Episode 37

Preparations for the charity bazaar were proceeding smoothly. Just as Rosanna had mentioned, there wasn’t much for the Ingdberry parish to handle. All they needed to do was follow the lead of the butler sent to oversee everything.

Then came the day of the event.

The Ingdberry Cathedral was bustling with life. Tents were set up in a circle along the edges of the courtyard, vendors stood at their posts, and visitors who had come early roamed about. Laughter rang out here and there, adding to the lively atmosphere.

“Wow… I didn’t think it’d be this big. I don’t think just the senior class is enough to handle this.”

“There are volunteers over there, too. Elgon brought them.”

“Who?”

“The butler of Viscountess Dacia.”

“Look at the number of participants. Of course, she’s a celebrity.”

Kyle half-listened to the chatter of his classmates while scanning his surroundings. Each tent sold high-quality goods. The appeal of bazaars was being able to purchase items that were normally unaffordable, and the luxury items and clothing on display looked like they came straight out of boutique shops. These were things the average working-class person would never encounter. Onlookers gawked at the goods, murmuring things like, “Is that price real?”

The size of a charity bazaar was a reflection of its patrons’ influence. The participation of the wealthy indicated that Rosanna’s reputation in social circles was significant.

‘I knew, but still…’

Kyle felt a creeping sense of inadequacy. He blinked, trying to shake it off, and adjusted the volunteer badge pinned to his chest to make it more visible before moving on.

As he walked along the row of tents, he occasionally stopped to help lost visitors find their way, referring to the event guidebook to point them in the right direction. After repeating this a few times, he noticed a particularly crowded tent. Despite being larger than the others—several tents connected to form a single space—it was so packed there was no room to squeeze in. Even passersby stopped out of curiosity, peeking to see what was drawing such a crowd.

What could they be selling? Kyle lingered at a distance, then remembered it was Rosanna’s tent. He’d seen the location marked clearly in the guidebook several times.

‘Is Rosanna there?’

He hesitated to push through the crowd to find out. The memory of his nocturnal incident left him feeling self-conscious about facing her. He wanted to see her, but he wasn’t sure what expression to wear. He needed more time to prepare himself.

Just as he was about to turn and walk away, a voice called out.

“Kyle!”

A familiar voice accompanied by a light tap on his back startled Kyle. He froze instantly, the sensation from his dream coming back to haunt him. It was as if the touch had awakened a phantom memory that coursed through his body. It was agonizing. Rosanna, seemingly unaware, leaned closer, tracing circles on his back with her fingers. It wasn’t even direct contact with his skin, just a light touch, yet his lower body tingled in response.

“Kyle, it’s you, right? Why aren’t you answering?”

“…Rosanna.”

“Yes, it’s me.”

Kyle awkwardly turned to face her.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“No, I’m fine.”

He turned back toward the tent, avoiding her gaze as subtly as he could.

“I was just watching because it’s so crowded. I was curious about what’s being sold.”

“Want to go see?”

Once again, there was no chance to respond. Rosanna casually grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd. Kyle found it oddly comforting to be swept along by her, rather than facing her directly. It even felt a little pleasant. Her smaller, softer hand felt reassuring, like a guiding anchor.

When they reached the interior of the tent, Kyle saw long display tables lined with merchandise: mostly women’s clothing and accessories, with a small section for baby items. Considering the majority of the bazaar’s attendees were women, it was no surprise the stall was packed.

“These are mine and Henry’s things,” Rosanna said, gesturing toward the goods. “There wasn’t enough space to include Henry’s mom’s stuff. When I started sorting, I realized there was way too much to get rid of.”

Kyle glanced at the piles of clothing before turning to Rosanna.

“All of this?”

“I didn’t even touch the dress room. I’ve kept the ones I don’t wear in separate storage.”

“Oh…”

Kyle wasn’t sure how to respond. To him, it seemed like more clothes than one person could wear in a lifetime. Of course, their different social standings meant vastly different lifestyles, but the scale of it was beyond his imagination. It was a stark reminder of how poverty could limit even one’s ability to imagine luxury.

As he stared blankly at the display, his eyes caught the price tags. The items, though second-hand, showed barely any signs of wear, yet the prices were surprisingly low. It was clear why the stall was drawing such a crowd.

