I Became a Childhood Friend With the Villainous Saintess

Chapter 85: The Guardian (4)

A night when the moon rose in a clear sky.

The feral beasts, who should have been prowling, lay asleep as if the world had gone silent. Inside a cave, a campfire crackled lazily, its flickering flames casting shifting shadows on the walls.

A figure entered the cave.

Nezra.

His sharp gaze swept the surroundings. The owner of one of the shadows was a boy—young, almost delicate in appearance.

A boy. Eric sat among the beasts as if it were the most natural thing in the world, idly fidgeting with his fingers.

The moment Nezra made his presence known, Eric turned around.

A voice, high and clear like that of any boy his age, rang out.

“Oh? And what’s made him so angry?”

“He says you’ve taken plenty of his friends but haven’t fulfilled your duty. He’s demanding an explanation. My friends are angry too.”

“Hmm, I can see that.”

Nezra narrowed his eyes.

Dark silhouettes slithered through the cave.

Spirits filled with malice. No—wraiths would be a more fitting term. Their eerie, high-pitched giggles echoed in the dim space, tinged with madness.

He disliked them.

It wasn’t just that he wasn’t fond of supernatural abilities to begin with. These were especially peculiar.

Eric’s ability was entirely specialized—limited to summoning and controlling wraiths, nothing more.

Borrowed power, not his own.

For someone like Nezra, who lived by the sword, such an ability was hard to respect.

Still, he wouldn’t deny its effectiveness.

“I had a lot to say anyway. I’d like to speak directly with Decarabia. Will that be possible, boy?”

“……Yes. The angel has given permission.”

Something in Eric shifted.

The pretense of youthful innocence, however flimsy, vanished completely.

The light in his eyes bore the weight of countless years—worn and faded.

His face, once brimming with life, now resembled a barren desert, devoid of even a drop of emotion.

“Explain yourself, Nezra.”

Nezra’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Explain? What exactly do you mean?”

“Why did you not kill Baron Esquente? You had ample opportunity.”

“I was interrupted. Personally, though, I quite enjoyed myself. That cursed blade fellow—he turned out to be far more entertaining than I expected.”

“That’s impossible. With your skills, you could have killed the baron and escaped with ease.”

The wraiths snarled, a guttural and menacing sound.

Looking at them, Nezra couldn’t shake the thought—they resembled well-trained hunting hounds.

For now, they were muzzled, but should Decarabia give the command, their fangs would bare in an instant.

The sight was almost laughable.

Reduced to livestock even in death.

Was there anything more pathetic than a spirit without will?

The demon chuckled coldly.

“You’re talkative today. You must be anxious.”

“This is a rightful complaint. You’ve broken our contract. If you continue this behavior—”

“You might want to choose your next words carefully, Decarabia. Unlike before, you don’t have any disposable pawns to die in your place.”

“Insolent wretch.”

For the first time, a flicker of emotion crossed the boy’s face.

No—Decarabia’s face.

Rage.

The wraiths trembled, restless.

Decarabia’s dark energy seeped into Eric’s, coating it like a second skin.

Nezra’s eyebrow twitched.

His control had improved.

The last time, even after taking over the boy’s body, he hadn’t been able to wield the wraiths so seamlessly.

Was he finally adapting to human form?

At this rate, he wouldn’t be human much longer.

“I came here because I was promised endless battle—not to rot away in the West, dulled by peace. And yet, all this time, I’ve done nothing but hide. Don’t you think this is a waste?”

“You have already been well compensated. You must uphold your end of the contract. So I will ask again, Nezra—why did you not kill Baron Esquente?”

What a hassle.

Nezra let out a sigh—internally, at least.

He held no particular fondness for Baron Esquente. His way of wielding magic had been intriguing, but that was as far as it went. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have left him alive.

But the Cursed Blade was a different story. That fight had been so exhilarating that he had abandoned the mission entirely.

Besides, Nezra had already decided to respect him.

Fleeing while killing someone else during their battle wouldn’t have been respect—it would have been an insult.

There would be better opportunities, better places to kill him in the future.

Still, he needed an excuse. Something that Decarabia would accept.

“Fine. I admit I was enjoying myself. But it’s also true that the Cursed Blade interfered. He was far stronger than you anticipated. If I had pushed forward recklessly, even I wouldn’t have been able to cover my tracks.”

