The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 6

However, his attitude wasn’t as terrible as she had feared. He offered his arm to help her mount and dismount from the horse and even gave up his sleeping bag for her over the past few days.

While Leon was loading the items from the weapons shop onto the horse, Veronica absentmindedly ran her hand over the sword that had now become hers.

She had always wanted one—a weapon to defend herself with. Though she never imagined she would obtain it in this way.

Choosing the same swordmaker’s product as the dagger Benjamin had once given her was partly an act of defiance.

Even though they were the ones who had handed her the sword, she would be the one wielding it. This thought gave her a slight surge of energy, like a scarecrow drenched by rain that finally saw sunlight.

Their long journey came to a stop at an inn next to the weapons shop. As they approached the shabby entrance, a weary errand boy dragged his feet toward them.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any rooms left. Refugees have been flooding in for days.”

“One night is all we need. I don’t mind if it’s a servant’s room.”

Despite the negative response, Leon calmly handed over a leather pouch. The boy opened it and his eyes widened.

“If you don’t mind an old room on the top floor, I can clean it up for you right away. The bed was made for two people anyway. If we’re fully booked, other places likely are as well.”

At the boy’s sudden change in attitude, Leon silently handed over the reins. The errand boy hurriedly unloaded the luggage, gesturing to another staff member and whispering something to them, clearly anxious not to let the money slip away.

Veronica, however, felt certain that the townspeople hadn’t fully grasped the situation. If they truly understood the disaster at hand, they would be abandoning the city, not making money to reinforce the walls.

It was likely that the full story of what happened in Bayern hadn’t reached them yet. They probably only knew that Bahamut had attacked from the sea, a message passed along by refugees who had been lucky enough to escape nearby villages.

It wasn’t enough to make people abandon the land where they had been born and raised. External threats often feel distant until they are right at your doorstep. Just like those who choose to remain in places known to have dangerous materials in the ground. The idea of evacuation seems simple when discussed from afar, but when it becomes a personal matter, it’s not something you can decide overnight.

They followed the guide inside the inn, crossing a bustling dining room before climbing the stairs next to the fireplace. The one remaining room was on the creaky fourth floor, at the very end—a small, shabby room.

“If you unpack and rest, I’ll bring hot water and fresh sheets right away,” the panting errand boy said, leaving their luggage on the floor before retreating.

The room was simple: a bathroom, a fireplace, and a large bed.

“Just to be clear, we’re not sharing the same bed, right?” Veronica hesitantly asked, glancing around the room.

Leon, who had been unpacking, turned to look at her. Her holy power was barely keeping her mentally stable, so the wound on her pale neck was still vividly visible. The cut would likely take a long time to heal, much like his own right eye.

As Leon observed her, he responded with a note of admiration, “Oh, are you planning to sleep in the bed too?”

“……”

“For your information, I haven’t slept in days, and I’m dead tired.”

As Leon rubbed his neck and approached her, Veronica clutched her clothes. She tried to act nonchalant, but the tips of her ears were red.

This is difficult.

Leon frowned. Every time she visibly reacted, it stirred something sadistic in him. It made him want to tease her more, to touch her. Like plucking a red winter plum blossom.

“But, isn’t it against the rules for a priest to kiss a woman?” Veronica finally lifted her head, shooting back a question as if to retaliate.

Leon tilted his head. He had thought about it before—how she could be so embarrassed yet still say everything she wanted to.

“Do you repent to God after kissing your ten-year-old nephew?”

“Are you saying I’m a child?”

“You’re not an adult.”

“The continent’s law states that twenty is the age of adulthood,” Veronica immediately retorted, feeling indignant. “You reacted when we kissed.”

She probably didn’t know. Only children get defensive when called children.

Leon laughed at how she couldn’t quite articulate the physical reaction she had noticed from him. Apparently, the memory of that day was clearer than he thought.

“Well, that’s because you’re somewhat my type.”

Leon reached out to examine the wound on her neck. She flinched when he touched her face. Tilting her head, he inspected the cut. It wasn’t too deep.

As she stayed still, Veronica muttered softly, “…I didn’t know Holy Knights had a specific preference for women.”

“Didn’t you know? Half of the illegitimate children in Kart had priests for fathers.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“I think so too.”

Filthy and vulgar. Leon smiled self-deprecatingly.

If the bastard child of a priest inherited their father’s holy power, they would inevitably become a priest too. In a way, it was a repugnant form of bloodline succession.

