Episode 23
His precise gaze left Melody nowhere to hide, and she offered a polite, practiced smile.
“I never found any real issue with the tools I maintained. What exactly was the problem?” she asked.
Awhin’s reply was calm but firm. “The problem is that you left the temple.”
Melody blinked, surprised. “Huh? Is there really an issue with me quitting the temple?”
He nodded, looking at her white gloves. “White armor is hard to maintain—it shows dirt no matter how well you polish it. But during your care, the weapons stayed flawless.”
They said true skill shows even in rough work. If anyone else had said it, Melody would have felt honored. But coming from Awhin Baldwin—the holy knight known for hunting mages—her heart tightened with distrust. Yet she kept her smile steady.
“I appreciate the compliment, but I’m not that great. Others here are skilled too,” she said.
“No—you are different,” Awhin said sincerely. “I heard you joined the Duke’s household. Don’t you feel your talent—given by the goddess—should serve the temple?”
He couldn’t forbid her, but Melody had no desire to return, especially not to be near him. “I prefer the Duke’s house. I want to help with monster hunts,” she replied.
His violet eyes flashed with something like displeasure, but he composed himself. “If that is your wish, I cannot stop you.”
“May the goddess bless you, Sir Knight,” she replied softly.
“Wait,” he said, raising a hand gently. He pointed to her fingers. “Your hand is injured.” He noticed the healing core in her palm, smeared with small cuts and Onello’s blood. “Allow me to heal it.”
“I… I have no money,” Melody whispered.
Awhin shook his head. “I do not seek payment.”
“Fine—permission granted,” she said. He looked at her curiously. “Are you in pain?”
Melody shook her head. “No—but it’s slightly warm, they say.”
Awhin laid his hand over hers, and a gentle white glow spread. Melody felt warmth flood her fingertips, soothing. When he withdrew his hand, the core dimmed—it had lost its power.
“Wait!” she said quickly. “Could you do it again? It still feels a bit sore.”
Although the wound was already healed, he simply touched her hand again—another soft light. When it faded, she checked the core again; its energy was completely gone.
Inside her mind, she thought, Why didn’t I think of this sooner? Sacred energy cancels magical energy—it was perfect. Maybe they could tame Deonis’s power using this.
Her joy bubbled over, and she squeezed Awhin’s hand. He straightened in surprise. “You’re holding my hand,” he said.
“Yes. You said you wanted your weapons polished?” she replied.
“May I?” she asked softly.
Awhin paused a moment, then simply said, “Of course.”
A soft ding-dong echoed through the temple as the noon bell rang. Awhin set aside his armor and closed his eyes.
Knight Daring, carrying a wooden practice sword, joined him and asked quietly, “Your sword moves differently today—were you unwell this morning?”
Awhin shook his head. “Something good occurred.”
Daring smiled, still cautious. “You seemed angry earlier—it must’ve been my imagination.”
Despite years together, Daring still couldn’t read Awhin. He never betrayed emotion. Did he ever laugh? Or cry? No one in the order truly knew.
“I met the tool-maker,” Awhin said softly.
Daring’s eyes brightened. “Oh—the one who polished weapons? You sent your deputy thirty-two times and twelve letters to contact her—and now you’ve finally met? Is she returning to the temple?”
Awhin shook his head. “No.”
Daring frowned in surprise. “Then why are you so happy?”
Awhin sighed. “…That’s a secret.”
Daring laughed lightly. “A secret, Sir Knight? You make me curious—what could be so joyous? The goddess loves truth—and I serve her faithfully. Telling me is almost like telling her.”
Awhin’s lips curved in a faint smile as he recalled their morning conversation:
“May I polish your weapons?” she had asked.
He had paused, sensing a deeper meaning. Then she had added, “With one condition—it might not please you.”
He had replied, “Speak.”
She’d asked, “I’d like a bit of sacred energy.”
“Is someone hurt?” he’d asked.
“Don’t ask why. Also, let our meetings stay secret. If not…”
“I will.”
He understood—weapon care meant everything to her. A flawless polish deserved payment, whatever it took. Sacred energy was healing light—even for wrongdoing. He glanced at the white armor—streaked with Onello’s blood—from someone who refused imprisonment.
He sighed, then returned to cleaning the blade.
“I… I never wanted to imprison you,” he whispered.
He remembered the child mage—starving, afraid, wielding magic to escape. He had no choice but to raise his sword. Mages were dangerous, their hidden darkness unknown. He’d lost his only sister to one many years ago. At her funeral, he’d been chosen:
“You were chosen by the goddess—to be her sword.”
He had the power—but no power could bring his sister back, so he became judgement itself.
He wiped the armor in silence. After a hush, Daring finally spoke.
“Well then. I also have a great secret—but I won’t share it.”
Awhin replied, “Alright.”
“But could you at least answer one question?” Daring asked.
“What is it?”
He leaned forward slightly. “I heard a holy power has reawakened… Someone said, It’s a woman.”
Awhin showed no surprise. A distant shout broke from the other knights:
“Is she beautiful?!”
The hall fell silent as they awaited Daring’s answer.
He smiled. “From afar, even her shadow was so beautiful—it stood out.”
Ha, your ‘goddess’ didn’t help you before why now~