A Woman Blind to Men
Lily sat with her back against the pillar. It was thick enough to easily hide one person. If Cain circled around, he’d see her with her face buried, choking back sobs—but he didn’t want to go that far.
Every time a sob threatened to break free, Lily sucked in a breath. She wasn’t letting the tears flow; she was forcing them down, piling them up inside. Cain sat on the opposite side of the pillar from her, facing the sun. Sunlight poured down as if to catch a glimpse of the crying woman with a sidelong glance, but quick-witted clouds obligingly shaded it just right. Her sobs seemed to have quieted a bit.
“You have lunch yet?”
He already knew the answer, but he had to ask anyway.
“I took a quick look around—there’s a ton of new stuff that wasn’t here when I graduated. I’ll grab something to eat. Hold this for me.”
He slid his staff backward toward her. A brief silence passed, then Lily pulled it toward herself.
“This too.”
Cain handed back her handkerchief without turning around, just extending his arm around the pillar.
“I tried shaking it out, but the stuff in the corners wouldn’t budge. It’s so white and clean, you know.”
A sound leaked out—somewhere between a chuckle and a hiccup. A bit embarrassed, Cain hopped to his feet.
The small plaza was close to the back gate, but circling around would take time, so he vaulted the fence instead. His athleticism might not be the best, but it had improved; he cleared it easier than he could have as a student.
Moments later, Cain returned with a basket. Bread studded with raisins and dried fruit, a few cookies, a leather flask of low-alcohol booze, and some cheese. Lily was still in the same spot, unmoving, still cloaked in shadow. Cain set the basket down quietly beside the pillar and sat facing the light, his back to it. Leaning against the pillar, the two ate in silence. Thankfully, the students who spotted them pretended not to see and gave them space. Loners always had more than one secret spot.
Once the basket was empty, their stomachs felt fuller. Or maybe it was the beer. He’d specifically asked for low-alcohol stuff, but Cain’s face was burning. The sunlight? Or maybe because of what he had to say next.
“Hey. Thanks for earlier. Things were hectic; I couldn’t say it then.”
“What…”
“Godfrey.”
Cain took another swig.
“Back when we tangled before, I should’ve wrecked his ankle. Still, you stepped up. I appreciate it.”
“…It was nothing, sir.”
“Nothing, my ass.”
Cain picked up a small pebble from the ground and rolled it around in his palm.
“I didn’t even know the duel rules properly.”
“You learned ’em now, and that’s what counts. Doesn’t change that I appreciate your heart. I do.”
“I… I don’t get it, sir.”
Lily’s words came slow, her tongue slightly slurred. Guess it wasn’t low-alcohol after all.
“I don’t know a damn thing properly. I talk like an idiot and freak people out. No common sense… slow to act… incompetent…”
“Who fed you that bullshit?”
“My father…”
Her words trailed off for a moment.
“Earlier. In front of everyone.”
“What’d you do?”
“I greeted him.”
“And?”
“That was it.”
Cain recalled the whispers he’d overheard from the students while searching for her. The White Blood Knight Order leader had shouted it in the busiest square: family disgrace, stupid dunce, he regretted the time spent raising a child like her, she was a cursed spawn who should never have been born.
Crazy old bastard.
So the knight commander had unloaded on his daughter—the first time she’d come to greet him in ages—right off the bat. People said he was getting more cantankerous by the day, and it looked like they were right.
Lily was hitching, trying to say something. Cain decided to wait. But the anger boiling inside him was harder to contain.
“Aw, fuck it.”
In the end, he hurled the pebble. It shattered against the fence in a spray of fragments.
“No way. How the hell are you clueless? Incompetent? Slow? You think someone slow could snatch a Security Bureau section chief’s briefcase and bolt? Make sense, damn it.”
A hiccup slipped out, followed by a sudden giggle.
“…Even if you say that, I’m not giving it back.”
“You win.”
“Pardon?”
“You win. Retirement’s on hold.”
She gasped sharply. He could hear her thumping her chest from drinking too fast.
But her next words came half-doubting: “You’re lying…”
“No lie. Verneis is probably waiting at the east gate right now. Bet he’s disguised as a mail coach driver, drunk off his ass and snoring. I was gonna tell you later, but fake retirement and real retirement get split by whether you submit the secret personnel review form or not. Lucky for me, I didn’t. Like Boehm and Bom said, writing a resignation is standard procedure for dangerous missions—no one bats an eye. Still sound like a lie?”
From behind the pillar, Lily’s hand reached out. It settled lightly on the back of Cain’s hand, like caressing fragile porcelain. Like holding a dream she didn’t want to shatter.
“Still sounds like a lie.”
“Then come verify it yourself. Lie or not, we’ll see Verneis, then head south. What do you say?”
“South, sir?”
“Yeah. The professor asked me to handle something. Tough job. Probably dark. If it feels off along the way, we turn back. No pressure if you’re not into it…”
Lily emerged from the shadows. Her right hand covered her face, but her left arm hooked through Cain’s.
“I want to go.”
Cain turned his head away.
“Then let’s rest a bit and head out. Sleep off the booze.”
He leaned his head against the sun-warmed pillar. She wasn’t fully visible through the shade, but Lily was probably mirroring him.
“For work…?”
“Hm?”
“You’re staying a bit longer… for work?”
Was it for work? Not exactly. What Cain sought was answers, meaning. Understanding of everything he’d done so far. The significance of his actions.
But how to explain that to Lily?
“Yeah. One more job.”
“For work, then. Not for me.”
Cain fell silent. Lily pressed closer to his side.
