The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 94

No way.

“You thought it was something I gave you all this time? But… but it has the imperial emblem on it. Logically speaking, I could never afford such a luxury item.”

“But you also never said it was something Johanna gave you.”

She was at a loss for words. He was right. At the time, she had been so reluctant to even see him that she had simply left it behind in a hurry.

The injustice she had felt all this time didn’t crumble away gently—it collapsed all at once. This was absurd. Then those eyes that had seemed so in love, the handkerchief he had kept even when it became tattered—what was its real meaning?

“What is this? I had no idea…”

Veronica murmured in disbelief, covering her face with her hands.

“I thought you liked Princess Johanna.”

Leon’s brow furrowed instantly. Twisting his lips into a cold smirk, he replied scornfully, “Even if every person in the world died, I would never fall in love with that woman.”

The sheer contempt in his voice made it feel like he wasn’t just rejecting her, but scorning love itself. She knew she was overthinking it, but a sharp sting still pricked at her heart. Leon, picking up the empty plates, likely didn’t see the flicker of pain in her expression.

“I don’t know who the real patient is here.”

She quickly shifted the topic, accepting the stew and bread he had brought over, trying not to show any reaction. He chuckled before sitting beside her with his own plate.

“Take this chance to check if anything else is wrong with you.”

“Ah, my period has stopped.”

She stirred the stew absentmindedly as she spoke. She hadn’t thought about the impact of her words until she sensed the silence that followed. Only when she looked up did she realize how misleading that sounded. Seeing Leon’s rare expression of shock, Veronica frantically waved her hands.

“No, that’s not it, my god. That’s really not it. It hasn’t even been long enough for it to be that reason!”

“…That reason?”

“I mean, I haven’t had my period for two years now. I have a habit of starving myself when I’m anxious, so that’s probably why.”

Trying to cover up one mistake, she ended up revealing something she hadn’t wanted to. It was the first time she had shared something so personal with anyone. Mental illness always seemed more pitiful than physical illness. She didn’t want to appear weak. She had no idea why she was confessing this to him now.

As expected, his gaze shifted. The way he looked at her had changed. Not wanting to meet his eyes, Veronica focused on eating. She wanted to show him she was eating well now. The stew was thin and watery, tasting bland. It seemed the military camp had started rationing food.

“Why did you start starving yourself?”

But Leon wasn’t going to let it slide so easily. He hadn’t even touched his own food as he asked the question. Veronica stirred her stew for a while before replying casually, as if it were nothing.

“Two years ago, I wasn’t sure if I could make it into the troupe. In Bayern, dancing was my only way to make a living. If I didn’t get in, I would’ve had to leave the city.”

“No, I’m asking what made you start.”

Trying to deflect, she gave a vague answer, but Leon remained unwavering. His sharp gaze pierced right through her words. Veronica’s hand holding the spoon trembled slightly. The memory his question unearthed was bitterly cold.

A winter night when the wind howled. Not long after her mother had died. Her father had started disappearing for days at a time, leaving her alone in that house. She had curled up under the blanket, listening to the sea’s endless wailing.

“I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to show my father.”

Her lips barely moved as she whispered.

Remembering her foolish younger self made her feel both sad and absurd.

“When you’re young, you think destroying yourself is a way to take revenge on your parents. You refuse to eat, refuse to sleep, refuse to speak, thinking it’ll worry them, hurt them.”

It had been a foolish resolve. Veronica’s father never even noticed her growing thinner.

“I didn’t understand back then. That only works on someone who actually loves you.”

With that final self-mocking remark, Veronica busied herself with eating her bread. Leon, who had been silently listening, finally spoke after a long pause.

“That must’ve been hard.”

A dull ache spread through her chest at those simple words. She stopped chewing and lifted her gaze to meet his. His sharp eyes met hers, piercing right through her, making it feel like her heart had been exposed. And only then, as if nothing had happened, Leon lowered his gaze and finally started eating.

Her stomach churned. It felt like a drop of water had fallen into a still lake, sending ripples outward. It wasn’t a surge of overwhelming emotion, but something quieter, deeper. A single drop of understanding could unite two hearts.

The rest of the meal passed in silence. Veronica scraped her plate clean, leaving not a single crumb behind. Despite the watery broth and the scant ingredients, for the first time, it tasted good.

They set their plates outside and brushed their teeth side by side. Washing away the sweat with olive soap, they cleaned their swords while sitting on the bed like a makeshift chair. Only after all of this did the conversation finally start flowing again.

“I never realized it before. Maybe that’s why I was always so sensitive about being called a child. Because I didn’t see myself as whole.”

