The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 25

“Why would I be angry with you?”

Leon finally broke the silence. His question made Veronica recall the expression he had worn in the Great Temple. That unforgettable face, so cold and empty, like a bottomless abyss.

“Why would you be angry? Because I saw through your mask.”

“Mask?”

“Call it what you want—whether it’s pretense or an outer shell. I know what it is, and I know that people who wear masks are afraid of being found out.”

Leon fell silent, picking up a fallen feather from the bed as if thinking over her words. The only sound between them was the fierce crackling of the fireplace. Just as the tension made Veronica speak again,

“I crossed a line, didn’t I? If that’s what made you afraid—”

“No.”

Leon cut her off, dropping the white feather to the floor. As the fragment of the wing wandered through the air and landed at his feet, his handsome face, now raised, showed no expression.

“I’ve never been angry. If anything, I should be grateful. No one’s ever offered to cry for me before.”

Leon stood up slowly and approached the bedside table, picking up a bottle of wine.

Grateful. Veronica mulled over the word in a daze. It surprised her that there was still a first for him, and at the same time, it made her happy. She felt like she had left a footprint behind.

As she watched him inspect the wine label, she asked, “Then why did you leave me here?”

“Because, according to the Papal Palace, there’s no place more secure than this.”

“You’re saying it’s for my sake? But you’re not staying here yourself.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow to search Blasen. I can’t take you with me on the search.”

His tone was firm, almost like a decree.

His companion? It seemed to her that he didn’t even consider her mature enough to discuss his plans with, even after they had crossed the wilderness together, even after she had opened her heart to him this much.

Veronica felt a surge of sadness as she thought about how long she had waited for him, hoping he would come. Just as she was about to speak up, Leon added softly, as if remembering something.

“But before I leave, I should do what I came here to do.”

Before she could grasp his meaning, he set the wine aside and lifted her chin.

What he came here to do. Ah.

As his shadow loomed over her like a god, every thought in her head vanished. It dawned on her why he had come to see her so late. It wasn’t to take her out of here. It was to push back any potential outburst. He had to leave tomorrow, and she would be left here in the meantime.

“But every time there’s been an outburst, it’s always been accompanied by visions. Are you okay if I don’t see anything?”

“I thought about that too, but it’s the order from above,” Leon answered nonchalantly. He sat down next to her on the bed, his large frame blocking the view of the fireplace. Veronica closed her eyes, letting herself fall into the shadow.

She hadn’t felt this way in a long time, but now she was reminded of how miserable it was to rely on someone else for survival. To hear commands and be unable to refuse them.

His lips brushed against hers, parting gently. She felt his firm hand slide from her cheek to the nape of her neck, lingering where her wound had been. He had hurt her, waited for her to heal, and now that she was back to normal, he was ready to leave without hesitation.

Soon, she would be left alone again, floating in the white sea, cradling her soul with fragile arms to keep it from scattering.

“…Don’t go.”

It was an involuntary plea. As soon as their lips parted, she blurted it out, her breathing shallow as she forced herself to meet his gaze.

“Don’t go.”

“……”

“You liar. You said I was necessary.”

Leon continued to look at her, unmoving, his head tilted slightly. Just then, there was a loud thud from the wall beside the bed, and Veronica flinched, clutching her clothes tighter. She tugged on them slightly, burying her face against Leon’s chest like a child seeking comfort.

“Can’t you stay with me, just for tonight?”

It wasn’t a calculated move; it was almost unconscious, a habit formed from all the nights she had clung to him after waking from nightmares.

What had the wilderness done to them?

Some scholars said time flowed strangely in the wilderness, that in certain places, years or even decades could pass without anyone noticing. Perhaps the two of them had spent years together there, relying on each other’s warmth in the cold.

An unrecorded history, unknown to anyone but God.

As Leon reflexively moved to hold her, he paused, looking down at his empty hands. There was nothing there. Even if he tried to hold on, the world would only slip through his fingers. Everything that had happened between them would inevitably fall away, disappearing without a trace.

“I’m not asking you to stay all night. I wouldn’t even make such a request in the first place… It’s not that I’m expecting anything to happen either.”

Leon stared at his empty hand for a moment before looking down at her flushed face.

