The Cursed Blind Woman (5)
As soon as I opened the door, the employees gathered in the hallway bombarded me with questions. I ignored them all and headed downstairs to the first floor, grabbing the Holy Sword from its mount on the wall.
Celereja jumped in surprise at the sight of me bursting into the room with a sword drawn, positioning herself protectively in front of the woman.
"Mr. Bertrand! You have every right and justification to execute this woman yourself...!"
"Come out here, Saintess. This sword can detect demons."
"What...? You're asking me to believe that right now?"
"Come on out."
I crooked my finger to the side, staring the saintess down. Celereja, who had been blocking the woman with the resolve to take a blade to the throat if needed, slowly stepped aside.
I pointed the tip of the Holy Sword at the woman. It didn't glow in the slightest.
"Saintess. This woman isn't a demon. She's not possessed by one, either."
"How... how can you be so sure...? What makes that sword so special...?"
"I doubt you'd understand the full details even if I explained, but you have a rough idea, don't you, Saintess? This sword is imbued with holy power."
She had told me as much when she first arrived in the city—that she could sense tremendous holy power from the Holy Sword and had asked what it was. As someone who could feel holy power, Celereja couldn't refute my words.
"For now... since I brought her here, I'll nurse her at the inn. Once she regains consciousness, you can investigate then."
"But leaving her here is dangerous. We don't even know her intentions. If she removes that eyepatch, it'll be a catastrophe."
"Is the temple any safer? When the church's investigation team arrives, the moment they see that mandala, they'll declare her a demon and torture her."
"That's..."
"You know better than anyone how brutal those inquisitors are, Saintess—like sadistic butchers."
Celereja fell silent. She couldn't argue; I was right. Better to die by suicide than face those inquisitors. I didn't want this woman I'd saved to end up in their hands without even knowing what was happening. It wouldn't be too late to decide once she recovered her strength and understood the situation.
And the key was the Holy Sword. Since it hadn't glowed, she wasn't a demon, monster, or demonkin. Absent that, there was no reason to assume she harbored blind malice.
The saintess looked displeased, but with me pushing so hard, she backed down a step.
"If you're that insistent, Mr. Bertrand... fine. I'll keep it to myself for now."
"Thank you, Saintess."
Celereja nodded and stood.
"Where are you off to?"
"Just in case, I'm going to purify around the inn."
"You can do that too? Don't tell me you're planning something like Healing Rain."
"Uh... I can't do anything that advanced yet..."
Celereja trailed off, a bit embarrassed. Healing Rain was exactly what it sounded like—a torrent of holy-powered rain from the heavens that healed and purified a wide area, the pinnacle of difficult techniques. I'd seen my old comrade, a saintess, use it once. Then again, she was a top candidate for chief saintess, so it made sense. Come to think of it, I had no idea where she was these days. Should've asked the cardinal last time.
"Anyway... I'll get going. Be careful. And absolutely don't make eye contact with her."
"Got it. I'll move her to the corner room on the third floor and lock the door from outside."
As Celereja left, she sternly warned the other employees not to enter the room under any circumstances.
Alone in the room now, I inspected the woman's belongings once more. The book was extremely worn, faded from handling, with frayed edges. The staff was made of sturdy wood, lacquered smooth—its tip heavily worn from long use. My eyes naturally drifted to her shoes. The heels of her boots were slanted from wear, as if she'd traveled vast distances.
But... she seemed blind, with the eyepatch and staff. How did she read books? The lute could be played by feel, sure, but...
I picked up the pale, gracefully curved lute and plucked a string. Then I examined her fingertips. They were callused. Not just for show, then. A real bard. She played, sang, told old tales. And apparently read fortunes with astrology too. Hmm... Could that empty spot in the festival square have been hers?
"Hngh..."
The woman suddenly let out a low groan. I turned, thinking she might be waking, but no—she was just sweating profusely in her delirium.
Taking care of her until she woke was the priority. We'd sort out the details later. I scooped her up and headed out.
The employees, briefed by Celereja, parted in the hallway, averting their eyes to avoid meeting hers.
"Sorry, but grab her stuff and bring it. I'm putting her in the end room on the third floor and locking it from outside."
Francois rushed ahead to prepare the room, while the others grabbed the bag, staff, and lute.
Looking down from the railing, I saw Marim sprawled on a table, groaning about her aching back.
I took full responsibility for nursing the woman. If she woke and suddenly removed the eyepatch, I was the only one who could handle it. Just in case, I hid the Holy Sword under the bed. Even if she got me, it wouldn't be instant death—I'd buy some time.
Still... what the hell was her deal? And what was this "meet her eyes and die" thing? I'd asked Idwild, but she shook her head.
"Dunno... If the Holy Sword didn't glow... maybe a black mage's curse? But I don't know any curse like that..."
"Yeah, curses usually kill or cripple. Killing whoever meets your eyes sounds more like an ability than a curse."
Pelle was just as clueless.
"There are monsters that kill with a gaze, but those are actual monsters, and she's human."
"Or some demon that... Nah, the sword didn't glow."
The lack of glow from the Holy Sword shrouded her identity in mystery. The most plausible was Idwild's black mage curse idea... but who the fuck casts something that insane?
No clue. Best to hear it from her directly. Whenever she woke up.
The festival ended, and the city quieted down. Rosens was now a proper metropolis, so "quiet" was relative, but the post-revelry emptiness hung heavy in the air.
Our employees felt it too. Even a single day of pure fun had left them drained returning to routine.
Pelle suffered most unexpectedly. Her blank expression seemed even more vacant than before. The others' concern confirmed it wasn't just me.
Might need to visit Ammugar and Orkog again sometime.
Celereja purified the room's door with holy power every morning and evening—not anything grand like Healing Rain, just rubbing it down like mopping with holy-charged hands.
Whenever the cuckoo chimed from the first-floor clock, I'd check on her: wipe sweat, prop pillows for water, shift positions. Once a day, I'd strip her and wipe her down with a warm, damp cloth.
Her body was covered in faint scars—thin, straight lines crisscrossing complexly. Whip marks...?
Even unconscious, her bodily functions continued, so I bought infant cloth diapers from town. Water-only diet meant just urine, but changing and cleaning was a hassle. I'd wash and dry her thoroughly, laundering the diapers myself. Couldn't ask the others.
"Master. How's she doing?"
"No change... same as when she arrived."
"That's bad... It's been almost three days..."
Della looked worried. Anxiety crept into me too. Too long for a single quarrel to the side.
What if... it wasn't just a quarrel?
I fetched it from the drawer—the bolt I'd kept just in case.
Nothing unusual on the surface. Standard quarrel. I cautiously touched the tip to my tongue, rolling it around before spitting on the floor.
"Fuck... poisoned."
My tongue tingled. Mild paralytic, not lethal, since that was it.
Deep hit with this explained her coma. Was there an apothecary in town...? I'd get an antidote made.
Heading down the stairs, I ran into Idwild coming up. She looked anxious.
"Bertrand... come down to the cellar for a sec..."