Whenever Leon ran his cold, gauntleted fingers over the scabbed wound, her long eyelashes trembled. Her face was surprisingly small. His hand could grasp her jaw, one cheek, and her ear all at once.

He scanned her flushed face from her forehead down to her lips, then withdrew his arm. It was troublesome when he reacted without even kissing her.

“Don’t forget to apply ointment before you sleep.”

“Will you give me some?”

“If you eat properly without skipping meals.”

There was a strange gleam in Veronica’s eyes. Suspicion and wariness also meant she was very conscious of him. Just then, a knock from outside broke the tense atmosphere.

“I’ve brought the bathwater.”

For a moment, neither of them looked away from each other. Then Leon strode to the door. As he grasped the handle, a small voice echoed from behind him.

“Then could you lend me some clothes to change into?”

Maybe winning her favor would make her easier to deal with. After all, women in love tend to be blind to reason.

***

When Veronica stepped out of the bathroom, Leon had already left.

Instead, the table was set with fragrant lamb stew and round, golden-brown bread baked with dried fruit. After some hesitation, she devoured the food quickly, then lay down at the edge of the bed.

Well, what can I do? First come, first served. There’s nowhere else to sleep anyway.

She briefly considered running away. But once her rebellious spirit cooled, her mind quickly settled on waiting and watching. To be realistic, she had nothing—no identification, no money. If she left here, she wouldn’t even have a place to sleep tonight.

“Ugh…”

She curled up, clutching her stomach. Her gut felt uneasy; she had eaten too much. Why did I eat?

Now she was truly alone. She needed to stay sharp to survive. Outside, the noise from the refugee camp was loud. Her situation wasn’t much different from theirs.

How ridiculous. The moment I’m left alone, I’m surrounded by thoughts of other people.

Were friends like Inette or Rossi alive or dead? What happened to the city? Where did the surviving citizens flee to?

Not that any of it mattered to her now.

She placed the unfamiliar longsword she didn’t know how to use beside the bed and traced the engraved camellia branches.

The setting sun cast a red glow on the sword. The crimson gleam reflected off the scabbard, resembling the blood-red light of the sinking sun. Veronica stared at it for a while, blinking slowly. Still there. Red eyes.

With a thud, she pulled the blanket over her and buried her face in the pillow. As she gritted her teeth to hold back the tears, the cold made her shiver uncontrollably. Why is it so cold? I just bathed in hot water. I’m wrapped in a thick blanket.

I wish someone would hold me. Maybe if I didn’t feel so alone, I wouldn’t shiver as much.

As the sun set, the air grew colder, casting a blue hue over everything. She tried to recall the meaning of the camellia flower through her blurry vision but eventually closed her eyes. She didn’t know exactly, but it probably symbolized some sort of resilience. Camellias bloom in the cold, harsh winter after all.

Her consciousness slipped into the dark.

She was standing on a cliff. At the edge of the abyss, where the distant moon loomed overhead. Below her, a dazzling human city stretched as far as the eye could see.

Pointed spires. Square houses. Light spilled from the windows like countless stars in the night sky.

But her gaze didn’t linger on the magnificent city. Instead, she looked down at the white armor at her feet. A man was crawling away, even though his leg had been torn off.

The scent of his blood was intoxicating. Humans in white armor were always like that. Their special brains produced stronger offspring.

The man crawled as if digging into the chest of a dead mother. But the end of the path was a cliff. When he finally tilted his head into the void, he turned around in despair.

Don’t come. Don’t come closer. His tear-streaked face begged pathetically.

She felt a thrill as she grabbed his shoulders. She opened her mouth wide, aiming for his head. And then—

Crunch.

“Ugh…!”

Veronica’s eyes flew open. She sat up in the dark, clutching her chest and retching. Her panting breaths were deafening, like the sound of thunder.

Her heart felt like it was going to explode. It pounded painfully, each beat thudding violently against her eardrums. She was confused, unable to distinguish the nightmare from reality.

Someone had died. No, she had killed someone. What was that? Who was that man? What did I just see?

She tried to think, but the more awake she became, the more her consciousness clouded, replaced by instinct. The same thirst from that night. No amount of water could ever quench it, even if she drank for a hundred days and nights.

As she reached for the bed, she was startled by the feel of a firm arm. Her wide eyes locked onto the sleeping figure of Leon Berg beside her. Thump. Thump. Thump. Her red eyes began to pulse.