The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 18

“Did the statue originally have a head? Twenty years ago?” Veronica asked in a trembling voice.

Leon, standing beside her, exhaled a puff of white breath as he fixed his gaze on the statue bathed in sunlight. His sharp profile was as vivid as a painting.

“How old do you think I am?”

“How old are you, then?”

“I’m not old enough to have entered the wilderness twenty years ago.”

“But you are old enough to treat me like a child.”

Now that she thought about it, how old was he, really? Twenty-five? Thirty? Just by looking at his appearance, it was hard to tell. Veronica found herself curious about Leon’s exact age, wondering how big the difference was—whether it was enough to see her as a child.

“Do you resent being treated like a child?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to like me.”

For the first time, Leon tore his gaze from the statue and looked down at her sideways. Their similarly colored eyes met and intertwined deeply.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just want you to like me.”

Veronica’s words were without logic, like a child’s whim, but they were honest. After a moment of silence, Leon casually replied.

“That’s interesting. I feel the same way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want you to like me, too. To the point where you lose yourself.”

Standing with the sacred flames of the temple behind him, Leon seemed almost like a demon imitating an angel. Veronica found herself staring up at his cool and handsome smile, entranced. His lips were smiling, but his eyes weren’t. Even so, his red aura was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at. It was so candid that it didn’t seem lonely, unlike the dull blackness of her own thoughts.

Looking at someone who seemed to melt away women’s desires like that made Veronica wonder—could such a man truly be free from temptation? Without realizing it, Veronica’s previous judgment of Leon Berg as a pious knight began to waver.

“You’re actually quite a playboy, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Isn’t the story of Kart’s illegitimate child about you?”

It was a joke, but Leon found it far more amusing than she had expected. Now, even his sharp eyes softened with boyish amusement.

“Oh, are you asking if I have an illegitimate child?”

When Veronica nodded, Leon chuckled.

“I have no intention of bedding a woman. I never have, and I never will.”

“Even if you fall in love?”

“Even then,” he added, as if it were obvious, that he didn’t plan on falling in love in the first place.

It was a sneer. The remaining impression of his twisted smile was undeniably mocking. Leon turned his gaze back to the statue, his sharp profile radiating the unshakable conviction of someone offering his life to a higher power. Nothing could intrude upon a life dedicated to God.

Veronica had always known this. It was expected of a devout knight. Yet, for some reason, frustration welled up from deep within her. She found herself stepping forward without realizing it, tugging at his clothes to capture his attention, heedless of the sharp pain in her ankle.

“How can you be so sure?”

“……?”

“How can you be sure you won’t fall in love? Love can strike in an instant, like a lightning bolt.”

As far as she knew, love was an irrational emotion. It was a sudden accident that no one could prepare for. Once it hit, it swept people away like a storm. Even her friends, who had fallen in love with bad men, couldn’t easily break free because of it.

And yet, Veronica, like any twenty-year-old girl, loved romantic stories. She loved tales of people falling in love with their enemies, losing everything in a tragic romance. That’s why she couldn’t stand the sight of eyes deadened in the shadow of God’s light.

“Some people fall in love just by making eye contact. They sink into the depths of despair and then meet a savior who reaches out through the window of their soul.”

Leon stood with his back to the doors, casting a long shadow that stretched over Veronica. He watched her silently, like a fisherman waiting for a struggling fish to tire itself out.

Unable to bear his unflinching gaze any longer, she murmured her final words, “So, I don’t think you should make such definitive statements. Life is long.”

Even as she clenched her lips shut, she didn’t avoid his steady gaze. This had happened many times before. They had a habit of looking deeply into each other’s eyes like this.

“Even a fiery love that burns everything away cools in an instant. That’s why some people meet the love of their life and let them slip away, even while looking them in the eye.”

His calm, low voice contrasted sharply with hers. He continued as he watched her trembling eyes, “It’s better to let go of what you’re holding than to lose it all. Everyone has a different way of living. I don’t think you’re too young to understand that.”

