Chapter 261: Cat Among The Pigeons (2)

The Saintess’ foresight was a powerful ability.

Just the fact that she could see the future with the clarity of a photograph was enough to draw jealousy and wariness from countless prophets.

However, that didn’t mean her Foresight allowed her to control all outcomes.

After all, the gods merely showed the future—they never taught how to change it the right way.

Just think of the former Saintess.

Didn’t she foresee the Margrave being consumed by nuclear fire?

And her own fate—being imprisoned in the temple for life as punishment for leading the Holy Knights into war without permission?

Perhaps she joined the war in an attempt to change that future.

If that was true, then it was a textbook example of prophecy’s tragedy.

You know, the one—the classic self-fulfilling prophecy—the kind where trying to avoid a grim future ended up causing it.

Taking a step further, maybe Saintess’ Foresight could never change the future in the first place.

Perhaps the one who could truly change the future was someone else entirely, and the Saintess’ Foresight merely served to point out the destination and direction…

“…You okay?”

Yeomyeong’s concerned voice broke the endless stream of thoughts. The Saintess flinched and looked up.

“W-why? Do I look weird or something?”

“You’ve looked tense for a while now.”

“T-tense? I’m not tense or anything…”

Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t exactly say it was because of the future she saw involving him.

However, Yeomyeong, clearly worried, said she could talk to him if something were wrong. They could always just head back to the hideout, he added.

Maybe it was the dragon’s heart in his stomach, or maybe it was the chicken porridge she ate earlier—but today, Yeomyeong seemed unusually kind.

The Saintess licked her dry lips, parched from nerves.

Looking back now, she wondered—how had she ended up in a relationship like this with the no-name mercenary she’d first met in Manchuria?

Their first meeting had been terrible…

…Well, it’s still better than Mom and Dad, though.

At least she and Yeomyeong hadn’t fought to the point of drawing blood or leaving permanent scars. Sure, they’d pointed guns at each other, but—

…Anyway.

As her thoughts wandered, Yeomyeong suddenly stopped walking.

Wondering what it was, she looked up—only to find a fork in the road ahead. One path led to the southern districts of Chicago, and the other veered off toward the southwest.

“Which way should we go?”

Yeomyeong added that if they kept heading straight south, there would be two skyscrapers—including Trump Tower—and if they took the southwestern route, there would be one more, further out in a roundabout way.

“…Let’s go southwest.”

The Saintess chose without hesitation. That was where the rooftop room she’d seen in her Foresight lay.

Unaware of her sneaky little plan, Yeomyeong nodded obediently and began walking southwest without hesitation.

Following behind him with little, quick steps, the Saintess kept swallowing nervously.

Whether it was due to nerves or blood rushing to her head, the Saintess’ mouth was dry and her earlobes burned with heat.

[O Holy Maiden, please act with dignity! Stop acting like a hormonal middle schooler!]

Ignoring the unicorn’s pleas in her pocket, she matched Yeomyeong’s footsteps for a while.

Finally, the Saintess realized they had arrived at the intersection from her vision.

Beside the American-style two-lane road—lined with flower beds and street trees—stood the Holy Name Cathedral, alone between buildings and storefronts.

The cathedral, especially with its asymmetrical design, was exactly as she had seen in her vision. But there was one problem…

…How do I get to the rooftop room?

The Saintess couldn’t answer the question that had popped into her mind. She couldn’t just tell Yeomyeong to go to a rooftop room owned by someone she didn’t even know.

Nor could she use the vision as an excuse—if anyone asked about it, she wouldn’t have a single thing to say.

What an idiot I am.

The Saintess clutched her head. Why had she been so forgetful? She never should have thought she could just waltz in and go straight to bed with Yeomyeo—

“Saintess, wait a minute.”

“H-huh?”

“See that building over there?”

Yeomyeong suddenly stopped walking and pointed to a relatively small commercial building opposite the Holy Name Cathedral.

The very building with the rooftop room.

“W-why that building?”

“Can we go up to the rooftop there for a second?”

“…”

The Saintess bit her lips tightly and nodded. She didn’t dare open her mouth, for fear she’d let out a high-pitched scream.

With the Saintess’ approval, Yeomyeong entered the building and headed for the rooftop. Fortunately, they weren’t spotted by any staff as they opened the rooftop door.

Creeeak.

The old iron door hinges creaked as they opened, showing signs of recent repairs.

The view beyond the door wasn’t all that different from what the Saintess had expected. On the rooftop, stained with dust and rainwater marks, stood two warehouses—relatively clean—side by side.

So, it’s not a rooftop room but a warehouse.

Well, that was fine. The Saintess lifted her collar and peeked inside.

Her secret underwear from the last time she’d bought some was peeking out. Okay, that was one hurdle cleared.

