Grant Me Your Grace

The altar had collapsed. This news spread like wildfire throughout the empire, reaching everyone’s ears.  

The altar, erected to plead for the calamity to cease, had crumbled as soon as the offering was placed upon it. 

To make matters worse, a fierce downpour had extinguished any possibility of lighting the sacrificial fire.  

This bizarre phenomenon could only be interpreted as the will of the goddess Nuit.

“The goddess Nuit has rejected the sacrifice.”  

Such ominous rumors were more than enough to stir unrest.  

The rumors quickly grew, gaining momentum and swelling into something far larger. 

People heard daily about the collapse of the altar, and each added their own embellishments as the story spread.  

The goddess was angry. They had tried to hastily appease her without humbly accepting her will. 

Now, an even greater calamity was sure to come.  

Though the baseless rumors were hollow at first, they fed on people’s curiosity, filling the empty spaces with wild speculation. 

Soon, countless tales spread as if they were fact.  

“So, the goddess is angry because they tried to offer the divine gift as a sacrifice?”  

“That’s what some say, but there are other stories too.”  

“Other stories? Like what?”  

“Well, some say that man was never the divine gift to begin with…”  

Bang!

The maids, who had been whispering with their heads together, jumped in surprise and turned around.  

The firmly shut door to the princess’s chambers had swung open, revealing Dahlia standing there with a stern expression, glaring at them.  

“Y-Your Highness!”  

“I thought the palace was overrun with people, given how noisy it’s been since morning.”  

The maids, rarely scolded by the princess, nervously averted their eyes. 

They had been chattering carelessly, yet now they clammed up, refusing to take responsibility. 

Dahlia let out a shallow breath and gestured for them to leave quickly.  

Meanwhile, Bertha, who had just finished brewing tea, looked puzzled as she watched the maids scurry past her.  

“Your Highness, why are you out here?”  

“…It’s nothing.”  

Dahlia, swallowing her emotions, retreated into her room. Bertha poured her a cup of fragrant fig tea, but for some reason, Dahlia’s mouth felt dry, and she had no desire to swallow anything.  

The failed sacrifice had thrown the entire empire into chaos. 

The fact that news had reached even the secluded princess’s ears without anyone being sent to inform her was proof enough.

At first, Dahlia also listened to the rumors. The two calamities that had struck the kingdom were not her greatest concern. 

Only Hissin’s safety mattered to her.  

But as people’s words began to shift from fear of being forsaken by the goddess to resentment toward the divine gift, Dahlia realized something was wrong.  

The people feared the will of the goddess Nuit. If the goddess were to abandon Baran, there would be nothing they could do.  

This growing fear gradually took on a sharper form, transforming into resentment directed at Hissin.  

They claimed the divine gift had failed to fulfill its role, that it had not fully conveyed the goddess’s will. 

Every day, people passionately debated the responsibilities the divine gift was supposed to bear.  

And soon, these debates turned into outright distrust of the divine gift. 

Some even began to say that Hissin was not the divine gift, but a sacrificial offering sent by demons to plunge Baran into chaos.  

As a result, two rumors began to clash fiercely, one that Hissin was a demon’s offering, and the other that the goddess was angry because the divine gift had been placed on the altar.  

‘How can they flip their words so easily? They were the ones who exalted him as the divine gift in the first place…’  

Dahlia bit her lower lip and gazed out the window. In the distance, she could see the temple, noticeably emptier than before.  

Hissin had never once claimed to be the divine gift. 

The man, who had no memories of his past, had simply become the divine gift that people demanded. He prayed as they told him to, and silently held his place as they instructed.  

‘So how could they now say he wasn’t the divine gift?’ 

Dahlia was furious at this absurd situation.  

If she could, she would go to the temple right now to comfort him. But outside, it was still bright daylight, and the sky was clear without a single cloud.  

‘Why is the goddess not on my side…?’  

Dahlia glanced resentfully at the sky before turning her head away. The fig tea in her cup had grown cold, but she never brought it to her lips.  

✨

In the middle of the night, Dahlia woke to an unfamiliar sensation touching her body. Something felt off, though she couldn’t pinpoint what.  

