It was a damnable day.
The area from St. Lorenzo Street, in front of the building where Camilla was staying, to St. Antonio Street was covered with snow without exception.
A few sub-priests and kind-hearted neighbors had come out early in the morning to clear the snow, but it had fallen continuously until dawn today. The sky, having poured out everything, was abnormally clear.
“…What’s there to be proud of?”
Standing still and looking up at the sky, Camilla mumbled in a low voice before tapping her shoe against the ground and stepping out into the street. She had to leave home feeling quite displeased.
A neighbor from the house next door cast a sidelong glance at Camilla. It seemed they intended to greet her, but Camilla passed by without a word.
Though she didn’t have eyes on the back of her head, the neighbor, awkwardly raising their hand from behind, was probably scratching their head with a blank expression. It wasn’t the first time this had happened.
Why do they insist on pretending to be friendly? Camilla felt she could understand the sentiment that when she was truly in a bad mood, even innocent people could irritate her just by breathing.
‘Disgusting.’
Their duplicity was nauseating enough to make her want to vomit. Once they glared at her with fierce eyes, only to admit that since the Pope’s decree had been announced, they no longer threw such looks at her outright.
While a few priests still hadn’t shown her any friendly glances, the citizens of the Holy Empire had begun to categorize the military priests as they pleased. They treated those who met their criteria kindly, while those who didn’t were looked at as clear criminals.
That criteria was, “Did they serve on the front lines? Or in the rear?”
Military priests who had served in the front lines had naturally wielded weapons and committed murder alongside the soldiers, making them murderers in the eyes of the citizens of the Holy Empire.
Conversely, the military priests who had treated the wounded and provided relief in the rear were seen as good people who practiced the Lord’s love, even in harsh conditions.
It was utter nonsense. Even Camilla had, a couple of times, killed non-humans in the early days of the war.
If they didn’t mention that fact, the citizens of the Holy Empire wouldn’t cast hostile looks her way. Perhaps if they were priests who strictly adhered to doctrine and principles, it would be different.
– Splash!
As she walked forward, the steps mixing with the dirt or dust stuck to the half-melted snow, it constantly attempted to cling to Camilla’s shoes.
The snow, now discolored to a dark gray and practically akin to filth, half-melted away. Camilla frowned, shaking off her shoes. It was just plain unlucky.
This was why she had come to dislike snowy days. Camilla let out a large sigh filled with multiple meanings as she recalled the winters on the battlefield.
The gazes of people. The eyes of these duplicitous and hypocritical individuals.
The thick snow that relentlessly poured down every winter, becoming mushy each time she took a step.
For Camilla, there was little difference in how she felt about the battlefield and the Holy Empire. This place was a mess in another sense.
That said, she didn’t want to return to the City. Her sister, Camillia, had developed a limp in one leg, so her mother and younger sister had crossed over to the Holy Empire to live together.
Camilla still had precious people left. She couldn’t run away and abandon her family.
Even this incredibly wearying reality was simply wearing Camilla down. The Holy Empire had seemingly no beneficial aspect for her whatsoever.
Rising to the rank of mid-level priest at such a young age? It was no different than bowing and receiving prostration. While rank wasn’t supposed to be accompanied by elements of greed like honor, to Camilla, it didn’t feel honorable in a different sense.
“Sigh…”
As she exhaled, her breath warmed the cold air, turning into white steam that rose gently.
No, it wasn’t steam; it was smoke. Smoke that was exhaled from something burning. Whenever Camilla thought of her sister, it felt as if her heart was being consumed by flames.
The warm, or rather “seemingly warm” gazes of the neighbors, the sharp eyes of some strict middle-aged priest from the church where she was temporarily assigned, and the unkind looks she received every time she went to the hospital.
Could those three be intertwined?
‘Damn it.’
Disillusionment washed over her.
Camilla raised her head. The pristine, beautiful, and clean exterior.
It was the St. Antonio Hospital where Camillia was hospitalized. Walking lost in thought, she had traversed the 20-minute distance on foot before she knew it.
Her chest tightened again. Contrarily, Camilla’s steps moved straight ahead.
Her head was feeling a bit… no, very dizzy. Camilla shook her head slightly and focused her eyes, attempting to shake off the unnecessary headache.
The head was a vessel that contained thoughts and memories that could bounce in any direction.
– I’m sorry, Camilla. Your father…
One step into the hospital.
Along with the disinfectant’s cresol scent came the cold memories.
*
“Camilla! You came again today~!”
Camillia had a foolishly bright smile. She seemed genuinely happy that her younger sister had come to visit.
Seeing her like that, Camilla involuntarily swallowed a sigh, but she quickly managed to return to an indifferent expression. Camillia often wore a mask, thinking of others before her own situation.
“Are you going to say something strange again?”