Now all she had to do was enter the rooftop, or rather the warehouse…

“As expected…”

However, Yeomyeong began inspecting the rooftop floor instead of heading to the warehouse.

“Here it is.”

What was that? The Saintess walked closer and saw Yeomyeong looking down at faint footprints and bloodstains in the dust on the rooftop.

“What’s that?”

“Necromancer’s traces.”

“…What?”

To the dazed Saintess, who asked again absentmindedly, Yeomyeong added briefly: it seemed this was the very place where the necromancers they lost back in LA had crossed through the Dimensional Portal.

“…”

“The asymmetrical cathedral and these bloodstains here… yeah, this has to be the place.”

“…”

“I never thought they’d escape to Chicago. Do you think they have any hidden business here? I haven’t seen anything in the black market, or maybe they’ve already moved to another city…”

The Saintess, who had been watching Yeomyeong muttering his deductions, suddenly tapped his shoulder.

“Yeomyeong?”

“Yeah?”

“Forget the bloodstains. Let’s check that warehouse over there.”

“Alright.”

Yeomyeong snapped a few photos of the rooftop’s remaining traces with his phone, then followed the Saintess to the warehouse.

Of the two warehouses, one was full of stacked items, and the other…

“A break room for staff on duty? Or is it an actual rooftop room…? At the very least, it looks like someone was living here until recently.”

The window overlooking the city, the bed, and the scattered blankets.

Yeomyeong carefully checked the interior, suspecting it might have been managed by the necromancers.

Then, after a short while, he found something.

A business card from the LA club run by the necromancers.

On the back, there were jumbled numbers and letters.

“…It’s an encrypted text. We should check with a dealer later.

Yeomyeong carefully pocketed the card, then walked past the Saintess and headed for the warehouse exit.

He was about to leave.

But suddenly, the Saintess grabbed his neck, and Yeomyeong stopped in his tracks, bewildered, turning around to see her.

“…What?”

“…”

After a brief silence, the Saintess, her face turning red, lowered her head and couldn’t speak for a while. Only when Yeomyeong felt something was off and took a step closer did she finally open her mouth again.

“…Hey.”

“What?”

A deep inhale and a long, nervous sigh. The Saintess desperately tried to get her words out.

“Are you… are you really just going to leave?”

“…?”

Yeomyeong tilted his head in confusion, and the Saintess couldn’t hold it in anymore and shouted.

“Y-You’re alone in a place like this with a pretty girl like me! Are you really just going to leave?!”

The sudden outburst startled not just Yeomyeong but the Saintess herself.

She looked at him, her mouth opening and closing, her fingers twitching, before biting her lip.

“I saw it in my Foresight in LA, not long ago. You… you and I… here, and… and what’s it called…”

“…That thing?”

“S-snowfield? No, no! That’s not it! Ugh…! The unicorn, and…”

As the Saintess turned red all the way up to her neck, unable to say anything more, a stream of all her strange behaviors from the past flashed through Yeomyeong’s mind.

From suddenly wanting to go save Moryne to this moment in front of him.

His hesitation was brief, and the realization even briefer.

“…”

Guessing what the Saintess had seen in her Foresight, Yeomyeong debated whether to laugh or keep his usual calm expression.

She is not even a middle schooler who is turning red just from foreplay…

After a brief pause, he finally smiled and placed his hand on the Saintess’ bright red cheek. It was warm to the touch.

“Saintess?”

“H-huh…?”

“Are you sure you’re okay with a place like this?”

Yeomyeong took a step closer, narrowing the gap between them, his face drawing nearer and his breath brushing against her skin.

The Saintess, who had been trembling nervously, thinking he was about to kiss her, realized only when she looked into his eyes that his words had a different meaning.

He was asking if she was okay with having her first time in such a place. Yes, that was the Yeomyeong she knew— A person who would care for the tree before picking the fruit.

He was sensitive, picky, and cautious, but when it came to someone he cared about, his kindness knew no bounds.

She knew Yeomyeong like this. So, for that reason,

“I… I don’t care where we are… as long as I’m with you.”

She managed to say, her face too red to even lift it.…

And seeing her so flustered, Yeomyeong burst out laughing—loudly enough that the Saintess, with her head lowered, pouted her lips in protest.

“…Is this funny?”

“It’s not funny, I just like you. That’s all.”

“…”

This guy had turned into a real casanova. Annoyed, the Saintess bumped her head against Yeomyeong’s chest in protest.

After briefly letting her headbutt him, Yeomyeong suddenly lifted her head.

He pressed his lips to her forehead before she could shout, “Again, on the forehead?” He kissed the space between her eyebrows again.

They say the softest part of the human body is the lips. It was true.

Yeomyeong’s lips moved from her forehead to her nose, to the tip of her nose, and then…

The continuing kisses, the connecting breaths, the melting sensations, and finally, the sudden realization.

