The Serpent of Paradise - Chapter 6

Anastasia ran along a path not used by people, but by the animals that lived in the forest. Because of that, the thorny underbrush that had grown as high as a person’s chest snagged at her clothes.

Rip. The sound of thin, worn fabric tearing as it caught on thorns rang out, but she had no mind to care about such things. As she ran, rough leaves and exposed thorns scratched at her hands and face, which were not fully covered, and pushed through the layers of clothing she wore, leaving countless small wounds.

After running for a long time, through the trees she finally saw the place she had been heading for. It was a small, ruined chapel. When Anastasia had first discovered it, the forest keeper who had worked there at the time told her that it had stood in the forest long before Edenhurst mansion was built.

Stepping over a pile of bricks covered in wild rose vines, Anastasia rushed into the chapel, half of which remained standing. Then she crouched down and hid beneath a moss-covered stone bench.

Because she had run so desperately, her breath came out hot and sweet. She needed to steady her breathing, but Anastasia covered her mouth with her hand and suppressed every sound. It was the one thing she was most confident in. As she forcibly pressed down her chest, which demanded larger breaths, her breathing grew more and more strained, and her vision began to yellow. Even so, Anastasia did not remove the hand covering her mouth.

I can’t get caught. I can’t make a sound. If I do, everyone will hate me even more… and then I’ll really be driven out of here….

Her trembling body swallowed its fear. For a very long time. Alone.

Anastasia’s consciousness slowly sank into darkness.

***

When Anastasia opened her eyes again, the position of the sun had changed greatly. The gradually tilting sunlight struck the stained glass of the half-ruined chapel. The light that passed through the thick glass painted the faded and cracked stone floor with blurred images of scripture.

Blinking slowly, Anastasia stared at the dazzling stained glass, then remembered what had happened. The stream. The unfamiliar man.

Rustle.

In the evening wind that was rapidly losing its warmth, the leaves swayed. Among those sounds, there was nothing unfamiliar. Anastasia slowly let out a breath and accepted the sense of relief given by the space she knew so well. No one had followed her. This place hadn’t been discovered either.

This abandoned ground was the only place within Edenhurst that Anastasia could call her own. There was a room for her in the basement of the mansion, but it was often filled with things that couldn’t fit in the storage, and sometimes she was ordered to move to entirely different storage rooms, so it was hard for Anastasia to think of it as her own room. She was merely staying there temporarily, like the other objects.

After confirming that everything was the same as yesterday, Anastasia finally thought about the man.

‘Who was he?’

The nearby villagers all knew that this was Edenhurst territory, so they would not dare step in carelessly. That was why, in the five years Anastasia had been going in and out of the forest, she had never once encountered a villager. He was definitely not from the village.

Anastasia recalled the blue eyes that had looked straight at her, then shook her head. What did it matter who he was? He was someone she would never meet again anyway.

It might not have been easy to see because of the forest, but the Edenhurst mansion wasn’t that far away. So he would probably wander around a bit and find the estate. So she could spend tomorrow as usual, quietly and peacefully, living the same unchanged daily life here.

While she was lost in thought, the sky quickly changed color. Darkness settled rapidly over the forest. Anastasia straightened her crumpled hat and clothes. Seeing the hems of her clothes torn and fluttering from the thorns, her heart grew heavy.

‘I don’t have many clothes left now.’

She looked down resentfully at her body, layered in so many pieces of clothing. When she took a deep breath, she felt her chest tighten uncomfortably. Over the past few years, there had been little change, so she had thought her body had stopped growing. Then why had it started growing like this this year? At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to wear these clothes either.

If she were lucky, Catherine might toss her one of the clothes she discarded. But she couldn’t simply wait for luck that might never come. Wondering if she should secretly pick up even a worn-out maid’s uniform at night, Anastasia pushed herself to her feet. The moment she took a step, a throbbing pain shot through the sole of her foot.

Looking down, she saw dried blood stuck in patches across her pale feet. Anastasia bent down and examined them. There were torn wounds on the bottom of her foot. In this condition, how had she not even properly felt the pain until just now? As she worried about how long it would take for the wounds to heal, Anastasia realized something important.

‘They’re gone!’

Even if they were loose, if she had been wearing her shoes, she wouldn’t have been hurt like this. Where had her shoes gone? Had they come off while she was running? Then she remembered that she had taken them off along with her hat and left them by the stream.

“No….”

Those were the only shoes she had left.

Anastasia limped forward. Each time her foot touched the ground, the wound split open again and blood began to flow. At the sight, her face turned even paler.

Since she wore several layers of skirts, no one would see her feet. But if the blood stained the floors or the carpets of the mansion, the servants would notice immediately. And if that news reached the countess through the head maid, what would happen then?

Just imagining it made the color drain from her body. Anastasia hurried toward the place where she had left her shoes. Even as she moved, the wounds on her feet opened further. When she heard the faint sound of the stream, she paused for a moment.

‘He’s probably gone, right?’

There was no way the man she had met in the morning would still be there at this hour, when the sun was already setting. Even so, Anastasia couldn’t bring herself to approach the stream, afraid of what she would do if he was still there. Meanwhile, darkness slowly began to settle over the forest. In the end, Anastasia had no choice but to gather her courage.

