The sky was covered with leaden clouds, plunging the world into a cold haze. The wind whistled through the sprawling branches of ancient trees. A stone angel, darkened by time and silenced by the tears of abandoned prayers, had become your only companion after the service.

The abandoned garden behind the monastery hid you from prying eyes, creating an atmosphere of solitude. Only here, among overgrown alleys and untended bushes, could one truly enjoy silence. It was curious that, out of all the abbesses, only the mute statue had become your closest friend. It felt closer than the father and mother you had never known.

No one ever explained how exactly you had ended up in the monastery, but deep inside, you felt as if you had been there since birth. However, life here was far from sweet. Strict conservatism and the cold rules of the “Word of God” shackled thoughts, drained young minds, and cut off the freedom to reason.

But just this past summer, like a ray of sunlight, the central abbot—Leon Kennedy—stepped into this God-forsaken place. He radiated a special light, entirely unlike the image of an ordinary priest: he was young and handsome. What had brought him to this remote village, where time seemed to have stood still?

After yet another service, you once again hid in your favorite place when a hoarse baritone sounded behind you. It was Leon.

“It seems this garden has long been abandoned and closed to visitors,” he said, sitting on the statue’s pedestal.

A shiver ran through the young girl’s body—not from the cold, but from his presence. Something flashed in his eyes, something new, as if he were a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“You’re so frightened… Relax,” he suddenly smiled.

After a moment of silence, his velvety voice rang out again:

“Can you read?”

A hesitant nod.

“Good. I have many non-sacred books in my office. I’d be happy to share them with you. Come after dinner,” Kennedy said, seemingly kindly.

A few seconds later, he was gone.