First kiss is supposed to taste like lemon, they say? This is why you can’t trust romance novels.

“…”

The Saintess stared blankly at Yeomyeong’s retreating lips. She couldn’t gather strength in her body. It felt worse than being shot.

Yeomyeong caught her back as she collapsed, and slowly, as though waltzing, led her to the bed.

The gesture was so familiar that the Saintess didn’t even think to resist. Instead, she asked playfully.

“So, Mr. Cassanova, how many came before me?”

“In real life? Or in my imagination?”

“…”

The unexpected answer made the Saintess laugh uncontrollably. She continued laughing until Yeomyeong laid her down on the old, hard bed.

Finally, when Yeomyeong looked down at her and his gentle hand slowly slipped into her clothes…

Clank—

The warehouse window opened.

“Oh damn it…”

It was a girl with short, golden hair peeking in from the window.

Unlike the androgynous appearance she had months ago in Manchuria, she now faintly looked more feminine.

The girl quickly closed the window and said.

“Sorry, bad timing. Don’t mind me. Continue what you were doing. I’ll come back when you’re done.”

She said it like that, but once a mood was broken, it was not so easily restored—especially when an enemy you’d once fought to the death came back alive.

Yeomyeong carefully rose from the bed, taking a defensive posture, prioritizing the Saintess’ safety.

But…

“You… you bastard!”

The Saintess couldn’t hold back and pulled out her revolver.

Bang!

The Saintess’ indiscriminate shooting only stopped once the magazine was completely emptied.

There was a brief commotion—startled citizens fled the building at the sound of gunfire, and the police swiftly surrounded the shopping complex—but fortunately, none of the group were caught.

It was thanks to Yeomyeong grabbing the Saintess as she tried to reload and escaped to the rooftop of the Holy Name Cathedral across the street.

Anyway… now hiding inside the cathedral, Yeomyeong ignored the sound of police sirens outside and spoke.

“Mara… why did you come looking for us?”

Mara didn’t answer right away. Probably because the Saintess was aiming her deep-red-blessed gun at her.

She only opened her mouth once Yeomyeong managed to calm the Saintess down.

“Well, it’s not a big deal… I just happened to be in an unfamiliar city and thought I’d look up someone I know.”

“…”

“Also, I was wondering how well you’ve mastered the kungfu you took from me.”

“Mārīcī Divine Arts? I blended that with some other martial arts.”

When Yeomyeong replied without hesitation, Mara grinned.

“Not that one. The others?”

The others? Yeomyeong frowned. Besides the Mārīcī Divine Arts, he hadn’t received any other martial arts from her—unless she meant something he’d stolen.

At that moment, Mara spoke with a meaningful tone.

“I don’t feel any Killing Aura from you…”

“…”

“You’ve perfected Dzhugashvili, haven’t you? The Red Star that made dwarves’ lower body moist—it was you, wasn’t it… urk!”

As Yeomyeong drew his sword from the inventory and swung it, Mara kicked off from the church pew and leaped into the air. The blade narrowly missed, but strands of severed hair and droplets of blood followed in its wake.

“…Still quick to draw your sword, I see.”

Mara said as she brushed the wound on her cheek. It healed rapidly—far faster than back when they met in Manchuria. Clearly, she had grown stronger.

“Keep flapping your lips. You’re dying today anyway.”

“Oh? We’re fighting now?”

Mara hovered near the cathedral ceiling, arms crossed.

“That’s fine by me. If the two of us go wild, we’ll level every building in this area. Just like those superhero movies that came out recently!”

“…”

“Or… we could make a deal. Like we did in Manchuria.”

At that, the Saintess shouted, waving her gun.

“Is backstabbing someone at the end your idea of a deal?!”

“A deal, yes. And that’s why I got killed once, isn’t it?”

“You son of a…”

The Saintess aimed her gun. Mara lay suspended in the air as if to say, “go ahead, shoot.” If not for the police cars waiting outside, she probably would have.

Yeomyeong conjured an ice spike and rose to meet Mara’s eye level, sword dangling in his grip, and spoke.

“Go on, I dare you to open that filthy mouth of yours. If you die this time, I’ll make sure you rot in my mental world for eternity.”

“Ooh, I like that confidence. Very nice. A strong one should always carry themselves with dignity. Honestly, back in Manchuria, you were like a hedgehog.”

Still rambling, Mara flipped her golden hair back and continued.

“You’re involved in the dwarves’ civil war, aren’t you? That Red Star act of yours was part of it.”

“…”

Silent confirmation.

Mara gave a look that said I knew it and paused for a moment.

And then, as if revealing some tremendous secret, she whispered softly.

“Then… do you know the Church is involved in this too?”