An adult’s perspective. As Veronica finally managed to find the right phrase to describe the situation, she realized she had already let go of his collar and stepped back. He hadn’t mocked or scolded her. He had simply spoken his mind. And yet, she felt as if she had been ridiculed and dismissed. No matter what she said now, it would make her seem childish.

Leon’s words made logical sense. She knew that. So why did she feel the urge to keep arguing? Even she couldn’t understand herself. Then again, there were many things she couldn’t understand—like why she wanted him to like her in the first place.

After an uncomfortable silence, Leon told her to sit near one of the pillars while he fetched dinner. Veronica didn’t respond, but for the first time, the sword she held made a scraping sound against the floor.

***

After leaving the temple, Leon pulled supplies from the horse and briefly surveyed the barren wilderness. There was a distinct sense of something out of place. The wilderness wasn’t like a desert—it was a wasteland.

Not a single blade of grass grew here. No water flowed. Even birds avoided the sky above, and no living creature could make a home in this land.

It was said that this place had once been fertile, before God had gathered all its life force to bestow upon humanity. That power was immense. It was the power that allowed seeds to sprout, insects to breathe, and rain to seep into the earth. It had all been given to humans. Not just the life of the present, but the potential for future life. The life force of the land, which could have grown into towering trees, was also part of this gift. God had given humanity the future of the land itself.

The chosen people began to call this life force “holy power,” which was passed down through bloodlines. From that moment on, humans were granted the authority and justification to rule over all living things. The wilderness itself was a sacred relic, a testament to God’s miracle.

In gratitude, the people built the Great Temple at the edge of the wilderness. Even today, every summer, young men who had come of age from all over the continent would pack their bags and make a pilgrimage here.

This was the story known to the world. But Leon knew more.

For instance, what happens to those with holy power who spend too much time in the wilderness?

He looked down at his empty hands and muttered coldly, “Are you saying I’m returning to where I belong?”

He could feel his holy power surging, trying to break free. For the past week, his body had been trembling with the strain of containing it. He had ignored the pain, driven by the urgency of their journey.

But now, he had reached his limit. Perhaps that’s why he had taken Veronica’s words so seriously earlier—his exhausted mind had become as sharp as a blade.

He was tired. The runaway surge of holy power brought back memories of Tiran. Leon roughly ran a hand over his face.

The two of them ate dinner in the temple after sunset. They grilled fat sausages until they were crispy and used the grease to fry eggs. They also grilled some green vegetables, which Veronica found bitter, though Leon didn’t comment. For better or worse, the bandits’ provisions and cooking tools had made their meals more plentiful than before.

There was no need to keep the fire going. Once they moved deeper inside the temple, the cold was less biting. It had been a while since they sat apart, each leaning against a pillar, when Veronica crept closer, lifting the edge of her cloak. When Leon gave her a curious look, her moonlit lips moved slightly.

“It might just be my imagination, but you don’t look well. If you catch a cold, I’ll feel guilty for taking your cloak.”

It took Leon a while to understand what she meant. His mind was sluggish. Was she saying she had come over because his complexion looked bad?

When he just stared at her, the woman hesitated, then lowered her cloak and sat beside him. She didn’t forget to add a cute little excuse.

“Actually, I’m cold, too. It’s harder to bear without the warmth.”

Her chatter faded into the background. Leon watched her lips move for a while before shifting his gaze to the darkness beyond her.

The temple, which should have been empty, was filled with people bleeding out. In fact, since they had entered the temple, he had seen them—figures in blood-soaked white armor, headless corpses. It was an illusion conjured by his exhausted body.

Hundreds of his comrades from Tiran had been annihilated fighting “it.” Leon had been the only one to survive the tragedy known as the Battle of Tabella. Or, more accurately, he might have survived by trampling on his fallen comrades. It was because Leon, in his rampage, had absorbed all of their holy power and gone berserk.