Episode 30. Martha, Martha.
It took seven hours by carriage to reach her hometown. Martha gazed out the window the entire time. The scenery kept changing. The noble streets surrounding the Imperial Palace vanished, the commercial streets disappeared, and as she moved further out to the outskirts, fields stretched out before her.
The July sunshine filled the fields. The wheat was ripening. The wheat fields rippled with every passing breeze. The golden waves stretched endlessly until they met the sky somewhere on the horizon.
Watching this, Martha thought. When was the last time I traveled this path?
In her memories from before her regression, the last time she visited her hometown was on the Day of Freedom. When Rene came to visit and delivered the news that her mother was critically ill. Martha remembered that night.
As the night deepened, her mother's breath ceased. Holding Martha's hand. How much she had cried then. Unable to make a sound, she had just sat there holding her mother's hand, staying up all night.
That Day of Freedom is today.
Martha closed her eyes. Lucy sat quietly beside her. She didn't ask anything. She was a child who waited when Martha didn't speak. She was grateful for that.
Martha closed her eyes and gazed at the ceiling. In this world, Martha was a person who had never existed from the beginning. She was a person who had never been born. In other words, her mother had never given birth to a daughter. Nor had her daughter ever entered the Imperial Palace.
Her mother had no way of knowing that Martha had become a head lady-in-waiting, or that she had lived her entire life as one.
But how was her mother doing now? Had her father passed away first in this world as well? Was her older brother still a scoundrel? Was her widowed mother living alone? Without a daughter. Her mother, who had never had a daughter from the start. The moment that thought crossed her mind, Martha felt a heavy weight rise in one corner of her chest.
The carriage sped along. As it approached the entrance to the village, Martha looked at Lucy.
"Stop the carriage here."
Lucy blinked.
"Why? We can go further in."
"Stop."
They had traveled for a full seven hours without rest. As the evening grew dim, the carriage finally came to a stop. Martha got out. Then she picked up a small bundle that had been inside the carriage. It was something she had packed before they set off.
Inside was a dark-colored hood similar to those worn by nuns in the cathedral. She had hurriedly retrieved it from the mansion. Martha pulled it over her head. Lucy watched her and said.
"Princess, what is that?"
"I'm going to say I came from the cathedral."
"Huh?"
"I'm going in alone. Lucy stays in the carriage."
Lucy looked at Martha.
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Martha looked at Lucy.
"You have to go this alone."
Lucy looked at Martha and nodded. She didn't ask any more questions. Martha adjusted her hood and walked into the village. It was a familiar landscape. Old walls. Narrow alleys. A well on one side of the village. The places where she used to run around as a child looked exactly as she remembered them. They had just become a little more worn.
Martha knew the way. Her body knew first. Her feet naturally found the direction. She turned an alley. And she stopped in front of a house. It was a small house. The wall was low. There were a few flowerpots in the yard. The windows were small. The roof had been repaired with new parts here and there.
Martha stood for a moment, gazing at the house. There was a sound in the yard. The door opened, and a middle-aged woman stepped out. It was Rene. A friend from her hometown who had visited the Imperial Palace on Freedom Day even before her regression. She was two years older than Martha. She was now in her mid-forties. Her hair was more gray than before. Her hands were rough. They were the hands of someone who had worked for a long time.
Rene stopped when she saw Martha. A hooded stranger was standing in front of the house. Rene looked at Martha and said,
"Who are you?"
Martha replied.
"I'm from the church. I heard that an elderly person in this village is not feeling well."
Rene looked at Martha, then looked inside the house.
"You are a nun. You have come at just the right time. The elder inside has been very unwell for several days. Please come in and pray for them."
Rene opened the door. Martha bowed her head and entered. It was dark inside. The curtains were drawn. The July sunlight was blocked out.
There was a small bed in the narrow room. A person lay on it. Martha looked at the person. Mother. She was nearly seventy. Her hair was white. Her face had shrunk. She was breathing. Her chest rose and fell slowly. A hand rested on the blanket. It was a thin, gaunt hand.
Martha looked at that hand. Mother. The moment that thought crossed her mind, her eyes welled up with tears. Martha pressed them down tightly. Rene spoke from behind her.
"She hasn't been able to eat for three days. Her son hasn't been in touch, and the doctor visited and said she wouldn't last much longer. I want to help her make her final journey peaceful."
Hearing those words, Martha walked over to the bedside. She knelt down. She carefully took the old woman's hand. Seeing Martha do this, Rene spoke in a low voice.
"I will offer a good prayer, so I will step aside for a moment. Call me if you need anything."
The sound of footsteps faded away. Only Martha and the old woman remained in the room. The old woman opened her eyes. Slowly. With difficulty. Then she turned her head and looked at Martha. It was a hooded, unfamiliar face. It was the person kneeling beside her bed at home, holding her hand.
"Who are you?"
Her voice was low and thin. It was hoarse, like a voice that hadn't been used for a long time. Martha said.
