Thus Saith Goddess Yustia (2)
She didn't speak for a long while.
I waited. Usually, the one who can't bear the silence is the first to break it.
"…Ridiculous."
She spoke first.
Her head was still bowed. Strands of pink hair veiled her face.
"You don't even know my name."
It was true. So I said nothing.
She shot me a quick glare, then let out a small chuckle.
"Lilia."
Her voice was light as she gave her name, but it trembled just a touch at the end.
"You'll forget it soon anyway."
She watched for my reaction a moment, then dropped her gaze again. Slowly, she began to speak.
Lilia recounted her childhood.
Where she'd been born.
Why the village had chased her out.
How the adults had looked at her.
What the children had thrown.
I never interrupted, not once.
She laughed several times.
As if sharing some amusing tale. But her hands kept savagely twisting the hem of her clothes.
"…At first, you know."
She said.
"I tried to get along. Nicely."
"…"
"For real."
I stayed silent.
"Half-breed."
She gave a soft laugh.
"You know the word? It's hilarious."
No laughter rose in me.
"Not human, not demon. No place left for 'em anywhere."
She propped her chin on her knee.
"Humans call it scary. Demons call it impure."
She glanced at me briefly.
"…You think that too?"
I pondered a moment. Lies, fabrications, comforting words…
None of them endure.
"I don't know."
Her eyes widened slightly at my reply.
"I only met you today."
And then.
"…What the hell is that."
A small, genuine laugh burst forth. Pure, unfeigned.
Her story went on.
Days of starvation.
The brothel madam's proposition.
The pride that had refused to yield.
And the day she'd finally turned to pickpocketing.
I merely nodded as I listened.
Many words came to mind, but I held them back.
She already knew the answers.
When people explain their choices, they don't seek excuses.
They crave understanding.
I lost track of time.
The street noise had quieted somewhat.
The sun dipped low.
"…So what."
Lilia said at last.
"The conclusion is this."
She shrugged.
"My life's fucked."
I regarded her a moment.
Bruised cheek under a forced mask of calm.
But strength still lingered in her eyes.
"…No, it isn't."
Her brows shot up.
"What isn't."
"You haven't given up yet."
"…"
She stared at me blankly, then snorted.
"…You suck at comforting people."
"I hear that often."
"Liar."
She sprang up abruptly and stretched her arms wide.
"…Feels kinda refreshing."
I nodded.
There are moments like that. Words don't fix everything.
But when the weight isn't borne alone, it lightens for the one carrying it, at least.
She gazed up at the sky a moment.
"…Weird. Really weird."
Her back to the sunset, she smiled at me.
"For some reason… I feel like I could tell you anything…."
I offered no reply. Just listening at her side—that seemed right.
A moment later, she rummaged in her bosom. Something was extended toward me.
"…Here."
A familiar cover. Leather binding faded with light, corners worn smooth.
The Holy Light Church Bible she'd stolen from me yesterday.
"Giving it back."
She said it without meeting my eyes.
"For swiping it… sorry."
Her words trailed faintly.
Clear she was forcing levity.
I took the book. Its texture felt unchanged against my palm.
She peeked at my reaction, then spoke again.
"…So."
She tilted her head.
"The one hitting the church lately."
"…"
"…That's you, right?"
I said nothing.
No denial, no affirmation.
Just gazed down at the book and slowly closed it.
Lilia watched me like that for a stretch. Like a cat eyeing something intriguing.
And then.
"Hmm."
An inscrutable sound.
She asked no more.
The face of one who'd already heard the answer.
She hopped to her feet, brushing off dust and stretching.
"Whatever."
She even dusted her backside.
"You did a good thing."
She glanced back briefly. The corner of her mouth quirked up.
"Catch you later."
Less a promise, more a casual certainty it'd happen.
Even after slipping out of the alley, Lilia didn't look back for a good while.
Afraid it'd make her seem like someone truly reluctant to leave.
"…Ha."
A short breath escaped like steam. Why'd she even give her name.
In Brunel, sharing your name was idiotic. A name was a weakness—a handle begging to be grabbed.
Yet.
"…What the hell, seriously."
She toed a pebble away, muttering. Still, her mind felt lighter.
That peculiar hollowness after spewing out the pent-up rot. And with it, an oddly soothing calm.
That man had said almost nothing.
No comfort, even.
Not a trace of pity.
Yet.
"…It was fine."
A laugh slipped out unbidden.
That was when it happened.
A faint metallic scrape from somewhere behind.
Click.
Lilia's ear twitched faintly.
She halted.
Longtime survivors in a hellhole like this develop instincts naturally.
A gaze. A presence.
And an inexplicable unease.
Someone watching.
She yawned casually, drifting past a shop window.
Glanced behind via the reflection.
