Laudia — POV
I followed Agnes to her university, and as usual, she acted as if I were nothing.
All her classmates bowed to her in respect. In their belief, the firstborn of every generation was holy. Agnes walked calmly—composed, completely unbothered.
They admired her beauty and her intelligence, yet no one was afraid to get close to her.
"Agnes, if you keep acting like this, you might end up alone," I said softly.
She didn't react. She continued studying, distant—like someone impossible to approach.
Whenever I noticed the boys watching her from afar, it reminded me of the men long ago…
those who once looked at me the same way.
Agnes remained unmoved by the attention.
If I acted like you… would I have suffered like this?
I whispered the thought to myself and stared out the window. Then, suddenly, Agnes stood from her chair. Her movement was calm, yet it drew everyone's attention.
"I appreciate the attention," she said firmly, her voice steady,
"but please refrain from staring at me like an animal on display. It makes me uncomfortable."
The boys immediately bowed, apologizing.
I frowned and stepped closer to her.
"Agnes, that was rude. You could have spoken more properly."
She glanced at me, then sat back down and returned to her book. I crossed my arms, still watching her, when she spoke again—without lifting her gaze.
"Those words weren't just for them. They were for you too, Laudia.
You can go back home and stop following me."
I tried to read her expression—but I couldn't.
"You don't even bother hiding your irritation," I said quietly.
"All your ancestors never dared to call me by name, yet you—"
Before I could finish, she closed her book, put on her earphones, and rested her head on the table.
"You're unbelievable," I muttered.
I left the classroom.
Though most people couldn't see me, the firstborn students still showed respect. Yet Agnes' attitude unsettled me.
I remembered the first time I met her.
Even after losing the ability to see me, her mother had introduced me to Agnes.
And those eyes—unchanged.
Still cold.
Is this also part of God's punishment?
To make me relive all my pain through her eyes?
I glanced back at Agnes, studying her.
Her movements carried her mother's composure.
But her presence—her aura—was exactly like his.
Just as he was after he forgot me completely.
Was this how he looked at other women… while still loving me?
That night, I returned to their home and rested beside the altar they had built for me.
And for the first time in a long while, I found myself thinking—
How do I soften her… toward me?