The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 53

‘They’ were looking at Veronica. She could be certain, even if no one else was. The soldier who had led her also looked down below the wall and gaped in shock.

“What… Why are these monsters suddenly…?”

He didn’t finish his sentence. But no one paid attention to such minor details. Everyone was aware of the gazes and began lowering their heads. It was difficult for any living being to ignore the eyes of a predator. The soldiers who now lay cold and dead must have looked over the wall just like this. After all, assimilation only happened to those who were in the wilderness twenty years ago. Without any fear.

Wait, oh my God.

“Close your eyes! Don’t look down!” Veronica shouted in a near panic, lifting her head. But the warning, no matter when given, was always too late. She should have noticed sooner.

Veronica froze as her eyes locked with those of a man whose irises had turned bright red. It was the very soldier who had guided her here and had been talking to her just moments before. A chill ran down her spine, her neck hairs standing on end.

She murmured, “Don’t come.”

She backed away, looking around. Red eyes were everywhere. They were different from Leon’s alluring red eyes. The assimilated eyes pulsed like a heart. Aside from Veronica and the holy knights examining the bodies, it seemed everyone had become assimilated. They all moved toward those who were still untouched, each moving in the exact same way, like marionettes. It was eerie.

They made no sound. There was the noise of a sword being drawn somewhere, but a wall like this was not a good place for a fight. The knights were too far away. Veronica’s stomach churned as she stepped back, her hand covering her mouth. It overlapped with her nightmares. She could have killed them, but she didn’t want to. The assimilated were still human, just as she was.

Just as her back hit the parapet, leaving her with nowhere else to go, hands reached out toward her. Warmth touched her arms and shoulders—not to hold her, but to push her.

Ah, am I really going to die like this? Falling off the walls of Kart, dying so pointlessly?

She was just about to fall, her body covered by others, when a slicing sound, like a butcher cutting through a pig’s head, echoed in her ears. The ones reaching out like ghouls were split in two, and a sharp pain struck her shoulder.

It was clear who had cut them all down at once. It was the first thought that came to mind—it was so like him. Leon was the kind of person who wouldn’t care even if she got hurt. After all, she wasn’t God’s child. She was a monster connected to Bahamut.

Blood splattered, blinding her. She closed her eyes against the pain. Just before she lost consciousness, one truth clearly surfaced in her mind.

They could assimilate anyone. In other words, they had been selectively assimilating until now. Choosing which humans. Only the special ones.

***

Veronica awoke in a room that was far too luxurious to be an inn.

“Ugh…”

A groan escaped her as she tried to move. As she had expected, her shoulder was deeply cut, and her entire chest and shoulder were tightly wrapped in bandages.

She gave up trying to move and turned her head instead to look around the room. She wasn’t alone. Veronica saw a man standing by the window, looking out into the cold air. He turned his quiet gaze to her in response to her stare.

Thanks to holy power, there were no marks left from the cuts on his skin. Oddly enough, her first reaction was relief. Then came the bubbling anger, slowly simmering. He was perfectly fine, as always, despite causing her to be so gravely injured. He always was. He would shatter the ground beneath her feet, throwing people off balance, yet remain firmly standing on steady ground.

Leon was the first to break the silence.

“The scar on your back.”

“……”

“Was it the Pope or Mecklenburg?”

Veronica, expecting him to talk about what had happened on the wall, was taken aback by the unexpected question. He must have seen her back while she was being treated. She didn’t want to bring up the story of the black corridor now, so she remained silent.

He straightened from the window and spoke again, “No, there’s no need to ask. This isn’t Mecklenburg’s preferred method.”

“…What’s his preferred method?”

“To isolate completely and destroy the mind.”

“Did he do that to you?”

Leon approached, unfazed by the bold question. Thanks to the time they had spent together, Veronica quickly understood what he intended to do. What had to be done. He had probably been waiting for this moment all along.

“No. I don’t need your holy power.” She shook her head from her position lying down. “I managed just fine without you in the basement of the Holy See.”

She spat the words out as if to lash at him, expecting him to force her into compliance. Instead, Leon simply froze in place.

His face, looking down at her, wasn’t as relaxed as usual, nor did it carry his characteristic faint smile. It was completely expressionless. Veronica, determined not to meet his eyes, focused instead on his prominent throat and the column of his neck.

“What happened after I passed out? Are the others alright?”

The silence stretched on, as though he was savoring it. Eventually, Leon spoke in a flat tone.

“All the assimilated were killed. There was no other choice. If we’d left them, they would’ve attacked others again.”

She had expected it, but still, her heart sank.

