The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 16

Only one man driving the wagon managed to escape. It seemed he had cut the connection to the wagon when he realized everyone else had been killed and he was about to be caught.

When Leon opened the canvas of the wagon, he saw the dead man and Veronica trembling in front of him but said nothing. He simply picked up the fur cloak from the floor and draped it over her disheveled collar.

“Don’t pull it out.”

It was when Leon was about to retrieve the dagger from the man’s face that Veronica, in a hoarse voice, spoke again.

“Leave it. I don’t need it anymore.”

Her voice was firm, and her once dull red eyes gleamed with a new focus. Without a word, Leon let go of the hilt and sat beside her. His long legs bent at the knees, and his arms draped over them, while the still-dark night loomed outside like a curtain.

“You knew from the start that they weren’t merchants, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“Spice traders don’t use poorly constructed wagons like that. And merchants usually hire mercenaries for protection; they don’t carry weapons themselves.”

Their lack of fear toward strangers was also because they were bandits preying on refugees. Looking back, the signs were clear. Veronica buried her head in her knees, her voice muffled and heavy.

“Is it because the world is in such a state that people like them appear?”

“No. People don’t change.”

“No matter what kind of world it is?”

“It’s the same. Bad people do bad things, and good people do good things.”

“But you became a war hero thanks to Bahamut rising up, even though you were once an inquisitor.”

Veronica spoke abruptly, realizing she might have made a mistake and bit her lip. The word “murderer,” which she had heard earlier, must have stuck in her mind.

Leon leaned his head against the wagon wall, staring into the void. He took a long time to reply.

“Nothing changed. Bad people will always do bad things, no matter the era.”

Veronica cautiously raised her head. Although Leon felt her gaze, he didn’t look back at her. His red hair glimmered more brightly in the faint light of dawn than before.

“I’ve been curious for a while. Why don’t you wear a helmet?”

“Bahamut goes for the head.”

“I know, so why expose that vulnerable spot?”

“First, because I want to die quickly. Second, because I don’t like the feeling of something pressing down on my head.”

Veronica, who had been listening to his playful answers with displeasure, widened her eyes at his last response.

“Third, because that way they’ll come straight for me.”

Exposing his head because they aim for the brain.

“You can choose one of the three answers.”

Realizing the meaning behind his words, Veronica shuddered.

It was a suicide tactic. Like throwing oneself into a fire to protect others. For someone like her, who had fled with all her strength in front of Bahamut, the idea was unimaginable.

What kind of state of mind would it take to stand still, covered in honey, waiting for bees to swarm? Wasn’t it terrifying? Didn’t he want to hide? But then again, unlike her, Leon had the power to kill them, so maybe he was okay with it.

Veronica’s gaze dropped to the corpse in front of her. The wide-open eyes. The unforgettable sensation.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“What if I say no?”

“I’ll just ask anyway. I have a stubborn streak and tend to be more persistent when someone tells me not to.”

Leon glanced at her, amused. As time passed, she was gradually revealing her true nature. The old lady next door used to say Veronica was a bit arrogant and had a flighty temperament.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you buy me a sword?”

“When thieves break in, even a child grabs a kitchen knife. It’s natural.”

“That’s not what I mean. What I’m asking is whether you saw any potential in me.”

“What potential?”

“The ability to kill Bahamut.”

Leon’s previously indifferent eyes darkened. Veronica continued calmly, “I’m not ignorant. I know the basics. It’s common knowledge that an ordinary human can’t pierce Bahamut’s hide.”

Killing Bahamut was nearly impossible without cannons. Only Holy Knights with holy power or elite swordsmen capable of wielding sword aura could stand a chance against them. Of course, Veronica was neither of those. And yet, Leon had given her a sword.

Why?

“If I was given the sword because I can do it, then I want to learn properly. I want to become strong.”

As if to punctuate her bold statement, the winter wind blew, tangling Leon’s red hair and whipping Veronica’s short black hair around. Her defiant white forehead and cheeks were exposed, shining like something that would melt away tomorrow, like snow.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and yet, despite not even being able to protect her eyes from the wind, her determination remained sharp.

Leon stared at her as if piercing through her. Her words weren’t entirely wrong. Bahamut was surrounded by an unknown layer of energy, making it almost impossible for ordinary swordsmen to cut through its hide. This was why humanity had been so helplessly overpowered.

But she’s the assimilated one. The fluctuation of energy she had caused the first time she held the dagger was similar to the energy surrounding Bahamut. That’s why he predicted she could pierce through Bahamut’s defense even without sword aura. Her boldness in asking to learn, despite her slender arms that didn’t seem suited to wielding metal, was surprising.

She resembled something…

The woman was like a cloud-covered sun.

