Robert nervously brushed back his long bangs.
Memories he’d tried to bury began to weigh on him.
“Even there, they’re still clinging to the Kadir faith…”
Before Dephria’s religion became the official state faith, the Rotanders Empire hosted many religions.
The Kadir faith, worshipping the god of wisdom, was the most prominent.
Its alignment with the empire’s conservative traditions allowed it to permeate society easily.
Kadir priests and devout followers tattooed an owl’s eye—a symbol of wisdom—on their foreheads.
Those with the tattoo were meticulous in their conduct.
The Kadir faith cautioned against excessive pleasure and chance.
“You reap what you sow” was its core doctrine.
Over time, some of Kadir’s strict rules grew oppressive.
Clothing and even daily diets were regulated.
Devotees obsessively followed these rules, competing with each other and shunning those who didn’t.
Dissatisfaction with Kadir’s rigidity was mounting when a rebellion shook the empire.
With the regime change, Dephria’s faith was declared the state religion, sidelining others.
Dephria’s temples gleamed with gold year-round. Its pope indulged in luxuries surpassing the emperor’s.
As the goddess of fortune, Dephria valued random luck over individual effort.
Monthly offerings were determined by rolling two sixteen-sided dice.
Before chance, nobles and commoners were equal—a stark contrast to Kadir’s teachings.
People embraced the new faith, but religious persecution soon followed.
Strangely, it targeted Kadir’s followers most aggressively, as if to erase their existence.
Kadir’s temples were razed, replaced by Dephria’s. Even rural shrines weren’t spared.
The Dephria pope branded Kadir a fraudulent faith, claiming its strict rules were scams to extract offerings.
Kadir’s great temple once housed the Flame of Wisdom, unquenchable and inextinguishable.
The pope used it.
Before a crowd, he extinguished the Flame. Some Kadir priests knew it was a fake, but, already captured, they couldn’t prove it.
The true Flame vanished.
The pope fabricated evidence, disillusioning many Kadir followers, who converted to Dephria.
Yet some held fast to their faith.
But no place welcomed the remaining Kadir devotees. Persecution persisted.
Over time, other religions faded from memory.
Only Kadir’s negative legacy—as a deceitful sect—endured.
The owl tattoo, once a mark of wisdom, became a symbol of misfortune.
No one believed in Kadir anymore.
Surviving Kadir devotees hid their tattoos with hoods or long bangs.
Most wandered or settled in remote villages.
Younger generations, rejecting the faith, burned or slashed the tattoos off their foreheads.
Robert was one such youth. His family had served as Kadir priests for generations.
Despite brutal persecution, their lineage endured.
Robert’s childhood was marred by this tradition.
He denied Kadir’s existence. The god had brought him only misery.
If a true god existed, his family wouldn’t suffer so.
But the teachings, ingrained from the womb, clung to him.
He’d torn off his tattoo and fled his family, yet the doctrines haunted him.
Whenever he acted like a Kadir devotee, he wanted to end himself.
Then he met Zeppelin.
Cast out, Robert worked as an informant, investigating missing puppeteers.
Clues pointed to the Devonshire estate.
Approaching it, he was caught by the hounds.
Instead of anger, Zeppelin valued Robert’s information-gathering skills.
He spared Robert’s life in exchange for becoming a hound.
Robert couldn’t refuse—Zeppelin held his family hostage.
Zeppelin hid them somewhere, delivering censored letters and photos as rewards.
Despite abandoning them, Robert couldn’t ignore blood ties.
He submitted.
Years passed.
Robert became the estate’s longest-serving hound.
Then Alicia arrived, drawing most hounds to tame her.
Zeppelin assigned only Robert and a few others to Rebecca.
After the stair incident, only Robert remained, primarily to watch Kanna.
A seasoned hound was needed for a young one.
From what Robert observed, Kanna wasn’t Zeppelin’s.
For reasons unknown, her loyalty lay with Rebecca.
Seeing Kanna leap from the second-floor window with Rebecca in her arms confirmed it.
Rebecca was tall for a woman, yet Kanna landed effortlessly.
Robert whistled in admiration.
“The count’s eye for talent is undeniable.”
He followed them.
Thoughts of gods or family faded.
His instincts screamed Rebecca was plotting something.
But he had no intention of reporting it to Zeppelin.
He’d watched how Zeppelin married Rebecca.
It wasn’t love—only obsession with possession.
He’d always pitied her, occasionally overlooking her mistakes.
But his interest wasn’t just pity.
To him, Rebecca embodied Kadir’s teachings perfectly.
She spoke carefully, shunned extravagance, and was humble.
And her beauty rivaled an angel’s.
If Kadir’s faith still thrived, she’d be revered as a saint.
Zeppelin’s cruelty made her seem like a saint trapped by a demon.
He’d long wanted to save her.
Was it chivalry or Kadir’s teaching to aid the afflicted? He didn’t know.
Regardless, he felt duty-bound to keep her from folly.
…
“Good evening, my lady.”
Robert emerged from behind the tree.
Rebecca’s eyes widened briefly, then narrowed.
A gust lifted his bangs, revealing a large scar across his forehead.
She smiled faintly.
While confined, she’d sifted through past memories.
Robert’s family came to mind.
After his modest funeral, they pounded on the estate’s iron gates.
“How could you! We were just freed from the island! Robert’s dead… and you’ve already held his funeral! He rode horses from the moment he could walk! Investigate again, or we’ll tell the emperor everything!”
Gatekeepers silenced and dragged them away, so she heard no more.
But she clearly saw them.
They wore black robes with white collars, owl-eye tattoos on their foreheads.
As a child, she’d visited a Kadir village with her father.
They shared stories of Kadir and their persecuted history.
Gazing at Robert’s scar, she recalled that history.
Zeppelin controlled people through their weaknesses. A Kadir-worshipping family was perfect prey.
Her lips curved upward.
Robert stared, dazed by her smile and the lilac’s scent.
“Robert Crowley. Were you eavesdropping?”
“Eavesdropping? A coincidence. The moonlight was too fine for a walk.”
“Such a dutiful servant, working this late.”
“Just strolling the garden. Not work—a moment’s rest.”
“Crowley, I’m not a fool. I know every servant here watches me.”
Robert’s eyes widened, but she wasn’t accusatory.
Puzzled, he tilted his head.
This should’ve been a compromising situation for her.
If he told Zeppelin she’d snuck out, Kanna could face a whipping—or worse.
Yet Rebecca didn’t beg him to stay quiet. Instead, she squared her shoulders and met his gaze.
Though seated while he stood, he felt she was looking down on him.
Seeing his confusion, she said,
“Don’t be so surprised. I’m not here to scold you. You’re just doing your job.”
Half-dazed, he stammered,
“Then…?”
Rebecca looked up at the bright moon.
Her pale neck gleamed in its light.
