"Was that the entire reason behind your locum?"

  “. . . I met Viena and Lisabelle months ago. Something seemed off about them—about her—and I couldn’t just pretend I hadn’t noticed. So, I began investigating on my own, and you were the only lead I had. But it seems... I misjudged you. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

  Laura looked away, puffing her cheeks in frustration. Randia stood up and walked over to her, carrying the vial of white powder. He handed it back to her, in exchange for the items she had been rifling through from his rge bag.

  “The feeling is mutual. I misjudged you too, and I owe you an apology. Now that we’ve cleared things up—what do you pn to do?”

  Just then, Viena came back into the room alone. She hesitated at the doorway, sensing she was interrupting something serious. Her eyes shifted between Randia and Laura, and she timidly asked if she could join whatever discussion was taking pce. But before either of them could answer, Randia spoke first.

  “Where’s Lisabelle?”

  “She met a friend here and went off with them somewhere. She told me not to wait and to go home with you instead, Papa!”

  “You do realize I’m not leaving for a few more hours, right?”

  “Mmhm! That’s okay! I’ll help you with your work! Oh, and I wanted to ask about that thing you taught me—the difference between a xative and a purgative!”

  “Alright. Do me a favor first—take this list to the nursing sisters. We’re running low on supplies. And bring your pillow. Once you’re done, take a nap. You’ll help me afterward.”

  Viena beamed and nodded eagerly before dashing off with the list in hand. Laura watched the little girl disappear through the doorway, a soft smile forming on her lips. She had never felt so gd to be wrong about someone.

  “I think I’ll stick around for a while,” she said. “It’s rare to find an oddball like this one. I have a feeling it’ll be... fun.”

  Randia sighed and rolled his eyes. “Of course you will.”

  “W-What’s with that response?!” she huffed, scandalized.

  It was five in the evening. Viena and Randia were walking home together. Along the way, they stopped to buy a bag of gougères—freshly baked, sweet-savory puffs that Viena could never resist. While waiting for the warm pastry to finish baking, Viena looked around and noticed the unusual bustle around them. People passed by carrying wooden and metal poles, bundles of fabric, carts filled with spices, and even pots overflowing with flowers.

  “Papa.”

  “Hm?”

  “Is it just me, or has everyone seemed much busier than usual these past few days? I wonder what’s going on . . .”

  “Now that you mention it,” Randia replied, “Mil told me there’s going to be a festival soon.”

  “Oh! That’s right! The festival!”

  Viena lit up with excitement as the memory returned. She immediately unched into a stream of chatter, recounting the conversation she had with Lisabelle and the others at La Muse. For nearly ten minutes, she rambled on with such enthusiasm that it gave Randia a headache. She insisted they attend all 41 events scheduled for the festival. Although it was obviously impossible, Randia didn’t respond right away. He didn’t want to burst her happy bubble. He waited patiently for her to settle down before gently nudging her back to reality.

  “Even if you say all that... you know we can’t go to every event, right?”

  “Eeh? Why not?”

  “If every medevist took a long holiday, can you imagine how many bodies would be rolling in the streets?”

  “But you work so te—five days a week! And weekends, too! Surely you deserve a whole month off!”

  “Like I said, it wouldn’t be fair to the others.”

  “Well, it’s not fair to you either!”

  Randia reached into her snack bag and took a bite of the still warm gougères. Then, he gently ruffled Viena’s hair.

  “I got to taste something this sweet. Now it’s fair.”

  “What does that even mean?! It’s still not!”

  There was a pause. Randia’s expression shifted. “. . . Do you remember what life was like beyond these walls, Viena?”

  “H-Huh? Why are you bringing that up?”

  Randia stopped walking and turned to face her. His gaze was strange—both anxious and content. Viena, though on the verge of a full-blown tantrum, held herself back and waited for him to speak.

  “This is a chance for me to earn favor and respect from my peers and from the bishop. I want to cover for them, let them enjoy the festival. That way, when difficult times come, they’ll remember this and stand by me.”

