Serpent of Paradise

Author | Baek Seol-hong

Publisher | RoseN

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[15+ Age Rating Notice]

This work contains content inappropriate for readers under the age of 15. Please view this work under the guidance of a guardian.

Anastasia lifted her head, clutching her red hair as it whipped frantically in the wind.

Through the gaps in the decaying, crumbling wooden fence, she could see a hill not far away. Halfway up the hill stood a small tombstone.

"Mother..."

Anastasia murmured the name of the one she missed in a small voice. The fierce roar of the wind, carrying the biting cold of the frozen earth, instantly snatched her murmur and cast it into the void. The formless words vanished into nothingness. Feeling both pity and relief that her whisper hadn't even reached the hill—or even her own ears—Anastasia sighed.

"I hope I only get hit ten times today."

Anastasia cupped her frozen cheeks with her palms and cast her words to the sky once more.

Though she covered her face, the cold remained unchanged. Her hands, too, were frozen stiff by the wind. With great effort, she lowered her hands and felt the calves beneath her skirt. The welts from the birch rod her father had used on her yesterday had not healed, and blood continued to seep from them even a day later.

"Father says I’m a lewd girl because I take after Mother. He says I must beg the Lord for my sins."

Her murmuring voice was laced with tears.

Anastasia did not know what "lewd" meant. But because the sight of her father beating her while spitting out that word was so terrifying, she could only guess that it was a very bad thing.

"I just... I just wanted to see the book Anton had..."

Anastasia thought of Anton, the village chief's son, who had quietly called her over to the church fence yesterday.

Anton was a boy of the same age as Anastasia. According to the village chief, Anton was a very bright child. He could already read, and they said he would be sent to a school in a big city when he grew older. As if to prove the truth of those words, a week ago, on his birthday, Anton had received a thick book called a dictionary, which the chief had bought in the city.

Anton went around showing off that book to the villagers. Adults and children alike stared at the leather-bound book in Anton's hands as if it were a marvel.

This village was on the very outskirts of the Novgod Empire, a rural backwater where farming consisted of nothing more than potatoes and rye harvested during the short summer.

Most of the villagers did not own enough to require complex calculations. Even now, their staple diet consisted of fish caught in the river, mushrooms and berries gathered from the forest, and game hunted in the wild, rather than crops.

Because of this, the only people in the village who knew how to read were the chief, Anton, old man Viktor—who claimed to have lived in a big city long ago—and Anastasia’s father, Ivan the pastor.

In truth, if the book Anton had received had been an ordinary one, Anastasia would not have been so interested. There were several books in her father's room, after all. Ivan read the Bible, which recorded the voice and miracles of God, from morning until night. Yet, even though he knew how to read, he had never taught Anastasia a single letter.

"To the unfaithful, knowledge is merely a shortcut to evil. Just like the knowledge the serpent stole from Paradise."

Ivan forbade Anastasia from looking at books, or even entering the room where they were kept. Still, Anastasia wanted to see one. And then, Anton had called her over to the church fence and shown her the book he had received. Anastasia could not hide her awe.

The book was a deeper red than the one her father owned and was adorned with glittering decorations. There were words written in gold on the cover. Anton told her it said, "A Great Dictionary for the Young."

Anton flipped through the dictionary one page at a time, keeping it out of Anastasia’s reach as he boasted. Anastasia stared at the book, spellbound. Unlike the Bible her father read, Anton’s book contained beautiful, colorful illustrations. Then, one picture caught Anastasia’s eye.

The illustration depicted a beautiful landscape. It was a scene under bright sunlight where all the trees spread out lush green leaves and the ground was filled with flowers. Birds flew about, and wild animals stood alongside humans. Behind them stood a magnificent, ornate building the likes of which she had never even imagined. And behind that, a green forest stretched out.

"What is that...?"

At Anastasia’s question, Anton looked at the page he had opened, squinted, and read it one character at a time.

"Let’s see. Par... adise?"

Anton stumbled as he read the word.

Paradise. At that word, Anastasia clenched her hands tightly. It was a word that came up often when her father preached to the villagers, or when he made Anastasia kneel and read the Bible to her. Paradise. A place that was always warm and abundant, where there was no suffering or sorrow.

'It really existed.'

Anastasia blinked, staring intently at the picture of Paradise. Then, suddenly, Anton slammed the dictionary shut. At the sight of Paradise vanishing in an instant, Anastasia reached out her arms in desperation. At that moment, Anton grabbed the hand she had extended.

"No! Let go! Let go!"

Startled, Anastasia tried to shake him off like a madwoman. But she could not overcome the strength of Anton, who was a head taller than her. Anton, having pulled Anastasia toward him, thrust his other hand through the gap in the broken fence and touched her face.

Her green eyes, filled with tears in a face turned deathly pale from shock, trembled violently. At that sight, Anton felt a heaviness stir in his loins. The moment the boy was momentarily distracted, Anastasia quickly bit down on the hand Anton was using to hold her wrist.

"Ouch! You little!"

Because of that, Anton was startled and let go of her hand. Why was this girl, who was usually so quiet, suddenly acting like a lunatic?

