The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 26

Leon sent Oscar away first, saying it would take some time. Then he went straight into the bathroom to wash off the thick liquid. The space, without even a single candle lit, was dark. Leon, who had removed his sword and set it against the wall, undressed and, after a few attempts, turned on the faucet.

The groundwater that hit his bare skin was as cold as ice. If he went to the inn by the stream as he had planned, he could have asked for a warm bath, even at this late hour. But today, Leon had no intention of returning there.

“Don’t go.”

“You liar. You said I was necessary.”

The woman had already provoked his most vulnerable nerve, like someone who had planned it several times. She broke down the world he had built so carefully, peering into the boy trembling inside.

At the very least, she should not have told him not to leave. On the night they first met, she begged him not to go. Perhaps he had known since then. That hearing those same words again would snap something inside him.

That nerve-like thing, which had been worn down and weakened throughout the wilderness, finally dropped the remnants dangling from the thread.

The image of his mother walking away. The young boy grabbing her clothes. The woman getting farther away, not looking back with his blurred vision. The image, which had disappeared more than twenty years ago, fell, drawing a round ripple.

Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Please don’t abandon me. The small body trying to follow was pulled back by a strong force. When he looked back, all he saw was the cold, unfamiliar face of a man.

His hand, which had been reaching for a towel, accidentally grabbed a handkerchief used to wipe wine and stopped. It was the white cloth the woman had rubbed on his clothes, like someone giving medicine after causing illness.

Leon held it and stared at it, feeling its texture as if sensing something invisible in the dark space that resembled the depths of his inner self.

How long had he been standing there like that? His hand moved slowly downward, as if on impulse. The sound of running water grew louder.

Leaning his back against the cold, hard wall, Leon tilted his head back. His prominent Adam’s apple quivered, and his muscles tightened with tension.

He knew what he was about to do. Even in his late teens, when he had been most interested in sex, he had never done this. Even when his frustrations built up and released at night, his dreams had no focus.

But the woman was right outside now, separated only by a door. She existed with just a boundary and pure darkness between them.

The rough hand submerged in the depths began to move. With each intermittent pant, his veins stood out seductively. For a while, the only sound in the bathroom was the desperate breathing of a man drowning in water. 

Finally, with a low groan, the evidence of his original sin splattered. Against the wall. On the mirror. And even on the holy sword propped against the wall, like a cross.

Guilt. The oppressive sense of betrayal.

Breathing in the scent of lust, Leon burst out laughing like a madman. The cloth slipped from his slackened fingers and fell to the floor. Droplets of water trickled down the wall.

***

After washing, Leon dragged a heavy armchair to sit by the bed. Resting his chin on his hand, looking bored, Veronica lay in bed, giggling at him.

“Are you really going to sleep there?”

“Finally realizing how selfish your demand was?”

“No. I was just about to ask you to read me a book.”

She curled up on her side, laughing so much that she pulled the blanket up to her nose. All it took was a promise to go with him next time, and her mood lifted, and the terrifying noises faded into the distance.

Given the setting, it seemed Leon had no intention of lying beside her like he did in the wilderness. But he was going to stay with her tonight. It felt good to think that perhaps, just tonight, she was important to him. Just for tonight.

“Oh, there’s something else you could do besides tell me old stories.”

“I’d rather tell you old stories without asking what you mean.”

“Before you leave, can you teach me how to handle a sword?”

Veronica suddenly threw off the blanket and picked up the sword lying beside the bed, still in its sheath. Leon, still expressionless, sat and watched her.

“Are you going to talk about strength again? I’ve been carrying it around as you said, but I don’t have much time to wait for my strength to build up. So…”

“Draw it and hold it.”

“…What?”

“I said draw it and hold it.”

Leon slowly lowered the arm resting on his chin. Veronica’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re really going to teach me?”

“If you don’t want to, forget it.”

Veronica, who had been taken aback, soon smiled brightly with joy. Leon stared at her intently. Her bright smile was like a red peony blooming. When she genuinely laughed, her entire expression changed. Her eyes softened, and her red lips curled upward, a bewitching glint shining in her pupils.

Afraid he might change his mind, Veronica quickly got up from the bed and drew the sword. She had gotten better at handling it after carrying it around for days, but it was still awkward. Leon stood up slowly, watching her stance.

“Am I holding it right? Is it okay?”

“If you were born into a noble family, you’d be worth praising.”

“So I’m good?”

“No. The street thugs would have a good laugh at you.”

Veronica narrowed her eyes as Leon adjusted her bent waist and her arms, which were extended too far forward.

“If you weren’t just a show-off noble and someone whose life depended on the sword, the first thing to remember is that there’s no set way to hold it.”

