Marie's pen glided softly across a sheet of yellowed, poor-quality paper. Outside, raindrops struck the windows of their crumbling home.

The cracked ceiling let thin streams of water drip down. These drops joined puddles slowly spreading across the floor.

The smell of rotting wood filled every corner of the house.

The room was lit by an oil lamp hanging on the wall. Under the flickering light, shadows danced, giving the room a gloomy, oppressive atmosphere.

Thursday, March 20, 1658

"Today, like every other day, mother didn't come home, leaving us alone in this house… if it can even be called that anymore."

Marie paused. Her sigh echoed through the empty room.

"How long has it been since I last saw her? Two years? Three? The last time… she looked even more exhausted than usual. Perhaps it's better this way. If she came back, I don't know if I could still look at her and call her my mother."

"Anne is the one who keeps this house running now. She takes care of us… but who takes care of her?"

"Marguerite and I keep telling her to rest. She always says yes, but how long has it been since she actually took a break? Thankfully, Arthur and Michael work at the port to ease the expenses. But even then, we still struggle to stabilize our miserable situation."

"I know it. Even if they refuse to talk about it. Marguerite and I tried to find work… but they stopped us, claiming we're too young."

Marie paused again.

Silence.

Then—

BAM!

Marie jumped. The pen slipped, leaving a black ink stain on the paper.

She turned abruptly, her heart pounding. But a cheerful, mischievous voice broke the silence.

"Hehe, caught me again!"

"Marguerite!" Marie exclaimed, frowning. "How many times have I told you not to scare me like that? I nearly had a heart attack!"

Marguerite burst out laughing, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

"I can't help it. It's too tempting."

Marie let out a long sigh before standing up.

Standing before her, her twin sister reflected her own image: the same long, blonde hair cascading down their backs, the same deep blue gaze. A striking beauty, marred only by the poverty of their clothing.

Marie narrowed her eyes.

"Wait… is that my dress you're wearing?"

Marguerite flashed a playful smile. The black dress, worn and torn in places, covered her slender figure.

"What's yours is mine."

Marie looked away, choosing not to respond. She knew her sister too well—Marguerite loved getting under her skin.

"Why are you here?"

"Arthur sent me. It's time for the evening lesson."

"Ah, I forgot about that."

"Obviously. What were you writing so intently that you forgot everything around you?" Marguerite asked with curiosity.

"A diary. But if I told you, it wouldn't be a diary anymore. Let's go—Arthur must be waiting."

In the next room, a young man sat on a rickety chair. His messy black hair fell to the nape of his neck. But what stood out most were his eyes—one black as the abyss, the other blue as ice.

Dark, worn clothes covered his slender frame.

When the twins entered, he slowly lifted his head.

"You're finally here. Everything's ready for the lesson. We have time before Michael returns from the port."

"What will today's lesson be about?" Marie asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Writing."

Marguerite shrugged.

"Again? We did that yesterday…"

Arthur fixed his gaze on her.

"Writing is the most precious thing in this world. Through it, we communicate, we access knowledge. It's the key to your future. Tell me—how many people do you know here who can read and write?"

Silence followed his words. Then he continued, his tone firm:

"Writing is a treasure. A considerable advantage. And we must preserve it."

Marie nodded enthusiastically.

"He's right. It's a treasure we must refine."

Arthur gave her a faint smile.

Marguerite, however, looked away.

"I suppose you're right…"

The lesson began. Arthur made them recite grammar rules, conjugate verbs, and read historical texts. Even Marguerite, usually so distracted, seemed absorbed by his explanations.

Time passed without them noticing.

But when the lesson ended, Michael had still not returned.

"What should we do now?" Marie asked. "Wait for him before dinner?"

"Yes. It's better to eat together."

Marguerite sighed, crossing her arms.

"In that case, what do we do?"

Marie thought for a moment.

"How about we go out? The mass at Our Lady of the Sky will begin soon. Watching the crowd gather at the church is always entertaining."

"But it's raining," Marguerite pointed out.

Arthur glanced at the window. His expression softened.

"Actually… it's not raining anymore. Haha. You were so absorbed in the lesson you didn't even notice. That pleases me."

"Well then, let's go!" Marie exclaimed.

And so, the trio ventured out of the dilapidated house, heading toward Our Lady of the Sky.

The streets of Blackmoor still felt damp. Puddles remained on the roads, and the darkened sky slowly gave way to the rising moon.

Arthur, Marie, and Marguerite walked toward the city's largest church. It was Marie's idea, claiming the real spectacle lay there. After all, at this church, all social classes mixed. There was no discrimination or privilege—only people coming together to pray to their God.

But as they advanced, the trio noticed the growing number of believers all heading in the same direction.

"Is there some special event today?" Marie asked, clearly surprised by the forming crowd.

"Yeah… why are there so many people?" Marguerite added.

Arthur turned his head slightly toward them, a faint smile on his lips.

"You don't know? I thought that was why you wanted to come out."

"So… there is a special event?" Marie asked, a bit confused.

"Actually, no. I didn't know either. I just suggested it because I like listening to the church's hymns. All those voices singing from the heart… it's a real spectacle."

Arthur slowed his pace, glancing at them in turn.

"Tell me, girls, what day is it today?"

"Thursday. Thursday, March 20," Marguerite answered.

Arthur smiled, as if confirming a thought.

"And what happens on Thursday, March 20?"

Marie and Marguerite exchanged confused looks.

"It's Donation Day," Arthur explained. "A day when every believer of the Lady of the Sky must give money to help their neighbor. Even a single coin will do. But for them, it's a spiritual obligation. That's why everyone's heading there today."

"I see…" Marie replied, seeming to reflect on his words.

But Marguerite interrupted her abruptly.

"Wait… isn't that Michael over there?"

Arthur and Marie instinctively turned toward the direction she pointed.

They nodded in unison.

"Let's go," Arthur said without hesitation.

The trio quickened their pace.

Michael resembled Arthur—long, curly black hair and deep blue eyes like his sisters'. He was handsome, pleasing to look at, even dressed in his dusty, soot-stained work clothes.

But what caught the trio's attention most was the woman beside him. A woman with long black hair.

Michael, down on one knee, seemed to be in the middle of a flirtatious attempt.

"What?! Flirting with another woman again?" Marguerite exclaimed, stepping forward determinedly.

"Aren't you tired of chasing after every woman you meet?" she said, visibly annoyed.

The young woman with Michael froze. Her smile vanished.

"What? Flirting with every woman?" she repeated, clearly offended.

Without another word, she turned abruptly and walked away.

"Wait, Julie! You're the only one that matters!" Michael cried, rushing after her.

But the young woman didn't even glance back.

Michael turned toward his sisters, his face full of sorrow.

"Marguerite… I hope you're proud of yourself. You just ruined my only chance with Julie…"

"Oh, come on. How many times has it been this week? I've lost count," Marguerite replied, crossing her arms.

Michael then turned to Arthur, who had just arrived beside Marie.

"You get it, right? This kind of thing… only men can understand."

Arthur gave a forced smile.

"Yes, of course… only men can understand."