  “But what about you? How long do you pn to keep doing this?”

  “Until it’s no longer necessary,” Randia said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Then . . . T-Then—it’s unfair to me! I want to spend time outside with you too!”

  He stared at her for a long moment, her teary eyes pleading with him. Finally, he let out a long sigh.

  “Fine. One day.”

  “FIVE DAYS!”

  “Two.”

  “Four!”

  “Don’t push your luck, kid.”

  “Four!”

  “. . . Three. Take it or leave it.”

  “FOUUUUR!” Viena was now bouncing on her heels, stomping fervently.

  “One day it is, then.”

  “Alright! Alright! Three! You promised me! Three whole days, okay?!”

  Eventually, they struck a deal—three days to enjoy the festival together, though not consecutively. That way, they wouldn’t draw suspicion or concern from the cathedral’s community. With the agreement sealed and the pastry bag nearly empty, the two continued on their way home, arriving just in time for dinner.

  [11:00 PM – Lisabelle’s Room]

  Viena sat curled up on Lisabelle’s bed, a book in her hands and a bnket over her legs. She was waiting for her older sister to return. Lisabelle had left shortly after putting Eleanor to bed, saying nothing more than she wouldn’t be back until te—and asking Viena to pretend she was already asleep if anyone asked. The way she left, quiet and secretive, only made Viena more suspicious.

  She passed the time by reading a romance novel, completely absorbed, until the door clicked open.

  “Oh? You’re still awake?”

  “L-Lily! You're home already? I didn’t even hear the door!”

  Startled, Viena hastily stuffed the book under the bnket. Thankfully, Lisabelle didn’t seem to notice.

  “Where have you been? It’s so te . . . aren’t you cold?”

  “La Muse. I had to handle something. We only have one week left, and there are still some things to fix.”

  Lisabelle removed her robe and began changing clothes. In the process, Viena caught a glimpse of a dark bruise on her sister’s arm. Her curiosity fred. She jumped off the bed and approached her.

  “What’s this? What were you doing?” she asked, lifting Lisabelle’s bruised arm.

  “I told you—fixing things.”

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “I will tell you if you promise not to tell anyone. Especially Grandma.”

  “O-Okay! I won’t! But you need to treat this! I can ask Papa for some ingredients and make a salve—”

  “No need. I heal faster than most. It’ll be gone by morning. Just wait and see if you don’t believe me.”

  Viena reluctantly dropped the subject. Only then did Lisabelle begin to share more. She talked about the project she and her group had been working on for months. Everything was going according to pn—except for a growing problem with thugs harassing their mostly-teenage crew.

  “Anyone can pn and py. But sometimes, to keep pying, you need drastic measures.”

  “Like . . . violence?”

  “One of my favorites.”

  “But Papa says violence doesn’t solve everything.”

  “Oh, believe me—you just haven’t used enough of it.” Lisabelle smirked, undoing her braid.

  Viena stared at her sister, concerned. She remembered something Randia had once told her when she asked to visit Neims: Even a brat can get so unstable, she stabs someone on the street. A question began to form in her mind.

  “What if. . . what if one day I become a problem for you? Would you do the same to me?”

  Lisabelle shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll give you a good sp or pinch you so hard you bawl for an hour.”

  “T-That’s so mean! I hate you!”

  “Ahaha! Come here, you stupid midget bunny.”

  Lisabelle lunged at her, tickling her sides and blowing raspberries on her stomach. The two ughed uncontrolbly, so much so that they woke Eleanor upstairs. But the old woman simply smiled at the sound, thinking how lovely it would be to wake up to such joy every day.

  As they rolled and pyed, the book slipped out from beneath the bnket. Lisabelle stood up and picked it up, still catching her breath.

  “What’s with the drama earlier? You saw a bruise and started acting all serious. What were you reading, huh? Must’ve messed with your head.” She pced one hand on her hip.

