Chapter 30
Screech—startled by the sound of the door opening, Veronica spun around in haste, her golden hair shimmering as moonlight poured over it.
Under the sun, it looked sweet, like honey poured thickly over, but under the gentle silver of the moon, it shone like milk stirred with honey—so pale it seemed it might melt away and vanish.
Relying on the faint glow of the moonlight, Veronica belatedly recognized the figure and called out in a puzzled voice.
“Lord Caisnis?”
Up close, the resemblance to his mother in her features irked him.
“Tch. I asked what you were doing.”
“N–nothing.”
The frozen woman stammered like some dim-witted piece of trash. Every time the false saintess faced him, her already pale face drained even whiter.
Was she afraid of him? Such a reaction from others was nothing new, but uncharacteristically softened by it, Kyle discarded his threatening tone and slipped back into the shell of courtesy.
“At such a late hour, I saw someone suspicious wandering the castle and thought perhaps a thief had broken in.”
“I’m not a thief!”
“Of course. A saintess would never stoop to something like theft. But you still haven’t answered what exactly you were doing here. What brings you here at this hour?”
Veronica bit her lip, hesitating before she replied.
“First… could you step a little closer? You’re standing with the lamp behind you, so I can’t see your face. You look like a big shadow, and it feels a bit frightening.”
Step by step, as though bewitched, he moved forward, and his features, once hidden in darkness, came into the light.
In that brief instant when they faced each other directly, Kyle felt a fierce sensation pierce straight through him.
A vague sense of unease, and yet something strange that urged him forward. A danger, as though every nerve in his body was being drawn into her.
The moment his eyes locked with Veronica’s, the thought of pressing her with questions evaporated. Holding his breath, Kyle found himself focused on every word, every small gesture of hers.
Now able to see him clearly, Veronica relaxed a little and gestured around the room as she explained.
“This is my prayer room, prepared for me by the lord of the castle. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d read some scripture. Reading aloud soothes my heart.”
Her soft, gentle voice seemed to brush against his ears. Kyle couldn’t help but imagine how easily he could fall asleep if she read scripture aloud in that voice. Following the trail of her blue eyes, he thought—
Was it only his delusion that he kept seeing his mother in this woman? Or was it some curse, an illusion his mother had planted?
Though it had been so long since he last thought of her, Veronica effortlessly summoned up the memory of the woman who had left him with an unfillable void for life.
“You must be unable to sleep as well, Lord Caisnis. Do you have worries weighing on you?”
“Saintess…”
“Yes. Please, speak.”
“If I share my troubles, will you hear me out? Think of it as a kind of confession.”
That night… they never should have been alone together.
Had Veronica placed a screen between them, Kyle might not have poured his heart out. Or perhaps, he wouldn’t have said anything at all.
Veronica was far too alluring in appearance for a saintess. With downcast eyes, she looked like a pitiful beauty in need of protection, but when she raised them directly, she could seem like a provocative temptress.
Surely those who sought her aid as a saintess were just men hiding lecherous thoughts, ensnared by her beauty—like that very example, Lord Georg, so close at hand.
A low, resonant voice spilled from his throat.
“Saintess.”
“Yes, my believer.”
Through the thin veil, Veronica’s outline glowed faintly, illuminated by the yellow lamplight. Kyle traced it with his gaze. Patient as she was, the saintess did not rush him even though he hesitated to begin.
Leaning forward, resting his arms on the small desk likely used for scripture reading, Kyle brought his face closer.
Even with only that flimsy cloth between them, he stared at her openly—and she, naively reassured, felt safe.
In a deep, husky voice, Kyle finally spoke.
“Once… someone said something to me that was no less than a curse. They told me I was unloved. That they had never loved me, not even for a moment.”
“Why would that person say such a thing?”
“I already know the reason. But knowing doesn’t make it forgivable. From that moment on, I’ve lived believing, deep down, that no one could ever love me.”
“Ah… surely, by now, that person regrets having spoken such hurtful words.”
The saintess sighed, trying to soothe his wounded heart. Across from her, Kyle’s expression shifted ambiguously.
“Perhaps. Though whether that person regrets it, I’ll never know.”
How could he? The one who had said it was already dead. Even if the dead did regret, how would he ever know? If they even could regret at all.
Kyle didn’t even understand why he was telling her this. She, the false saintess, looked sympathetic—as though she herself were sadder than he was.
And yet… watching her face ease from fear into gentle calm whenever their eyes met—it wasn’t unpleasant.
From beneath the veil, slender fingers reached across the line. Her hand touched lightly over his, resting atop the back of his clenched hand.
Lowering his eyes, Kyle gazed at the delicate hand lying over his.
“Please believe me. You are truly someone worthy of being loved.”
The retort surged to his lips—what could she possibly know, to presume to comfort him? Even if she weren’t a false saintess, he would have thought the same.
From the start, he hadn’t sought comfort in confessing. He didn’t even believe that spilling one’s troubles lessened their weight.
Was it because she resembled his mother? Even words his mother would never have spoken, when uttered in Veronica’s soft, kind voice, sounded as though they could have come from her.
Abruptly, he pulled his hand free, rising to his full height. Through the veil, he could see her startled, round eyes lifted up at him.
Yes. Better to look directly than through a screen. To confirm for himself she was not his mother.
Kyle did not know this woman. And she did not know him.
It was only because she didn’t know him that she could speak so easily. If she truly knew what kind of man he was, she could never say such words.
Planting both hands on the desk, Kyle leaned in, locking eyes with the wavering gaze of the shaken woman.
“Best not to presume to know me. Words one cannot take responsibility for are better left unsaid.”
“Do you think I’m lying?”
Veronica slowly rose from her chair, her eyes striving to meet his directly, earnest and unyielding. She didn’t realize that this only provoked him further.
“I did not lie. I know it may be hard to accept, but you are indeed someone worthy of love. You loved that person, didn’t you?”
“What nonsense are you—”
“You loved them, didn’t you? The one who said those words to you. Is it because they didn’t love you back that you’re in pain? That you’re grieving?”
“Don’t presume so much.”
“They simply didn’t realize your love. Or perhaps they were clumsy at giving and receiving affection. If you had reached out first, if you had expressed your heart honestly… perhaps they would have come to love you too.”
For once, Kyle was struck silent. If he had gone to his mother first, would things have been different? The memory of her cold face flashed before him, as seen through the eyes of a child.
Once, he had wondered—if he gave her what she wanted, would she love him in return?
But he had never dared. He feared she would leave him behind forever if he tried.
Kyle murmured in anguish.
“…Do you really think so? Then tell me, Saintess—if I were to bare my heart completely, if I begged to be loved… could you love me?”
Veronica answered not with words, but with a gentle, compassionate smile. In the glow of the candlelight, her face radiated kindness, and in it Kyle felt as though he glimpsed hope.
A warmth and solace he could not describe seeped into him, together with the golden light.
In that moment, Kyle found himself, without realizing, beginning to hope—this time, things might be different.