Anton soon found out why. Ivan had come running out from inside the church upon hearing Anastasia’s scream.

Ivan came charging out, letting out a roar so fierce it was hard to believe he was the usually composed pastor. Anton, startled by the ferocity of Ivan—who looked as if he would smash through the fence to get to him—raised his arms to cover his face.

*Slap!*

The sound of a palm striking flesh echoed, but Anton felt no pain at all. Instead, it was Anastasia who went sprawling to the ground.

"You lewd girl! The moment I take my eyes off you, you lure men in! Just like your mother!"

"I’m sorry! Argh! I, I’m sorry!"

Anastasia begged, clutching her head. Anton looked at Ivan, who had transformed into a demon, and fled, screaming. Ivan didn't even spare a glance for the fleeing Anton; he grabbed Anastasia by the scruff of her neck and hauled her up. Her thin body, lighter than half a sack of barley, was dragged away helplessly by Ivan’s hand.

Once inside the church, Ivan recited passages from the Bible incessantly. After placing Anastasia on the altar, he muttered prayers about how she must beg God for her sins, and then he beat her calves with a birch rod. That was yesterday.

Anastasia traced her calves, still beaded with blood, and wiped away the tears welling in her eyes with her sleeve.

Her father had been so furious yesterday that she needed to keep a low profile for a while. Even so, she missed her mother so much that she had snuck out to the backyard to gaze at her grave.

After letting her whimpers be carried away by the wind, Anastasia turned around. She had to get back inside. If she failed to recite her prayer of repentance perfectly tonight, it was a given that she would be beaten again, and she would even be denied her single daily meal. She feared the rod, but she feared starvation just as much. On the days she did not eat, the biting cold of the frozen earth seemed to pierce her skin all the more sharply.

It was just as Anastasia was about to head inside.

“……?”

A strange sound was mixed into the wind. Anastasia realized it was the sound of a carriage.

‘The village head?’

The village head was the only person in this village who owned a carriage. Even then, it was just a rickety cart pulled laboriously by an old horse, but it was the most precious vehicle in the village. However, as she listened, Anastasia realized the sound was different from usual. Unlike the usual, she heard the sound of many more hooves.

‘Who is it?’

This was such a remote, unremarkable village that no one ever passed through it. Aside from the lord’s representative who came once a year to collect taxes, the only person who had ever visited was a man who had gotten lost while out hunting several years ago. Whenever the villagers drank, they still talked about that man, as if he were the only amazing thing that had ever happened in the world.

Anastasia peered toward the end of the path that led to the front of the church. A carriage she had never seen before was approaching. Four large, sturdy horses. And behind them, a magnificent, golden carriage.

“……!”

Anastasia was momentarily spellbound by something so splendid, the likes of which she had never seen in her life. Then, hearing the neighing of the horses, she snapped back to reality. She quickly ducked into the church, hid her body beneath a nearby long prayer bench, closed her eyes, and covered her ears.

‘Pass by quickly.’

Ever since her mother passed away, her father had absolutely loathed Anastasia encountering other people. That was why he had locked her in the room where her mother had breathed her last and forbidden her from ever leaving the church again. Not only was she unable to meet the village children she used to play with, but even if someone came to pray, Anastasia was not allowed to show her face, let alone offer a greeting.

If she ever happened to cross paths with someone, she would be beaten until she lost consciousness. That was why, even if someone merely passed by the church, Anastasia would scramble to hide herself. She covered her ears as if to block out even the sound.

‘But… I want to see.’

The image of the golden carriage that had been approaching came to mind. At the same time, a verse from her favorite prayer also surfaced.

*Pray. For the golden carriage that will take you to Paradise shall arrive for you.*

The golden carriage to Paradise. Could that carriage be what it looked like?

Anastasia imagined it. The carriage stops in front of the church, and a messenger sent by God reaches out a hand to her. She takes the messenger’s hand and boards the carriage, leaving for a beautiful place. Because this was the first time she had ever seen such a magnificent carriage, Anastasia could not imagine what it was like inside. She surmised that it would be warm. That it would be as soft as a field of grass in the summer.

Her imagination ended there.

‘It will pass by, just like that.’

This church was in the most secluded spot, even in this village with so few people. If it weren't for the path leading to the forest, even the villagers going out to hunt wouldn't pass by it.

It was a church that no one visited, save for the elderly, faithful believers who brought sacks of potatoes and barley they had shared among themselves, offered their prayers, and left. So, surely that carriage, whose reason for appearing here she could not fathom, would simply pass by.

At that moment, she heard the sound of the carriage, which she thought would pass, coming to a halt.

“……!”

Anastasia clamped a hand over her mouth. The carriage had stopped. Why? How?

A moment later, she heard the sound of the old wooden door opening. From under the bench, all Anastasia could see were well-polished, gleaming shoes. They were cleaner and more elegant than the shoes worn by the lord’s representative—the shoes of a gentleman. Then, the person who had entered shouted.

“Chloe!”

She flinched. Anastasia’s body trembled violently at the stranger’s shout. Chloe. That was her mother’s name.

“Chloe! Where are you!”

The gentleman was someone who knew her mother.

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