The way she suddenly turned away when their eyes met was amusing. Even as she rambled on about the noises in the hallway and how awful the room was, Leon was keenly aware of the softness of her body beneath the fabric of their clothes. The intense urges he felt were maddeningly violent and vulgar.

The healing power of holy energy flowed through breath and bodily fluids. The reason this kind of treatment is forbidden is that the act of exchange affects the body.

Unfortunately, the desire Leon had learned was Bahamut’s instinct for reproduction. Every time they were this close, his urges became more monstrous than human. He wanted to draw from her throat a cry more beautiful than any hymn, a soft, minor scream. He longed to suppress, grip, and take her by force, to make her moan his name, not another man’s, in her sleep.

He was truly going mad.

“The bed’s too small.”

Leon broke the silence, and Veronica quickly protested, shocked, “Who said anything about sleeping together? I just asked you to stay by my side. Just for today.”

“Didn’t you say earlier that I shouldn’t go?”

“I meant… don’t leave me here all alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Leon wiped away the saliva on her lips as he added, “I’ll take you with me next time. Until then, stay here.”

His lie was affectionate. No, it had to be affectionate—because it was a lie.

“Stay here and listen to the priests.”

“Don’t treat me like a child.”

“Then how should I treat you?”

Veronica bit her lip, hesitating as she tried to come up with an answer. Her face turned bright red, all the way to her forehead, as if she had thought of something embarrassing.

She looked so red that Leon joked, “Well, you don’t need a stove to boil water, do you?”

He touched her forehead playfully, but she swatted his hand away, burying her face in the blanket. Leon chuckled to himself, brushing back his annoyingly damp hair. Now he thought he understood what she meant by “mask.”

This must be his mask—the need for physical contact, the desire to hold a woman. There was no deeper meaning behind it.

Leon felt no love, devotion, or responsibility for her. He felt nothing but a trace of pity and a gnawing desire. She was ultimately meaningless to him, just one person among many, a statistic. One person who had to die so that four hundred million could live. Even if she wilted and broke in the process, his choice would not change. If you feared stepping on a flower, you couldn’t move forward.

When she learned the truth, she would grieve. The woman who had claimed she couldn’t cry might finally shed tears.

It didn’t matter. Even if the future burned, you could still pour water on it. She wouldn’t wither, not until the end came.

Peeking out from under the blanket, Veronica watched Leon reach for the wine bottle on the side table.

“That’s mine. It was served with my meal.”

“You’re not going to drink anyway. Let me,” said Leon as he casually uncorked the bottle.

Veronica frowned. “Aren’t you going to Blasen tomorrow? Shouldn’t you be clear-headed?”

“The mountain air will clear me up.”

Leon continued to joke, but Veronica didn’t laugh. Instead, she reached out to grab the bottle, though Leon reflexively pulled it away before she could. The difference in their arm length made it an unfair contest from the start.

As Leon raised the bottle high with his left hand, Veronica, her expression growing irritated, suddenly climbed onto his lap, reaching for it.

She finally grabbed it. The provocative position made it difficult for Leon to push her away. Leaning back, he supported himself on the bed, looking up at her with those red eyes—eyes that could only be described as hypnotic.

“…If you stay with me just for today, I’ll give it back to you.”

After all her earlier embarrassment, she now made her demand without hesitation. She must have fully trusted that he wouldn’t lay a finger on her, even if they spent the night together.

Leon tugged at the corners of his lips, responding, “Why should I? If you’re scared, just hide under the blanket like before.”

She trusted him too much. It was clear that the time had come to finally sever this bond.

“Oh, sorry, my hand slipped.”

The next moment, the sweet scent of wine filled the air as her new white tunic became soaked. The liquid dripped from the narrow neck of the bottle, thick and sticky like blood.

“Well, now I can’t leave like this. And it’s too late to ask for new clothes. I guess I’ll have to stay and wash up.”

Veronica stood up abruptly, grabbing a neatly folded white handkerchief from the side table with feigned innocence. Leon glanced at the wine stains spreading across his stomach and pants, letting out a low chuckle.

“Looks like you’re the one who’s angry.”

She had gotten her revenge for being left alone all day. What a stubborn woman.