Chapter 138 – The Saintess and Her Guardian (16)

R‍&e;​ad​ &o;n​ Ḱａt&R;eäd̈iｎg​Caf̈e

Gray had so many questions for Cecilia.

Where was this place? Why was she, who should have been in the Holy Capital, here?

But the force binding his body held him back, as if warning him not to bare his fangs at the world beyond.

In a way, he was grateful—it kept him from giving in to the urge to lunge at Cecilia and drink her blood. At least now, he could only stare at the nape of her neck.

“Mister, aren’t you hungry? I know the witch made this, so it’s suspicious… but we don’t have a choice. The angel said it’s not poisoned.”

Cecilia carefully spooned some soup into Gray’s mouth, blowing on it first.

With each sip, the thirst for blood subsided slightly, like finding an oasis in the middle of a desert.

As Cecilia fed him, Gray chewed over her words.

A witch.

Every word she had said about him becoming “witch food” only confused him further.

What he had encountered in the dungeon was closer to a demon than a witch.

Sure, there was no rule saying witches couldn’t have horns, but something still felt off—Cecilia’s understanding of the situation didn’t quite match his own.

“Just hold on until tomorrow. I’ll perform a miracle, you’ll see. Just trust me. If I fail… we’ll run away from the witch somehow. The Holy Capital is too dangerous, so… how about eloping to some quiet place in the middle of nowhere?”

“…….”

Gray wanted to scold her—what kind of saintess talked about eloping?—but he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. All he could do was listen silently.

The once-pristine robes of the saintess were now dirty and ragged. Her hair, which had already lost its luster the last time he saw her, now looked completely faded.

One thing was certain: Cecilia had suffered hardships while he was unconscious. She reminded him of the grubby little thief she had been before becoming a saintess.

Back then, she had been caught trying to pick the pocket of Gray—a well-known mercenary—and, instead of begging for mercy, she had glared up at the guards with wild eyes and spat:

‘Yeah, I stole because I was hungry. What’s the big deal? Thought I finally got lucky, but I guess not.’

Stealing was a crime, but—

Being hungry wasn’t.

He had liked that about her.

Compared to the other kids who had starved to death without even trying to steal, she was already impressive.

Gray had grown up the same way.

His little sister had starved to death. That girl—Cecilia—had just been fighting to survive in a cruel world.

Normally, he would’ve just taken his money back and walked away.

But a small flicker of pity—and a larger spark of curiosity—had moved him.

‘Hey, kid. I just so happen to need a porter. Wanna take on a real job?’

Whether as a mercenary or whatever else, she had potential.

At the very least, she wouldn’t die easily. Sure, dragging a kid around would be nothing but a burden… but maybe, after so long working alone, he had just been lonely.

Who would’ve thought that same kid would turn out to be a saintess?

“Mister… is this all happening because I became a saintess? Because I caused too much trouble and you had to clean up after me? If that’s the case… I don’t need to be a saintess. I don’t care. I just need you.”

Even as he reminisced, Cecilia kept talking.

Just like back in the Holy Capital, when she would sneak into his room at night, pressing close as she complained about her frustrations.

Gray had always been busy the next day, fixing whatever mess she had caused. In a way, it had been like listening to confessions.

But now, her words and actions were far bolder.

Sitting on his waist like that.

Kissing his cheek and forcing a brave smile to hide her embarrassment.

Now she was outright talking about love.

‘What’s so great about an old man like me?’

Cecilia had a bright future. She was a saintess, revered across the Holy Kingdom, and though she was still young, she would undoubtedly grow into a beauty.

Gray, on the other hand? He was just a glorified bodyguard—no different from any other muscle-for-hire. His face was plain, covered in scars, rough as an orc’s.

If the scarred man from earlier had a rugged, seasoned charm, Gray looked more like an orc warlord.

And the age gap?

Seventeen years wasn’t something to ignore.

So to Gray, Cecilia had always felt more like a little sister—or even a daughter.

‘Mister, promise me! When I grow up, marry me! If you don’t, I won’t become a saintess!’

The memory of that promise made him wince.

Back then, he had agreed without thinking much of it. He had assumed it was just childish nonsense, like when little girls say they’ll marry their dads.

But Cecilia had been serious.

And now that he had become a thrall…

Forget marriage—he had to protect her from the demon inside him, whispering to drink her blood.

If he ever regained control of his body, the first thing he would do was disappear where she could never find him.

That was the only way to protect her—as her guardian.

 

---

 

The room was dark, untouched by sunlight.

Judging by the fact that the man had brought food, it must have been night.

“Nnn… Mister… Hehe.”

Even after talking nonstop, Cecilia had eventually fallen asleep mid-prayer, determined to perform a miracle.

If only things could go back to normal if she succeeded. But honestly, if miracles happened just by praying, everyone would be doing it.

Gray’s eyelids grew heavy.

But if he slept now, he might dream of that thing again—the demon, or witch, or whatever it was. He fought to keep his eyes open, struggling against the voice urging him to bite into Cecilia’s defenseless neck.

“Hello? Guardian?”

“……!?”

When he looked up, a woman was staring straight into his eyes.

Her long, pink hair cascaded down to her waist, and her crimson eyes—almost demonic—glittered mysteriously.

