The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 38

When Leon lowered his hand from his face, his chillingly low voice came forth.

“We weren’t comrades, nor were we long-time acquaintances. You were nothing. You have no right to meddle in my affairs.”

Veronica stood abandoned, as if she were a forsaken child, lingering at the doorway. Her face, drained of color, looked pale enough to collapse. She lowered her gaze to the floor and answered.

“If I overstepped, I’m sorry. I wanted to help. I was too worried…”

“Why do you think you were locked up in that black corridor?” Leon suddenly asked. Veronica lifted her head in bewilderment.

“…Because the security was strict, as you said.”

“Is that so? If that were the case, then even the Pope or the Emperor should have been confined down there. To help you escape, a mere knight would not have sufficed—it would have taken an entire army.”

“……”

Veronica’s face turned blank. Leon didn’t give her any time to think.

“The one who sold you to the Pope was me.”

Her red eyes widened.

“Your thoughts on the first day were correct. I needed you to get into Kart. I also thought it would be a good place to abandon you.”

“You’re lying.”

Veronica immediately shook her head in denial. But her voice was too small, reaching nowhere.

“It’s the truth. If it were a lie, why didn’t I come find you earlier? Two days have passed since I returned to Kart. This morning, I even had enough leisure to visit the Imperial Palace.”

“But you had me escape through Oscar.”

“Did I?”

Leon let out a low laugh.

“That wasn’t my doing. It was a solo act by a single knight. I chose to keep my mouth shut out of pity for a young man with a promising future.”

“…Then why did you tell me to wait? You said we’d go together next time. In the wilderness, too. You said you wanted me to like you. So I…”

Her trailing words failed to hide her wounded expression. She looked as though she had been stabbed by an invisible blade. Pierced and cut, yet stubbornly standing. Leon was conscious of the blood flowing between his fingers, his own exhaustion. It was time to end it.

“Because it’s easier to handle you that way. After making you like me, there was no reason not to be a little kinder for a day.”

Dong, dong, dong—just then, the bell signaling six o’clock rang from the distant bell tower. Even though it was different from the bells that tolled underground every twelve hours, Veronica reflexively shrank at the sound.

Outside the window, birds took flight, their wings flapping noisily. A small shadow passed peacefully by her feet. White feathers fell and scattered, bringing back memories. It was like the day Leon came to calm her unease. The day he sat beside her when she asked him not to leave. The eyes that looked down at her, the corners of his mouth curling.

“Did you know?”

The rapid exchange between them suddenly died down. In the room, swallowed by silence, Veronica bit her lips tightly to keep from making a sound. Her large eyes welled up with tears.

Leon narrowed his brows and spoke softly, “Come here.”

Veronica hesitated before approaching him as he sat on the bed.

He noticed how thin she had become. She had always been small, but now she seemed frail. Leon looked her up and down, noticing her reddened, bare feet from walking in the snow. It irritated him—everything, from one to ten. All of it.

The impulse to pull her slender arm came from there. Veronica collapsed into him.

“You come to me, even after hearing all that,” Leon whispered lowly. “There’s no way you wouldn’t know unless you’re a little kid.”

She was trembling all over. It was different from when they first met. Back then, despite her assimilation, she had retained her inner strength. Now she seemed like a broken doll with a shattered heart. She neither glared nor resisted. She purely liked him and, at the same time, feared him.

Violence, the touch of someone stronger than herself—strangely, her helplessness only provoked Leon further. He slipped his hand into her ebony hair, forcing her to lift her head. He locked eyes with her.

“I warned you from the beginning. If it’s about finding that thing, I can do even worse. If it means cutting off your limbs, dragging you bound—as long as you don’t die, consider yourself lucky.”

“Stop… it hurts. Let me go.”

“No.”

Leon muttered with a smile, “You came here wanting this, didn’t you?”

He lowered his head. With dusk behind him, he faced the hotter sun. As they mingled, the soft warmth of flesh brought back all the sensations he had tried so hard to forget. Thoughts of her had driven him mad day and night.

Damn it.

