003

My name is Gloria Rosalin. Born in a small village in the midst of vast expanses of wheat and barley fields. My parents are busy farmers, so busy that they often miss weekly worship. However, they would be very angry when I failed to attend even once. Such hypocrites. I was indeed taught to pray for my parents, but if they themselves don't care about it, I think God is also reluctant to grant forgiveness.

It's not that I hate my own parents. I love them very much. It's not once or twice I've invited them to worship. Every week when they haven't left for the fields yet, I invite them. However, there's always an excuse. Lately they've even been going to the fields since dawn, and only on Sundays. They say, "Mice are more active on Sundays, so we need extra vigilance." How ridiculous. Do these mice study under the fish from Moses' time that only appeared on the Sabbath?

I hope they don't get cursed into monkeys.

Because of my parents' illogical way of thinking, I ended up spending more time at the worship hall. The worship hall was led by a wandering cleric from Petrovard. She was the smartest person I'd ever met, or perhaps the most intelligent in the village. She even brought her own books and allowed anyone to read them.

Our village, where the majority were farmers and farm laborers, felt that literacy skills weren't crucial. If you mastered them then good, if not then not a problem. Because what's more important is farming skills. It can't be denied because we indeed live from it.

The cleric became the head of worship as well as a teacher for children. There weren't even 20 children in this village. From age 6 to 16, everyone started from the same level. We learned to read, write, and count. Sometimes there were children who felt superior or actually ashamed because their learning was slower than younger children, so they stopped coming to the worship hall and returned to their parents' fields.

The cleric came to our village when I was 8 years old. Before that, the village head would be the worship leader with all his limited knowledge. That's why our quality of life increased drastically since the cleric's arrival. She not only taught children, but also gave life advice to villagers, and was even skilled at treating acute illnesses.

The cleric wasn't a rich woman, not a ruler, but respected and loved by everyone. She never went to the fields or went around selling goods, but the food in her house never ran out.

This is how adults should be, I thought. Therefore, once I mastered literacy and numeracy, I became a volunteer at the worship hall.

My work began when I was 12 years old. Children who didn't enter the first batch like me could only register for the second batch that year, and I was the one who taught them basic literacy and numeracy. My students were adorable, because none of them were older than 9 years old. The sensation of hearing my students greet me, "Sister Gloria, good morning!" was truly addictive. I felt I could live like this forever.

At least, that's what I felt until I was 15 years old.

Monday morning, August 23rd, 302R, the worship hall received a visitor for the cleric. The unexpected visitor was a girl my age. However, the aura she radiated seemed much more mature. I could only shrink when serving tea for her.

"Good afternoon," she said.

"Afternoon," I replied.

She immediately shifted the conversation to the cleric. "So, this is the girl you meant?"

"Yes."

They were talking about me? Also, she's the cleric's younger sister?

"Nice to meet you, Gloria. I'm Astesia, Sister Milica's younger sister." Astesia extended her hand. "I heard from my sister, you're a very talented child, right?"

I accepted her handshake. "Nice to meet you. I just happen to be able to imitate the Cleric's healing magic. She also said so, but honestly my abilities—in all aspects—are far below Cleric Milica's, including the healing magic that she says I'm talented in."

"Well, that's not strange. How could the best student in the spiritual magic department possibly be beaten by kids our age. Hahaha!"

"Hush, Astesia!"

"Sorry."

Best student.... I never knew this and perhaps not a single person here knew. A warm feeling welled up in my chest. Why is this? Even though she's nothing to me, why do I feel so proud?

"So, Gloria, sorry for not telling you beforehand. However, I feel it would be a waste if you were confined in a remote village like this. Therefore, I want you to study in Petrovard with Astesia."

"Petrovard...?"

The cleric continued, "If you're willing, I'll talk to your parents."

"Seriously? I mean, is it appropriate for me to accept this?"

The cleric reached for my hand that was holding the empty tray. "Gloria, pursuing knowledge isn't about being appropriate or not. You can obtain knowledge regardless of appropriateness, good or bad, or usefulness. This is about your desire, your ambition. There will be no knowledge you gain when you yourself are reluctant to receive it. So, will you?"

Of course I wanted to. I wanted to know what real school was like. I wanted to know what city buildings were like. I wanted to become a perfect woman like the cleric. However, it seemed I would only become a country bumpkin who would embarrass Astesia and the cleric. I knew nothing about Petrovard. What if they laughed at me? What if my shabby appearance made Astesia ashamed to have a friend like me? What if it turned out I was too stupid to learn the things they taught there? City people could surely calculate in the blink of an eye, while I sometimes still needed an abacus.

"Gloria, if you think you couldn't possibly keep up with the lessons there, that means you doubt what my sister taught. Is my sister that bad at teaching?" asked Astesia.

"N-no! Not at all like that. It's just...."

The cleric said, "God doesn't only send down revelation, but also gives humans reason. Not so we choose one of them, but so both walk together. Faith gives direction, reason guides the steps."

The cleric was right. If God truly gave me this opportunity, who am I to refuse it? Haven't I been praying all this time for my life to change, so I could be free from the fate that chains my future to the fields? Then why when the opportunity came, was I instead hesitant?

I swallowed. My chest was still pounding, but there was something that began to feel certain. Maybe I wasn't sure about everything, but I was sure of one thing:

"I... want to try."