A Flash of White
As Nasha kicked off the ground, the hem of her nun's habit fluttered wildly. The crowd, who had already sensed the mood, distanced themselves from the man. When his backward steps were blocked by the carriage, Nasha finished preparing to swing her fist right in front of him.
I said all that, but... I have an image to maintain, so maybe just a light tap will do.
Just one hit. From the way he kept retreating and the terrified look on his face, he was the type who only ran his mouth. The kind of guy who acted tough with a whole group backing him. She didn't even want to imagine the scolding she'd get if word got out that she'd caused an incident.
After that brief judgment, Nasha's fist shot straight toward the man. It was a slender arm that looked delicate. But the sound of her punch slicing through the air rang clearly in the man's ears. Her movements were clean, without a single wasted motion, revealing her training.
“Uwaaak!”
With his escape cut off, the man who had collapsed to the ground accidentally dodged Nasha's fist. When he looked up, her fist had stopped dead right where his head had been moments before.
“You dodged? I told you to take just one hit. That way your sins would lessen too.”
Knowing the man had closed his eyes, Nasha's gaze dropped. The man looking up at her, Nasha looking down at him. His friends snickering as they watched. The man's face flushed bright red with shame as he reached into his coat.
A shiny blade emerged, reflecting the sunlight. Nasha, who had been standing close, needed to create some distance.
“Where do you get off acting like that! Hehehe. I-if you beg for forgiveness right now, I might still forgive you?”
Confidence returned to the man's face as he leaned against the carriage to stand.
“You really need to pull a knife on a woman? Aren't you ashamed?”
His trembling hand made the blade waver unsteadily.
“Just put it down. You'll end up hurting yourself.”
Nasha's small note of concern for his anxious state only made the man's face burn even redder. Looking excited, he crept forward and began swinging the knife wildly at her.
“This bitch keeps looking down on me!”
The man's group, who had been laughing while watching, started murmuring that someone should stop him. But with him swinging a blade around, none of them dared step forward.
Now it looked like every time the man advanced a step, Nasha retreated one. The man smiled, clearly delighted by the sight.
“Why don't you try acting like before? Scared? Huh?”
The moment the man, now at the height of excitement, took another step, his foot caught on a stone he hadn't noticed. He flailed his arms and legs to regain his balance.
Slice.
The clean sound of something being cut by the sharply honed blade rang out. Since the only thing near the man was Nasha, every eye in the area turned toward her.
“Ah.”
Nasha's green eyes widened. She had only taken one unconscious step backward. She pressed both hands to her chest.
“I-is it... okay?”
The man, snapping back to his senses after feeling the blade cut something, checked her condition. Fortunately, only the front of her habit had been sliced. The thick fabric meant there was no blood.
As the man let out a sigh of relief, a long sigh escaped Nasha right in front of him. It came from deep in her lungs, as if she were trying to swallow her rage. Yet the anger that refused to settle still bled through that sigh.
“Your sins just increased.”
Nasha tried to pull the cut edges of her habit together, but they wouldn't stay closed.
“One hit won't be enough now.”
With a sharp clang, the knife flew from the man's hand and embedded itself in the carriage.
When? The sight of Nasha retracting her outstretched leg told the story. Only then did the man realize she had kicked the knife right out of his grip.
Forgetting even the approaching Nasha, the man was still processing what his eyes had seen when a single word slipped from his lips.
“Wh... white?”
It was a small murmur. But in the market, which had fallen almost completely silent during their fight, no louder sound could be heard. The eyes of everyone around locked onto Nasha.
The market folk cleared their throats and quickly looked away. Nasha stopped in place, head dropping low. When she finally lifted her face again, it was burning scarlet.
“Forget it. Let's just die.”
Nasha charged at the man and swung her fists without mercy. The man lost consciousness after the first blow and kept getting pummeled by her relentless punches.
“Nasha!”
Helen and the man's group immediately rushed in. Even as Helen grabbed her and the others pulled the man away, Nasha kept throwing punches.
“Die!”
Her scream, filled with pure rage, echoed across the village.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
While drinking the cold water Helen offered, Nasha thought to herself.
This is the worst.
She had lived as a man for over twenty years in her previous life. Even so, six years should have been plenty of time to adapt to a woman's body. Especially with someone like Miria around, who could only be described as a natural-born woman.
The indescribable shame still left a red tint on Nasha's face.
“Thanks.”
At Helen's sudden expression of gratitude, Nasha had no choice but to lift her buried face.
“You said you'd boost my sales. Thanks to you, I sold nearly everything.”
When Nasha turned at Helen's words, she saw that only a few herbs remained on the stall.
“In the process of pulling them off, it looks like those people got hit in a few places too. When I told them these herbs prevent scarring, they bought everything I had.”
