Flowers Bloom Only Toward the Deep Sea: Nineteen Years and One Sentence

She had lived in the castle for nineteen years. The whole city knelt before her, yet no one had ever called her by name. A saint could have no personal ties, no selfish desires, and nothing of her own. She had memorized that at the age of eight.

Then a girl came in through the kitchen's back door and said she was hungry. The girl ate the saint's portion of the meal, then said as she left, "I'll come again tomorrow."

And she really did come every day. She brought two rice balls, gossip from town, and later, candy. The saint began hiding things: half a piece of candy, a bowl, a thought she dared not say aloud.

The scriptures said this was sacrilege. She knew that. But this time, she did not give that thing away.