"I came from the church."
"You came from the church?"
"Yes."
The old woman looked at Martha. Her eyes were blurry, but she seemed to be trying to read something. Martha met her gaze. The old woman said.
"Your hand is warm. The Lord must have sent you here to send me to a good place."
Martha said.
"Are you cold?"
"No. It's just warm. It feels like it's been a long time since I've held a warm hand."
Martha wrapped her own hands around the old woman's. They were thin and gaunt. Hands where she could feel every bone.
Martha blinked, savoring the sensation in her hands. The sound of wind came from outside the window. The old woman spoke slowly.
"I had a son, but he was a scoundrel. He caused nothing but trouble from a young age, and he got even worse as he grew up. I don't know where he is now. There's no contact. It's been a long time; I can't remember when I last saw him... I miss him."
As she listened, Martha squeezed the old woman's hand. The old woman looked up at Martha.
"It would have been so nice to have a daughter as pretty as you, young lady."
As she heard those words, Martha felt her eyes burn. She pressed them down. They wouldn't go down. Martha opened her mouth.
"Uh, I..."
The old woman looked at Martha. Her mouth wouldn't move. Martha looked into those eyes. She fought a brief battle in her head over whether she should say this or not. It was a nonsensical story. It was an unbelievable story. There was no evidence. There was no way to explain it. However, she knew that it had to be this moment.
"I have something to tell you."
The old woman looked at Martha. Martha slowly removed her hood. Golden hair was revealed. It was the face of a noble princess. It was the face of a nineteen-year-old. The old woman looked at that face. Martha said.
"I am not from the cathedral. And I am not the owner of this body."
The old woman looked at Martha. Martha said.
"I am someone else who has entered this body. I am your daughter."
The room fell silent. The old woman looked at Martha for a while. Her eyes blurred and then cleared. It was a look of acceptance, Martha said.
"My name is Martha. My name is..."
The old man's hand trembled slightly. Martha continued.
"There is no Martha in this world. She is someone who was never born. She is someone who could not be born as your daughter. However, somewhere in another world, she was born as your daughter and lived there, and somehow ended up entering this body. I know it is a nonsensical story."
The old woman looked at Martha.
"You don't believe it, do you?"
The old woman remained silent. Martha spoke.
"I don't believe it either. But it's true."
The old woman closed her eyes for a moment. Martha watched her, waiting. Her heart raced. She wondered what this old woman would say. What she would say. Or whether she would say nothing at all.
The old woman opened her eyes again. And she looked at Martha. She looked at her for a long time. Her gaze was different from the first time. Her hazy eyes had become clear. It was the look of someone who had made a decision. The old man said.
"Then can you tell me how my daughter lived?"
Martha looked at the old woman. The old woman said.
"How do you think my daughter would have lived if she had been born in that world?"
Martha chose her words for a moment, then spoke.
"She entered the Imperial Palace."
"The Imperial Palace?"
"And a little later, she entered the Duke's household as a lady-in-waiting. She learned the trade from a young age, and at twenty-five, she became the head lady-in-waiting."
The old woman looked at Martha.
"Head lady-in-waiting..."
"I was the head lady-in-waiting to a prominent family. It was a position responsible for managing the entire household. It wasn't an easy job, but I did a good job."
Martha said.
"I reviewed the family accounts, negotiated with creditors, managed the employees, and prepared banquets. I worked without a single day off. That was rewarding."
The old woman's eyes sparkled as he listened.
"You did well."
"I couldn't get married."
Martha said.
"I don't know if it was because I was busy or because I was scared. I just worked. So I had no children, no family. I was alone."
The old woman's face clouded over. Martha said.
"I was lonely, honestly. I grew old taking care of other people's households and watching their children grow up, without having anything of my own. But I don't regret it. I saw the people I looked after doing well, and that was rewarding."
The old woman looked at Martha.
"I lived to be eighty."
Martha said.
"Without getting sick or going hungry. I worked until the very end."
The old woman's eyes welled up with tears. Martha said.
"I couldn't visit you often, Mother. That is what I feel most sorry about. I used the excuse that I was busy, but it was just an excuse. I was scared. I thought that if I visited, I would want to give you even more things. But I knew I couldn't give them to you. So I didn't go. That still weighs on my mind."
The old woman said.
"I see."
Those words were small and warm. As Martha heard them, tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to hold them back, but she couldn't. The old man grasped Martha's hand with a trembling hand. It was a weak hand, but it was clear.
"You lived well, Martha."
Martha cried. She cried out. It was a phrase she had never heard in her eighty years of life. The words she most wanted to hear from the person she wanted to hear them from the most. Mothers in this world had no daughters, so these words shouldn't have existed. But now she heard them. The old woman gently patted Martha's hand.
"Stop crying, my daughter."
Martha said, weeping.
"Yes."
"Live well. This time."
"...Yes."
"Take care of others, and take care of yourself. Don't try to do everything alone."
Martha said.
"Yes."