But also because he never saw her as a woman.

Too much time had passed to continue the same topic, but Leon didn’t bother to point it out. After setting down his sword, he corrected her misunderstanding.

“I don’t see you as a child. Lately, I think you seem more like an adult than I do.”

“Wow, that’s pretty shameless. Acting younger than me is a bit much…”

She sighed deeply and jokingly rolled her eyes. Leon smirked.

“Ah, you caught me. I had the perfect chance to shave off ten years.”

“Ten years? So you’re twenty-nine?”

Veronica’s eyes widened like a startled rabbit as she repeated the number.

Leon nodded indifferently. “Yeah. I never told you?”

“No. I thought you were five or six years older than me. Wow, I should’ve used the tricks my older sisters taught me.”

“What tricks?”

Excitedly rambling, Veronica froze when Leon questioned her. Embarrassed, she clamped her mouth shut.

“N-nothing much. Just some things my dancer friends…”

Trailing off with a flushed face, Veronica avoided his gaze. Leon watched her with intrigued amusement.

She pursed her lips before suddenly declaring, “I don’t want to say. It feels unfair that I keep spilling secrets while you don’t. Don’t you have any secrets?”

“Are you suggesting an exchange?”

When she nodded, Leon gazed at the brazier in thought. Then, as if it were nothing, he suddenly tossed a name into the fire.

“Do you remember the name Noah Berg?”

“Noah Berg… The alias you used in the wilderness?”

“Yeah.”

“I remember, but why? Was it from someone important?”

“No, that was my real name.”

“What?”

“Before Mecklenburg gave me a new name, that’s what I was called. Only two people in this world knew. One of them is dead now, but it’s still the biggest secret I have.”

People say a name shapes a person. Had his fate been sealed by his name, leading him to never rest, forever called a messenger of God? Once the initial surprise faded, sadness took its place.

“Should I call you Noah?”

“No. This is fine.”

She was about to ask why, but before she could, Leon calmly added, “Because if you do, then I have nothing left from Mecklenburg.”

Veronica’s eyes widened. A silence so heavy it left her unable to lift a single finger settled over them.

His voice was unaffected, but that only made it feel lonelier. Perhaps sensing the somber atmosphere, he turned his head and flashed his usual carefree smile. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—there was no need to ask what he had received from his mother. She had already seen the scars with her own eyes.

Even as adults, we still search for traces of love. Could we ever truly grow up? Maybe adulthood itself was a fantasy that didn’t exist, a lie everyone chose to believe.

There are no real adults. Just children who love other children.

“Is that enough? Or do you still think your secret is worth more?”

Leaning in with his arm propped beside her, Leon asked playfully. Veronica, her eyes tinged red, looked up at him before extending her hand—not for a handshake, but as if pressing her palm against a mirror.

“Let’s compare hand sizes.”

“Hand size?”

Puzzled, Leon still placed his hand against hers. She had always known, but seeing it like this made it even clearer—his hand was large enough to swallow hers whole. Scars, calluses, protruding veins, and firm tendons. A sun-kissed, bronze-toned hand.

This was the perfect trick for men like him.

“My older sisters always said to do this when you like someone. Since my hands are small, it triggers a protective instinct.”

“……”

“There were a bunch of other tricks too. What were they…? Oh, smiling when making eye contact—”

Leon, who had been staring blankly, was suddenly trapped in her gaze when she smiled at him. Veronica continued speaking softly, listing things like laughing more at jokes and touching playfully while pretending it was unintentional.

Midway through, she stopped, and Leon interlocked their fingers tightly, pressing for more.

“What else? What else did they say to do?”

His voice was sweet, coaxing. Hesitating for a moment, Veronica let out a quiet ‘ah’ and pointed toward the brazier with her free hand.

“Look over there.”

The moment Leon turned his head, her lips brushed against his cheek before pulling away. A fleeting kiss, brief enough to make a sound. Even though she had initiated it, her face burned as his piercing gaze snapped back to her. Leon parted his lips slightly before rubbing his eyes, muttering under his breath like a curse.

“You’re driving me insane.” A twisted smirk tugged at his lips.

Veronica pouted. “Why? You didn’t like it?”

“Not at all. But don’t do this with anyone else.”

His grip on her hand pulled her backward, pressing her into the sheets. As he hovered over her, his lips met hers in a slow, consuming kiss. Two flames entwined, their scorching breaths dissolving between their lips, sending shivers down her spine.

There’s a saying—the calm before the storm.

This was the quiet night before the tempest. A record of the last peace they had.