The carriage swayed, the wooden wheels creaking in a steady rhythm. After being bought by a nobleman from that building with the snake-head carving on its gate, they removed my chains and pushed me into the carriage.

  This time, I wasn’t locked inside a wooden cage. Instead, I sat on a velvet-cushioned seat—soft, clean, and warm. There was even a small window to look outside, and the space here was much warmer than that terrifying cage.

  He—the nobleman in the glittering black cloak—sat beside me. What was his name again? I’d forgotten. Should I ask? Besides that, there were so many other things I wanted to ask.

  Why had he spent a fortune on someone as weak as me? What did he want from me? Where was this carriage taking me? But I didn’t dare speak—only stealing glances at him now and then.

  His hands gripped the edge of his cloak tightly, his face tense as though holding something back. Then, suddenly, he turned toward me, raised a hand to cover his nose, and glared.

  I looked away. I knew exactly what that meant. The stench from the rags I was wearing—and from my body—was bothering him.

  By instinct, I curled up, raising my hands to cover my upper body. In Loran, people sometimes beat me for that very reason.

  “Sit up straight.” His voice wasn’t angry.

  “I didn’t buy a rat.”

  “S-sorry…” I whispered, forcing my aching back to straighten.

  He didn’t hit me? At this distance, he should have by now…

  “Bring me food.”

  I bowed my head, not daring to look at him, but I still heard what he said. Food? He wanted to eat now? And he wasn’t worried my stench might ruin his appetite?

  I glanced toward the front. A young woman in a black dress—likely his maid—handed him a silver plate. On it were glistening roasted meat, a ripe red apple, and a loaf of bread.

  The smell made my stomach growl. I’d never seen roasted meat this close before. In Loran, I only dared watch from afar, outside warm restaurants. Back at the church, the best I ever had was onion porridge with a few slices of carrot.

  “Eat,” he said, pushing the plate toward me.

  I froze. He… was giving it to me? A luxurious meal like this—for a filthy, homeless wretch like me? Impossible. Such things didn’t happen.

  I stared at the plate. Meat, apple, bread. At most, I could bring myself to eat the bread. The apple and the meat were far too extravagant—things I wouldn’t even dare to dream of touching.

  After a long moment, I decided to reach for the bread and took a bite without hesitation. It… was better than I imagined. Was this really bread? In Loran, I’d never eaten anything even remotely like it.

  “Why did you eat that?”

  I flinched and turned to look at him, a piece still in my mouth. He was frowning, his gaze sharp and cold enough to tear me apart.

  Why was he angry? Didn’t he tell me to eat? I looked back at the plate.

  Meat, bread, apple. Wait… perhaps the bread wasn’t the right choice? Should I have gone for the apple?

  Hold on—were those… chopsticks?

  “I-I’m sorry!” I quickly placed the half-eaten bread back on the plate, swallowed what I had in my mouth awkwardly, and picked up the chopsticks.

  I knew it. I really did…

  In Loran, even when it came to bread, I only had it by stealing from others. The only thing I’d ever “earned” myself was a handful of twigs.

  I gripped the chopsticks tightly, lifted one to my mouth, and bit into it. Hard… flavorless. Honestly, the twigs in Loran were easier to chew—sometimes they even had a hint of sweetness.

  “Are you stupid? Why are you biting chopsticks?” he barked, snatching them from me.

  I stared at him silently, questions swirling in my head. What else was on that plate…? Why was he even upset about the chopsticks?

  I no longer wanted to eat. I wanted to die.

  I looked at him. I wanted to cry, but even my eyes felt too heavy for tears. They wanted to close. They, like me, just wanted to escape this wretched reality.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “Unbelievable… This girl really has no brain…”

  “Hey, do you see this? It’s meat. Why didn’t you eat it first instead of the bland bread? And biting the chopsticks? Damn it, you’re hopeless.”

  He set the chopsticks back on the plate, grabbed my wrist, pulled me closer, and placed the plate in my hands.

  “Eat the meat. If you dare gnaw the chopsticks again, you won’t get another bite.”

  I couldn’t think anymore. Did I hear him right? He was telling me to eat the meat?

  “But… that’s yours…”

  “It’s yours. I told you to eat it. All of it.”

  I blinked. My trembling hands no longer listened to me and obeyed him instead. I gripped the plate, clumsily used the chopsticks to pick up a piece of meat, and took a small bite.

  Delicious… Too delicious. There were so many flavors I’d never known before, but the sweetest came from the shimmering golden-brown glaze coating the meat.

  Wait… was water falling from somewhere?

  Was I… crying? No, I couldn’t. I’d ruin the food.

  “Here. Wipe it off. So good you’re crying, huh?”

  He wiped one eye for me and handed me the cloth to do the other.

  “Thank you…”

  “I thought you didn’t have a brain. Didn’t think you knew how to use chopsticks.”

  I glanced at him. He was looking at me with genuine surprise.

  “Sister Agnes taught me,” I said softly, lowering my gaze to the plate.

