Chapter 11: Between Siblings

Kritiya sat quietly on the pew, licking her wound like a cat grooming itself until the cut turned pale.

I shared Kritiya’s tingling pain, sensing her general mood but unable to grasp her detailed thoughts.

I was a bit puzzled—why would Kritiya do something so self-harming?

She’d always been terrified of pain, closing her eyes in fear whenever her palms were struck.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

A deafening gong from outside broke my thoughts.

Kritiya stopped licking, resting her palm on her knee, silently staring at the church’s rafters.

What’s happening?

I couldn’t help but wonder.

Nolan, now bandaged, had been dozing on the pew with herbs applied by Mr. Berly.

He suddenly opened his eyes wide.

“That’s the village’s emergency assembly signal—”

Mr. Berly, who’d just washed his hands in a basin, held Nolan down.

“You’re injured—rest properly.”

At that moment, a loud knock came at the door.

Berly dried his hands, muttering as he went to open it.

“What’s with tonight…”

Kritiya’s attention shifted.

I looked up, seeing an elderly man with white hair holding a copper gong.

“Village Chief… what’s wrong? Why the gong?”

“Oh, Mr. Berly, I came to tell you—little miss Cyril came to me in the middle of the night, saying her brother was attacked by jackals.

So I sounded the gong to warn everyone. We’re gathering a few people to look for her brother—might need your help…”

“You mean the Cyril boy?”

Berly’s words were cut off as a blonde girl in a linen skirt appeared behind the Village Chief.

“Brother!”

“Oh, Diya!”

Nolan turned, trying to stand, but Diya rushed into the church, seeing his bandaged left arm.

Her brow furrowed tightly.

“This… this is…”

Nolan scratched his head, unsure how to explain, but Diya’s voice trembled with tears.

“I… woke up tonight and found myself alone in the house…”

“Then I went looking for you, saw lots of footprints in the backyard, and followed them. I found tons of jackal corpses in the woods but couldn’t find you.”

“I… got scared and went back to get the Village Chief…”

Diya began to sob.

Nolan raised his uninjured hand, reaching toward her cheek as if to wipe her tears, but hesitated and lowered it, patting her back instead.

“It’s fine—I’m okay, just a flesh wound.”

Kritiya watched the siblings silently.

But when I heard “Diya,” my heart jolted.

Yes—I clearly remembered the novel mentioning that the protagonist, Nolan, had a sister named Diya.

Why “mentioned” and not “appeared”?

Because Diya was a background character, already dead at the story’s start.

The novel’s first chapter began with Nolan, a low-tier adventurer, receiving news that his sister, about to graduate from the Imperial Knight Preparatory Academy, had died of illness.

The siblings, who’d depended on each other since childhood, parted when Diya enrolled at twelve.

The sudden news of her death left Nolan devastated, leading him to waste away until one day he received a package in her name—her belongings.

Yes, everything pointed to something suspicious.

Driven by grief, Nolan followed the clues to the capital to uncover the truth behind her death, sparking a series of events.

I pieced together the context—maybe one person could be a coincidence, but Nolan and Diya together left no room for doubt.

They were likely the novel’s protagonist and his sister.

I’d overheard their earlier talk—Diya was studying letters daily, probably preparing for the knight academy’s entrance exam.

“Young miss, sorry for not treating you properly. Let me check your wound.”

A gentle voice snapped me back.

I saw Berly approach to bandage Kritiya.

Since it was just a palm cut, it needed only simple cleaning and wrapping.

Kritiya raised her hand, staring at the bandage tied in a bow.

“Cyril boy!”

The Village Chief, who’d been watching from the doorway, stepped inside, speaking loudly.

“You’re okay after all?”

“Yes, Village Chief—”

Nolan sat with his sister, looking at the white-bearded, bald man.

“I heard from Diya that jackals attacked the village, so I sounded the gong to put everyone on alert. Were you bitten?”

“Yeah…” Nolan gave a wry smile.

“Thanks to Kritiya saving me…”

“Kritiya? Who’s that?”

The Village Chief froze, and I felt all eyes—his, Berly’s, Nolan’s, Diya’s—turn toward us.

