Northern Journey -3-: The Apostle's Footsteps
Atop a serene peak in the quiet north.
"Oh..."
Today marked the fifth day of our northern adventure. The Young Lady and I had climbed into the snowy expanse for some exploration. With a low grrr..., we'd dug a pit, cut branches to cover it for camouflage, and now we were observing a pack of prowling wolves. From the way one was shoving its face into the snow, sniffing furiously, it looked like they were hunting for prey.
The Young Lady, peering through her telescope, called out to me in a sullen tone.
"Ricardo."
"Yes."
"When do those guys mate?"
"No idea."
Just moments ago, she'd been gasping "Hooo..." in awe at nature's mysteries, but now her face fell into a pout.
"This is boring."
The Young Lady and I had scaled the snowy mountains to explore nature's wonders. It all started with her desire for some unique northern experience, but these wolves were ignoring the main event—mating—and just hunting instead. Her expression was hardening by the second.
"That old man said they were in heat."
"Yes."
"That they're aggressive and attack on sight."
"That's right."
"So why aren't they doing it?"
"..."
I clamped my mouth shut at her question. Hell if I knew—I couldn't do it myself. For the first time, I resented how she always picked the questions I couldn't answer.
"No idea."
We sat there like documentary filmmakers, quietly watching the wolves' movements. We'd chat, bet on how long they'd keep it up, and nap when we got sleepy—easy, leisurely time. It was fun enough in its own way.
While dozing, a bear hunting for food passed by our hidden pit, sniffing around.
Sniff sniff.
Hoo...! Gomtang's mom!
"Shh. Be quiet, or it'll eat us."
Eek... But grilled, it'd be tasty, right?
"You'll get punished. Lady."
A massive troll chased off the wolves and started openly relieving itself roadside.
"Ugly."
"It is."
"Looks like you, Ricardo."
Euuugh...
"...Lady, you fight well?"
"...Sorry."
The diverse lives of these monsters kept boredom at bay, filling our time with meaning and amusement. Though we never saw what we really wanted.
Time kept flowing. The effects of the potion I'd developed using my regressor's privileges were wearing thin. The one that masked our scent and presence. No matter how lazy I got, I wasn't crazy enough to wander into a monster habitat unprepared—especially with the Young Lady along. We'd prepped thoroughly.
"Yaaawn."
The Young Lady yawned, gazing at the sunset sky, clearly itching to head back to the inn.
"Ricardo."
"Yes."
"What's for dinner tonight?"
She tossed her telescope to the ground and asked about dinner, her face weary. I set mine down and answered.
"Anything you want?"
She replied with a serious look.
"Anything but gukbap."
Thanks to the innkeeper lately, she'd only eaten gukbap and was sticking her tongue out in disgust.
"Pigs show up in my dreams now, bullying me, saying stop eating already."
"Then just say you don't want it."
"How can I..."
She hung her head, looking glum.
How's this! Isn't my gukbap the best? I splurged on premium ingredients for a noble guest like you.
Ugh...
Not good...? I'll make it again.
Ughh...
Unable to crush the enthusiastic middle-aged man's spirit, the Young Lady had a warm heart that respected elders. She wouldn't outright say it tasted bad at first, but as gukbap servings piled up, she couldn't bring herself to complain.
She vented her gloomy inner thoughts to me: no more gukbap.
"Anyway, I hate gukbap."
"I'm fine with it, though..."
"I'm not."
I chuckled, looking at her.
"One more today, something else tomorrow..."
"Eeeek..."
"What?"
"Ricardo. You look extra handsome today."
"Huh...? Buttering me up?"
"No. Just... I wanna see you cook."
She grinned awkwardly and struck a cat pose with an "Nya!" Despite her total lack of aegyo skills, her earnest attempt at cuteness made me burst out laughing unwittingly.
"Pfft... What’s that sly pose?"
"...Eek."
I nodded at her sincere plea and started brainstorming dinner options. I listed her favorites slowly.
"Pizza."
"Too greasy."
"Doenjang stew."
"Not craving it today."
"Steak."
"Poor cow."
"Jerky."
"..."
"Plain rice."
"Eeeek..."
Fuming at my lame suggestions, she started packing a snowball with glaring eyes full of irritation.
"Something else."
Her menacing stance, snowball loaded and ready to fire, made me chuckle softly. I cautiously suggested the dish I'd thought of that morning. Truth be told, I was sick of gukbap too and craved variety. Something that fit the cold north—warm, different from gukbap, packed with meat she'd love.
Confident she wouldn't nix it, I said,
"How about hot pot? I've got spices in the backpack. Make it spicy—should be delicious."
Satisfied, she nodded and brought the pre-loaded snowball to her mouth instead.
Crunch...!
"Why eat that?!"
"...Seemed tasty."
Her munching the snowball so enjoyably left a question mark over my head. I scooped some snow myself. Seeing her savor it made it look good. If she'd lived in my old world, she'd have been an eating-show YouTuber, the way she devoured it. I nodded, tasting mine.
"Tastes bad."
"Mmph..."
"So why eat it?"
"Didn't want you to eat alone."
Classic villainess answer.
As we snacked on worthless junk, an odd sound reached my ears. A sharp slash.
"Rica..."
"Shh. Hold on."
The footsteps were too heavy for animals, too cold for monsters. I quickly covered her mouth and held my breath. At my sudden gesture, she slobbered on my palm.
"Mmph?!"
"Shh."
"Mmphing? (Mating?)"
"No. More like..."
Thud... Thud...
The steps drew nearer. Steady, human-like rhythms drumming the ground. A sound that shouldn't echo here—in a place no ordinary person should be. I extended my senses.
Thirty...?
Who...?
No humans in an advanced monster zone...
As the approaching steps multiplied, the wolves' growls intensified. One ahead bristled its fur, glaring straight toward the noise.
Grrr...
The growl turned to a rallying howl—then thunk. A small handaxe buried in the wolf's skull. Blinding speed, beyond most adventurers' eyes.
I rested my hand on Tirving, inhaling slowly.
Something's wrong.
Monster screams. Warning barks. Rallying cries echoing nonstop toward the footsteps. The air thickened with blood scent as they closed in. I focused every nerve, staring them down.
To decide: kill or spare.
I held back the words to tell the Young Lady to close her eyes, watching intently.
Thud... Thud...
"Your Excellency, excessive slaughter isn't wise. We're all clergy—too much blood on our hands won't do."
"...?"
"Even crude lives must be cherished one by one to hold true faith."
A kindly old voice emerged with their forms—a procession.
Thump... Thump...
I grinned bitterly.
Big trouble.
The lead elder stared at the dripping wolf corpse with a grotesque, emotionless face—eerie shadows under his eyes. I bowed my head at the pure white-robed priest.
Fuck.
An Apostle had come north. The one to kill Yuria's father. The one to awaken her as a saint. A bit early for the north.
Olivia just stared blankly at them. Once at their weapons. Twice at the coldly standing elder. Thrice, blinking at Ricardo's flustered face.
Olivia gazed at them vacantly. Eyes devoid of malice or killing intent.
Just staring.
Blink...