And then there was her chest—inhumanly large, impossible to ignore.

This had to be the witch Cecilia had mentioned.

And the same one the demon in the dungeon had referred to as “that woman”.

No wonder the voice demanding blood had gone silent—as if fleeing in fear.

“I came to ask you a few things. Oh, right—you can’t talk, can you?”

The witch snapped her fingers, and his mouth opened—as if by magic. But only his voice was freed; his body remained paralyzed.

“Things you want to ask…?”

‘What was there to confirm?’

Gray’s mind raced.

If the demon and the witch weren’t the same person… then what had happened after he collapsed? None of this made sense.

“Why did you, a guardian, go into the dungeon? Shouldn’t you just be protecting the saintess? Were you trying to run away from her? Or… did you learn the Holy Kingdom’s secrets and decide to become a vampire?”

“That’s…”

“You can’t lie. The soup had a truth serum in it—along with a sedative.”

The reason he had joined the investigation team was simple.

Cecilia had been whining about wanting to leave the Holy Capital.

In a way, she’d become a Saintess because of him. So when Carté offered a deal—successfully complete the mission, and Cecilia would get a half-day outside—he’d agreed.

The witch smirked, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she leaned closer, urging him to speak faster.

“It was for the kid. She wasn’t cut out for saintess life and hated being cooped up. Carté promised that if the investigation into the Green Stars was successful, she’d get half a day outside.”

Contrary to Gray’s intention to fish for information, his mouth betrayed him, spilling the truth just as the witch had said it would.

“Oh my… ‘The kid’, huh?”

The witch’s cheeks flushed with a complicated expression—almost like a noble lady reading a romance novel.

“Do you know the saintess is in love with you?”

“Sigh… What’s so great about an old man like me?”

“Ohoho! Delivering the classic ‘reverse age gap’ line so casually… That’s why I’m hooked!”

Reverse age gap…?

Why was she asking these things?

He had expected her to interrogate him about the Holy Kingdom’s secrets or the saintess’s weaknesses—after all, this pink-haired witch was a wanted criminal.

Or, like Cecilia had said, maybe she was a monster who devoured humans.

But this? This was just a woman obsessed with love, getting lost in her own imagination over their relationship.

Gray felt like he was sinking deeper into a labyrinth.

“So. How do you feel about the saintess? Isn’t it annoying, having a brat like that chasing after you?”

“…….”

How did he feel about Cecilia?

Setting aside the intent behind the question, Gray couldn’t answer as easily as before.

Annoying? Of course.

After going through all the trouble of getting her a prestigious position as a saintess, she just caused more problems.

Tracking him down and sleeping on the hard floor like this.

Nodding off during prayer time but still insisting she’d perform a miracle…

At this point, he couldn’t help but wonder—

What did he mean to her?

Why was she clinging so desperately to that promise?

Why had she stuffed wool in her chest to look older, only to get caught?

“I made a promise to the kid. To stay by her side at least until she grew up. Whether I like it or not, emotions aside… I’m her one and only guardian.”

“…….”

This time, it was the witch who fell silent.

She gulped, hugged herself, and squirmed like an overexcited schoolgirl.

She licked her lips, savoring his words.

Under normal circumstances, Gray might’ve found her attractive—but after his last confession went so poorly, he wasn’t about to try again.

More than anything, he was worried about Cecilia being left alone.

“But now, mister, you can’t stay with her. You’ve been turned into a thrall by that demon. Right now, it’s quiet, but it’s screaming at you to drink blood. How are you supposed to keep your promise like this?”

As if reading his thoughts—

As if it were no big deal—

The witch grinned playfully.

“Hehe. Don’t worry about that. If the saintess performs a miracle, your thrall status can be reversed. I was just worried she might be forcing her feelings on you while you were trying to run away. But this? This is a passing grade in pure love! Love has to go both ways—one-sided devotion is just sad.”

“Pure love?”

“And if she can’t perform a miracle, I’ll help you myself. I don’t care about the saintess, but I like you, our little reverse age gap troublemaker. I’d love to see you get swept off your feet for my own amusement.”

With a satisfied smile, the witch silently retreated, careful not to wake Cecilia.

“Wait… Are you really a witch? What’s your goal? I can’t make sense of any of this.”

If she left now, Gray would be left drowning in even greater confusion.

At the very least, he needed to know—

What did she want?

Why wasn’t she harming the saintess?

Why was she waiting for a miracle?

“Of course I’m a witch. The Witch of Love. And my goal? Pure love, obviously.”

The Witch of Love?

This was the witch the Holy Kingdom’s elites were so afraid of?

“You heard what the saintess said, right? You were bitten by Vempir, but now you’re ‘witch food’. Keep our chat a secret, okay? If she slacks off because of this, I really will eat you.”

Peeking through the door, the witch winked and snapped her fingers.

“…….”

Left speechless once more, Gray could only watch as she disappeared.

The only thing he had learned about her was what Carté had said—she did whatever she wanted.

And one more thing:

She had pissed off the demon inside him.

[We need to move up our plans. I won’t be toyed with by that woman any longer.]

Gray felt like a lamb caught in the center of an incomprehensible storm.