The Calamity Ward Priestess (1)
In the middle of a beautifully manicured garden, a woman seated alone in a secluded pavilion let out a soft sigh.
“Ah, I’m all out of snacks.”
From behind, the sight of her was striking—long, snow-white hair the color of pure silk spilled carelessly down her back.
Tap. Tap.
She lifted a hand sheathed in a white glove and, out of habit, rapped her fingertips against the pair of coral-like yellow horns sprouting from the top of her head.
“Guess I should head out.”
The moment she rose to her feet, she felt several presences nearby. She tilted her head at an angle, quickly scanning her surroundings, then began straightening her rumpled clothes.
She picked up a pure-white outer robe that matched her hair, slipped it on, and retrieved the large black gat that had been lying nearby. She settled it crookedly over her horns, then drew the attached veil across her face.
Clink…!
From a small box tucked in the corner of the pavilion, she pulled out a bundle of coins and tossed it behind her without looking.
“Use that for snack money.”
As if he had been standing there the entire time, a guard now waited behind her—face hidden behind a cloth just like hers—ready to follow the moment she left the pavilion.
“I wonder what I should eat today…”
She slid both arms into the robe’s wide sleeves and began walking with quick, light steps toward the garden’s exit.
“Hmm? You were asking about the priestess?”
In the bustling market of the capital, the merchant answered with a look of genuine surprise.
“You must be from out of town. Only an outsider wouldn’t know about the priestess.”
“That’s right.”
The man looked to be in his late twenties. He wore luxurious black robes that drew the eye at once. When his companions behind him glared at the merchant’s casual tone, he waved a hand to calm them and tilted his head slightly in reply.
“She’s a very spirited woman. The previous priestess rarely left her residence, but the new one often comes to the market herself to buy snacks.”
“Oh?”
“And she’s incredibly gracious. Of course the king’s virtue plays a part in our nation’s peace, but the greatest reason is the priestess herself. Haha.”
Just what sort of existence was this priestess that the merchant would compare her to the king? The man rested his chin on his hand, curiosity plain on his face.
“The priestess protects the country from calamity. Look around—everyone’s smiling, aren’t they?”
The merchant spoke with clear pride, gesturing at the peaceful scene around them.
“Goodness, I got so caught up talking I nearly forgot. Here are the books you ordered. Five coins will do.”
The merchant neatly stacked the volumes and held them out. Instead of five coins, the man dropped an entire bundle into his palm with a cheerful clink.
“My thanks. Keep the change. Consider it payment for the story.”
Before the startled merchant could stop him, the man strode briskly down a quiet side street.
“Geumsa.”
Only then did he turn to the man who had been following silently behind him—a rugged, fierce-looking warrior dressed in black martial robes.
“My friend, if you keep glaring like that you’ll scare the locals half to death.”
“Forgive me. As you know, I’m not accustomed to moving in secret.”
“Tsk. That’s enough. Next time, at least try to look a little friendlier.”
“...Understood, my lord.”
The man let out a deep sigh at the sight of Geumsa dropping to one knee and bowing his head.
“So, what’s your opinion?”
“On the priestess, my lord?”
“Yes.”
As Geumsa rose carefully to his feet, the man continued in a playful tone full of curiosity.
“Our own country has nothing like her. I’d like to hear your thoughts.”
Geumsa let out a nearly invisible sigh, then mulled over everything they had heard while walking through the market.
A priestess who wards off calamity.
In this land, there existed a being known as the calamity ward priestess.
She was said to shoulder every misfortune in place of the nation, protecting it from harm. Thanks to her, not even common plagues spread within the country’s borders.
“If that’s true, she truly is an extraordinary existence.”
“Well, that’s exactly why I came to see for myself.”
They continued their light conversation about the priestess as they turned back toward the market.
“Hmm?”
“It’s rather noisy up ahead. Please stay behind me.”
“No need. I can protect myself just fine.”
“...My lord.”
“Tsk.”
They walked slowly toward the commotion where a large crowd had gathered, keeping their guard up.
