Extra Story 4 - A Peaceful Day

At the sound of footsteps approaching down the corridor, Isabella lifted her face.

The stone building trapped cold air inside, making even faint sounds echo clearly.

There was only one person who would deliberately come to Isabella’s room. It was her guardian supervisor, Sister May.

No sooner had the footsteps stopped in front of the room than a loud clanging of a bell rang out.

“Five o’clock in the morning!! All hands, wake up!! Gooood morniiiing!!”

A voice projected from the gut burst through the door along with the bell’s sound, flooding the austere room. Isabella opened the door and looked at the intruder with dull eyes.

“…Good morning, Sister May.”

“Good morning, Isabella.”

May, whose entire body was hidden beneath a habit and whose veil covered her mouth all the way to the hem, wore a peculiar outfit. Only her eyes were visible, and they crinkled into a broad smile as she looked at Isabella.

It had been a year since Isabella had been sent to Sarea Monastery in a state not unlike confinement.

At first, Isabella had wept and raged over her misfortune, but by now she had completely given up. Whether Isabella threatened her, tried to strike her, or attempted to escape, May paid no mind—she would simply smile brightly, roll Isabella up like a bundle, and toss her back into this room. Sometimes, as punishment, meals were withheld.

Lying on the hard bed while clutching her stomach and crying from hunger, Isabella would remember the things she herself had done in the past.

She had treated her elder sister Marguerite far worse than this.

“You have a package.”

Pulled back to reality by May’s voice, Isabella frowned.

Just as only Sister May went out of her way to visit her room, there was likewise only one person who would go out of their way to send letters from the free world outside.

What was different this time was that it was not a letter, but a parcel.

The blue wrapping paper was scattered with stars and circular patterns—or so it seemed at first glance. Looking more closely, they were actually drawings of starfish and shells.

“What is this?”

With a suspicious look, Isabella removed the wrapping to reveal a picture book collecting fairy tales of the sea.

As she flipped through the pages, a brightly colored mermaid caught her eye. The mermaid sang with a beautiful face—to lull sailors into carelessness and draw them into the heart of a storm.

At last, Isabella remembered that her mother used to tell her such stories at bedtime.

She almost lost herself in reading, then hurriedly closed the book and set it beside the table.

“Aren’t you going to send a reply to your elder sister?”

“No. I don’t feel like writing.”

Turning her face away in a huff, Isabella spoke, and Sister May smiled as if troubled. That gentle, coaxing smile—like one used on a stubborn child—only made Isabella angrier.

‘My sister has it easy. She’s living happily in a ducal house now.’

She clenched her teeth, recalling the splendid furnishings of her sister’s room that she had seen only once.

“Isn’t it that you actually want to apologize to your sister?”

“That’s not true. Just leave already.”

Saying this without turning back, Isabella heard May let out a laugh that seemed to make the air tremble.

“When you’re ready, come to the workshop. Today’s tasks are weaving and manuscript copying.”

The door closed with a thud. After a while, the sound of the bell and another booming “Gooood morniiiing!!” echoed faintly from afar.

The monastery’s shouted greetings were more reminiscent of the military than a religious institution. Being located in a remote northern region and often taking in nobles with complicated circumstances, this monastery apparently used such practices to keep the atmosphere from becoming too oppressive. Isabella wondered if she was the only one who felt it did more to grate on the nerves.

After confirming that May’s presence had moved even farther away, Isabella picked up the book and shrugged.

“…Even if I apologized, there’s no way she’d forgive me.”

Her sister had been confined for six years in conditions even worse than this dull, hopeless life that Isabella now despaired over.

Leaving the wing for waking and preparing oneself and heading toward the main building, Isabella found that most people had already gathered.

Sarea Monastery was said to have once been a noble estate.

The workshop had originally been a grand hall, with ornate carvings decorating the ceiling and walls. However, the furnishings that must once have been equally luxurious had all been removed. Only worktables remained, placed at even intervals beneath the large windows.

The nuns each carried out the tasks assigned to them there.

Before that, there was the morning greeting.

The nuns lined up in two facing rows. Watching them from a short distance were those in supervisory roles, such as Sister May. Standing in line with Isabella were novices, newcomers, and younger members.

May stepped forward. A soft sound of her inhaling through the veil could be heard.

“Everyone, gooood morniiiing!! Let’s give it our all today too!!”

Her resonant voice echoed throughout the hall. In response, the nuns lined up in two rows opened their mouths.

“Gooood morniiiing!!”

“The important things are!!”

“Love!! That is, compassion and gratitude!!”

“Be grateful to everyone around you!! And today as well!!”

“Let’s give it our all!!”

‘How many more years do I have to stay here?’

Mouthing along drowsily through the mysterious chant—far stranger even than the wake-up greeting—Isabella stared ahead with eyes like those of a dried fish.