  She gnced at the title: Mead of Erlington. Lisabelle blinked in disbelief.

  “Where did you find this book?”

  “I-I don’t know! I-I just . . . found it!” Viena cried, snatching it back, her face flushed with embarrassment.

  Lisabelle jumped off the bed and stormed over to her rge cabinet. She opened the top drawer—where she always hid the risqué books since Viena had learned to read. She had assumed the girl was still too short to reach. But now she noticed tiny footprints on the cabinet knobs and marks on the curtain.

  “You climbed up here using the curtain and the knobs?!”

  “N-No . . . ?”

  Lisabelle opened the drawer and gasped. Two other books were missing.

  “Where are the others?!”

  Without a word, Viena bolted. But she didn’t make it far—Lisabelle was faster. Before Viena could even open the door, her sister grabbed her colr and yanked her back inside, locking the door behind her.

  “You naughty brat! Does your dad even know what you’ve been reading?!” Lisabelle cracked her knuckles.

  “I-If you know what’s in them, then you must’ve read them too! You can’t judge me!”

  Lisabelle gave her a light smack on the head—not hard, but enough to make Viena drop the book. The two started squabbling, accusing each other while revealing the contents of the novels—romantic stories filled with taboo subjects: forbidden love, polyamory, even incest.

  “Are you crazy?! You’re nine! You're not ready for any of this!”

  “I-I'm not influenced! I don’t even agree with most of it!”

  “Enough! I’m telling your dad!”

  “No, please!”

  “Ha! Now you’re scared. That means you know you’ve done something wrong!”

  “But they’re your books! Granny will be mad at you too!”

  Lisabelle’s cheeks flushed red. “They’re not my books! They were my mother’s!”

  Before Viena could process that bombshell, Lisabelle grabbed her by the ear and marched her to Randia’s room. She banged on the door, then stormed in, waking him up.

  “Hey! Get up! Look what your daughter’s been doing!”

  “. . . What happened?” Randia mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

  Without waiting, Lisabelle tossed him the book and pointed out a specific section.

  “You should be paying more attention to her. You think this is okay for a nine-year-old to read?”

  Randia skimmed the pages. His eyes darkened.

  “Absolutely not. This is for adults. Viena—why would you read something like this?”

  Viena didn’t answer. She just sobbed.

  “Don’t cry yet! Cry after you give me the other two books. Where are they?”

  “Wait—there’s more?” Randia’s voice tightened.

  Silently, Viena crawled under her bed and pulled out a second book. But only one.

  “Where’s the st one?”

  “I-In . . . Papa’s *sob* workroom . . . at the cathedral . . .”

  Lisabelle’s jaw dropped. “You took it there? Have you lost your mind? If anyone finds out, you won’t just get a scolding—”

  “—She won’t walk away with just that here, either.”

  Randia stood up, his expression thunderous. He reached for the belt slung over the chair. The moment Viena saw it, panic shot through her like a jolt. Randia had never struck her before—not like this.

  He whipped the belt down—twice across her calf, twice across her thigh. Each sh was sharp, clean, and filled with restrained anger. At one point, as Viena instinctively tried to shield her leg, the belt caught her hand instead, sending a sting through her fingers.

  “W-Wait! Stop! That’s enough!”

  Lisabelle jumped in, grabbing Randia’s wrist. Her heart panged with guilt and pity. Without thinking, she stepped between them.

  Lisabelle seized Randia’s hand mid-swing, halting him. Pity and compassion welled up inside her faster than she expected, and without a second thought, she rushed to protect her little sister.

  "I already get rough with her. There's no need for you to waste your time doing it all over again . . . Just talk some sense to her, okay?"

  Randia puts the belt back and sits back on his bed. Meanwhile Viena is crying on the floor holding her legs, Lisabelle went to take the books back to her room with her. She leaves the room quietly, looking sad and full of disbelief. She never expected that Randia can go that far given how he usually behaves.