The Sand Bride - Side Story 2.5

“It will be okay.”

She desperately hoped it would be so. And she also had a premonition that it might. Of course, it wasn’t right now. Her peace was like a pond in winter.

For now, the ice covering the top was so thin that it would break if someone threw a heavy stone, but as time passed, the ice would gradually thicken and not crack easily. Within those years that would accumulate ahead, Esther buried herself cautiously yet gently.

Inherently, she was a person who would choose the path of flight rather than struggle, the act of curling up and shedding tears rather than a blood-splattered revenge; she was a human who would choose the side of sacrificing herself for a loved one rather than seeking vengeance.

For Esther, courage might be a noble spirit of sacrifice that saved people, but it could never be the source of a violent desire for revenge that cut off the breath of a resentful other. Therefore, even if Esther could not fully forgive Karzhen, she could feel gratitude for her father’s survival and him taking care of her mother.

‘He gives the disease and then provides the medicine……’

As she tried braiding her hair like she used to when she was in her homeland, she gave a self-mocking laugh at that thought, but it wasn’t a particularly unhappy laugh. Her father was alive and her mother was recovering, so it was okay. Things were becoming okay.

* * *

Two years passed, and Karzhen and Esther officially held their wedding. As it was the wedding of the Sayar, it was held on a date decided by meteorologists and astrologers consulting together. The sky was clear and clean without a single cloud, the sunlight was neither too hot nor too dazzling, and it was a day with a minimal breeze.

According to Gharyam’s wedding style, Karzhen and his bride had to reach the point where they faced each other from separate paths. From there, it was the custom to walk together to the priest who would officiate the wedding.

The invited guests were already seated, glancing with curious eyes at the path where the protagonists had not yet appeared. In particular, they were busier examining the bride’s path than the groom’s, because they knew about Karzhen, but they knew nothing about his new bride, Esther.

As the official ceremony began, music filled the air, and petals and colored paper like jewels fluttered in the sky.

When Karzhen began to walk the path first, the servants signaled to Esther, who was standing still and unable to walk easily, to hurry and walk the path. Only then did Esther reluctantly take a step, her gait stiff like someone who was very nervous.

From the music to the fluttering flowers, the scale was large enough to be dizzying.

Until then, the wedding she knew was a short, simple, and merely joyful event where the bride and groom just danced, made a vow to God, sent a marriage application to the lord, and then ate and drank with those around them. However, it seemed the weddings of those with high status were not like that.

The style was complicated and the preparation was long. She was asked about everything from flowers to songs to the clothes she would wear, but Esther always just followed Karzhen’s opinions because she didn’t know what to do or how.

For her, the greatest significance of the wedding was simply the letters from her mother that the person Karzhen sent every week delivered.

However, once the ceremony actually began, Esther could not help but realize that Karzhen had become her husband, the one she had been curious about since her girlhood, and so a gloominess that surpassed a bride’s melancholy hovered around her until just before the ceremony.

To think she would have to live from now on in such a far-off country, and in the country of the Kemut tribe, which she had heard of as a ghost story in her childhood.

But whether she let out a sigh of depression or not, the servants finished the preparations for the ceremony perfectly.

When they rolled up the silk veil—as soft and fine as a spiderweb—and tied it broadly with a golden string, Esther became as if she were rolled in silk, and the skirt hem, which was long enough to drag on the floor every time she moved, was held in the arms of young servants dressed in blue silk as they followed her with quick steps so it wouldn’t look unsightly.

Unlike Esther, whose pace was so slow, Karzhen had already reached the path they would walk together. He waited calmly for Esther to come.

She was destined to come to him eventually. He knew that well.

After Esther reached the place where Karzhen was, the time walking to the officiant became significantly shorter. This was because Karzhen walked as if he were almost carrying her. The quick steps of the young servants became a fast run.

At that comical sight, a guest and a close maternal cousin of Karzhen laughed playfully, softening the atmosphere.

“It seems the Sayar is in a great hurry!”

“Hahaha! Indeed he is.”

Laughter erupted, wahaha. Regardless, Karzhen quickly reached the officiant’s seat.

The old priest who would officiate was flustered by Karzhen and his bride who came rushing before he was even mentally prepared, but as if his age of nearly seventy was not for nothing, he soon began the ceremony with familiarity.