Episode 15

Rosanna set down the glass jar and stared directly at Kyle. The yearning in her gaze was unmistakable, and Kyle found himself unable to look away.

“I’ve changed my mind about returning to Lumanó. Lately, I’ve been enjoying myself,” she said.

“Because you’re spending time with me?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah,” she replied softly.

“It’s an honor to hear that I’ve brought you joy. With all the parties and social events happening, I thought I might be taking too much of your time.”

Rosanna shook her head.

“I ignore most of the invitations during the social season. Always have.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?”

“They’re not worth much.”

The thought of those self-absorbed faces interrupting this peaceful moment was unbearable. Rosanna buried her past experiences deep in her mind and focused on Kyle. Just watching him seemed to cleanse any lingering irritation. She suddenly understood why Tanesia kept decorative plants close by—to lift her mood.

If someone could make you feel good just by being near, they deserved attention.

“There’s no such thing as a meeting without a benefit. That’s how high society works. Just because you shake hands and chat doesn’t mean someone’s a friend. If you open up, your words might be used against you later.”

“Oh…”

“But you… you welcome me without expecting anything in return.”

In her long life, it had been rare to meet someone who didn’t want something from her. She never imagined such a rare connection would appear in Britna of all places. Finding Kyle had been a discovery that ended the monotony of her days. It was only natural that her feelings about living in Britna had shifted.

Kyle Mason was the spring that had appeared before Rosanna when she was withering away.

“That’s why you’re special,” she said quietly.

“You’re flattering me… now I feel a bit of pressure.”

Kyle said, running a hand over the back of his neck, a habit of his when he was embarrassed.

“I’ll always be here to listen to your troubles. You know how it feels after you talk things out—everything seems lighter. If you have no one else to turn to, you can rely on me.”

“I do have something to talk about. Come here,”

Rosanna said, patting the empty seat next to her. Kyle, though hesitant, moved closer, steadying himself as he sat beside her. He was so obedient, like a loyal dog that only listened to its owner. Now she understood why humans enjoyed keeping pets.

“Kyle, you know what? You’re adorable.”

Rosanna leaned toward him, resting her hand on his firm thigh. Without any warning, she kissed him. It was short, a quick peck, but it was Kyle’s first kiss.

Kyle froze, his lips trembling, and Rosanna could feel the nervousness through that brief contact. For someone who used to think that such simple gestures were meaningless, she found herself reconsidering. This wasn’t so bad—it showed her that she had the power to make Kyle uneasy, to make him feel something.

When she pulled away and opened her eyes, she saw Kyle staring at her in shock.

“W-Why… why all of a sudden…?”

Kyle stammered. He glanced around, saw Henry, and seemed momentarily alarmed before sighing in relief when he realized the boy was still fast asleep.

Rosanna watched him like a silent spectator of a one-man show, then reached out and gently touched his cheek.

“Want to do it again?” she asked.

“Ah, no, that’s not right,” Kyle stammered as he hurriedly pulled away from Rosanna’s grasp, though there wasn’t much room to escape in the small boat. His panicked reaction, fluttering like a small animal despite his large frame, only made Rosanna’s desire to keep him close grow stronger.

‘Kyle, you have to become my attachment doll,’

* * *

Kyle had no idea how he made it through the night.

Ever since that unexpected kiss, something in his mind had broken down, leaving him with only fragmented memories. He vaguely recalled Henry waking up, awkwardly covering the strange tension that lingered, and then hastily saying goodbye after getting off the boat. Once back in his dormitory, he skipped dinner and buried himself in bed early, but sleep didn’t come. Not even as dawn broke.

After tossing and turning for what felt like forever, Kyle finally gave up. He got out of bed, washed up, and dressed as usual before heading to the empty chapel in the dormitory.

He often arrived early to the chapel to pray in the quiet, but today was different. The peacefulness he usually found in morning prayer was tainted by the lingering sense of guilt. Today, his prayer felt more like a confession.

‘Lord, please cleanse me of the unholy feelings that have taken root in my heart…’

Technically, he hadn’t violated any moral code of the clergy. The kiss had been unexpected, an accident of sorts. After all, even some theology students were engaged, and a kiss wasn’t inherently sinful.

The problem was Kyle’s conscience. It felt as if he had committed a great transgression, enough to rob him of sleep. More than the kiss itself, it was the emotions that came afterward that weighed on him.

For someone like Kyle, who had always prided himself on his unwavering devotion to the clergy, seeing other nobles approach the priesthood without the same commitment gave him a sense of moral superiority. Now, however, that pride was crumbling. His belief in dedicating everything to his vocation had been his source of self-worth, but now that belief felt shaky. What would remain of him if he abandoned that conviction?

Kyle hated himself for the first time.

Prayer was supposed to bring him clarity, a path back to righteousness. But today, distracting thoughts clouded his mind.

‘..Lead me not into temptation. Amen.’