“Hmm? That’s…”
As they drew closer, the man behind Geumsa caught sight of something.
“What do you see?”
“It seems we’ve had a stroke of luck.”
“Pardon?”
“The priestess from the rumors has arrived.”
In the distance, among the crowd, stood a woman who was unusually tall for her gender.
“Hmm.”
She looked to be a little over five and a half cheok—perhaps closer to six. The way the gat sat on her head had thrown off his initial estimate.
Even from afar, her figure was strikingly curvaceous, and her snow-white hair shone brilliantly in the sunlight.
While patiently answering the questions of everyone gathered around her, she suddenly tilted her head and began scanning the area, as if she had sensed the man’s gaze.
“What is it?”
When Geumsa asked why his lord had quickly hidden behind his back to avoid her eyes, the man answered while stroking his chin.
“That priestess has sharp senses. Or perhaps she’s simply sensitive to being watched.”
“Shall we follow her for a while? This could be entertaining.”
“Ha… my lord.”
“What are you waiting for? Take the lead.”
“...Understood.”
Geumsa sighed but moved ahead to act as a shield, and they began trailing after the priestess.
“Uncle, have you been well?”
“Of course. Thanks to you, priestess, every day is comfortable.”
The priestess the man observed was surprisingly warm and friendly.
“Please give me the usual amount of pastries.”
“Same as always, then?”
“Yes.”
She walked with long, confident strides, greeting everyone she met but never prying too deeply into their lives.
“Grandfather, I heard you gathered a lot of herbs today?”
“Oh my, if it isn’t our priestess!”
“If you have any good ones, set some aside for me.”
She seemed knowledgeable about medicine as well. Even while untying the basket she carried on her back and holding it out, the woman called the priestess never once removed her hands from her sleeves.
Perhaps she has scars she doesn’t want seen.
The man glanced at her hidden arms, then shifted his gaze to her back when she turned the basket around.
“Hmm?”
He hadn’t noticed while she carried the basket, but now he saw that the area below her waist protruded slightly in a subtle curve.
“Is something wrong?”
“...No, it’s nothing.”
Part of him wanted to simply lift her robe and look, but he reminded himself that curiosity had its limits. He quietly withdrew his gaze.
“Are you satisfied now?”
“Mm.”
Only after his lord seemed to lose interest did Geumsa breathe a quiet sigh of relief and suggest they return to their lodgings. But at that exact moment—
“Kyaaak!”
A scream rang out from a short distance away. The man’s eyes sparkled with interest as he turned toward the sound, forcing Geumsa to sigh once more and rub his forehead.
“Street thugs?”
At least it was only a small-time pickpocket—not even a proper thug—causing the disturbance.
“It appears so. Let’s move before we get caught up in it.”
“Yes, let’s.”
The man’s voice had gone flat again, interest lost at the sight of the woman fussing over her stolen goods. He turned away.
“Hey—you little bastard!”
At the same time, the priestess’s lively shout rang out, followed by the satisfying sound of a fist striking flesh.
“No matter how hard life is, that’s not acceptable.”
When the man turned back, he saw the priestess standing in front of a boy curled up in pain—apparently struck in the side—lecturing him with a fist still clenched from the hand she had kept hidden in her sleeve.
“Hand over what you stole.”
“I don’t want to…!”
“Instead, I’ll give you this.”
Clink. She pulled a small bundle of coins from her sleeve and pressed it into the boy’s hand.
“This should cover today’s quota, right?”
“Uh…”
“And next time, if you’re going to steal, at least don’t get caught.”
Tap. Tap. With a gloved hand, she gently patted the boy’s head. Squatting in front of him, she spoke in a voice warm with laughter.
The man watched with folded arms, an intrigued expression on his face.
Whoosh…!
Coincidence, or perhaps fate—at that very moment, a breeze slipped beneath the veil of her gat and lifted it just enough to reveal her eyes.
Golden irises with long, vertical pupils that could never, even in jest, be called human.
“Well now… this is certainly…”