to the classroom. On the left side of the hearth, a few dry logs were stacked, ready to burn. Inside, the remnants of last night’s fire—half-burnt wood and ashes—lay scattered. The poker, leaning against the right side of the fireplace, was smeared with soot.

Winter was difficult for everyone.

The church, the pastors, the nuns, merchants, adventurers, hunters, herbalists, orphans, and the parents who had abandoned them alike. The orphanage had reached its limit. There was space for the children, but no funds to feed and keep them warm through the winter. The church’s support barely covered the current children.

Unconsciously, the head nun clasped her hands together. Helplessly, all she could do was pray. She didn’t recite a prayer; she merely cast her thoughts upward, hoping for an answer.

Bang.

The door to the orphanage swung open abruptly. Startled, the head nun turned to see who it was. A gust of cold wind swept through the room, biting into the warm air inside. Standing in the entrance, in front of the now wilted dandelion field, was a familiar face she hadn’t seen in two years.

“Christine...!”

The head nun shot up from her seat and rushed toward Christine, who leaned against the doorframe. She didn’t say a word, just grasped Christine’s cold, frozen hands tightly. The once-vibrant, emerald-green eyes she remembered had dimmed, their light snuffed out by the winter winds.

Without dwelling on what might have happened, the nun hurriedly pulled Christine inside to shield her from the cold. Only then did she notice the leather trunk Christine was carrying.

"What happened?" the nun asked, taking the heavy trunk from Christine’s hands and setting it on the floor before guiding her to a chair. Christine’s shoulders trembled slightly as she exhaled a cold breath, trying to steady herself. When she looked up again, she smiled—just like the nun remembered.

"Please, take this."

Christine lifted the trunk from the floor and handed it to the nun.

“What is this?”

Christine didn’t answer, instead opening the trunk’s clasp. The nun’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of gleaming gold bars inside.

"This is the money I earned from completing an assignment at the Mage Tower. I heard the church’s finances were struggling... so I thought the orphanage might be, too."

Christine smiled as she closed the trunk again, but the nun’s face reflected more concern than joy.

“Today’s a weekday. Is everything alright at the Mage Tower?”

Christine smiled and nodded at the nun’s question.

“It’s fine. And you’ll accept the trunk, won’t you?”

The nun placed her hand over the trunk but then gently pushed it back toward Christine. Despite their struggles, this was not a matter the nun could let Christine handle alone.

"...How can we accept money you worked so hard for? We have no right to take this."

“Think of it as a donation. After all, the orphanage is part of the church,” Christine replied, her smile fading.

The nun shook her head softly.

"Christine... I don’t know how you came by so much money so suddenly, but I know this isn’t the kind of amount you’d get from a single job at the Mage Tower."

Christine stopped the nun from pushing the trunk away again.

"Please. Please, just accept it. Don’t ask me any questions—just use it for the children, for the orphanage."

Christine’s voice trembled with desperation, as if she were clinging to a lifeline. She sounded like a person trapped in a deep, dark hole, frantically searching for a way out.

“Use this money to keep the children from freezing on the streets, from being taken away into the alleys.”

Christine’s voice quivered. The nun didn’t interrupt, letting her speak until the end.

“Give them warm rooms, fill their bellies, and bathe them. Teach them to read and write, to understand love and humanity.”

Christine was trying, with everything she had, to justify herself. But the more she spoke of how this money could help others, the more her heart ached, as though salt were being rubbed into an open wound.

“So, please…”

Christine, her face pale, held out the trunk again. The nun, unable to say any more, took it from her. The weight of the already heavy trunk seemed to double in her hands.

“Please, accept this gold.”

The nun stared at Christine for a long time. Christine, in turn, couldn’t bear to look up, terrified of meeting the nun’s violet eyes, which felt like judgmental lightning bolts aimed at her. Christine bit her lip.

"I’ll take it."

The nun’s voice was soft as she placed her hand on Christine’s shoulder.

“I won’t ask, but if there’s something you want to say, I’m here to listen.”

Christine lifted her head, offering a fragile smile. If she were to confess her guilt and the burden she carried, could the nun accept this money as kindly as she had just now?