“There’s no set way?”

“The way you hold a sword has to change constantly. Like flowing water, it changes endlessly depending on how you wield it.”

Flowing water.

Veronica understood immediately. Just as a dance is completed by connecting movements, swordsmanship must be a line rather than a point.

“So it’s hard to learn in one night?”

“I’m more surprised you thought you could learn it in one night. Don’t worry. There are still basics, like whether to use the edge or the back of the blade. It’s the same as dancing, isn’t it?”

“Where’s the edge, and where’s the back?”

Leon almost said something, then closed his mouth. In a skeptical tone, he replied, “Do I need to explain that, too?”

“I kind of get the feel of it, but I need to learn it properly, so I’m asking,” Veronica responded boldly.

Leon asked, expressionless, “So, based on your feel, where’s the edge?”

“The upper part…or the lower… the upper?”

As she hesitated and changed her answer, Leon ran a hand down his face. Veronica glanced up at his sharp jawline and frowned.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re holding back a laugh. I bet if you tried to learn the Baila step, you’d be much, much clumsier than me.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not telling you.”

As Veronica teased, Leon grabbed the top part of the blade with his hand. Veronica was horrified.

“Why do you keep touching the blade? You’ll really hurt yourself!”

“This is the edge of the sword. The back of the sword is the part near your hand.”

Leon continued explaining, ignoring her outburst, “When you’re cutting down a distant enemy, you use the edge. When you’re in close combat, you use the back. It seems obvious based on the position, but I felt like I needed to explain it.”

After Leon removed his hand, Veronica immediately checked his hand to see if it was unharmed. There wasn’t even a small cut or a drop of blood. Only when she confirmed this did her shoulders relax slightly—until his hand came close again to adjust her grip.

“This is for slashing from a distance.”

Her small fingers spread out, gripping the guard. Standing behind her, Leon guided her hand over the sword, slowly slicing through the air. She needed to focus on memorizing the movement and sensation, but the warmth of his body touching her back and hands distracted her.

“Try it on your own.”

Leon released his hand and demanded.

Veronica took a deep breath, released her grip to reset her stance, and then sliced cleanly through the air. Leon’s expression subtly shifted in surprise.

She repeated the motion several times. Eventually, Leon raised his hand to stop her, adjusting her fingers one by one. Her thumb moved to the flat of the blade. Lifting the sword, it positioned her face behind the blade in an unfamiliar posture. His voice, clear and distinct, echoed in her ears as if it were engraved there.

“This is for close combat.”

The postures for using the edge and the back of the sword were vastly different. Veronica memorized them by sight and by touch. Her eyes sparkled as she alternated between the two stances during practice. The difference from randomly swinging the sword was apparent—now, the sword extended straight without much effort.

“I’m doing well, right? Don’t you think I might have some talent?” she asked with a slightly breathless smile, hoping for praise.

Leon, raising an eyebrow slightly, remarked, “Considering you do physical work, you’re certainly no ordinary opponent.”

The rest of the comment about not wanting to face someone who alternates between the edge and the back of the sword was dripping with sarcasm, making it even more irritating.

Veronica narrowed her eyes, lowering her sword as Leon added, “But in real combat, there’s no need to obsess over grip techniques. If Bahamut appears, you can forget all this and swing the sword however you like. Just pierce the heart. If you aren’t fast and accurate enough, you’ll die. They can regenerate their limbs several times over.”

“And how do you know where the heart is?”

“Where do you think it would be?”

“The red eyes? That would make it pretty foolish, walking around with its weak spot exposed.”

“Are humans any different?”

Leon smirked, raising the corners of his mouth in a mocking way.

“Remember this. No matter how big a giant is, it can’t move around with its head split in half.”

“That’s ironic, coming from someone who walks around without wearing a helmet.”

After a brief conversation, they resumed practice. Veronica, having learned how to dance, understood well. Sometimes, it’s not about the mind but about training the body to remember movements. So that it can react naturally and instinctively, no matter the situation.

Before long, sweat dripped from her body, and her arms felt as if they would fall off from the weight. But she was having fun. Veronica moved as if she were dancing.

A room where it was hard to tell whether it was day or night. The crackling fireplace and the sound of the sword slicing through the air.

Sometimes, memories write stories deeper than what’s visible on the surface.

Finally, when she turned her head, breathless, Leon was watching her.

A strange chill ran down her spine, sending tingles throughout her body. For some reason, she thought she would remember this moment for a long time.

At that moment, the midnight bell rang. A foreboding sound that only spread through the damp underground, signaling the time for the change of guards and interrogators.

Leon turned his gaze away.