Chapter 37: Dallas Katlyn

The friar, Dallas Katlyn, felt a surge of buried memories and longing the moment he saw the young Lara. It was akin to the deep trauma caused by an accident, with stress-induced disorders resurfacing frequently.

His heart began to race when he first saw Lara bringing warm water to wash the feet of the lord’s daughter. The girl resembled his late wife.

His wife had died five years ago while giving birth to their daughter. Before becoming a friar, Dallas was the son of a wealthy landowner. He was born into an environment of abundance and grew up without want, learning and gaining knowledge without lacking anything.

At the age of twenty, his father, who was interested in the textile factory business starting in Dranberg, advised him to marry the daughter of a businessman.

However, at twenty, Dallas was already in love with a woman. She was the third daughter of a tenant farmer, and Dallas had admired her since he was a young boy learning to read. As soon as he turned twenty, he confessed his feelings, and the two of them fell deeply in love.

It was his first love at the age of twenty. There was no way he could have listened to his father’s advice. He preferred love over the wealth his father had. The two of them ran away and settled in a small, secluded village where his father couldn’t find them.

Six months after they married, his wife became pregnant. The young couple, with nothing to their name, were blessed with a child.

Dallas, who didn’t even know how to plow a field, worked tirelessly to provide for his wife and child.

Yet, the couple was poor. It was not surprising that his wife, weakened from pregnancy, died during childbirth. Despite working non-stop, his wife couldn’t eat well. Her morning sickness worsened as her pregnancy progressed, and the swelling from pregnancy tormented her.

Each time his wife weakened, Dallas felt like he was losing his mind. Finally, after a year, he returned to his father, clinging to his pant leg.

His father promised that if Dallas married the daughter of the businessman he wanted, his wife would be saved. It was an absurd proposal. He was already a married man.

Dallas angrily condemned his father, who made such a proposal in the face of his wife and child’s lives. However, his father did not relent. The fear of losing his wife completely consumed Dallas.

Eventually, unable to resist his father’s persuasion, Dallas accepted the marriage. His marriage to his wife had never been legally registered since they had no public notary.

Legally, Dallas was in the clear, and as long as the child was hidden, he could be a perfect husband. Upon Dallas agreeing to marry, his father sent him to Dranberg and instructed him to bring back his bride.

Two months after Dallas left for Dranberg, his wife passed away.

“I haven’t heard a word since I heard the young master was getting married,” the servant said.

Dallas didn’t know whether his wife’s death was his fault or his father’s. He stared blankly at the servant who had delivered the news. Tears streamed down his face, trembling with grief.

The servant also informed him that the child, who had lived only three days, was a daughter. Dallas collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably. He wanted to cry, but only a beastly sound came from his dry throat.

“I… I killed her.”

Saying he didn’t know was just an excuse. His wife’s death was his fault. The shock of him marrying another woman must have deepened her illness.

“Helena. Huu, uhh!”

Helena… What was she thinking? What was going through her mind as she was dying? What was her heart like, looking at the daughter who was born but never had the chance to live? Dallas was a sinner.

He had left for Dranberg to get married, but when he received the news of his wife’s death from the servant, he gave up on everything. After returning and burying her, he even gave up on life. He thought there was no reason to live.

A life worse than death was nothing but an insult, so he thought it would be better to die. But…

“What’s the point of dying? Even if you die now, Helena will never forgive you.”

It was the friar, his mentor from his childhood, who comforted him. It had been three months since his wife died. Dallas decided to choose a path that didn’t require his father’s approval. He resolved to dedicate his life to a place where money and power were unnecessary.

When he told his father that he had chosen the way of the friar, his father went mad and became furious. Dallas didn’t care. He had no intention of ever seeing him again. His father was furious at the thought of his only son becoming a friar. Dallas smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction, and entered seminary. This happened three months after his wife’s death.

Five years had passed since then. It was something that should have faded by now. But his wife… The wife who died and the daughter who had died three days after birth, they never faded.

Seeing the child who resembled his wife made him long for her desperately, almost to the point of madness. The violence and cruel things that the young girl was enduring seemed as if they were happening to his wife.

It was even more so because their situations were similar. Though she wasn’t a slave, his wife had been one of the young maids his mother used to manage. Dallas had seen his wife scrubbing the floors from the time he first learned to read. His wife, too, had heated water for her mother, cooked, and swept and cleaned the mansion with hands like autumn leaves.

Golden-brown hair. Pale eyes…

Would his daughter have grown up to look like that? According to the servant who had buried his daughter, the child’s features resembled his wife’s. Even the color of her blinking eyes was sky-blue, just like his wife’s.

“It must be fate.”

Yes. It must be fate. To have found this girl. To have had this girl, who looked so much like her, appear before him like this… He couldn’t forget it.

He repeated to himself that it was just a child who resembled his wife. But every time he saw “Lara,” the child, his wife’s face would flicker before his eyes. The wife he had so miserably abandoned…

“Lara.”

Dallas, who had saved Lara from being ruthlessly kicked by the overseer, had been caring for the child for several days.

