The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 33

Please, please, make it stop. Your Holiness, I beg of you. Command me to offer my head to the block, to die in battle, and I will obey. But I cannot do this any longer. Anything but this.

When Oscar was certain she would die, he knelt before the Pope and pleaded. It was murder. It was a sin. If he went any further, she would truly die.

Unable to meet the Pope’s gaze, Oscar stared only at the lower half of his face and saw the slow curve forming at the corner of his mouth. Had the Emperor’s request for an audience not arrived at that moment, the Pope would never have shown mercy to the woman.

The Pope said he was disappointed in Oscar. It felt as if the ground beneath him had cracked. A father’s disapproval had shaken Oscar’s very identity. He bowed his head.

As soon as the Pope left, Oscar called in the nuns to wash and treat her. He sincerely prayed she would survive. But the cold, hard stone floor was too harsh for someone in her condition.

Oscar had taken off his helmet and wiped away his sweat with a deep sigh when Veronica opened her bleary eyes. He froze, stunned, dropping his helmet to the floor with a sharp clang that echoed.

Oscar quickly knelt beside her. “Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?”

“I saw…”

“What did you see?”

“I saw it all. The Bahamut herd out in the open, Leon… and even Sir Mecklenburg.”

Veronica’s tongue moved sluggishly. Oscar felt a sinking dread solidify inside him. Her thin voice continued, barely holding on.

“When Leon was descending the mountain, the ground collapsed. I don’t know if he’s safe. If he is, he will return to Kart soon. Leon, at least Leon, will return.”

“……”

“But Sir Mecklenburg is dead.”

Oscar held his breath. Her voice was hoarse, barely intelligible unless one concentrated.

“The entire mountain was covered. The Bahamuts from the south, delaying and delaying their division, passed through the Blasen Mountains to breed before heading north. From the beginning, there was no handling that number. The ‘small sword to be taken’ wasn’t referring to Leon. It was about Sir Mecklenburg’s sword. He shouldn’t have gone. He just shouldn’t have.”

“What did you just say?”

Oscar interrupted her disjointed words, raising a hand. His face had gone pale.

“Did you say the sword was taken? Hennessis?”

“I’m certain. I saw it with my own eyes. The Bahamut lifted it high into the sky—a sword with a black hilt and a golden lion’s head engraved.”

Veronica tried to explain further but ran out of breath, her heart aching as if it would burst, her body on the cold floor feeling like she lay on a bed of nails. When Veronica groaned in pain, Oscar paled, not knowing what to do. She wondered why he looked at her with such eyes—eyes filled with guilt, as though he owed her a debt.

But now was not the time to worry about that.

“But Leon must have survived. He’ll be returning to Kart alive. If you send someone to meet him, ensure he arrives safely—”

“Sir Berg has returned.”

Veronica froze, then asked, unable to believe it. “…He returned?”

“Yes. You’ve been unconscious for three days, and during that time, Sir Berg returned with the detachment.”

“Did he come here?”

“……”

Oscar hesitated at the faint question. When Veronica lifted her half-open eyes, he hesitated for a moment before loosening the leather pouch at his waist and pouring water towards her lips.

“He hasn’t come here yet.”

Veronica drank the water like a baby bird, but even the effort to raise her head to swallow was too much, and her head soon drooped.

Leon had returned. And he hadn’t come to see her.

Could he have been injured when he fell off the cliff?

“You’ve been starving for so long, you’ll need to start with something soft. I’ll bring food right away, so please lean against the wall. And…”

Oscar trailed off. Veronica was using her trembling arms to push herself up from the floor. She looked at the man who was awkwardly reaching out to help her. His curly hair looked more like a bird’s nest today, and his pale face was clearly visible even in the dim light. Lowering his hand, Oscar bowed his head and spoke for the first time in a voice that matched his age.

“…I’m sorry.”

“……”

“The wounds on your back—they’re all my doing. I swung the whip while you were asleep.”

Veronica couldn’t believe what she was hearing. At the same time, she became acutely aware of the burning pain in her back. It was like when one falls and feels no pain at first, but seeing the wound brings the pain. She had been too disoriented by the visions to notice. Veronica looked at Oscar without a word. It felt like the first time they had truly looked into each other’s eyes as human beings.

