Christoph And Lyset (1)

Morten carefully stepped inside, making sure none of the other nuns noticed. Behind him, Fynel reassured Joachim with a pat on the shoulder and followed.

Though he had claimed otherwise to Joachim, Morten’s eyes were fixed not on Roze, but on Lyset.

When Roze muttered something, Lyset turned to her as if to ask about it. She still carried traces of a girl, but from the side she was unmistakably the woman he had seen in that cabin long ago.

“What in the—!”

Morten muttered in shock. Up close, it was undeniable.

“Hm! Sir Morten…”

Even Fynel was struck speechless.

Sensing the sound behind her and the weight of a stare, Lyset turned—and started when she saw unfamiliar men. Roze followed her motion and turned as well.

“Ah! Father?!”

Morten ignored his daughter’s startled cry and locked eyes with Lyset. Striding forward, he seized her long black hair in his fist.

“Father! What are you doing?!”

Roze’s shout made all the nearby nuns turn. Some screamed, others pointed, alerting those around them.

As the commotion grew, Fynel hurried over and grasped Morten’s arm, which still clutched Lyset’s hair.

“Sir Morten! Too many eyes are watching. This is—”

But Morten did not curse her or strike her. He simply held her hair and stared.

‘Impossible. Natural, un-dyed black hair…’

“It hurts—it hurts! Please, let go!”

Grimacing, on the verge of tears, Lyset’s face was clenched in his rough hand as Morten stared into her blue eyes.

‘The eye color is different. Yet how can she be so…’

“Father! What are you doing to a nun?!”

“Sir Morten! Please, enough…”

As murmurs spread, several elder nuns rushed over in alarm.

Morten finally released Lyset’s face.

“There was something I had to confirm. Forgive me.”

Morten strode out the door. Fynel gave Lyset a quick apology before following.

Standing outside the open door was Christoph, who had just come down. Through the gap, his eyes met Lyset’s—hers wide with fear, her hair disheveled as she tried to smooth it.

“Ah…!”

Christoph gaped at her.

“Uh…?”

Lyset, seeing Christoph.

A noble youth her own age, clad in finery, with reddish-gold hair, stood gazing at her in rapture.

His sharp jawline, straight nose, and amber-flecked eyes full of curiosity burned as they fixed on her.

That gaze, brimming with untainted longing, made Lyset’s heart race.

Her cheeks flushed before she knew it.

In that brief instant, their eye contact was broken by Morten and Fynel stepping through the door.

Once they exited, Joachim and Christine quickly shut the door, trembling at the uproar inside. Never had they expected such turmoil. Morten gave Joachim’s shoulder a firm pat.

“As Knight Commander, I’ll take full responsibility. Don’t fret. Nothing will come of it.”

And the two ascended to the second floor.

Behind them, a maid hurried up, making the sign of the Cross over Joachim and Christine before bowing deeply to Christoph.

“My Lord Christoph, you mustn’t dash off like that.”

“Hm? Hilder, I’m fine. I just feel like I’ve seen someone extraordinary—as if my whole life up to now has lost its meaning!”

“Whoever it was, this is not a place you may enter freely.”

“I didn’t enter. I only looked through the door…”

A girl who feels like destiny itself…

But Christoph could not bring himself to say it aloud.

“Sister Lyset, are you alright?”

Roze gently smoothed Lyset’s hair and held her lightly as if to reassure her.

“What happened, Sister Roze? And Sister Lyset?”

When the nun in charge of the Eucharist hurried over, Roze gave her a quick explanation. There wasn’t much to tell: the Knight Commander and the Captain of the Guard had appeared, and the Commander had grabbed Lyset’s hair, inspected her face, and left.

“Why would such a thing happen? Was there any reason to suspect something?”

“I don’t know…”

Tears welled in Lyset’s eyes as she managed to answer.

Even Roze, who had been by Lyset’s side for four years, could think of no reason. The fact that the man who had acted so roughly was Morten, the Knight Commander—and her father—only deepened her confusion.

“I’m sorry, Sister Lyset.”

“No, Sister Roze… I’ll be fine.”

“Yes… it must have been some mistake. He did apologize before leaving.”

At that, the nun in charge of the Eucharist let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“If he apologized, then it must indeed have been some misunderstanding. I will record and report the incident. For now, please focus on the Mass.”

Everyone turned their attention back to the service. After the Eucharist came the reading of congratulatory letters from each duchy’s cathedrals, followed by instructions for the New Year’s Eve Grand Mass.

At last, the closing of the Grand Mass began.

The congregation Roze to sing hymns, received the benediction, and, as the choir chanted verses in humming harmony, began filing out row by row from the back.

The back row Roze first. Joachim and Christine opened the doors wide, and Lyset and Roze’s group exited.

As Lyset stepped outside, she spotted Christoph standing some distance away with his maid. He looked at her with the same eyes brimming with yearning as before.