Lara, who had lost her father in January of this year, was a slave girl living with her ailing mother. Having been born a slave, it was clear to Dallas that a life of innocence, like that of other children, was not possible for her. He understood this well because he had grown up in a family that owned slaves.

He knew how harsh the life of a slave could be. Most people never even considered that a slave’s life could be “harsh.” The violence and unfair treatment they suffered were simply accepted as normal.

Even Dallas himself hadn’t thought about it until he became a friar, and even now, he didn’t believe it could be helped. But Lara…

“I’ve been thinking…”

Lara, whose facial swelling was starting to subside, looked at him intently. His heart ached as he gazed into the eyes of the child, her face resembling his late wife’s, filled with deep thought. He couldn’t hold back his tears.

He couldn’t allow this child to continue living such a painful life. If he turned his back on her, it felt like he would be making an irreversible mistake.

“If you would allow it, would it be alright for me to adopt you as my daughter?”

“But I’m a slave…”

“I will speak to the lord about it.”

“How?”

“I’ll tell him that I want to take you as my own.”

“What about my mother?”

“Your mother…”

Dallas paused, his lips trembling. No matter how much she fought, she wouldn’t last past this year. From the brief examination he had done, her condition was very poor.

Even if she started treatment now, the chances of her recovering were slim. But could this child afford to pay for her sick mother’s treatment?

Her mother had already lost the will to live. Dallas couldn’t easily speak, his blue eyes fixed on the child.

She was small, small enough that if he quietly picked her up and ran off, no one would notice.

“Well, you are your mother’s daughter.”

He let out a faint, empty smile. The girl, seeing his smile, lowered her gaze.

Lara’s mother, Rosa. It wasn’t just those who understood medicine who predicted that she wouldn’t last the year. Anyone living in the household as a slave would have known this.

Lara had also expected it, at least in part. She knew her mother wouldn’t return to her old self.

In the end, they began to wish for only one thing. They hoped Rosa would pass away and join her husband. If she died, the lord would likely buy new slaves. Perhaps that would be better for everyone. Did Rosa know their hopes? One day in May, just before summer arrived…

Rosa, with great difficulty, opened her eyes one last time and looked at her daughter. By then, Lara’s health had recovered to some extent, and she had returned to the house where she had once lived. At the request of the friar, the lord allowed Lara to work only on the farm, and in the evenings, she could return to her mother’s side to care for her.

“Lara.”

“Mm?”

Her mother, gaunt like a skeleton, gazed at the young Lara with sad eyes. Lara tightly grasped her mother’s hand and stayed close to her side.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for? What are you sorry for?”

Lara asked, her voice filled with confusion. Rosa seemed to be deep in thought. Her lips were dry and cracked, unmoving. Having not eaten for a long time, she looked as thin and frail as a skeleton. Lara had grown quite used to seeing her like this.

Her young and healthy mother. The one who had always been cheerful despite the long hours of hard labor. Her wavy, sandy blonde hair, her clear blue eyes, her sun-kissed skin, her quick and skilled hands, her gentle face, and the smile that always radiated vitality.

This was how Lara remembered her mother. But for the past few months, her mother had become as lifeless as a corpse. People would say she was little more than a walking corpse.

“Everything…”

The words Rosa slowly uttered held a lot of meaning. Even though Lara didn’t want to feel it, intense emotions overwhelmed her. Lara bit her lips hard, trying not to cry. And then…

“Lara.”

That was the last time. Lara. A sigh-like call. At that moment, Lara burst into tears. Rosa died with her eyes still open. Lara, trembling with fear, slapped her mother’s cold cheek, but she didn’t respond. She shook her mother’s shoulder harder, but again, nothing.

Terrified, Lara ran out of the room and rushed to find Friar Dallas. It was close to midnight. The lights in the friar’s house were off. Lara, frantic, knocked on the door wildly.

“Friar! Friar!”

She called out so loudly she could barely speak. After a short while, the lights in the house turned on, and Friar Dallas opened the door.

“My mother is acting strange! My mother! My mother!”

The sudden death had caught Dallas off guard as well. He hastily put on his coat and followed Lara. They ran to where the slaves had gathered, whispering among themselves. Dallas pushed through them and returned to the house.

The crumbling building had a living room and two rooms—one for men, one for women. It was a strange place to live, and though he had been here once before, Dallas still found it unfamiliar as he walked toward Rosa’s side.

“Ugh, h-huh…”

Terrified, Lara sobbed and clung to Dallas. He comforted her while looking down at the woman lying motionless. Her eyes were wide open, and her lips were slightly parted, creating an eerie feeling.

He crouched beside her, who had no bed and lay on the floor, and pressed his fingers to her nose, but there was no breath.

“Lara.”

He called her name with great difficulty. As soon as Lara heard her name, she burst into loud sobs. Dallas felt his eyes well up with tears. He had never seen Lara this distressed before.

“Lara. Come here.”

He gestured for the panting child to approach. Lara shook her head, refusing to go near her mother. Dallas gently pulled Lara’s hand toward him.

“You have to say goodbye to your mother.”

At these words, Lara cried even harder.