Usually too bright to look at, the sun becomes faintly visible through the cloudy winter sky. It had always been there, in the same place, in the same form, but only now could it be seen.

Some things are only discovered on cloudy days.

As Leon thought about this, a cold smile suddenly spread across his face.

No one had ever responded to him like this after discovering his identity.

Even soldiers who had trained all their lives would reach out for salvation in their helplessness, desperate to touch even the edge of his armor, hoping for a miracle.

But this woman was different. Judging by her fragile appearance, one would assume she was mild-mannered. But once her shell cracked open, the bird that emerged was not a wingless dodo but a sea hawk, enduring the winter.

She showed no signs of shrinking back, and her eyes remained focused, even during this difficult journey.

Most notably, she had faced a life-changing event and turned it into a desire to kill.

It wasn’t that she had strong or solid mental fortitude.

People who can stand up again in front of death are usually those who are lacking in some way, who are emotionally deficient in certain areas.

Like Leon Berg himself.

“Since there’s nothing to lose, you can give it a try.”

As expected, there was something about her that grated on his nerves. She reminded him of his younger self, desperately trying to fill in the gaps of a fractured identity.

“Just don’t whine when it gets tough. I hate people who give up halfway.”

What irritated him was her unblemished face, like untouched snow. He could already see her future stained with blood.

“I won’t. I’m tougher than you think,” Veronica answered confidently, her tears sparkling like starlight in the wind.

***

They gathered as many supplies as they could. Despite their earlier boasts, most of the wagons were nearly empty. Since Veronica still didn’t know how to ride, they released all the horses. Of course, they made sure to feed them plenty of grain before doing so.

Next, they washed themselves thoroughly with warm water melted from the snow. Both of them were covered in blood, so it took some time to scrub it all off. Veronica wasn’t fond of the clothes they had looted, but she was just relieved she didn’t have to wear the bandits’ clothes.

Dressed in a woolen tunic and pants, Veronica wrapped Leon’s cloak around herself. Though there were plenty of other outer garments, for some reason, she wanted to wear his. Since they had already been delayed, they set off immediately. Naturally, there was no time to discuss the sword that day.

And then, the next day dawned.

Early in the morning, Veronica woke up naturally, without anyone shaking her awake. Strictly speaking, something had woken her.

A swelling hope, a sense of anticipation, imagining herself wielding the sword and slaying Bahamut like a hero.

There were names every boy on the continent grew up hearing at least once. Names like Anders the Ice Blade, Manute of the Southern Mace, Nirgui of the Rom Archipelago, and God’s Messenger, Leon Berg.

Boys easily dreamed of becoming swordsmen. Even the son of a fisherman could dream of such things. Boys were meant to have ambition.

But there were always those left out of such stories. The older sister who sat by the fireplace, knitting, or the younger sister playing with her cloth dolls. Girls could dream of ambition too, but they were raised to nurture men with ambition.

The fact that Veronica even knew the story of Leon beheading the heretic Nirgui proved her interest in swordsmanship. After all, what had driven a dancer like her to linger so often around the blacksmith?

If she had been born a man, she would have wielded a sword. So, this was the first positive change she had found in her upside-down life.

She would learn to wield a sword properly. And not just from anyone—from Leon Berg himself.

That spark of hope drove away even her nightmares and set her heart racing before dawn. Though the world was still dark, and she was surrounded by Leon’s masculine scent and steady breathing, Veronica felt restless.

“Are you awake?”

“Yes.” After a brief pause, a reply came from above her.

Veronica beamed. “When did you wake up?”

“I’m still asleep.”

“Wow, you’re so diligent. The sun hasn’t even risen yet.”

“Can you hear me at all?”

Veronica giggled at his drowsy voice. His body resonated with his words.

“Do you always wake up this early? The fire’s gone out, and it’s pitch dark.”

“You woke me up.”

“Oh.”

Veronica was about to apologize but froze when she felt herself being pulled close. His warm, firm body no longer scared her.

In books, they said time passed, but that didn’t seem true. Time was definitely something that accumulated like layers of sediment. Even if they hadn’t had meaningful conversations, the time they spent together meant something. Veronica no longer feared Leon the way she had at first.

She used to be afraid of men, of the physical threat they posed. She supposed all women had that fear. How many women would feel safe and at ease traveling alone with a strange man?

But Leon Berg was different.

Even if it sounded trite and naive, it didn’t matter.

He was a knight of God, and while he might be swayed by physical desire, it wouldn’t break his convictions.

Leon had never touched her more than necessary. Despite the rumors about him, the so-called fallen knight was as devout as one who thanked God for a single grain of wheat.

By now, she had long realized that his light, glib words were just a mask. Just like the smile she wore when she needed it. She didn’t know what lay beneath that mask.

They were similar. Thinking of how much they were alike sparked her curiosity.

She wanted to know more about him.