…Armor.
Just a glimpse. Silver trim. Then gone.
Lilia's eyes narrowed.
"What."
Only one implication.
'Knights…? In this shithole…?'
Her heart thundered.
No way.
Has to be imagination.
She resumed walking. More natural now, slower.
Had to confirm. Praying it was nothing.
Rounded one alley… turned into the next.
Then stopped dead.
The footsteps trailing her halted too.
Certainty crashed in.
"…Ah."
Pieces clicked in her mind.
-Can't hawk this carelessly. Black market'd tip off the knights right away!
"…"
-Wrong hands, it's blasphemy. Heads roll for all of us!
Boss.
Bible.
Blasphemy.
"You fucking bastard…"
The curse flowed out on instinct.
But no time to unload a full tirade.
Body moved before thought finished.
Tap.
Kicked off the ground and bolted.
"Halt!"
Shit. Confirmed.
Lilia planted a foot on the alley wall, launched upward. Snagged a window sill, hurled herself onto the roof.
Tiles clattered wildly. Metal clashes rang out behind in pursuit.
Knights.
"Target fleeing!"
"Roof!"
"…Fuck me."
Lilia ground her teeth.
Today's luck was utter dogshit. She sprinted across the rooftops at full tilt. Wind yanked her hair back. Lungs burned like fire.
But stopping wasn't an option.
Caught, game over.
Theft wasn't even the issue.
Holy Light Church relic. A Bible, no less. Only now did its gravity hit home.
No excuses would fly.
"Crazy… why'd it have to be that…"
Breath came ragged.
In a flash.
A face surfaced in her mind.
The brown-haired man, sitting quietly beneath the sunset.
"…Ah."
Her pace faltered a beat.
Was he still sitting there?
Shook it off instantly.
"The fuck does that matter now?!"
She poured on speed—but too late.
Two more knights emerged at the alley's end ahead.
Surrounded.
Lilia's pupils quivered.
"…Damn it."
Stay cool. Brain tallied escape vectors.
Roof gaps, distances, landing angles.
Viable path…
One.
Deep breath. No hesitation—she leaped. Roof's edge rushed up.
Distance crunched. Jumpable. Had to be.
Teeth clenched, final step.
Tap.
Body soared into empty air.
Wind screamed past her ears.
And then.
"…Huh?"
Toes clipped nothing.
Farther than calculated.
A tile cracked and skidded. Balance shattered.
"Ah, shit—"
World inverted.
Grazed the edge, tumbled down.
Crash—!
Back slammed pavement first. Air punched from lungs.
"Gah…!"
Vision sparked. Limbs unresponsive.
Metal clangs closed in from afar.
"Over here!"
"Surround it!"
Lilia clenched teeth, willed her body up.
Nothing.
"…Fuck…"
Worst-case hell.
Dead-end alley.
Breath heaving, legs jelly, knights inches away.
Done.
That thought alone echoed. Consciousness frayed at the edges.
"…Whew, this is a pickle."
Fingers gripped dagger hilt.
Won't go down meek.
Then.
Another set of footsteps.
Slow, measured tread.
Knights whipped around in unison.
Lilia's gaze followed.
And.
"…Huh?"
The figure stepping into the alley.
Him. The guy from before. Bible stolen, returned… root of this whole clusterfuck.
'Why the hell's he here?' surged to her throat but stuck.
He said zilch, brushed past her side, advanced forward.
Like he'd been there all along.
One knight scowled.
"Halt."
The man kept walking.
Instantly, another unrolled a scroll.
Wanted poster.
The knight's face stone-hardened, flicking between sketch and man.
"…Captain."
Voice low, quavering.
"We found him."
Alley's air shifted in a heartbeat.
"Prime suspect in the church assault."
Swords hissed free one after another.
"Ellian. You're under arrest by Holy Kingdom decree."
Lilia blanked out a second.
…What.
The church raider.
Was really him?
He stood silent beside her still.
No flight, no excuses in sight.
Just.
Quietly regarding the knights.
"…The light does not forsake the lost, and hears even those who call its name from the darkness."
A verse from the Holy Light Church.
The familiar words drifted slowly through the air. The knights' eyes flickered—unexpected. They'd braced for flight or fight, not prayer.
Sunset glow settled on his shoulders.
As if he were a true pious soul.
"…Please sheathe your swords and go."
Voice steady. Almost a plea. Earnest—no threat, no scorn.
One knight snorted.
"Begging to live now?"
Another advanced a step.
"Church raider. Blasphemer. No deals. Come quietly."
The man made no reply. Instead, he tilted his head faintly skyward.
Gazed at the blood-red evening sky, eyes closing briefly.
"…Goddess."
A soft sigh, then prayer.
"Please… forgive the violence I am about to commit."