She remembered the eyes of those who had surrounded her. There hadn’t just been one or two. So many people had died because of Bahamut, who had come searching for her. If only she had conveyed Bahamut’s intent earlier, maybe it wouldn’t have come to this.

“It was all my fault from the beginning,” Veronica murmured, unable to bear the guilt. “They came for me. I heard it clearly. ‘Found you.’”

“Oh, I read the notes you left at the inn,” Leon interrupted her calmly. “You’re not stupid enough to tell that story to anyone else, are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Bahamut is searching for something. And that ‘something’ is you, it seems. Feel free to throw yourself over the walls if you want.”

Isn’t that exactly what you want?

The retort rose in her throat, but she managed to hold it back. Veronica bit her lips as her mind raced. There was still more to gain from him—more she needed to confirm.

“…Are you going to look up the records at the Holy See, as I asked?”

“And if I don’t? Will you declare yourself a friend of the Pope next?”

His response gave her pause; she hesitated, wondering if he was angry. But there was no sarcasm in his tone. In fact, since she’d woken up, she had felt only a dark, oppressive heaviness from him—no emotion. It was as though he was submerged in shadow.

“I can’t be friends with His Holiness, but I could propose an information exchange. The information I find in the imperial archives in exchange for what you find.”

“Not a bad deal.”

His straightforward response made Veronica blink. She looked at him, lifting her gaze that had been unconsciously avoiding his.

“You’re unusually agreeable today.”

“Too tired not to be.”

Leon answered simply before sitting down on the edge of the bed, as though even standing was too much trouble. She then realized he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring quietly at the dust floating in the yellow afternoon light. As she scanned his sharp profile, an odd feeling arose within her.

She certainly hated him. She despised his words and actions, both yesterday and today, but she also pitied him. He looked worn out. Despite his strong, unyielding exterior, his exhaustion was palpable, as if it was seeping out of him. She didn’t know why.

“By the way, you didn’t answer my earlier question.”

“What question?”

“What did Mecklenburg do to you?”

Leon merely turned his head to look down at her. Veronica knew that this was a topic he wasn’t eager to discuss. So she offered him another deal.

“Let’s trade questions, fairly. I’ll tell you who gave me the scar on my back.”

“I’m not particularly interested.”

“Liar.”

The sharp retort left her lips, and for the first time since she had awakened, Leon smiled. Veronica watched his face, mesmerized by how the sunlight lit it. He would never understand just how mesmerizing his smile was, his eyes still serious while his lips alone curved.

“At first, it was marbles.”

Then Leon suddenly began speaking in a cryptic tone.

“Then it was a chick fallen from a monastery tree.”

“……”

“A thrilling knight’s tale, a stray puppy, new shoes, an old discarded ball.”

“……”

“A boy from the back alleys who could’ve been a friend.”

“……”

“A mother.”

Veronica stared up at him blankly, her hands clutching the blanket growing damp.

It wasn’t hard to understand the significance of his list. These were the things a certain boy had once liked.

“If I wanted them, they all broke.”

Leon spoke casually. He had deliberately chosen the word “broke” instead of the more appropriate “destroyed.”

“The marbles shattered, the chick was taken away. The book was burned, and the puppy was kicked to death in front of me.”

Veronica’s lips parted slightly. Her ears were curious about what came next, but her hands trembled, wanting to stop him.

“The shoes and the ball were thrown in a dump, and the slave boy who helped carry loads was trampled to death by a horse. What else did I mention?”

“Enough now.”

“Oh, right. Mother. She committed suicide. Or perhaps I should say she was driven to it.”

Veronica could take no more. She pushed herself up on the bed. The pain washed over her, blinding her, but she had to stop him from speaking further. She wanted to ask why he was doing this—why he was suddenly telling her these cruel stories.

Then Leon muttered quietly, “Giving up is easier than you think.”

“……”

She was about to protest, but the words died on her lips. Though her mind was filled with thoughts, she found nothing worth saying to him.

So she just looked into his eyes for a while. They were as red as flames yet darker than the deepest abyss. Only when she noticed the orange hue on his face did she realize the sun was setting. How long had they been like this?

Leon moved as if to leave.

Finally, the words she needed to say flashed through her mind. They weren’t the name of the person who had scarred her back, nor were they meaningless comfort. Veronica reached out and grabbed Leon’s fingers just as he was about to pull away. The moment their eyes met, the words slipped out of her mouth as if by some irresistible force.

“I like you.”

The sun was setting.

“I like you.”

She said it again, as if she would say it a hundred more times if necessary. Leon’s eyes widened. She extended her hand with all her might to the boy lost in the abyss.