“Still… thank you.”
“Sharp as a whetstone.”
A light giggle. She seemed a little lighter. Her eyes were probably puffy as hell.
Cain looked up at the sky. Rain felt imminent if they waited just a bit longer. Darkness and downpour would cover them nicely. So they could stall till then.
“Yeah, not for you. But if you hadn’t thrown your tantrum about not knowing where Internal Affairs was, we wouldn’t have ended up at the annex. If you’d known the duel laws properly, you couldn’t have challenged Godfrey twice. If you hadn’t dragged it out, we wouldn’t have ridden in the professor’s carriage. I wouldn’t have another job lined up. That’s all on you. Still think you’re incompetent?”
Lily’s fingers fidgeted on the back of his hand.
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“But that’s how it turned out.”
His shoulder and neck itched. A strand of her golden hair had draped over. He thought about it, then tilted his shoulder. A pleasant weight settled in—something Cain wasn’t allowed, something too heavy for him.
“Makes it sound even more like a lie.”
Too close, he thought fleetingly. But whatever, he decided to leave it. They were both exhausted, both buzzed. He’d ordered low-alcohol, but that idiot barkeep must’ve mixed it up. Instead, languor set in. Sleepiness, even under gathering rain clouds.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For putting up with me as I am. Lending your shoulder. Taking my stubbornness.”
The sky darkened. A humid wind blew. Everything grew damp in an instant. Cain counted to five inside. At five, he’d get up.
“For listening to me. Thank you.”
He counted five more.
Sure enough, Verneis the bureau chief was propped up in the mail coach driver’s seat, feet up, snoring away. They barely roused him before the downpour hit, and the three piled into the carriage.
“Thought I’d die of old age waiting.”
Verneis grumbled, but wine reeked off him. He’d clearly enjoyed a satisfying meal.
“So. How much did you hear?”
Lily glanced at Cain; he nodded.
“Congratulations. Getting remarried, right?”
“What bullshit. My wife’s alive and kicking.”
“Must’ve misheard. Bigamy, then?”
Verneis and Cain chuckled. If Cain had let slip even one word from Anna, Verneis would’ve shut it down hard. What Anna had told him stayed secret from Verneis too. The Security Bureau stuck to bureau business; eyes closed to the rest. That was the rule.
Verneis thumped the two crates on the floor. Decent enough beds with a cloth spread over them.
“Your gear and reading materials are in here. Me, doing picnic prep for you brats… You know the route? Stick to imperial direct territories. Lodgings, rest stops, drivers—all bureau-approved only.”
“Of course.”
“But you drive to the final destination. It’s not imperial territory.”
Meaning, don’t tip off even bureau drivers about heading to Otranto Sealed Abbey. But Cain wondered if this even mattered. They were meeting the pope’s people at the abbey, with an investigation team in tow—a big operation that wouldn’t go unnoticed.
“And. Agent Lily.”
“Yes, sir.”
Verneis’s face grew serious.
“I know you’re still probationary, but this case is what it is—train her fast. If it’s hopeless, pull out. Agents step back, catch their breath, then charge back hard. No one can make that call for you. Even with full prep, agents don’t survive every crisis. Charging in half-cocked? Pointless. You’re a knight; you get it.”
“Understood, sir.”
Resolve hardened on Lily’s face. Verneis extended a hand; she clasped it.
“…I meant the bag.”
“…Sorry, sir.”
Lily bowed deeply and handed over Cain’s briefcase. Verneis opened it, scrutinizing the documents.
“Why’d you half-ass this one?”
“Busy.”
“Sloppy bastard… Here. Ink and pen. Write as I dictate. You’re a section chief—how do you not have the retirement security oath memorized?”
You’d need director level to write it blindfolded. Cain grinned and scribbled as dictated. The ink smudged differently from the rough board he’d used before, but it wouldn’t show unless inspected closely.
Heavy rain lashed the carriage walls. Verneis grabbed the bag, flung open the door, and dashed into the alley. Moments later, someone climbed into the driver’s seat—a bureau man, no doubt. The carriage lurched into motion with a creak.
Lightning flashed outside. Headwinds battered them, but the driver sped up. The horses whinnied and galloped. They hated the rain too.
“Um, so… what’s the job?”
Lily asked cautiously. Cain pondered how to explain. His head felt heavy, thoughts sluggish. Too much had happened that day.
“Sleep first.”
“Pardon?”
“Long haul to the first city. Both asleep is risky. We’re disguised as mail coach—bandits could hit. Take turns. Deep sleep at inns. Got it? Once past the first city, we hit the central imperial road—safer…”
Puzzled but compliant, Lily unrolled her bedroll. Sheepskin wool, nice and plush. Soon she was out cold. The road jolted, wheels bounced—this carriage was infamous for bruising your whole body on long rides—but six months of probation hadn’t been for nothing.
Confirming her deep sleep, Cain pulled Anna’s documents from his pocket. Blank. Special ink, revealed by candle or heat.
Tired, but no time to sleep. Opening Verneis’s crate revealed pro-level hero tomes—including ones penned by the heroes themselves.
Even flat-out, it’d take a week. Books could wait.
Lily squirmed uncomfortably. Cain draped a blanket over her.
Can I keep dragging her along?
She was straight-backed. And the straight-backed endured. People forgave bending but ground down those who held firm.
Maybe Lily would wear herself to the nub, standing till she couldn’t recover—then collapse. He’d have to send her back before that.
A week later, they arrived at the Otranto Sealed Abbey.
And soon after, they encountered a shadow gripping a scabbard.