“These are really cheap.”

“I told them to price everything the same to keep it simple.”

“They’re too cheap…”

“They’re second-hand items. They have to be affordable, or people won’t even think about buying them.”

It seemed Rosanna didn’t have much concept of pricing—or, more accurately, she didn’t need to care about it.

“Right now, the prices are lower than typical second-hand items. Even if you raised them a bit, they’d still sell well.”

The purpose of a charity bazaar was to raise funds. Customers felt satisfied knowing they were getting good items at fair prices while their money went to a good cause. As long as the prices were reasonable, there was no issue.

“After all, the goal is to gather as much as we can.”

“Why worry about that? If the total’s low, I’ll just pay the rest myself. I am a sponsor of the bazaar, after all.”

“Hmm… that kind of goes against the spirit of the event, doesn’t it…”

“Results are all that matter, right?”

As always, Rosanna had her own simple solution, one that inevitably involved money.

“Still, I’ll do it your way. You’re giving me your opinion, after all.”

She winked and lightly placed a hand on Kyle’s chest, brushing against the volunteer badge pinned there. Despite her innocent action, Kyle recoiled as if he’d been violated.

“Why are you so startled?”

“There are so many people here… I should get back to work. I’ll see you later.”

Kyle blurted out his words mechanically and quickly walked away, practically fleeing. He felt her gaze burning into the back of his head, but he didn’t look back, weaving through the crowd until he was hidden. Only then did he feel a sense of relief.

If he had hesitated even a moment longer, he might have started overlaying the Rosanna from his dreams onto the one in front of him. It was mortifying even to think about. Since he couldn’t fight the intrusive thoughts, avoiding her entirely seemed like the best solution. If she ever found out about the inappropriate dreams or the unspeakable actions his imagination had conjured, even Rosanna might look at him with disdain.

‘Why did I have to dream about that…?’

Of all days, it had to be the worst possible one. He had already ruined the morning of his ordination interview with the dream. Throughout the interview, Kyle had used all his energy trying not to think about Rosanna. Naturally, this left him unable to concentrate, and he must have seemed distracted to those observing. Years of effort at the seminary now felt like they’d gone to waste due to his own failings.

The thought that it was all for nothing stung, but there was no way to undo what had already happened. He felt lost, uncertain of what the outcome would be, and even began wondering if he should explore other paths. But Kyle’s world was limited to the Ingdberry parish: the orphanage, the seminary, and the cathedral. These familiar places had made him believe he was destined to dedicate his life to the clergy. Now, considering an alternative felt like an impossible stretch.

Matthew had always joked about Kyle joining his company, but Kyle knew it wasn’t serious. Even if it were, he wouldn’t accept out of pride. Taking someone else’s spot just because of a personal connection felt wrong. Giving up his vocation didn’t mean abandoning his moral compass; his principles were his last bastion of pride.

‘What if I fail?’

In such moments, he envied his classmates with powerful connections. They had places to return to and the privilege of not worrying about survival. Many of them were from the upper middle class, and for them, theology was just one of many options.

Kyle allowed himself a brief, meaningless fantasy: what if he had been born like them? If he’d attended private schools, gone on a grand tour, completed a university course, and entered society searching for a bride—perhaps he might have met Rosanna in a ballroom. He imagined asking her for a dance, waiting his turn on her dance card, waltzing together, exchanging letters the next day, visiting her townhouse, walking together in the park, and, eventually, discussing marriage. Before he realized it, he was dreaming up the stereotypical path of an aristocrat’s courtship.

‘…This is ridiculous.’

Reality hit him like a bucket of cold water.

Kyle Mason, not a nobleman, would only ever be a blemish on Rosanna’s life. That was a fact he couldn’t deny. And yet, regardless of their status, Rosanna had chosen him. Fate had brought them together, and it was Kyle, not some gentleman of high standing, with whom she had shared her feelings.

‘Yes. She chose me.’

That thought resonated within him, filling him with a sense of pride. His spirits lifted as he looked toward where he thought Rosanna might be. Clenching his fists, Kyle steadied his wavering resolve. He had made up his mind.

‘If I become a deacon this time… I’ll propose.’

 

 

 

 

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