“Cover your tracks…? Are you certain? Someone of your caliber?”

“Of course. You think I’d lie to a swordsman about that?”

“Tch. Very well. I’ll let it slide this time. I didn’t account for the Cursed Blade’s interference, so I’ll acknowledge the variable. But next time, I expect you to carry out your task cleanly.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Nezra responded indifferently.

Truthfully, he didn’t care what happened to the North. But for now, both demons still had use for each other.

Nezra needed to clear the stage for his duel with the Cursed Blade.

And Decarabia needed to shatter the wretched balance that kept the North in check.

“You said you wanted to fight? You’ll have your chance soon. Consider it good news.”

****

[Sirien Eilencia]

She had sent the baron ahead.

He needed rest, and there was nothing more to discuss.

He had insisted she didn’t need to see him off.

He likely wanted time alone to sort through his thoughts, so she had given him that space.

It was something that had to be said eventually.

The timing had simply come a little sooner than expected.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Still, she felt… heavy.

Was it melancholy?

Too many painful memories had resurfaced.

No—it wasn’t just that.

She was simply exhausted.

It had been a long, grueling day.

And she had nearly lost too many people.

She thought she had become numb to death.

That she had drawn a line and stayed safely behind it.

But it seemed that wasn’t quite true.

The deaths of those she knew still hurt.

She needed to shed this weakness, and fast.

She had vowed not to be shaken by losing a few people.

She had promised herself she would become colder, more ruthless.

And yet, her heart had not hardened.

“Sirien. Are you feeling unwell? You don’t look so good.”

“No, I’m fine. I don’t feel sick at all.”

Razen placed a hand on her shoulder.

She was such a fool.

Just that simple gesture, that tiny touch, was enough to make her heart tremble.

‘You’re the one who should be comforted, not me.’

Without thinking, she placed her hand over his.

His hand was rough, hardened—but warm, just like his heart.

The weight in her chest began to melt, little by little.

So in the end, what she had said wasn’t a lie.

‘Because thanks to you, I really do feel fine now.’

‘ And now, I want to tend to your wounds instead.’

“What about you, Razen? I’m sorry. It wasn’t just anyone—it was your parents. I should have found a way to give you that chance.”

“I told you, stop thinking like that. Do you really think revenge would’ve made me happy? Even if I had gone after him, my father would’ve scolded me for it.”

“…Scolded you?”

“He always told me—a knight’s duty is to protect. If I had abandoned everything and run off, I wouldn’t have heard a single good word from him. There will be another time. A better time.”

“But still, your heart must hurt.”

“I’m really fine—”

Shut up.

You’re an idiot. You don’t even realize when you’re in pain.

She pulled him into a tight embrace.

She could feel his warm breath against her chest.

She pressed her cheek against the top of his head.

At first, he tensed, as if he meant to pull away.

But when she refused to let go, he gave up and stilled.

“Good. Just stay like this for a bit.”

“Sirien? This is… I mean…”

“Shh. Just rest.”

You idiot.

You absolute fool who doesn’t even understand your own heart.

You didn’t even notice how much I gave away.

How could you possibly understand your own feelings?

Even back at that cabin—

Even if no one else saw it, I did.

You said you were fine.

But your steps were heavier than usual.

Your eyes had lost their strength.

And your voice—just barely, at the very end—it had wavered.

If my heart hasn’t hardened yet, then yours is simply too strong.

“I told you before, didn’t I? When I’m struggling, I want you to hold me like this. That hasn’t changed. Let’s do this whenever either of us needs it.”

This is all I can do for you, and for that, I’m sorry.

You’re always my priority.

Just like you protect me, I want to protect your heart.

I failed this time.

So I’ll heal you instead.

“What’s wrong? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No… it’s nothing.”

As she continued to hold him, Razen shifted uncomfortably.

But she wouldn’t let him escape.

She pulled him in deeper into her embrace.

His face was now buried against her chest.

At this distance, could he hear her heartbeat?

The thought made her blush.

If he could hear it pounding, wouldn’t it be too obvious?

Wouldn’t he be able to tell?

Well—

He had already figured it out a long time ago.

And yet, she still wasn’t used to it.

Her eyes flickered toward his ear.

A sudden temptation seized her—

To lean in, to whisper something against it.

She resisted.

Instead, she simply whispered—softly, gently.

“I love you.”

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