  “She said eating with your hands isn’t polite.”

  He chuckled and reached out to pat my head. I froze, not daring to move. Unlike Sister Agnes, his touch filled me with fear rather than safety.

  Yet somehow… I wanted that touch. It carried a faint warmth—just a little.

  “From now on, you’ll eat like this every day.”

  “R-really!?”

  “As long as you don’t do anything foolish. Like biting chopsticks, for example.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Would he truly give me food like this every day? His words felt like a ray of hope, yet something in me was still afraid.

  There was something about his tone—warm, but suspicious. I wanted to believe it, even just a little. Surely, I’d have to give something in return for such luxury.

  “What… what do you want me to do for you?” I asked, voice trembling.

  “Do? What else could you do, except be my wife?”

  …Wife? Did I hear that right?

  In fairy tales, when a prince saved a princess from the evil witch, he married her.

  That was something only princes said to princesses. He might be a prince, but I was certainly not…

  “But I’m not a princess. I can’t be your wife.”

  “Who said my wife has to be a princess? The princess of this land isn’t even half as good as you. She’s hideous. You’re far more beautiful.”

  Impossible… Nothing was like what Sister Agnes told me. From eating dragon meat to this—it was all wrong. I didn’t understand!

  The carriage suddenly jolted, and I instinctively looked out the window.

  In the distance, a silver band stretched endlessly, like fallen stars scattered from the sky. White curves danced under the moonlight, breaking against the rocks with a distant whisper, like a song without words.

  The deep blue waters melded with the night sky, dotted with glittering lights. I pressed my face to the glass, forgetting everything else. My chest tightened, tears welling up.

  I had never seen anything like it—vast, endless… like a dream.

  “Like the sea?” the nobleman asked, breaking my trance.

  Sea. Sister Agnes had once told me, her voice warm inside the church: “The sea is where the water and sky meet. The waves sing ancient songs, and if you listen, you will find peace.”

  Now I understood. This was the sea—and it was far more beautiful than her words.

  I nodded. “It’s… beautiful.”

  “When I have time, I’ll take you there. Walk on the sand, listen to the waves… not bad, right?” he said with a faint smile.

  “Really?” My heart leapt. Once again, I wanted to believe him. A long-lost part of me began to hope.

  “If you obediently become my wife.” He leaned close, smiling.

  For some reason, his words made me feel happy. Not quite joy… but something warmer—something I hadn’t felt in years.

  “Can… can you tell me your name?” I blurted out.

  “Call me Valthor. I forgot to ask—what’s your name?”

  “Name? People usually call me witch… or brat. You can call me whatever you want.”

  “Are they blind? And I asked your name, not a nickname. Do you really have no brain…” He frowned in irritation.

  “I’m sorry!”

  Name? Did I even have one? I couldn’t remember. No one had called me by a name in so long.

  “You mean those who took care of you didn’t give you one?”

  Those who took care of me? Was he talking about the sisters at the church? Aside from Sister Agnes, no one really cared for me.

  “You came to me on a full moon night. So I’ll call you Luneth—close to Luna, goddess of the moon.”

  A memory flickered. Sister Agnes… she once called me…

  “Luneth. That’s my name.”

  “Luneth, huh? Beautiful name. Guess those who raised you weren’t entirely worthless.”

  I said nothing more, and neither did he. We remained in silence until the carriage stopped at dawn.

  Before me stood a great castle on a cliff, the sound of waves crashing below. Valthor stepped out first, then took my hand to help me down.

  Unlike when I’d been dragged to the slave market, this time his grip felt… safe.

  “We’re here. Luneth, from today on, this is your home,” Valthor said with a smile.

  “You’ll be taken to bathe. I have business to attend to, so I can’t go with you.”

  At his words, the young woman in the black dress who’d served the meal approached, leading me into the castle. Valthor walked in the opposite direction until his figure faded from view.

  “You should be grateful for his kindness,” the maid said suddenly.

  “This is the first time he’s dared to sit near someone smelling like you. And giving you his dinner? That’s a first too.”

  His dinner? I’d eaten his dinner? Impossible… Why would he do that?

  “H-he’ll starve!”

  “Are you stupid? This is home—there’s plenty of food. Skipping one meal won’t kill him.”

  I exhaled in relief. I had forgotten—Valthor was a noble. Unlike me, he didn’t struggle daily for food.

  Still, just giving up one meal for me…

  I should have only eaten a little. I should’ve left some for him. But every bite had been too delicious…

  “We’re here. Behind this door is the bath. Wash yourself. There are clean clothes inside.”

  She left me there. I hesitated, then stepped in. Warmth enveloped me instantly.

  A bath full of steaming hot water, scented with lavender. It reminded me of Sister Agnes’s garden at the church.

  I stepped in, the heat soothing my scratches and the cold in my bones. How long had it been since I truly bathed?

  In Loran, I only rinsed off in the rain—cold water that could kill you if you stayed too long. That was how I lived… for eight years. I counted the years by how often people changed clothes at Christmas.