When Veronica emerged from the bathroom with a click of the door, Leon was already gone.
Instead, the table was set with fragrant lamb stew and round bread baked with dried fruits. After a moment of hesitation, she practically stuffed the food into her mouth, then lay down at the edge of the bed.
I don’t care if he doesn’t like it. First come, first served. There’s nowhere else to sleep anyway.
She briefly considered escaping. But as her initial heat of rebellion cooled, she decided to wait and see. Realistically speaking, she was penniless and had no identification—if she left now, she’d have nowhere to sleep tonight.
“I’m so full…”
She curled up with a hand on her stomach. Her stomach hadn’t felt good, but she’d eaten too much anyway. Why had she done that?
For the moment, she was truly alone. She needed to stay sharp to survive. Outside the window, she could hear the raucous noise of homeless refugees. But her situation wasn’t much different from theirs.
It was ironic that in solitude, she found herself surrounded by thoughts of other people.
Were her friends Inette and Rosie alive or dead? What had happened to the city? Where would the surviving citizens flee?
But none of it mattered to her anymore.
She propped the longsword she didn’t know how to use beside the bed and traced the engraved camellia branches.
The sunset cast its light across the sword as her blood-red eyes reflected off the scabbard. She stared at her reflection, then blinked slowly. Still, her eyes remained the same.
She covered herself with the blanket and buried her face in the pillow. As she desperately held back her tears, her teeth chattered from the cold. Why was she so cold when she’d just bathed in warm water? She hid herself under a thick blanket.
She wished someone would hold her. Maybe she’d tremble less if she didn’t feel so alone.
The air rippled as the sun set. Her vision blurred, and she tried to recall the meaning of camellias before closing her eyes. Though she wasn’t certain, they probably symbolized strong will. After all, camellias bloomed during the cold, harsh winter.
Her consciousness sank into dark waters, growing hazy.
Then suddenly, she was standing on a cliff edge. A round moon hung above the distant precipice. Below her stretched a dazzling human city as far as the eye could see.
Sharp spires. Square houses. Light spilling from windows, twinkling like stars in the night sky.
But her attention didn’t linger long on the splendid city. She looked down at the white armor at her feet. A man was crawling away despite his legs being torn off.
The blood seeping into her eyes had an intoxicating scent. The humans in white armor always did. Their special brains, when consumed, produced even stronger Bahamut offspring.
The man crawled like a child who was desperately tearing at his dead mother’s chest. But his path ended at the edge of the cliff. Finally, as his head extended into the empty space, he turned back in despair.
“Don’t come. Stay away,” he pleaded pathetically, his face tear-stained.
Filled with a surge of ecstasy, she grabbed his shoulders. She opened her mouth wide toward his head. And then, taking the first bite—
“Urgh…!”
Veronica’s eyes flew open. In the darkness, she clutched her chest and sat up, dry-heaving. Her thundering heartbeat was deafening between her loud gasps.
Her chest felt like it might burst. Her heart throbbed painfully and pounded against her eardrums. She couldn’t distinguish between the nightmare she’d just seen and reality.
Someone had died—no, she had killed someone. What happened? Who was that man? What did she just witness?
She tried to think, but as she awoke more fully, her mind grew hazier, replaced by instinct. It was the same thirst she’d felt that night—a thirst that couldn’t be quenched even if she drank water for a hundred days and nights.
She reached for the bed and jumped in shock when she touched a firm forearm. Her wide-open eyes fixed on Leon Berg sleeping beside her.
Her blood-red eyes began to pulse.
The dying embers in the fireplace cast a faint light across the room. Leon was lying there, taking up half the bed, though Veronica couldn’t recall when he’d returned.
Momentarily entranced, she crawled across the bed as if possessed. She needed him.
Help me quench this thirst… please.
Even as she climbed atop his large, solid frame, the man didn’t wake. Not even when she lowered her face above his sleeping one. But the moment she parted his closed lips, his weary eyelids lifted as if by magic.
No, I won’t give you a chance to resist.
Veronica ignored his still-unfocused eyes and explored his soft tongue. She sucked on it as if devouring him.
She knew this was wanton behavior. Not even a prostitute would dare touch a man who had held a knife to her throat.
But the breath flowing between those cold lips was so sweet that Veronica couldn’t stop herself from diving deeper. Each gasp and low breath sent shivers through her body.
Her insides burned so hot she felt she might burst into flames if she didn’t press her flesh against his. The cruel pleasure of their touch threatened to make her brain explode.