Probably not. In essence, as a woman of faith, she could never condone money obtained through evil means. Or perhaps, in an attempt to preserve the orphanage, she might take it while pretending to know nothing. Most likely the latter. She would take the money and all the sins attached to it, perhaps even offering forgiveness for Christine’s wrongs.

But Christine didn’t want forgiveness from anyone—not from God, not from the nun, and not even from herself. Christine was grateful, though, that the nun had chosen not to ask further.

After giving Christine some time to calm herself, the nun brought out tea. The tray carried a teacup Christine had always used during her childhood.

For a moment, Christine felt like the young girl she had been before she was sent to the Mage Tower.

“I left the Mage Tower,” Christine said.

The nun didn’t look surprised. She merely nodded a few times in understanding.

“Was it your choice?”

That was the only question the nun asked.

“Yes.”

Christine nodded. She had faced the tower master directly and rejected the plea to stay. She had ignored her colleagues’ objections and left behind the teachers who had guided her.

“I left because I wanted to.”

Christine had entered the Mage Tower not out of any passion for magic but because she wanted to repay the orphanage and the nun for the kindness they had shown her. She no longer held any attachment or regret for magic. The title of "genius mage" had become nothing more than a burdensome label. With only a year left until graduation, the genius mage of the tower had disappeared.

“Where will you go now?” the nun asked Christine.

“If you haven’t decided, you can stay here for a while. There are plenty of empty rooms…”

Christine shook her head.

“No. Let the children stay in the rooms. I have to follow this curse.”

She had to follow the curse’s trail, find out who had fallen victim to Count Leon Benning’s schemes.

And then? What could she do even if she found out? Christine shook her head. No, now wasn’t the time for doubt.

Christine stood up. The nun’s gaze followed her.

“Are you leaving already?”

Christine nodded. As she opened the door, the wind howled louder, rattling the windows.

Standing at the doorway, Christine paused and looked back at the nun. After two years, their reunion had amounted to little more than a brief conversation. Christine thought of what she could say. In the end, all she could manage was a vague promise—a poor excuse.

“I’ll come back soon.”

The nun smiled faintly at Christine’s words, seeing in her a soul still searching for answers. She sent her off with that hope. Christine closed the door behind her, still gazing at the nun’s face.

It took far too long.

Finding the cursed individual had been riddled with challenges. People intentionally avoided her questions, and mages she once knew had become uncooperative, remaining silent. Even when she narrowed her investigation down to the Benning family, there were too many possibilities for her to determine exactly who had been cursed.

After relying on rumors and magical clues, Christine’s search finally bore fruit after a year.

“I heard a new, green lieutenant joined the Gallows Crow Knights recently.”

“I wonder what kind of trouble he got into to end up there.”

The gate guards whispered amongst themselves.

“Keep it down,” a drunken knight barked at them.

“Damn, you’re all so pathetic, stuck guarding the gates like it’s the only thing you’ve got left.”

Hiccup.

The knight hiccupped and staggered. The guards clicked their tongues in disapproval.

“See? With knights like that, can you imagine the kind of mess their commander and lieutenant are?”

“Looks like they’re just going to make our jobs harder.”

The guards moved away from the knight, leaning against the wall to avoid him.

“Hey! Where the hell are you going, you idiots! Damn, can’t you even understand words, let alone read them?”

Christine couldn’t believe that this chaos was taking place at a recruitment event for new knights. The venue, apparently a rented tavern, was a mess, with the drunken recruitment officer spilling his drink and causing a scene.

“Do you think I’m a joke?”

Christine seriously considered using magic. If a fight broke out, she’d have to intervene, even if it meant casting a spell.

The drunken knight was spewing every curse imaginable, dragging the guards’ families into his insults. Christine was inwardly horrified by the colorful array of profanities coming from his mouth. At first, the guards ignored him, but as the insults grew worse, their faces turned red with anger, and they began shouting back.

The insults doubled, no, quadrupled in intensity as they were exchanged.

“Damn, I want to see your parents' faces. You old, washed-up, toothless knight!”

As the shouting escalated and the two groups moved closer to each other, Christine prepared herself to intervene. Of the three people who had shown up for the knight recruitment, two had already fled, leaving only Christine.

“All right, that’s enough. Even if I have to retire today, I’m knocking your teeth out.”