Moving as quietly as possible, she approached the place where she had been earlier and let out a sigh of relief. As expected, the man was no longer there.

“Ah….”

The moment she realized that, a long breath escaped her lips. Startled, Anastasia quickly shut her mouth. That wasn’t a sigh of relief. It was….

‘Disappointment?’

At the fact that he wasn’t here?

She had run away like she was mad, terrified when he reached out his hand. And yet now she had come back and felt disappointed that he wasn’t here. Unable to understand her own contradictory behavior, Anastasia stood there in confusion.

People are still frightening. Men even more so. Then why did I feel regret?

Anastasia looked at the place where the man had been standing. His figure was gone, but the blue eyes that had looked at her remained vividly in her memory. A gaze without contempt. That gaze, which she had encountered for the first time, stayed clearly in Anastasia’s mind.

‘He was beautiful.’

Feeling a small joy at having one more beautiful thing to remember, Anastasia looked for her shoes. Fortunately, they were still where she had left them. But….

“Uh…?”

Anastasia picked up the shoes in confusion.

There should have been two, but there was only one.

***

“Where have you been without a word!”

The moment Mikhail stepped into the inn, a bespectacled man shouted from the staircase on the second floor. At the piercingly loud voice, Mikhail frowned and began to climb the stairs.

“If you shout any louder, the entire village will hear. Try a little harder, Igor.”

Mikhail! Igor started to raise his voice again, but noticing that the people on the first floor of the inn were staring at them, he shook his head and turned around. In the meantime, Mikhail entered the room where he was staying.

He hadn’t expected much from a rural inn, but it was better than he had thought. The wooden ceiling decorations were intricately carved and fitted together. The silk wallpaper, though slightly faded, was clearly of high quality. The bedding was delicately embroidered, and the mahogany furniture was obviously crafted by a skilled artisan. It didn’t fall far short even when compared to hotels in the capital or in Sokolov. The only drawback was that everything was old, but perhaps because the innkeeper had a meticulous and diligent personality, everything was well maintained to the point that the age was hardly noticeable.

‘That means it must have been quite a successful place in the past.’

Most likely, those who came to visit Edenhurst estate in the past had stayed here. Even if that place was now in decline.

Without voicing his thoughts, Mikhail sat on the sofa and stretched his long legs onto the stool. Mud and leaves clinging to his shoes fell to the floor.

Igor, who had followed him in, closed the door before finally speaking.

“Where exactly did you go, Mikhail? I searched the entire village looking for you.”

“I went to Edenhurst estate.”

“Why would you go there in advance when we’re going there soon anyway? And why did you go alone! This isn’t Sokolov! What were you going to do if you ran into someone sent by the empress dowager?”

“What would I do? Kill them.”

At Mikhail’s indifferent reply, Igor shut his mouth. More than anyone, he knew that those words were not a joke.

Igor looked at his superior, who leaned deeply into the sofa with an expression that suggested everything in the world was a bother.

Mikhail Sokolov.

A man whose surname is Sokolov, the second-wealthiest city in Novgod after the capital Borok.

Sokolov means falcon in the Novgod language. The small port city of Sokolov, once known for the many sea falcons that lived there, had grown into a prosperous harbor in an instant entirely because of Mikhail. Even if someone else had laid the foundation first, without Mikhail, Sokolov would never have grown to its current scale.

Those who met Mikhail for the first time were first taken aback by the fact that the famous Mikhail Sokolov was only twenty-eight years old, and then surprised by how much he resembled Count Vorontsov. In truth, the second point wasn’t particularly surprising. He was, after all, a child born to a woman the count had taken to his bed while drunk.

‘Though their talents seem completely different.’

Igor recalled the former Count Vorontsov, who had squandered the family fortune on gambling and drink and was now waiting to die in a small hospital in the capital.

While the count had been steadily selling off the family’s assets, the son he had cast aside had been steadily building a port, buying ships, and increasing his share in Novgod’s trade. In the end, he had grown into a great merchant of Novgod with the authority to come and go freely within the imperial palace.

Then Count Vorontsov began to contact Mikhail incessantly. Sending letters that began with “my proud son.”

The count wanted Mikhail’s money in exchange for acknowledging him as his son and passing on the title.

When Mikhail received his father’s letter, he tossed it aside without the slightest emotion and gave an order.

“I think it’s time to wipe out a count’s house.”

That way, the man who called himself his father wouldn’t send such bothersome letters anymore.

The destruction of a count’s house was far too easy. He further fueled the count’s gambling, burdened him with enormous debts, and declared that if anyone else were to inherit the title, they would bear all those debts. That alone was enough for others to renounce their right of succession. Then he sent a letter to Count Vorontsov. If he personally applied to the imperial palace to dissolve the house, they would at least provide him with a hospital to spend the rest of his life.

The former Count Vorontsov, who couldn’t even obtain bread to eat that day, accepted his son’s offer. And just like that, a count’s house disappeared.

“What are you staring at?”

“…Nothing.”

At Mikhail’s words, Igor came back to himself from his thoughts. He picked up the documents on the table to hand them over, but upon seeing what Mikhail was holding, he asked in disbelief.

“What is that?”