This Must Be Paradise

The distant cry of a bird. The scent of dried herbs brushing the tip of her nose. The pleasant sensation of soft fabric enveloping her body. Anastasia slowly opened her eyes, feeling a comfort she had never known before.

The moment she saw the dazzling sunlight, she squeezed her eyes shut again. Why was there so much sunlight…

Sunlight?

That couldn't be. In her room, sunlight entered only as a single shaft through a hole. Never enough to make her eyes ache like this.

Outside?

But there was no sound of wind, nor the chirping of insects. And the outdoors could never be this comfortable and soft. She had fashioned a makeshift bed of gathered leaves covered with old cloth inside the chapel, but it had never been this pleasant. So where was she?

Anastasia carefully opened her eyes once more. As she gradually grew accustomed to the light, the blurry shapes grew sharp. What met her gaze was a painting done in beautiful colors. Even without explanation, she knew at once what it depicted. A great tree standing in the middle of a flower garden. Red fruit ripening upon it. Naked people laughing happily as they shared the fruit beneath its branches. It was a painting of paradise. And so Anastasia smiled.

This must be paradise.

Perhaps it had been painted for people like her who did not know where they were. In that case, paradise was truly a kind place. If the truth had been written in words, those who could not read—like her—would never have known where they had arrived.

Then… am I dead?

Was that why she had come to such a wonderful place? Why had God not guided her here sooner? If she had known death would bring her here, she would have ended her life long ago…

No. They said those who take their own lives cannot enter paradise.

Resentment toward God bloomed in her chest. Why had He set such a law? Even if humans were born with sin, must they endure hardship and suffering just to reach this place…

Feeling her vision begin to blur, Anastasia shook her head. No. To harbor resentment toward God the moment she arrived in paradise—how could she hold such impious thoughts toward the one who had brought her here?

She stretched her hand to the side. She wanted to look around this place at once. Then something caught in her fingers.

“…A book?”

A single volume lay beside her. And so Anastasia felt even more moved. Paradise was a place that gave her everything she desired.

Fumbling, she grasped the book and drew it to her chest. She still could not read the letters on the cover. Just as she grew dejected that even in paradise she remained illiterate, she noticed the bandage wrapped around the fingers holding the book. A bandage? Why…

In that moment, memories rose one after another into her mind.

Night had fallen, and she had left the basement. She had torn a strip from her too-small clothes to bind her injured foot, then put on the one remaining shoe. Fortunately no one else had come looking for her below, so she met no one as she passed through the corridor. All she had to do was climb the servants’ stairs and slip out of the mansion…

Gulp.

The smell of food drifting from the kitchen caught her steps. Even as she told herself she must not, her body turned toward the kitchen of its own accord. She hid behind the corner and peered in. Everyone was moving in a frenzy, preparing dishes. As soon as the cook plated something, the maids carried it upstairs.

The moment the rich aroma drifted past the departing maids, her jaw throbbed and saliva flooded her mouth. Her throat had gone so stiff and dry that even swallowing was difficult.

Ordinarily she would have simply smelled it and moved on, yet today her feet refused to leave.

Her gaze fixed on the food held in a servant’s hands. It was nothing she had ever seen in the kitchen before. Clearly something fine, meant for guests.

I want to eat it.

She whispered the words inside her head and clenched her fist. The pottery shard she had never been able to dig out rode the nerves up her arm and sent a sharp, tingling pain into her brain.

It’s all sin.

Among the seven sins humans commit, was gluttony not one of them? When she was small, her father had never allowed her more than a single potato and had repeated the lesson again and again. To take joy in eating was itself a sin. So even when she wanted more, she had always forced herself to stop. And yet… why did everyone else… keep sinning…

A sorrow deeper than hunger washed over her. Anastasia tightened her grip still further. Stronger pain flared, and only then could she tear her eyes away.

She waited a moment. The servants hurried upstairs in a cluster. Once those remaining in the kitchen bent to their own tasks, she used the opening to climb the servants’ stairs. Fortunately the door leading to the garden stood wide open. She stepped into darkness as familiar as the darkness of her own room.

Squelch.

Her shoe made a wet sound. It must have been soaked with blood.

She wanted to reach the forest quickly. Though she feared the dark woods, she believed she must not remain in the glittering, beautiful, abundant mansion. If she stayed, she was certain she would commit sin…

That was what she told herself, yet the true reason might simply have been the hunger that had risen all the way to her throat. And so Anastasia made a choice different from usual. Instead of taking the long way around by the road, she would cut straight across the garden to the forest. That way she could reach the trees far sooner.

But halfway across the garden she regretted it. She had thought the night garden would be empty, yet suddenly people carrying lamps came walking out from the mansion.

Her heart began to hammer wildly. She wanted to flee at once, yet moving would only make noise and make her easier to find, so she chose to crouch instead. That was the skill she knew best.

Pressed flat beside a low hedge, Anastasia desperately sought God.

Please, Lord.

The footsteps bleached her mind white. The closer they came, the more frantically she called upon God. Her face, crushed against the ground, burned. The sound of sweat dropping onto the grass rang like thunder.

I’m sorry.

I coveted the food. I could not stay still in my room and dared to come into the garden. I was wrong. So please…

Even as she prayed, her throat closed again. She was simply sad. Why must she keep begging like this? Why could she never stand upright even once? Everyone else lived greedily, committing sins, so why was she alone… so wretched…

Ordinarily she would never have dared think such things, yet the fever clouding her mind and the approaching terror ate away at her consciousness. The light and the footsteps drew nearer still, as if they were coming straight for her. And so Anastasia made another wrong choice. She stood up and began to run.

A scream rose at once, followed by the rapid thud of running feet. She wanted to scream herself, yet her throat could not even manage a proper breath. The approaching footsteps sounded like the beasts of purgatory that, once they seize you, drag you to the deepest pit no matter what.

The moment she was caught, she prayed. To the countess who had given her orders. To God who must be watching. And to the beast that held her.

Footsteps, voices, pain. Everything became too much, and as her consciousness slipped away Anastasia thought:

It’s too hard…

“Ah…”

Once she had recovered every last memory, Anastasia’s face went white. She looked around in haste. In the place she had believed to be paradise, familiar things appeared. The ornate ceiling she had glimpsed only on the rare occasions she was summoned into the mansion. The familiar color of the wallpaper. And the door. This was Edenhurst.

Why…

Then she ought to have been thrown back into her basement room. Why was she lying in such a luxurious place? While she was still dazed, the door opened and strangers entered.

“Are you really planning to stay here any longer… Oh? You’re awake. Are you all right?”

At the man’s voice Anastasia flinched and scrambled backward. Even so her hand snatched up the book beside her and clutched it to her chest. She tried to flee, yet her body would not obey properly, so she could only curl up once more.

Perhaps her appearance startled them. The approaching footsteps halted. But soon a heavier tread drew near. Wondering whether she ought to pull the covers over her head, Anastasia carefully moved her hand—

“That’s the book I was reading.”

“……?”

The unexpected words made her lift her head without thinking. And she met a deep blue. A color she remembered. The eyes she had seen in the forest—eyes she had thought as beautiful as Edenhurst itself. The eyes she had fled from in fear, believing she would never see them again…

Anastasia stared blankly, not even noticing that the man had bent at the waist to bring his gaze level with hers. His face drew so close it almost touched hers as he spoke.

“Will you give it back? I haven’t finished it yet.”

He took hold of the book she held against her chest and murmured, almost in a whisper,

“It was quite interesting, you know.”