“Really?”
“That's why I'm thanking you.”
Seeing Helen's warm smile, Nasha's mood improved considerably. There was no man alive who could resist a beauty's smile. (Formerly.)
“Are you done with your errands?”
Helen handed her the basket that had been sitting in the corner, using both hands. Nasha took it lightly with one hand. Helen's now-empty hand naturally moved to rub Nasha's arm.
“Helen?”
Nasha, not expecting the touch, looked flustered.
“Sorry. It's just fascinating. No matter how I look at it, your arm doesn't seem any different from mine, so how can it be this strong?”
“Um... daily wars with the kids?”
“What does that even mean?”
“Thanks. I'll be going now.”
“Alright, see you later.”
As Nasha left Helen's shop, she suddenly stopped and stepped back. Helen, who had been waving, paused and waited as if asking what was wrong.
“You... didn't hear anything, right?”
A short silence.
“...What are you talking about?”
“Never mind. I'm really going now.”
Leaving Helen's farewell behind, Nasha made a firm resolution.
Let's stay out of the village for a while.
The stares from the people were incredibly uncomfortable. After leaving the shop, Nasha's steps quickened.
“It took longer than I expected. Did something happen?”
Miria, who had been sewing with Ceres and Arni, greeted Nasha warmly.
She couldn't possibly talk about what had happened in the market.
“A little. It wasn't anything major. More importantly, where's Uncle Raksha?”
“He went to the plains near Goheng Peak with the boys.”
“Why there?”
“They kept begging him to teach them swordsmanship, so he said he'd show them just a bit.”
“He never shows me.”
“You know what the director is like. He said he'd only demonstrate for those kids.”
Miria's next words overlapped with Nasha's.
“If they can copy exactly what they see, then he'll teach them.”
It was a phrase Nasha had heard so often since childhood that she was sick of it.
Whether she had finished her task or not, Miria straightened her bent posture and looked Nasha over.
“But why the director?”
“Like uncle said, a letter arrived.”
Nasha took the letter out of the basket to show her and froze. Miria was gently touching the long cut mark across her chest.
“Miria sis?”
“Don't you have anything else to tell me besides the letter?”
“That I bought snacks for the kids too?”
“Besides that?”
At the mention of snacks, Ceres and Arni, who had been sewing quietly, began peering into the basket Nasha was holding.
“Ceres, Arni. We'll eat the snacks together later.”
“Yes.”
“Nasha.”
“Yes?”
“You come with me.”
Nasha slowly followed behind Miria, who had put away the sewing tools.
“Wear this for now.”
Miria handed her own nun's habit to Nasha. Without a word, Nasha took the clothes and quietly changed into them.
Let's not provoke her any more than necessary.
She placed a hand over her chest. It felt a little loose.
I'm not that small, either.
“Are you changed?”
“Yes.”
“What about that hand?”
“It's nothing.”
Under Miria's gaze, Nasha quickly lowered her hand. Miria placed the clothes Nasha had taken off into the basket of repair items and sat down properly.
“So, what happened?”
Her attitude made it clear she would hear the answer no matter what. It wasn't a small incident, so Miria would have found out the moment she went into the village anyway. Nasha carefully selected only the parts that would be helpful to her and explained the story. Of course, she left out the parts she absolutely could not reveal.
Even after hearing everything, Miria remained silent for a while as she organized her thoughts. The awkward silence created a growing tension.
Miria glanced at Nasha's habit inside the basket, then examined the area around Nasha's chest.
“You're not hurt anywhere?”
“No. Fortunately.”
Miria stood up and turned Nasha's face this way and that as she sat on the opposite bed.
“Really no place that hurts?”
“I already said so.”
Nasha was flustered by Miria's unexpected reaction, but her prediction soon proved correct. Until Raksha and the boys returned, Nasha had to endure Miria's thorough scolding.
After dinner and sharing the snacks Nasha had bought with everyone, Miria took the children away. Raksha remained seated at the dining table with Nasha.
From beneath the still-burning candlelight, Raksha opened the letter Nasha had brought.
Due to the recent financial deterioration across the entire church, a set period has been established for the promotion of apprentice nuns to full nun status.
Accordingly, with five years having passed without the manifestation of divine power, the Freiyan Order expresses concern regarding issues with Apprentice Nun Nasha's qualifications as a nun and her ability to perform her duties.
We are considering the revocation of her apprentice nun qualifications.
Director Priest Raksha of Pison Orphanage is requested to send a reply concerning Nasha's current situation at the earliest possible date.
It's finally here.
The moment Raksha read the first line, he instinctively realized that the matter he had been pushing away had arrived right before his eyes.