Kritiya quietly raised her head, meeting their gazes but saying nothing, only shaking her head slowly.

“Oh—oh! I see, she saved Nolan, right?”

Berly broke the silence first, putting a hand on the Village Chief’s shoulder with a chuckle.

“Didn’t you say you had something to discuss? Let’s step outside—let the kids rest.”

***

I felt a soft hand kneading my cheek—or rather, Kritiya’s cheek.

Kritiya opened her eyes, not fully asleep, just resting against the headboard.

“Ah! You’re awake.”

Like a kid caught misbehaving, Diya giggled and pulled back her hand.

She sat up from lying down, looking into Kritiya’s eyes.

Kritiya blinked, a bit confused.

Diya stretched, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.

“Ugh—I’m still so sleepy—”

Looking at the girl, I recalled last night.

The village was in chaos— the Village Chief woke all the able-bodied men, forming a patrol to guard through the night.

Diya took Kritiya back to the cabin to rest.

Nolan, due to his severe injury, stayed at the church under Berly’s care.

Diya studied Kritiya, then smiled.

“Anyway— I don’t know the details, but my brother said you saved him last night, right?”

“No—that’s not true.”

Kritiya thought for a moment, then spoke.

“Ah, you’re finally talking to me!”

Diya laughed.

“Your name’s Kritiya, right? You talked to my brother but not me— I thought you hated me!”

“Is that so?”

Kritiya’s face stiffened slightly, but Diya climbed out of bed, casually changing the subject.

“The house feels a bit cold—”

Before I could react, she hopped off the bed, went to the wall, and used tongs to toss firewood from a stack into the fireplace.

Flames roared to life.

Standing by the fire, Diya zoned out for a moment, then said.

“Hm… what time is it?”

“Probably noon,” Kritiya replied, having stayed awake and tracked the time.

Diya’s face paled.

“Noon already? Oh no, I need to bring food!”

Bring food— I guessed she meant to Nolan at the church.

Diya rushed to the kitchen, banging cabinets, then emerged with a basket containing a knife, black bread, and a piece of smoked sausage.

Oh— I hoped she didn’t notice my sausage theft.

“No time to cook— this’ll do for today,” Diya said, setting the basket on the table and putting on her outdoor clothes.

She glanced at Kritiya, pausing.

“Uh—Kritiya, want to come along?”

Kritiya hesitated, but Diya quickly explained.

“Since we’re skipping lunch, I thought you should come eat too, or you’ll have to wait till dinner.”

Kritiya nodded slowly, agreeing, and got out of bed.

Diya stopped her.

“Wait a sec.”

She pulled an overskirt from a corner cabinet, turning back.

“It’s cold outside—wear this over your clothes.”

Kritiya put on the linen overskirt, its hem covering her chilled legs.

I realized then that the siblings probably only had one or two spare outfits each.

I couldn’t help but think of Kritiya’s wardrobe.

As a duke’s daughter, it was modest by noble standards, but her clothes for daily life and etiquette, suited for various occasions, numbered at least fifty or sixty.

Diya looked at the gray-haired girl in the overskirt and smiled.

“Hm—it’s a bit big, but it’s big on me too. We’re growing, so you have to leave room when picking fabric.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

Kritiya looked at Diya.

The girl hooked the basket on her left arm, grabbed Kritiya’s wrist with her right, and pulled her out the door before she could process it.

The two girls walked down the hill, one after the other.

The small northern Imperial village of Lotte unfolded before my eyes—my first clear look at it in days.

Most houses were flat-roofed, made of mud bricks or stone, circling the hill’s base.

A narrow river looped around the village’s edge, winding through the woods into the distance.

Kritiya and Diya crossed a small stone bridge over the river.

Being winter, the bridge was slick with ice.

“Careful now,” Diya said with a grin, gripping my hand tighter, like holding a railing.

“Next… probably the church,” I thought.

The church was short, a two-story stone building, but in this village, it stood out like a crane among chickens.

Then I saw its ochre-tiled spire.

And smelled the scent of burning fat.