Opening his eyes, Kyle sighed deeply. The prayer hadn’t helped. Usually, no matter the inner conflict, he could find peace through prayer, but today the threads of his thoughts were too tangled. The disappointment gnawed at him—the bitter taste of his first real failure to find answers in his faith.

The mind is a fickle thing, even if it belongs to you, Kyle reflected. It was like a flame, flickering persistently, refusing to be extinguished, no matter how much you wished it to fade.

“Haah.”

Kyle hoped that following his usual routine would help clear his head. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on his prayers, one scene kept replaying over and over in his mind.

The kiss by the lake.

Every time he inhaled, he could almost smell Rosanna’s intoxicating scent. It wasn’t the artificial fragrance of perfume but something uniquely hers. That brief moment, which should have been fleeting, stretched out in his mind as if it lasted an eternity. That scent, mixed with the feel of her lips, had twisted his sense of time.

And after the kiss? What had happened?

She had been calm, as though nothing had happened, while Kyle had mumbled clumsy words like an awkward boy.

“If Henry had seen us, what would you have done?” he had stammered.

“What’s the problem?”

“Kissing in front of a child… that’s inappropriate…”

“I didn’t attack you. A kiss is just a greeting.”

She had responded, her casual tone laced with arrogance.

At times, Rosanna displayed an aloofness that unsettled Kyle. It was as though people who didn’t interest her were mere furniture in her world.

The thought of kissing someone like that… it felt like a fantasy—something no one would believe if he told them. Even to him, the kiss felt surreal, as though it were the product of some wild imagination. For those few seconds, he had experienced a whirlwind of emotions that he’d never felt before, and now it all seemed like a dream.

But beneath those layers of emotion, once peeled back, Kyle knew what lay at the core: desire. He wasn’t naive, despite his lack of romantic experience. As a man, he knew what that feeling was—it was sexual attraction. The tension in his body, the way his legs had reacted in that moment—it all stemmed from that primal desire. When she had touched his thigh during the kiss… it had felt far too good.

Remembering that sensation made him want to crawl into a hole.

“Get it together, Kyle.”

He muttered to himself, rubbing his face roughly with his hands. ‘What kind of disgraceful behavior is this?’

In the sanctity of the chapel, no less! If he could, he would’ve grabbed himself by the collar and shaken himself awake.

He should have put a stop to it the moment it happened, told her it wasn’t right.

“Pointless regrets,” he whispered.

Even if he could go back, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to refuse her. From the moment she kissed him, she had taken over his thoughts completely. What else could he have done? Could he really have rejected her?

“Rosanna…”

Saying her name without the title “sister” felt strange. And yet, his heart raced at the sound.

Kyle’s thoughts began to spiral.

How much of what Rosanna said and did could he trust? How sincere were her feelings? Were they fleeting, like a dress discarded after a season? Or… could they be something more enduring?

Kyle, who had little experience with women, found this question perplexing.

“How could I know? I don’t even understand my own heart,” he muttered.

At first, he had thought it was nothing more than a strange coincidence. When the handkerchief returned to him, he learned it had come from Rosanna—the woman he had briefly met during the Eucharist, passed on to him by Bishop Johan. When Kyle later realized that Rosanna was the woman who had stumbled on the bench that day, it started to feel like something out of a romantic novel. Meeting beneath the cathedral spire before truly knowing one another—it was the kind of encounter one might read about in the opening chapter of a love story.

If not for that handkerchief, if Kyle hadn’t stopped to help her that day, if he hadn’t spoken to her after the Eucharist… he might have remained just one of the many people who passed by her.

Could it be destiny? If so, that might even explain why he had impulsively given her his real name instead of his baptismal name. A predestined attraction…

No, this was going too far. It was cowardly to chalk everything up to God’s will. If he was being honest with himself, he realized that a part of him had wanted to keep their connection alive. Though he hadn’t realized it at the time, now that he reflected on it, it was clear. Sharing his name and showing her the orphanage where he grew up—it had all been his way of ensuring she wouldn’t forget him. He wanted to leave an impression on her.

“So this is what it feels like… to like someone.”

It seemed that Rosanna had understood Kyle’s feelings better than he had. She hadn’t called it kindness—she had called it affection.

His hasty departure after the boat ride made sense now. She had hit the nail on the head, and it had unnerved him. Kyle had convinced himself that his fondness for her was simple admiration or a longing for the freedom she seemed to embody, a freedom he thought he could never dream of. But now that he realized it was more than that, now that he understood he was seeing her as a woman… his heart was in turmoil. He had no idea how to handle these feelings.

Had his prayers been lacking in sincerity? Was that why he hadn’t received an answer?

Kyle rested his elbows on the pew’s wooden ledge, clasping his hands together in prayer. As his forehead touched his hands, his mind settled into the darkness created behind his closed eyes—a personal sanctuary.

His second prayer stretched on until sunlight began to filter through the chapel windows.