Chapter 305: Bread and Dagger (3)
Chapter 305: Bread and Dagger (3)
It had been a long time since I’d visited the temple’s intensive care unit.
Well, it had only been two months, but I used to frequent this place so often that even that felt like an eternity. Last semester, I was practically a permanent resident here at least once or twice a month.
Looking back, I really used to treat my body like it was disposable.
I honestly wondered what would have happened if the Saintess hadn't been at the Academy. At the very least, I would have lost my life or ended up crippled long ago.
Being admitted to the ICU was a serious matter.
Ordinary injuries didn't require hospitalization here. In a temple elsewhere, perhaps, but the Academy’s temple was a place where all sorts of high-ranking priests were on standby. Usually, patients received outpatient treatment after initial emergency care.
If someone had to stay in the temple for several days under intensive care, there was only one reason.
It meant the severity of the injury was extreme.
For instance, that was me last semester.
Back then, I was constantly fighting for my life. My body would be covered in fractures and contusions, I’d be brought in unconscious with critical wounds, or I’d literally be on the verge of death. Naturally, I became a regular in the ICU.
However, those were exceptional cases.
The vast majority of Academy students never set foot in the ICU. Even if they did, it was usually just to visit a friend. No matter how rough the Academy was, it was still an educational institution. There weren't many situations where a student's safety was so gravely threatened.
Yes, that was the general rule.
As long as some lunatic wasn't swinging a sword or an axe around.
Unfortunately, that very lunatic was currently roaming the Academy. The reason I visited the ICU today was to check on his victim.
Because the identity of that "lunatic" was me.
To be precise, it was the "me" from the future.
I listened to the Saintess’s complaints with a gloomy expression.
"…Both of you are insane."
That was the first thing the Saintess said to me.
Having become Seria’s attending priest, she seemed to have suffered a great deal of mental distress lately. Her sunken eyes bore witness to her exhaustion.
The cause was obvious.
As always, her patients simply wouldn't listen to a word she said.
Since I wasn't exactly innocent in that regard either, I could only let out an awkward cough. However, there was one point of confusion in the Saintess’s lament.
"Both? Who exactly are you talking about?"
To be honest, I could guess one of them. But I asked because I had no idea who else she was calling insane.
At my question, the Saintess raised her voice as if she’d been waiting for the chance.
"Obviously, I mean the you from the future and Sister Seria!"
The Saintess shuddered. It was a sign of sheer exasperation. It seemed Seria was responsible for a significant portion of the Saintess’s mental anguish.
"That man is one thing—smashing her to pieces every day as if they have a blood feud—but Sister Seria is a problem too! No matter how much I try to stop her, she keeps charging back at him. She’s so incredibly stubborn…"
"…Seria was the one who charged at him first?"
The gentle Seria?
The Saintess’s voice was trembling. She wouldn't sound like that unless she was being completely sincere. I knew the situation, yet it was still hard to believe.
Furthermore, she said Seria was being critically injured every day. I found it difficult to fathom why Seria would feel the need to throw herself at "me" like that. The Saintess didn't seem to know the reason either.
She eventually let out a frustrated sigh.
"Well, Sister Seria said it was part of her training, but…"
Training.
I suddenly recalled the technique Sir Irene said she had been taught. That swordsmanship had looked formidable even at a glance. I had privately speculated that it might be a secret art from some renowned organization.
If she could inherit a technique of that caliber, it might be worth risking serious injury. Any martial artist would feel the same. Martial artists were, by nature, beings who craved strength. No matter how gentle Seria was, she was no exception.
Still, one question remained.
It was the teaching method of the "me" from the future.
I couldn't wrap my head around that style of education. Sir Irene remembered the time she spent learning the technique as a fond memory. In other words, no excessive violence had been involved.
Convey the essence, then let them practice on their own. That was the teaching method revealed in Irene’s story.
But the version the Saintess was describing was the polar opposite.
Beating the student until they were broken. Even if the opponent suffered critical wounds.
It was an incredibly crude and mindless way to train. He was someone who had taught Irene an ultimate mystery with just a brief lesson. There was no reason for him to resort to such ruthless violence.
Of course, the Saintess hadn't been able to solve that mystery either. Her faint sigh proved it. It meant there was nothing more to say—and it also meant Seria was hiding something.
In that case, there was only one thing for me to do.
A sigh escaped my lips as well.
"…I’ll try talking to her."
"Please do."
The Saintess’s face was pale with exhaustion as she replied. I silently patted her on the shoulder.
The Saintess then subtly buried her face in my chest and let out a deep sigh.
"What a mess this is… all because I got tangled up with the wrong man…"
"Strictly speaking, this isn't my fault, is it?"
"Hmph. If it weren't for you, do you think I would have gone this far?"
She probably would have. Despite her prickly act, the Saintess was always sincere when it came to her patients.
But I didn't bother pointing that out. I wasn't so dense that I didn't realize she was just asking for a bit of comfort. I stayed quiet and patted the back of the woman buried in my arms.