As she tossed and turned, trying to fall back asleep on her side—  

“Ugh…!”

Suddenly, a sharp pain began in Dahlia’s lower abdomen, forcing her to curl up and stifle a groan. 

The pain gradually spread between her legs, turning into an indescribable agony.  

It felt as though her flesh was melting—an unbearable itch and a burning sensation coursed through her simultaneously. 

The pain dug deep into her lower abdomen, sharp and relentless, as if a red-hot iron rod had been thrust inside. Dahlia gasped for breath, writhing in torment.  

With great effort, she pushed herself up and threw off the blanket. Her trembling hands lifted the thin skirt of her nightgown. Her gaze traveled up from her ankles to her knees. 

Not only that, but her thighs were bare and pale, but as she hesitantly parted her legs—  

“Ah…!”  

Her vision blurred, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut.  

Horrifying red spots covered her lower abdomen and groin. She knew exactly what this was. It was a venereal disease.  

Long ago, Saltar had recklessly slept with a woman from the brothel and contracted this illness, forcing Dahlia to give her blood to cure him. 

The unbearable itching and pain now felt eerily similar to that time.  

‘Could they have used the blood taken from the underground dungeon?’  

They had taken her blood in preparation for her eventual departure to the Hayad Kingdom after her marriage, so it wouldn’t be strange if they had used a vial of it in advance.  

If this was indeed a venereal disease, the pain would only worsen over time. 

Unlike the pain of wounds, which usually subsided with time, the price of blood used to cure diseases often brought increasingly excruciating pain before vanishing all at once.  

‘Hissin… I need to go to him.’  

Dahlia struggled to catch her breath as she climbed out of bed. 

The moment her feet touched the floor, a searing pain shot through her lower abdomen, stealing her breath. She forced herself to take one step at a time, moving forward.  

As she reached for the bell pull to summon Bertha, she clenched her fist and stopped herself. 

It was a bright-moonlit night. Even if she asked Bertha to bring her a robe, the girl would only try to stop her from leaving.  

Dahlia began to walk alone. But she hadn’t taken more than two steps before she froze in place.  

‘At a time like this… can I really go to him?’  

He was already heartbroken over recent events. She didn’t want to use him just to ease her suffering.  

“Ugh…!”  

But the pain mocked her rationality, shaking her body violently. The unbearable itching, like insects crawling under her skin, twisted her body uncontrollably.

‘If I can just hold his hand… even that might calm the pain a little…’  

In the end, Dahlia quietly stepped into the hallway. 

Fortunately, it was late, and all the maids were asleep, so no one was stationed outside her chamber.  

She walked down the long corridor and entered her dressing room. 

Since Bertha usually helped her with her clothes, and even the slightest movement sent sharp pains through her lower abdomen, it took Dahlia a long time to change into fresh undergarments.  

Finally, she draped herself in a robe, covered her face with a veil, and pulled up the hood before slipping out of the princess’s palace unnoticed.  

The sky was clear, without a single cloud. The full moon shone brightly, illuminating Dahlia as she stepped outside the palace.  

Unaccustomed to such moonlight, Dahlia glanced up fearfully. 

The large moon seemed to scold her for daring to leave the palace so recklessly. Clutching her robe tightly, she lowered her head and hurried toward the temple.  

Though her steps had been spurred by pain, the thought of Hissin, who must be heartbroken, kept flashing in her mind, making her walk faster and faster.  

Whether it was to ease the price of blood or to seek comfort, it no longer mattered. She just wanted to see Hissin.  

As she trudged forward, weighed down by worries, the temple came into view in the distance. 

Dahlia passed through the long shadows and stepped onto the temple grounds.  

Catching her breath, she quickly scanned her surroundings. 

Perhaps because fewer people visited now, the temple, locked up at night, looked more desolate and lonely than usual.  

Like an abandoned island, forgotten by everyone. Like a place of past glory that had been left in ruins because no one cared to visit anymore.  

As Dahlia gazed at the vast temple, she let out a hollow sigh. It was then—