“Strange? I’m talking to my beloved sister…”
“Enough, how’s your health?”
Camilla naturally sat beside Camillia’s bed. There was always a chair beside her bed. It was because Camilla came to visit every day.
“Yep! There’s no pain anymore!”
“Sigh…”
A sigh escaped her lips naturally. This foolish sister always smiled brightly, showing no care for her own health whatsoever.
– Camilla! The war… it’s too dangerous! You’re still a young student!
The image of a dearly missed person floated up in Camilla’s mind and quickly sank beneath the surface. Her mouth felt bitter.
“What I want to ask is not your thoughts, but the doctor’s opinion. What did the doctor say?”
“Um… they didn’t say much?”
“Sister. Don’t lie.”
Camilla’s finger poked Camillia’s right leg. Each time she did, a weak shiver of vibration rippled through Camillia’s leg.
“See? You’re not fine…”
“…I’m really okay, Camilla. Don’t worry too much…”
“…If you’re really okay, get up and come home quickly. Mother misses you so much.”
“If you bring Mother next time…”
Camillia’s lips automatically sealed before she could finish that thought. Her expression quickly hardened.
Camilla stopped her impending sigh and barely swallowed it down. It felt suffocating and unpleasant, as if a stone was stuck in her throat.
“You know, Sister, Mother has trouble moving…”
“…”
“And, Father passed away…”
“…Is she still very upset?”
“…Yes.”
Camilla refrained from sharing any further detailed information. All she could do was turn a blind eye to Camillia’s desperate eyes, hoping to find out a bit more about the household situation. It was a feeling that tore at her heart.
“So, I’ll probably be coming alone for a while.”
“Uh, yeah… I guess so. Uh… I was too inconsiderate.”
“So, how’s your leg?”
“…Still, a bit.”
Only then did Camillia provide a proper answer. Camilla had anticipated this response even before hearing it, but upon actually hearing it, it felt like all the strength in her body had drained away.
“Right. I guess so… That’s fine.”
“Sorry, Camilla… You’re taking care of the other kids too, right?”
“I’m letting Monica and Moira play near the church. I also occasionally play with them…”
“What about the Academy…?”
“…She really misses the elementary school academy she attended in the City. It seems she had a lot of friends there.”
“Sorry. Because of me…”
Camillia lowered her head and murmured an apology quietly. Noticing her sister’s eyes becoming red, Camilla suppressed her desire to vent her frustrated feelings and gently grasped Camillia’s hand.
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“But…”
“Because Father passed away, coming temporarily to the Holy Empire was an unavoidable choice. Don’t worry too much.”
“There’s no one saying strange things to the family… right?”
“…”
Camilla felt her heart drop. Though her mouth opened, her foolishness was such that words didn’t come out, and all she could do was release her breath with resentment.
There were indeed people who took advantage of Camilla and Camillia’s involvement in the war to harm her family… Unfortunately, there were.
Monica and Moira, her younger sisters, without proper friends, still played alone in the park in front of the church. Camilla had never once seen them play with children their age.
Wanting to return to the elementary school academy in the City probably stemmed from that reason.
The subtle distancing that occurs among children. To put it simply, it was behavior akin to ostracism. Every time Camilla passed by several children playing in the middle of the park and caught sight of her two younger sisters playing in a corner of the park, she felt as if her heart would burst. Children were pure; they could harbor malice.
But, but…
‘How can I say that…?’
Camillia was in a condition where she had trouble moving. It would likely remain so, and Camilla didn’t want to unnecessarily burden her sister with pointless guilt.
“There’s nothing like that, so don’t worry. If there are such people, I’ll handle it.”
Camilla lied. Upon hearing her words, Camillia stared into Camilla’s eyes, remaining silent for a moment.
“…If Camilla says so, then it must be so. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Seemingly reassured by Camilla’s words, Camillia’s eyes began to slowly blink. Recognizing this, Camilla tried to stand up first discreetly.
“…Huh?”
If only she had not noticed the small notepad placed on the bedside table between Camillia’s bed and the adjacent bed.
“This is…”
“Ah… it’s the notepad of the person in the next bed. I think they said they were writing a diary…”
“…I see.”
Camilla put the notepad back down. She didn’t have a bad habit of peeking into someone else’s diary.
“By the way, you wouldn’t have met, right?”
“Who?”
“The person in the adjacent bed. They are also a military priest. I think they went out to smoke for a bit…”
Before Camilla could respond, Camillia began to tell her several stories about the person in the next bed.
She shared that the person was a smoker, that they had deep emotional scars and were somewhat distant, but that they tended to show consideration, as they always came back without the smell of smoke…
“A nice person. It seems they’ve lost a lot, though.”
While Camillia continued her narrative, Camilla stared blankly at the adjacent bed.
On the sign hanging at the foot of the bed was the name “Lucio Antorelli.”
