Cursed Blind Woman (4)
Marim vanished from sight without a word. Once I confirmed she was gone, I closely examined the figure collapsed in the underbrush. It was a woman, struck in the side by a quarrel bolt. Her hair was pure white, as long as Della's, and her eyes were covered by a long black cloth embroidered with intricate white patterns. She was dressed like a full-fledged traveler—long boots with thick soles, a windproof coat, a worn satchel, and a staff. Though she wore a skirt that reached her ankles instead of pants.
And... what the hell was that?
Something pale beige lay beside her. A lute.
A woman blindfolded, dressed like a traveler, carrying a lute... what the hell?
"Hey. Can you hear me?"
I cautiously tapped her collarbone and spoke. No response. I checked her pulse under her jaw—it was faint but there. She wasn't dead. But her side was soaked in blood, her face deathly pale. She was in critical condition.
Marim couldn't carry Celereja all the way back here from the city—it'd take too long. And I couldn't just leave her lying here on an autumn night; her body temperature had already dropped sharply.
I carefully lifted her into my arms. Kali picked up the staff from the ground in his mouth.
"Smart boy. Let's go, Kali."
Della, who had caught up late, tried to grab the woman's satchel.
"Ugh...! It's so heavy...!"
"Give it here."
Pelle took the bag from Della with one hand, effortlessly. With her hands free, Della scooped up the fallen lute.
Francois, spotting me carrying the mystery woman, rushed inside first and prepared one of the upstairs rooms. With candles lit and a large bath towel spread on the bed, I gently laid the woman down.
"Bertrand. What happened?"
"Kali found her collapsed in the bushes along the northern road. She's not dead yet... but if we leave her, she will be soon."
I sent the staff to fetch what we needed: a basin of clean water, several towels, scissors. Idwild washed her hands in water boiled by black magic and sterilized the scissors over a candle flame. She cut away the clothing around the entry wound where the quarrel had pierced her side, then wiped the area with a water-soaked towel. Fresh blood oozed from the wound as the hot water touched it.
Just then, the inn door nearly flew off its hinges, and Celereja's voice rang out.
"Where is she?!"
"In here, Saintess."
Francois went out and brought her in. She'd arrived way faster than expected.
"Aigoo... I'm dying... my back's breaking..."
From downstairs came Marim's groaning—had that little half-elf really carried the saintess all the way here?
The saintess entered the room and immediately assessed the woman's condition.
"First, we need to pull out the quarrel."
"I'll do it."
I didn't know what shape the quarrel's barbs were in. If it was barbed, pulling it out might tear the wound wider... but with hemostasis and immediate holy healing, she'd be fine.
"Hey, Ukun. I'll pull it—you staunch the bleeding right away. Press hard."
"Got it."
I gripped the quarrel firmly. Della let out a whimper and covered her face with both hands.
"Saintess. Here it goes."
Celereja nodded, and I yanked it out in one swift motion. The woman's body jerked violently, then shuddered as blood sprayed from the wound. Ukun pressed down hard with a towel over the injury while Celereja channeled holy power into her hands. Idwild and Pelle hurried out of the room as the light flared.
Celereja placed her hands directly over Ukun's, overlaying them on the towel. Holy power enveloped Ukun's hand and the woman's side in golden light. Blood splattered her face as she sweated, pouring all her focus into the healing.
Soon, the woman's convulsions began to subside. Della and Francois exhaled sighs of relief.
"Mr. Dwarf. You can let go now."
Ukun peeled away the blood-soaked towel, revealing the wound—nearly healed, no more bleeding. Francois, seeing holy healing for the first time, gasped in awe.
Celereja took a towel from me and roughly wiped the blood from her face.
"We got past the crisis... Now keep her warm to preserve her strength, give her water... But what's with this eyepatch?"
Her expression grew serious as she examined the geometric patterns on the cloth. She reached out and untied the black fabric over the woman's eyes. Long white eyelashes framed them thickly. Celereja pried open an eyelid—then whipped her head away, squeezing her eyes shut with a scream.
"Eyepatch! Give me the eyepatch!"
I handed her the black cloth from the bedside. She snatched it and fumbled frantically to cover the woman's eyes again, her own squeezed shut.
"Eh? Saintess?"
Blood poured from Celereja's nose. She healed it with holy power and said,
"Sorry, but everyone except Bertrand—please leave."
Stunned by her sudden reaction, the others filed out without protest, closing the door behind them.
Alone now, Celereja asked,
"Bertrand. Where and how did you find her?"
I explained the circumstances. She declared firmly,
"Bertrand, we can't keep her here."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you know what that is?"
She pointed to the black cloth over the woman's eyes. It was just cloth with patterns... Wait...
Now that I looked closer under the candlelight—something familiar. Where had I...?
Suddenly, a memory flashed: a pattern just like this in the Al-Jasha palace, long ago...!
Back then, a string of curse murders had hit central Al-Jasha continent-wide. I'd gone with Idwild, Brione, and a fellow saintess to solve it. That pattern was etched in the palace center. They thought demons were behind the curse killings, so they'd drawn it for protection.
Its purpose was...
"That's... a Demon Seal Mandala, isn't it."
"Yes. A Demon Seal Mandala."
Celereja's voice dropped to an eerie low. A bizarre silence filled the small room.
If anyone else said it, I'd dismiss it as bullshit. But from a saintess trained at the Holy Academy? Different story.
"Ordinary folk don't even know these patterns exist. So it's not just decoration."
She glanced at her bloodied fingers and continued.
"The moment I looked into her eyes, this intense pain hit my chest."
"A curse that kills if you meet her gaze... something like that?"
"I don't know. But if I check again, I'll probably die first."
A white-haired woman whose gaze causes bodily harm, eyes covered by a Demon Seal Mandala... Only one conclusion fit.
"So she's possessed by a demon—or has one inside her."
"Maybe... But she took holy power without issue, so... I really don't know."
To learn more, I reached for her satchel and opened it. Inside were two massive, thick books, plus traveler essentials: rations, a small knife, odds and ends.
"What books are this huge?"
I pulled them out; they thudded heavily. Bound in dark brown and black leather, titles embossed in gold in ornate script:
Lexand Vali's Advanced Astrology
Epic of Ten Thousand Years of Continental History
"Hmm... She's probably a troubadour."
"A tru-what?"
"Ah, a bard."
Celereja nodded in understanding.
"That explains the books. No ID?"
"Nope. Most bards are rootless wanderers... She seems the type."
After a pause, Celereja spoke.
"Bertrand. If you're okay with it, could you help move her to the temple?"
"The temple?"
"Yes. I need to contact the Church for verification. If our guess is right... this is extremely serious."
The Church higher-ups would surely brand her a demon on sight. Then subject her to the horrors of inquisition. Most don't survive the torture.
Suspicious signs aside... I'd saved her from death's door. Sending her back to it felt wrong.
As I pondered, an idea struck.
"Saintess. Wait here a sec."
