There once was a woman
Born as the daughter of foolish mortals
She became the servant of a cunning beast
With raven hair and crimson eyes blazing like torches
She illuminated the shadowed future with blinding clarity
The thousand-year holy city would soon crumble
Those who wish to survive should flee to the wilderness
She sent birds soaring and moved the people
Beneath the collapsing mountain, she wielded a blade of purest white
Oh, Red Knight
Save the Monster Lady
The woman who sought her master never returned
Oh, Red Knight
Embrace the Monster Lady
None could find their trail
—An excerpt from the epic ballad “Lift My Curse, Sir Knight,”
passed down through generations in the wilderness
✦ ✦ ✦
The campfire crackled and danced, sending embers spiraling into the night sky. Wigo leaned forward, veins bulging at his temples as he gesticulated wildly.
“…So I thought, to hell with it all, and cast my sword aside to pray. I squeezed my eyes shut with the Bahamut’s foul breath on my face. Had my wife been alive, she’d have sworn I’d lost my mind completely.”
He clasped his hands together, his voice dropping to a fervent whisper. “Oh, Divine One, I have clung selfishly to this fleeting mortal existence. I beseech thee to forgive my sins and welcome me into thy heavenly embrace!”
It wasn’t his theatrics but the raw sincerity that drew Veronica into his tale. Just then, a piece of tender meat appeared in her bowl. When she turned, she met the intense gaze of the man who had eyes only for her.
“At that moment!” Wigo bellowed, drawing out each syllable, “The entire world plunged into absolute darkness!”
His dramatic pronunciation—drawn out as if expelling something vile from his lungs—snapped Veronica’s attention back to the storyteller. The rabbit meat she’d hastily popped into her mouth melted deliciously on her tongue.
“Come off it, old man,” the short-haired woman scoffed, fingers laced behind her head. “You’re not seriously claiming that God returned because of your prayer, are you?”
Wigo bristled instantly, his face flushing with indignation. “Are you mocking my faith, woman?”
“Not at all. I’m just pointing out the absurdity of your claim.”
“And the Bahamuts vanishing isn’t equally absurd?” he challenged. “What exactly were you doing during that momentous event? If you’ve got no tale to share, don’t criticize mine—especially while filling your belly with food cooked in my pots.”
Wigo cast a challenging glare around the circle of travelers he’d encountered on the road. Besides Leon and Veronica, three others sat around the dancing flames: Charlotte with her snow-white cropped hair, gentle Enzo with his midnight-blue locks, and Wigo himself with his braided mane, who seemed determined to extract payment for his cookware through an endless stream of adventure tales.
“Well, I was hiding and napping through that historic moment, so I can’t say much,” Charlotte admitted. “But don’t these two look like they might have a story worth hearing?”
She subtly inclined her head toward Leon and Veronica. Suspicion clouded her eyes as she regarded the young couple who had only recently joined their group. Until Charlotte had provided proper attire, Veronica had been clad only in a chemise with Leon’s cloak draped around her shoulders—hardly the garb of a Bahamut-slayer, without even a sword to her name. Faced with that skeptical gaze, Veronica gulped down her meat and averted her eyes.
Well, I was dead at the time.
“Um… well… you see…”
“We were engaged in combat, much like Mr. Wigo described,” Leon intervened smoothly. “We almost died, until the divine eclipse granted us salvation.”
Charlotte’s brow furrowed at his words. “Combat? With bare hands?”
“My blade shattered. I had no choice but to discard it.”
“Ah, another miraculous survivor!” Wigo exclaimed. “The eclipse arrived just as your sword broke, right? Small wonder you can’t tear your eyes from her if you nearly lost each other. I’ve been watching you throughout our meal.”
Everyone had apparently noticed his unwavering attention on her. This marked the first time they’d acknowledged their relationship before others, and it sent an unexpected flutter through Veronica’s chest. She recalled their first charade as husband and wife in the wilderness. Back then, being called Leon’s wife had made her uncomfortable.
Seized by a mischievous impulse, Veronica interjected. “Ah, that’s because of Noah’s possessive nature.”
Philip, I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your clever turn of phrase.
“Ever since we embarked on this journey, he hovers incessantly—whether I’m eating, bathing, or sleeping. Should I vanish from his sight for even a heartbeat, anxiety consumes him entirely.”
Veronica deliberately shook her head with theatrical exasperation. Wigo’s jaw dropped, and he shot Leon an accusatory glance.
“What? Now that’s crossing a line!” he sputtered. “Listen here, young man. In my experience, love requires space to breathe. Each person needs their own life and dreams for the flame to endure.”
Leon opened his mouth several times as if to retort, then released a soft, deflated laugh while running his fingers through his hair.