When he pulled her tightly to him, she struggled as if in pain. She pushed at his shoulder with her clenched fist, groaning softly. But their lips, which parted briefly, soon intertwined again. Leon had no intention of letting her go.

As he tightened his grip in her hair, her resistance subsided. From the start, she lacked the strength or will to push him away. A wet sound slipped between their lips, accompanied by a lewd moan. The kind of breath one takes when air is about to run out carried excitement.

She must have clung to the knight assigned to watch her the same way. Wrapping her arms around his neck, desperate, pleading. Calling his name. His name.

“I can walk on my own. You don’t want them to think I’m weak, do you, Noah?”

The woman’s words, once heard long ago, melted into his ears. Then followed the cold voice of the young Mecklenburg.

“Forget the past. From today, your name is…”

The act grew rougher. Leon grasped her small face firmly, indulging deeply. At this point, who was saving whom was unclear. He swam in sticky pleasure. It felt like it would last forever. It wasn’t God that snapped him out of his fallen state, but the woman’s tears.

Tears. The hot, wet sorrow registered on his fingers, and Leon frowned, breaking away.

She was crying, her breaths ragged, soundless. Her red eyes, moist with tears, shone even more beautifully. They stared at each other for a while.

The setting sun tinged her hair a sorrowful orange. More, just a bit more. The girl, not yet grown, had found the wounded boy. She reached out to the soul drowning in the abyss. If not for the knock that shattered the delicate silence.

They might have touched.

***

“What do I do? It’s all my fault. I fell asleep for just a moment, but I had a bad feeling when I woke up….”

Oscar was running. White puffs of breath scattered with every pant. Hannah’s worried voice, stomping her feet, echoed in his mind.

“She couldn’t have gone far. Her shoes are still here.”

It was cold enough for rivers to freeze. The snow that had accumulated remembered her, but the streets were a confusing mess of countless footprints. There was no way to guess where a woman without shoes or a coat might have gone.

If she ran into someone from the Holy See who recognized her face—damn it. Or worse, what if the person who took her was from the Holy See in the first place?

“Excuse me, have you seen a woman about this tall with short black hair?”

Every passerby shook their head dismissively. Some even made jokes, saying they’d seen about five such women today.

It was when Oscar received a similar response from a shopkeeper and was about to leave.

“Why don’t you try looking for someone she knows?”

“Sorry?”

The shopkeeper, who had been casually glancing at a newspaper titled The Week of Peace, lowered it indifferently.

“Instead of searching for a stranger, find someone familiar. How many people do you think would be out on the streets in this weather without a reason?”

Oscar felt as if he’d been struck on the back of his head. He was right.

Why hadn’t he thought of that? Veronica had no acquaintances in Kart. From the start, there was only one person she would have sought out.

Leon Berg.

How she knew where he was—he had no idea.

After thanking the shopkeeper, Oscar crossed the street without hesitation. His legs carried him naturally towards the inn where Leon was staying. Once the thought had come, it transformed into certainty.

Oscar remembered that night. The night before Leon had left, when he briefly visited her—the way they looked at each other. The words telling Oscar to leave, that it might take a while.

That day, following orders, Oscar had secretly despised Leon. They had crossed the wilderness alone for days. It was obvious that he had spent the night with her, breaking the taboo.

Despite being born with the name “Berg.” Knowing exactly what kind of life awaited a child if she bore one—how irresponsible.

Leon and Oscar had been among the fortunate few Berg children. Those who hadn’t received baptism lived with subtle disregard even among commoners. They lagged in competition, even when apprenticing to craftsmen. An unblessed child was seen as unlucky.

Of course, Leon had since been disowned, but that didn’t mean he could marry. He had already abandoned Veronica once. He had ignored her plea for him to come see her.

Grinding his teeth, Oscar tossed a silver coin to the inn clerk and leapt up the stairs two at a time. Thud, thud—he pounded on the door of the room number he had been given. The sound was almost identical to his pounding heart. He was anxious. He thought his fear stemmed from guilt. What else could it be?