“Why did you do it?”

“I deemed… the conversion necessary.”

“Because I’m an assimilator?”

“That’s not it.”

“So it wasn’t your decision.”

Oscar couldn’t answer. That was enough. There was only one person who could give a holy knight such a command against his will.

“If it wasn’t your choice, why did you follow it?”

“Because I cannot fathom my father’s profound intentions. Even if a dog is given bitter medicine when it is sick, it cannot understand the reason. I do not know which path is truly right either.”

“A firm belief.”

There was no sarcasm or admiration in her tone. Veronica mumbled as she rested her head against the wall, “Even with Leon, I found your convictions fascinating because they were so unwavering. I was always a child who doubted everything.”

Oscar looked as if he didn’t know how to react. Only now did Veronica see the clumsy social skills hidden behind his rough demeanor. He probably had no ordinary friends beyond devout believers.

“People fear hostility and anger, but I fear belief. Think about it. Isn’t a clear belief what allows people to burn everything down—love, conscience, even guilt—under the conviction that what they’re doing is right?”

With justification through belief, a person could carry out horrific acts of slaughter without blinking an eye.

Oscar remained silent, as if digesting her words. So Veronica continued, her words rambling.

“Do you know the story Raindrop World?”

“You mean the fairy tale from Chesania?”

“Yes. The one that says each raindrop holds a world within it. Among all the bedtime stories I heard, that was my favorite. After hearing that every raindrop contains a world, it made me feel as if we, too, were merely living inside one of the countless raindrops falling upon some distant land.”

Thinking that way, the world seemed endlessly vast. We were small, like dust, and life was merely a fleeting journey. Nothing had meaning. There was no God. No world after death. Only endless cycles. No matter what we dreamed or hoped for within the raindrop, in the end, everything would be crushed into one. It might have sounded like nihilism, but to Veronica, it was also what allowed her to enjoy the present.

A future where they would all become the sea awaited, so for now, she would just enjoy the fall. At least, in that fall, she could feel alive.

“I have something to say to Leon.”

Veronica closed her eyes as she spoke.

“If you want to apologize to me, bring him here. That’s all I need.”

She had to tell him of Mecklenburg’s final moments. That was all she could do now.

***

“Was she an assimilator?”

Bright sunlight streamed onto the red carpet. Leon, who had been looking out the window, glanced sideways.

Philip von Wittelsbach. The new deputy commander, whom Leon had hoped not to see in the Holy City, was standing there. His once short silver hair had grown longer since they last met in Bayern, and his purple eyes had deepened.

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb. The woman you carried out of the ashes. Rumor has it that you offered her to His Holiness as an atonement. The entire Holy See is abuzz.”

Leon leaned against the window frame, lowering his gaze. The warm sunlight on his face made him forget the season—the bitter winter. Yet the sun remained the same.

“You should have killed the assimilated one as soon as you found her. That would have been mercy.”

“Had I killed her then, we wouldn’t have found out about the being hiding in Blasen.”

“Are you still claiming there’s a ‘First Bahamut’? His Holiness himself has said there is no such thing. Because you insisted on a detachment, twenty precious lives were lost. What I can’t understand is why even the Commander joined in such nonsense…”

Philip’s voice grew louder before he caught himself and stopped.

He sighed deeply. All he knew, upon his return from Bayern to temporarily assume the role of Commander, was that Leon had returned and that multiple Bahamuts seemed to be nesting in the Blasen Mountains.

But so what? Philip, who had tried to protect Bayern, had been unable to withstand the overwhelming numbers and had to return to the Holy City. Just yesterday, a carrier pigeon had arrived with news that Bahamuts had been discovered as far north as Whiteland. Bahamuts were spreading across the entire continent, and the Blasen Mountains were no exception. Therefore, there was no reason to obsess over that specific place—Philip was about to say just that.

A knight, having just left the Pope’s office after delivering his report, stopped in front of them.

“Pro Kart. His Holiness urgently requests your presence, Deputy Commander.”