The knight rolled up his sleeves and stood up, while the guards, already armored, raised their fists. Christine readied herself to cast a spell.

Bang.

At that moment, the tavern door burst open with a deafening crash.

The tension between the two groups evaporated. Well, the guards quickly backed away, while the knight continued yelling. Christine turned to see who had entered.

Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the cold, dreary winter light, was a young man—a strange, handsome man. Christine thought as much. His light brown hair fluttered in the wind, and his lifeless golden eyes scanned the room. His gaze settled on the knight, his face and mouth twisting in disgust.

“Hey, you son of a…!”

“That’s enough.”

The young man tilted the knight’s chin up, clamping his mouth shut. The knight, struggling to open his mouth, seemed powerless against the young man’s strength.

“I apologize for the disturbance,” the young man said.

The guards quickly returned to their posts, responding, “No problem, sir.” The young man released the knight, who collapsed.

“Damn it, you… deputy…!” the drunken knight slurred, spouting nonsense as he passed out. The young man sighed and surveyed the scene. It was a disaster. Then, his eyes landed on Christine, who sat quietly in the corner of the tavern. He seemed surprised and walked over to her.

“I’m sorry for the disturbance. One of our knights...”

Deputy commander.

Christine couldn’t find words as she stared at him. This was the man. The cursed one. Her eyes trembled as she took in his appearance.

“We’ll compensate you for any trouble…”

“I’m not a customer here,” Christine interrupted.

The young man looked up, surprised.

“Then why…”

“I came to apply,” Christine replied.

The young man frowned in confusion.

“Apply?”

Christine took a deep breath.

“I came to apply for the Gallows Crow Knights.”

The young man froze, his eyes wide, as though his brain were still processing what he had just heard.

"You're applying... for the Gallows Crow Knights?"

"I want to join as a new recruit," Christine replied.

The young man scratched the back of his head, then asked, “Is there anyone else?”

“There were others, but they all ran away. I’m the only one left.”

He didn’t seem particularly surprised or disappointed. Instead, he pulled up a chair and sat across from Christine.

“...Well then, let’s proceed with a quick interview.”

Christine nodded absentmindedly. She had heard the rumors about the downfall of the Gallows Crow Knights, but she hadn’t imagined it was this bad. And now, the man likely cursed by her actions was sitting right in front of her.

What should she do? Should she apologize first?

“I’m Maxim Apart, the deputy commander of the Gallows Crow Knights,” Maxim said, breaking into her thoughts.

“What’s your name?”

Christine looked up. Maxim’s lifeless golden eyes met her green ones. She had found him. But now, what could she possibly do to atone for all that had happened to him?

Christine decided to start with her name.

Did he realize that the person he might hate most was sitting right in front of him?

“Christine... Christine Watson, Deputy Commander.”

Maxim nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“Good, I like your attitude.”

With a sense of dread gnawing at her heart, Christine began her interview with Maxim.

"...Are you listening, senior?"

"Huh...? Oh, yeah..."

Maxim snapped out of his thoughts at Christine’s words. The walk back from the orphanage hadn’t been too hot. Christine puffed her cheeks slightly in displeasure as she glanced at him.

“When we first met! You started the interview so casually, I was shocked.”

"...Yeah, I remember."

Maxim responded half-heartedly, while Christine muttered something under her breath. The sky was a deep indigo—more like late evening than full night. Their footsteps brought them closer to Maxim’s home.

“Anyway! Don’t be late tomorrow. It’s my first day back, and I’ll need your help with a lot of things.”

“I think it’s a bit different from when I used to order you around…”

“I helped you a lot back then, so now it’s your turn to help me,” Christine said, teasing.

Maxim sighed, chuckling as they arrived at his front door.

“Alright, alright. Just get home safely, and I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, senior,” Christine said, her voice sounding a little pouty as she turned to leave. Maxim watched her walk away.

Ah.

He placed his hand on his chest, feeling the sharp pain that seemed to tear through him.

It seemed his condition was worsening. Maxim tried to shake off the ominous feeling creeping up on him, but shadows don’t disappear just because you wish them away.

The memory Christine had brought up—of the day they first met—felt hazy, like it was shrouded in mist.

Change was slowly creeping toward Maxim, and it terrified him.