‘Who is that noble youth… that statuesque figure, as if sculpted by God Himself…’

Unaware, her face flushed again as she let Roze guide her along—yet she kept glancing back at the young lord again and again.

A week later at the New Year’s Eve Grand Mass, and again months later at the Easter Grand Mass, Christoph managed to find Lyset’s seat every time.

And when Christoph gazed at her, she somehow always found him too—whether from the balcony where the Lord’s family sat, during the recessional, or when the congregation assembled. Their eyes met again and again, against all odds.

“Hilde, I want to ask you something.”

On the way back from Easter Mass, in the carriage, Christoph spoke to Hilde, his nurse and handmaiden.

“Yes, My Lord. Ask anything.”

“Must a consecrated nun live as one for her entire life?”

“Yes. Once one enters the convent, she must keep her body and spirit pure, dedicate herself to the Lord, and endure temptation and suffering for life.”

“Can she ever leave, if she wishes to quit?”

“No, never.”

Hilde’s answer was firm, followed by further explanation.

If she committed an unforgivable sin or if something hidden was revealed, she could be punished—but never by release. Instead, she would be confined to pray forever in an underground cell, or forced into lifelong hard labor as penance.

“Even if her family were destroyed for treason or heresy, the nun herself would be completely protected. Once she joins, she belongs to the Lord, not to her family.”

“Then, what if, say, a duke gave the order…”

“Canon law is separate from the laws of the Duchy. In truth…”

Hilde glanced around and lowered her voice.

“The Cathedral is not under the Duchy’s control. Some even whisper the Duchy is beneath the Cathedral. Your mother, the Duchess, resents this deeply.”

“I see…”

Christoph drooped, but he wasn’t ready to give up.

“Where else can one see nuns, apart from Mass or the convent?”

“Well… they serve in many places: soup kitchens, infirmaries, facilities run jointly by the Cathedral and the Duchy. And yes, some also work in the library.”

“Hm. I see. Thank you.”

Christoph nodded.

After that, Christoph begged Yodel and the Duchess several times to let him deliver donations personally to the soup kitchens and infirmaries.

As heir to the Duchy, such gestures of charity were admirable; no one sought to stop him.

Their names being praised only strengthened their authority, a welcome outcome.

The Duchess in particular was delighted with Christoph’s public deeds and supported him eagerly.

“Go as often as you like. Let such good deeds spread your name and image throughout the Duchy.”

After all, whatever left the treasury would be refilled by the peasants; if it ran short, the tax rate could simply be raised.

To the Duchess, a son who acted with purpose and grew in stature was far more promising than Yodel, who spent all day holed up, preying on his maids.

Thus Christoph made visits to soup kitchens and infirmaries, personally inspecting each place.

Of course, what he truly sought was Lyset among the volunteers. But to those working there, his presence as a Young Lord inspired only admiration and praise.

After several visits confirmed she wasn’t there, Christoph resolved to search the library and archives next. If not there either, then she must serve only within the convent—meaning he would never see her outside Mass.

The Cathedral library was technically open to all, but in practice was frequented only by nobles, seminary students, and priests.

Into that quiet space Christoph entered, with Hilde at his side.

“What brings the Young Lord to the library?”

A middle-aged priest greeted him at the entrance with a smile.

“Mm… I came to look up some old sagas. You could say I’ve taken an interest in history.”

“Very good. Historical records and texts are kept inside. A priest there will assist you.”

Christoph told Hilde to wait outside and entered alone.

The smell of old paper Roze from countless tomes. Ancient but sturdy shelves stretched endlessly, forming a library unmatched in scale across Nordenheim or even Midlenheim—surpassed only by the Holy Empire.

Priests and young nobles read and copied manuscripts at tables. A young priest pushed a cart stacked with books through the aisles.

The guide priest approached Christoph quietly.

“Peace in the Lord be with you, Young Lord. Thank you for honoring the library with your presence. I am Odense, the guide priest. Is there something you seek?”

“Ah… I just came to look around. I am interested in history, but I’ll browse a bit first before asking for help.”

“Call on me whenever you wish.”

Passing Odense, Christoph wandered between the maze-like shelves, pretending to browse while scanning the room.

But the shelves towered above him, completely blocking his sightlines, and clerks and readers busied themselves everywhere—hardly convenient.

Then.

At the end of a shelf.

Through a small gap in the books, Christoph glimpsed a girl dusting with a rag.

Long black hair, a pale neck, flushed cheeks…

Even from behind, he knew.

Gulp.

Christoph swallowed without realizing. Somehow, the silent sound seemed to reach her—Lyset froze mid-motion.

Slowly, she turned.

Through the empty gap in the shelf.

Their eyes met—closer than ever before.

Thump.

Both their hearts froze for an instant, then thundered as if they might burst.