Finally, he answered, “I’m working to overcome it.”
“That’s the spirit, lad.”
As Veronica sipped her warm broth, her eyes met Leon’s, and she flashed him a playful smile. The corner of his mouth quirked upward before he reached out and gently squeezed her chipmunk-like puffed cheeks. It was a masterful sneak attack, but the broth had already slipped down her throat with a satisfying gulp.
“I heard you’re from Bayern,” Charlotte said. “Have you been fleeing since the calamity struck?”
“We’ve been wandering around Kaisenmier,” Leon replied. “Though I’ve survived solely by the grace of Veronica’s combat prowess.”
Veronica choked suddenly, coughing as she nearly inhaled her broth. The group fell into stunned silence, clearly doubting their ears. Leon shifted his penetrating gaze from Veronica to the assembled travelers.
“Ah, did I neglect to mention? The warrior who battled the Bahamuts until her blade shattered wasn’t me, but Veronica.”
The silence deepened.
“Is it any wonder I’ve developed such dependency on her?” he continued with perfect seriousness. “I’m terrified to face this world alone.”
He possessed a remarkable talent for delivering outrageous statements with bone-dry sincerity. Without a hint of humor in his tone, Charlotte and Wigo exchanged uncertain glances, clearly struggling to determine whether to take his words as jest. Leon towered over Veronica, his height and build easily twice her size. Even Enzo, who had been silently whittling a piece of wood all evening, finally raised his head in surprise.
Veronica glanced around at the expectant gazes fixed upon her. They were clearly awaiting confirmation. After a brief, awkward laugh, she abruptly stood, empty bowl in hand.
“I believe we should prepare for sleep. Didn’t someone mention an early departure tomorrow?”
“What? No heroic tale to share?” Wigo protested.
“Charlotte, shall we bathe together?”
“Hold on a moment!” Wigo cried. “The conversation has veered off course, and you’ve missed the most crucial part of my story! When the eclipse ended and I opened my eyes, right at that instant—”
Charlotte ignored his protests and rose to her feet. Enzo likewise began clearing away the remnants of their meal. Wigo cast one final, pleading look toward Leon, but the knight had eyes for only one person.
“If anything happens, cry out. I’ll come running,” he told Veronica quietly.
“No, no, you need to learn to be less possessive,” she teased. “I’ll return soon enough, but if you’re truly frightened, perhaps Mr. Wigo can regale you with more of his valiant exploits.”
As she deliberately added that final bit, Wigo’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. Watching Leon’s brows knit together in annoyance, Veronica flashed a wicked, impish grin before spinning on her heel and dashing away.
Charlotte, who had been walking ahead, cast a sidelong glance at Veronica as she caught up.
“You two share a special bond,” she observed.
“Hmm… We’ve weathered countless storms together,” Veronica replied cheerfully as she fell into step beside the older woman. “Charlotte, do you have family remaining in Whiteland?”
“My parents live at the Edge of Winter. It’s the coldest realm on the continent, so by some divine mercy, they should be safe from the scourge.”
“Blessed by the Divine One’s protection, then. Did you journey to Kaisenmier for employment?”
“No. For marriage. I had a husband and child once.”
Veronica froze mid-step. Charlotte continued without pause toward the riverbank. Had—past tense—meant they were gone now. She watched Charlotte disrobe without hesitation, then slowly resumed walking. In her own bubble of happiness, she had forgotten the brutal reality. Countless souls had lost parents, children, and siblings in these past two years of calamity.
“I’m so sorry… How thoughtless of me,” Veronica said softly.
“You asked without malice, so think nothing of it,” Charlotte replied. “Don’t let guilt shadow your joy—you’ve every right to embrace happiness. You make a beautiful pair.”
Charlotte added in a voice as brittle as winter frost, “The living are entitled to that much.”
The gentle lapping of water against the shore filled the silence. Veronica’s gaze drifted from Charlotte’s half-submerged form down to her own feet.
Each time she encountered someone left alone in this broken world, thoughts of Leon surfaced unbidden in her mind. What torment had consumed him when she died? Had he resigned himself to the cold comfort that the living must continue on, as Charlotte seemed to have done? Or had the light within him dimmed forever, to the point where he might have sought to follow her beyond the veil?
Do you secretly wish he had?
Startled by the dark question that had risen from the depths of her soul, Veronica looked up to find that Charlotte had turned to call to her.
“Veronica, aren’t you joining me?”
“Ah, coming now!” she hastily replied.
Her garments fell to the ground one by one. She longed to cleanse those twisted thoughts in the purifying waters. If she could wash them away quickly enough, perhaps no one would ever know she had harbored such wicked desires in her heart.