Only after a long while did the Saintess look up at me with pouting eyes. In the process, I felt the soft sensation of her breasts against me, but I didn't mention that either. If the Saintess was bestowing her grace upon me, I had no reason to refuse.
I simply stared down at her blushing face.
She was damn pretty. Her haggard complexion almost seemed to enhance her beauty.
Whether she noticed my thoughts or not, the Saintess puffed out her lips and made a declaration.
"…I’m going to make you pay this debt back for the rest of your life."
Be my guest.
I gave a bitter smile and roughly ruffled her hair. The Saintess grumbled, saying she’d have to fix her hair again.
Of course, I didn't care. Even her being annoyed was cute.
And so, after finishing my private talk with the Saintess, I was finally able to see Seria.
When I finally faced her, Seria’s condition was disastrous.
There wasn't a spot on her body that wasn't wrapped in bandages. Even her lovely face was crossed by white gauze.
That wasn't all.
The sight of blood and fluid seeping through in various places caught my eye. It meant her injuries hadn't fully healed yet. The fact that the girl’s pain was still ongoing made my heart ache even more.
It was far more serious than I had imagined.
I froze in my tracks the moment I entered.
Sensing a presence, the girl’s deep blue eyes slowly turned toward me. Seria stared at me in silence for a while, then began to look restless. It was the moment light returned to her shadowed eyes.
Seria bit her lip and averted her gaze, as if ashamed to show herself in such a pathetic state.
"…I-Ian Senior?"
I didn't answer her call. Instead, I walked over with heavy steps and knelt by her bed with a devastated expression.
Up close, the scars remaining all over Seria’s body were even more prominent. Seeing wounds that looked painful just to look at, I reflexively grit my teeth.
Until now, I’d thought the Saintess was exaggerating. I’d misunderstood her words about her being "smashed" as mere metaphor.
But the moment I faced Seria directly, I had to admit I was wrong.
It was literal. She had been "smashed."
He must have deliberately broken her body piece by piece. There was no other way to inflict this level of injury.
How much pain and hardship must Seria have endured? Imagining the agony my precious junior had gone through, my body trembled with rage.
In the end, I couldn't hold back and let out a roar.
"That son of a bitch, I swear…!"
"C-Calm down, Ian Senior!"
Seria cried out, hurriedly grabbing my arm. I couldn't bring myself to shake off her fragile touch, and my body went still.
Seria was now on the verge of tears.
"I-It’s my fault! I was the one being stubborn… s-so please, don't hurt yourself…!"
Only then did I snap back to my senses.
Ah, right.
The one who did this to Seria was "me."
Even if I wanted to teach him a lesson, there was nothing I could do. At most, it would just end in self-harm, which was exactly what Seria was worried about.
I had no choice but to let out a sigh and calm my heart. My anger hadn't subsided, but there was no way to protest right now.
I’d make sure to pay this debt back in full later.
With that vow, I sat down in the chair next to the bed. Seria was still looking at me with an anxious gaze.
I wondered who was supposed to be worrying about whom. I let out a hollow laugh and asked, "…Why? Did you think I was actually going to hurt myself?"
"Yes."
She answered without a moment's hesitation. To think Seria thought of me that way.
I felt a bit hurt, but I didn't show my dissatisfaction beyond a small cough. More importantly, it was time to hear Seria’s story.
Seria was currently flustered by my dramatic reaction. It wouldn't be easy for her to lie right now.
I asked her point-blank.
"…So, what happened?"
At my question, Seria’s mouth clamped shut. Seeing her subtly avoid my eyes, it seemed she had a story she wanted to keep from me.
Of course, I had no intention of giving up.
"I’m going to find out from Celine anyway, Seria… Can’t you just tell me yourself?"
Seria eventually couldn't withstand my persistent request. After a long hesitation, a sigh escaped her lips. It was the signal that she was going to tell me everything.
"Well, you see…"
And so, Seria’s story began.
"…Don't follow me."
It was a sudden remark. The man’s eyes looked exceptionally weary.
That day, Celine and Seria had been walking together, bickering as usual. Their stunned gazes met in mid-air.
Regardless, the man just watched them with indifferent eyes. By that point, Celine and Seria had no choice but to realize his identity.
It was "him" from the future.
The senior they both loved could never make such a cold-blooded face.
They were curious about how it worked. It seemed there were specific conditions for "him" from the future to possess the man they loved.
But Celine first voiced the question that came to mind.
"Why?"
There was no need to ask where. If he was saying this, it meant he was going somewhere.
That left only one question.
Why? Why couldn't the two of them go with him?
The man’s answer to that question was simple.
"Because you're useless."
It was a perfectly blunt and cruel response.
Seria snapped at those words, and that became the trigger for her ordeal.
Seria hadn't known yet.
Exactly what kind of person the "him" from the future was.
He was a psycho beyond anything she could have imagined.