His mouth produced a sweet holy water whenever she caressed his tongue. She frantically sucked on it, but the moment she accidentally let go, Leon exhaled roughly and pulled his lips away.
“You really won’t let me sleep in peace, will you?”
His muttering voice was as murky as muddy water. The half-awake man seemed to be both smiling and sneering. Yet when she reached out to caress his handsome lips, he fell silent.
His downcast gaze stared intently at her delicate hand—no, not at her hand. Veronica suddenly realized that his pitch-black eyes were fixed on what was revealed inside her tunic as she leaned forward. His gaze, now devoid of any humor, pierced her like a blade.
“You’re bolder than I thought, too,” he added.
He wasn’t behaving like a devout knight at all—not only did he refuse to look away, but he brazenly traced her exposed silhouette in the dim light.
The rumors were true, Veronica thought. Once a promising holy knight, Leon Berg was now nothing more than a heretic who embraced his own fall from grace.
Her entire body felt like it had turned to molten lava. The heat of his burning gaze melted her. When she couldn’t bear his stare any longer and tried to pull back, he grabbed her nape and yanked her small body flush against his. His mocking voice was eerily calm.
“Where do you think you’re going? You’re the one who disturbed my peaceful sleep, after all.”
With their noses touching, Veronica stared directly into his flickering eyes. Having every part of their bodies pressed together created an intensely direct and explicit sensation. Their bodies interlocked like gears, as intimately connected as if they were made to fit together from birth.
“See? You’re reacting to me,” she whispered in a high-pitched voice.
Leon understood her meaning and raised his eyebrows as if amused. His Adam’s apple moved slowly up and down, and someone’s ragged breathing—she wasn’t sure whose—emerged from deep within, scattering across her cheeks. The air between them was so tense that it felt like it might explode if ignited.
How much time passed like that? How long had they been staring at each other until a teardrop fell onto his face with a soft plop?
“…My heart was hurting,” she whispered. “I had… a dream.”
The tears falling down her cheeks without so much as a blink were probably caused by the heat in her body. It was just like that first day, but the difference was that her consciousness was a bit clearer this time. Veronica knew what she had seen and understood what she needed to say.
“I was a Bahamut—a Bahamut standing on a cliff. I was looking at the city below my feet, which was more splendid than Bayern. Then I felt the hunger.”
Every expression vanished from Leon’s face in an instant.
Through her tears, Veronica continued, “I saw a holy knight. He was running away in fear, but I was laughing because he smelled so sweet and delicious. I grabbed his shoulder. He was struggling, and I opened my mouth. And then I-I…”
“It wasn’t you.” Leon cut off her increasingly agitated words abruptly. When she flinched, as if he’d said something unspeakable, he wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks and slowly repeated, “You didn’t do anything.”
Her tears poured down uncontrollably. Though she bit her lip trying to hold them back out of wounded pride, it was no use. Tears were like blood in that way—they flowed freely even when you wanted them to stop. They tormented you unnecessarily, even when nothing particularly hurt.
When she was young, her father had been extremely irritated by the sound of her crying. He’d said that while a few tears might be natural, continuous sniffling was just a deliberate ploy for attention.
So young Veronica had to hold it in. She could cry when alone, but when with others, she had to swallow her tears even if it meant looking up at the sky. Looking down like this was… not allowed.
“Why are you trying so hard to hold back? Just let it go.”
Leon spoke so casually that Veronica’s eyes widened.
How strange that this unfamiliar, frightening man would say the words she had longed to hear—that he would be the one to accept her burning body and understand her impulse to be close to him.
I’m so happy, it makes me sad.
“Then please do something about it.” She knew how it would sound, but she couldn’t help it. “I feel like I’m burning to death.”
She went limp, surrendering herself. The man pressed against her must have felt it.
Leon said nothing. He stared at her with an unreadable expression, then finished wiping away her tears before laying her down beside him. Without saying anything more, he lowered his head and kissed her deeply. He kept going until she begged him to let her go, thrashing in ecstasy and pleasure.
The feeling somewhat resembled the agony of being burned alive. The room wavered with heat, and the ceiling looked close one second and far away the next.
The only cold thing was Leon Berg, as if an invisible chill radiated from him. Veronica was genuinely relieved to have someone beside her.
“I won’t leave.”
Suddenly, she recalled the quiet words she’d heard that night. He wouldn’t leave, and she couldn’t go. Leon was right. They needed to stay together for now.
It felt as if they were the only two left in a world that had been destroyed.