Veronica blinked her eyes open. The sky was bluish, so it must be dawn.
She was lying in a warm leather sleeping bag in a vast field, where the shadows of a campfire flickered on the ground before her. She could also see a tree where a horse was tethered. As she slowly sat up, she noticed a large man sitting in front of the campfire with a copper kettle hanging above it.
Where am I?
Her mind was blank for a while. Then the biting wind creeping through her thin clothes brought memories floating to the surface: her father’s severed head, Benjamin’s plea for her to go with him, and buildings burning as they collapsed.
Bayern was gone. The beautiful, brilliant city by the sea had burned to ashes. When she turned her head, she saw the remnants of the port city in the dim dawn light. It sat abandoned in the middle of the snowfield, far in the distance.
This can’t be happening. But it’s real.
No tears came. She just felt empty. Veronica’s lips trembled, but then she clenched her teeth until her jaw hurt. She lifted her arms and hugged herself tightly. She had survived, but that was all. Her entire life had been completely swept away.
She remembered running through alleys, falling down, laughing, and crying. She remembered friends with whom she had shared trivial worries. Her father—her only family, despite their awkward relationship—and her wonderful plan to sing at the theater troupe next month. All her dreams, past and future, had vanished at once, like a candle blown out by someone’s breath. She wanted to say it didn’t feel real, but it was hard to deny her reality with the burnt wick right before her eyes.
What am I supposed to do in this situation? No one’s ever taught me that. What should I do when I’ve lost everything at once, when it’s all been taken away?
She steadied her breathing, slowly inhaling and exhaling repeatedly. Just then, a blanket dropped onto her shoulders, and a wooden cup sloshing with liquid was held out before her.
“Drink.”
When she quickly looked up, the man met her gaze calmly. His face was expressionless, but his red hair was disheveled against the dawn backdrop. He was the man who had pulled her out of that hell.
She instinctively took the cup as the man casually sat down beside her. The sharp scent that hit her even before she brought it to her nose revealed the liquid to be alcohol.
When she looked at him with wide eyes, he said, “It won’t kill you. It’ll just warm your stomach and keep you from freezing to death.”
“…I’ve never had alcohol before.”
“Good for you.”
His nonchalant response made her feel foolish. The liquid’s surface rippled absurdly.
Well, what’s the worst that could happen?
With a come-what-may attitude, she took a sip. The bitter liquid coated her mouth, moistening her throat as it went down, and immediately made her insides burn.
Why do people drink this stuff?
She frowned and looked to the side, only to meet the eyes of the man staring at her. It struck her again how frighteningly handsome he was. From his languid gaze to his straight nose, to the line extending to his masculine Adam’s apple, he was perfect—as if carved meticulously by God. If there was a single flaw, it would be the scar across his right eye, but even that intensified his fierce aura and suited him very well.
It was strange, but his appearance seemed familiar somehow.
Just as her thoughts reached that point, the corner of the man’s mouth tilted up. He stared at her intently and began, “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”
“Yesterday… when I asked for help?”
“No. When you were whining about being thirsty and crying.”
Veronica’s eyes, which had been looking up at him in confusion, gradually widened as she remembered. She froze in shock. Some of the images that flashed through her mind were too intense. It was strange that she hadn’t recalled them immediately upon waking.
“More, please give me more.”
“Ah, it hurts… It feels strange…”
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone.”
Her face burned fiercely. The surreal memories in the darkness flooded her, filled with low voices and erotic breaths. The warm sensation that had enveloped her body vividly assaulted her skin, leaving her flustered and confused.
She had kissed him last night. This man. And not content with just that, she had clung to him.
The ecstatic pleasure came back to her with startling clarity. She remembered his large hands and his tongue that had probed her hotly.
Veronica couldn’t understand. Why, at that moment—even if just for an instant—had she wanted to join her body with his? She must have been out of her mind. Why had she yearned to be buried in warm snow in the middle of nowhere? Why, in somewhat poetic terms, had she wanted to be the corpse he killed and buried?
In the end, the only assessment she could make of her resurfaced memories was this:
“This can’t be real.”
“It was, though,” the man answered as if teasing her, staring at Veronica’s face for a moment before murmuring, “You blush very easily.”
He tried to bring his curved finger to her heated cheek, as if he was curious. She held her breath and shrank her shoulders, which made him stop mid-air.
“What exactly… did you do to me yesterday?” she asked.
“I did my best to keep the Corrupted I’d just rescued from dying from her head exploding.”
His deep, sharp gaze now moved down to fix on her lips, and Veronica felt it vividly as if he was scratching her face with his gaze alone. His pitch-black pupils were both vivid and cloudy, making her feel extremely strange.
“You were corrupted by a Bahamut yesterday. Right before I rescued you,” the man said. His tone was as dry, as if he were reporting on the weather.
At the word “corruption,” her already confused thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Veronica reflexively turned to look at the surface of the alcohol in her cup. Her eyes were bright red, like a winter rabbit on white snow.
Like a Bahamut’s.
“You’re already corrupted,” the man said. “The only reason you’re still alive is because I poured my holy power into you.”
The cold winter wind ruffled her hair. Veronica felt like she was being crushed under the memories and information pouring in without giving her a chance to breathe.
He poured his holy power into me? Why? More importantly, who is he?
She opened her mouth to bombard him with questions. But the words remained unspoken, and her mouth closed again as she realized something. The man’s red hair, his distinct scar, the black curve of his armor, the mention of holy power—all of it pointed to only one person she knew of.
“…The Bahamut Hunter.”
Instead of denying it, the man’s lips twisted into a cold smile.
Why hadn’t she recognized him immediately? It could only have been him from the start. He was the only person who would willingly walk into a burning city.
“…The Red Knight of the Apocalypse. Leon Berg. That’s you, isn’t it?”
When speaking of his fame, some said, “Even the Bahamuts know of the Red Knight.”
Leon Berg was a commoner who had joined the Holy Knight Order despite his humble origins, and a prodigious knight who received the title “Messenger of God” at a remarkably young age. Yet he’d abandoned his promising future, deserting the battlefield at the southern Tyran Front. Why was he here in Bayern, and why had he saved her?
“You figured it out so quickly,” he said. “Takes the fun out of it.”
Some claimed he was bloodthirsty, while others said he had fallen from grace and betrayed God. Either way, he was dangerous.
“What do you want from me?” Veronica asked stiffly.
“Well…”
Ignoring her obvious wariness, he leaned forward, placing his hand behind her back. His pitch-black pupils stared into her eyes with breathtaking intensity.
His black tunic, disheveled red hair, and sharp scar all complemented his features.
Veronica clenched her sweaty palms. She felt as if her eyes had become transparent windows, so that the man looking into them could read her every thought. The thrilling sensations from last night were dissected before his eyes, as though she were an insect being methodically taken apart.
“Breathe,” the man whispered softly, lowering his gaze.
He was now close enough to touch her nose with his. Only then did Veronica realize she’d been holding her breath. She blushed and inhaled quickly. If the high-pitched sound that escaped her sounded strangely sensual, it was surely because of yesterday’s events.