The old woman said, looking at Martha.
"As you live on, everything will be alright. As you live on."
Martha was speechless. As you live on. So, the words Martha always used as a habit were the ones that came from her mother. Martha cried out loud once again. The old woman smiled quietly; it was a thin, small smile, yet that smile was warm.
Martha wept even more as she looked at it. She had never seen this smile before. She never thought she would see the smile of a mother without a daughter in this world. Closing her eyes, the old woman said,
"Hold my hand."
Martha said.
"Yes."
"Martha."
"Yes."
"Thank you for coming."
Martha wrapped her two hands around the old woman's hand. She held it tightly with both hands and did not let go.
"I am the one who should be thanking you."
The old woman remained silent. Her breathing rose and fell quietly. Martha watched this as she held her hand. The wind tapped against the window. The July sunlight filtered thinly through the gap in the curtains. The room was warm. Not long after, the old woman spoke again.
"Martha."
"Yes."
"Your name is Martha."
"Yes."
"It is a good name. It is the kind of name I would have given you if I had."
Martha said.
"It is the name my mother gave me."
The old woman smiled softly.
"I suppose so. Martha, Martha..."
And then there were no words. The breathing fell silent. Slowly. Very slowly. Gradually slowing down.
Martha held that hand. She did not let go. A long time passed. Martha looked at the old woman's face without letting go of her hand. It was a peaceful face. A face free from pain. The expression of her last smile remained exactly as it was.
Looking at that face, Martha thought. She must have passed away happily. The moment that thought crossed her mind, tears welled up again. Martha did not make a sound. She just cried. Quietly. Holding her hand.
The room was silent. Only the sound of the wind could be heard. Martha sat there for a long time. Rene was waiting at the door. She watched Martha come out of the room without saying a word. Rene must have noticed that Martha's eyes were red. It might have seemed strange for a nun from the church to cry like this, but Rene did not ask anything. Martha said.
"I will help with the funeral arrangements. I will cover the expenses."
Rene looked at Martha.
"Why, Sister?"
"Just because I wanted to give it to you."
Rene said after looking at Martha for a while.
"Thank you."
Martha said as she stepped out into the yard.
"Have you ever heard that there was a woman named Martha in this house?"
Rene looked at Martha.
"Martha?"
"Her daughter, the old lady. I thought that if she had a daughter, her name would have been Martha."
Rene thought for a moment and said.
"She didn't have a daughter. She had one
son, but we lost contact a long time ago." Martha nodded.
"I see."
As she stepped out the yard gate, Martha looked back once. That small house. The old wall. The flowers in the flowerpots. The July sunlight had settled upon those flowers. Martha looked at them once. Then she walked.
Lucy was standing in front of the carriage. She looked at Martha but said nothing. She must have noticed that Martha's eyes were red. She must have guessed how much she had cried. Still, Lucy asked nothing.
Martha climbed into the carriage. Lucy climbed in and closed the door. The carriage began to move. Martha looked out the window. The village receded into the distance. That small house disappeared between the alleys. The fields stretched out again. The wheat fields swayed in the wind.
Looking out the window, Martha thought,
'You did well, Mother. You lived well.'
Tears welled up again. Martha just let them. She didn't wipe them away. She simply cried while looking out the window. Silently.
After a while, Lucy spoke cautiously.
"Princess."
Martha looked at Lucy. Lucy held out a handkerchief. Martha took it. Wiping her eyes, she said.
"Thank you."
Lucy said.
"Are you alright?"
Martha looked out the window for a moment, then looked at Lucy.
"Yes."
Lucy looked back at Martha. Martha said,
"Have you eaten?"
The moment Lucy heard those words, her eyes turned red.
"I ate."
"Did you enjoy the meal?"
"Yes."
Martha nodded and looked out the window again. Lucy said nothing. The carriage sped along. Martha looked out the window and recalled her mother's voice.
'Live well this time. Take care of others, and take care of yourself. As you live.'
Recalling that voice, Martha answered in her heart. Yes, Mom, I will live well.
The carriage sped on. The July sunlight streamed in through the window. It was warm. The wheat fields swayed in the wind, creating golden waves. Martha closed her eyes as she watched them. The inside of her eyelids felt warm.
[Lucy's Secret Shock Journal - Episode 30]
Today, I went to a village like this with the Princess. I waited in front of the carriage. The Princess put on a hood like a nun from a church and went into the village alone. She said she had to go alone. She didn't tell me the reason.
I don't know how long I waited. It must have been an hour. When the Princess came out, her eyes were very red. She seemed to have cried a lot. She said she would pay for the funeral expenses. It seemed the elder of that house had passed away.
I didn't ask anything in the carriage. I felt like I shouldn't. Then she spoke, "Have you eaten?" The moment I heard those words, I almost burst into tears. I don't know who the Princess met today. But it seems she accomplished something important.
I still don't know who Martha is. But today, the Princess seems to have gained something. Something sad and warm.
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