Set Me Ablaze, So I Cannot Weep (4)
The moment the stinging clumps of dirt washed away, the raw skin beneath flared with pain. A faint tinge of red bloomed in the clear water before dispersing. Cecilia scowled at it and gritted her teeth. Her luck had been terrible lately.
"…God, this stings. And I don't even have any medicine."
A groan slipped out every time she touched one of the open wounds, and even though there was no one around to hear it, she kept grumbling to herself all the same.
Falling off a cliff. Just my luck. This is the worst.
Looking back on it, the whole situation was dizzying to even recall. Rolling down from that height, it would have been nothing short of natural for her neck to snap. The only reason she was still breathing was pure, dumb fortune.
No — luck alone wasn't enough.
It was because that woman was beside me.
The Saintess, beloved of God. The one called Lucia Valentine. In the instant they fell together, Cecilia had apparently been granted a share of the inexplicable divine protection dwelling within her — and because of that, death had been kept at bay.
Should I even be calling this a blessing?
Somehow, it feels like I'm getting used to this. To think I'm not even scared in this situation.
Of course, there had been a price. Not a steep one, but still. Her dress had been reduced to rags, her body scraped raw and bleeding all over, and the slightest movement set every wound on her body screaming in protest.
Still, at least that's all it was.
My arms and legs are fine. That's what matters. As long as I'm alive, there's a next step.
Coaxing herself along with those bare-bones consolations, she dunked her legs in the water, then her arms, scrubbing every inch carefully clean.
And right at that moment — heavy footsteps, drawing nearer. The rustle of trampled grass. A snapping branch underfoot. When Cecilia turned her head, a familiar face greeted her at once.
Lucia. The dazzling blonde herself.
They had fallen from the same cliff, and yet the woman didn't have so much as a scratch on her. Not her clothes, not her hair, not her skin — not a single thing out of place. She looked as pristine as someone returning from a leisurely stroll.
Being loved by God really is a different existence altogether.
It was jealousy. She hated to admit it, but it was.
Cecilia looked down at her soaked clothes. The dress torn past recognition, skin mottled with blood and dirt. That wretched sight, set against Lucia's flawless composure, only made her feel more pathetic.
What a blessed lot to envy.
Cecilia had never been granted blessings of any kind. All that remained to her was the hollow name of a ducal house — a name she had once cursed so bitterly that it made her sick. A life spent used up and discarded like a tool, simply because she was the daughter of a lowly maid. The days she'd been forced to play the villainess with her mother's life held hostage. She had been treated as a cursed seed from the moment she was born. What sin had she committed to inherit a life like this? It felt unjust. It felt like being thrown away.
And then there was the Saintess — radiant from head to toe — beside a woman who had rolled all the way down to the pit of hell. The gulf between them was so vast she couldn't bear to look at Lucia straight on.
Whatever. Envy changes nothing. It just makes me more miserable.
Cecilia forced the bitter feeling down her throat. If she had the leisure to resent someone else, she was better off racking her brain for a way out of this mess.
"…Lady Cecilia!"
Lucia came scrambling over, her face drained of color. Then she dropped to her knees in front of Cecilia and began checking her over in a frantic rush.
"You're badly hurt — where does it hurt most? What about your bones? Is anything broken? You have this many open wounds and you're soaking them in water? That's dangerous!"
The questions poured out without a breath between them. Lucia's hands carefully probed Cecilia's arms and shoulders, her face full of worry.
What is with this woman? I'm fine. Stop worrying about me. It's a useless busybody habit.
Cecilia flung the hands away.
"…Enough. Let's just find a way out of here."
"How can I just leave you like this?!"
"It's my body. I'll handle it."
Cecilia tried to pull away, but Lucia didn't retreat a single step. Instead she leaned in closer and seized Cecilia's arm.
"I absolutely won't let go."
"…Are you not letting go? I'm telling you, I'm fine."
"You're injured. You need treatment."
Lucia's eyes were unexpectedly firm. The timid, cowering air she'd carried was nowhere to be found. And so the contest of strength began.
"I said let go!"
"No! Absolutely not!"
Cecilia's patience was running thin. Her wounds burned, this woman was relentless, and everything — absolutely everything — was getting on her nerves. She wanted it all to just vanish.
"I'm fine! How many times do I have to say it?!"
"Fine?! You're bleeding this much!"
"You're unbelievably stubborn. Doesn't that tire you out?"
"For what it's worth, stamina is the one thing I'm confident about!"
In the end, Cecilia wrenched her captured arm free and shoved Lucia away with her other hand — harder than she'd intended, because emotion had crept into it.
What happened next could not be undone.
She reached out, desperate to catch her — but her timing and her speed both fell hopelessly short.
"Kyaa…!"
With a short cry, Lucia lost her balance and tumbled backward into the pool with a tremendous splash. Water scattered in every direction.
Then came a stillness so cold it was almost frigid.
Lucia pushed herself upright out of the water. Her drenched blonde hair clung to her face, and her blue eyes brimmed with tears on the verge of spilling.
"…You're so mean to me."
Lucia whimpered through her soaked face, looking ready to burst into tears at any second.
What am I supposed to do with this situation?
"I only pushed you because I was worried…"
"Ugh, fine. You win. You win, okay?"
Cecilia scratched her head. An uncomfortable feeling settled in her chest — as if the woman hadn't needed to look quite so pitiful about it — but she had shoved her, and that much was fact.
She held out a hand toward the collapsed Lucia, lips jutting out in a petulant pout. This fight was, unmistakably, Cecilia's defeat.
"…Fine, I get it, so stop crying. Get up."
Lucia stared at the offered hand for a long moment, then placed her wet one on top of it. Cecilia gripped it and hauled her up out of the water.
She was surprisingly light. Light as a feather, despite looking like she ought to be heavier. Is even this a blessing of hers? Cecilia laughed hollowly to herself.
Whatever. I give up.
Resigned, Cecilia thrust herself toward Lucia without ceremony.
"Do whatever you want. You wouldn't listen even if I stopped you. Treatment, revenge — do as much as your heart desires. I'll stay still."
At Cecilia's half-resigned surrender, Lucia's face lit up. It was hard to believe this was the same person who had been on the verge of tears moments ago. Her blue eyes sparkled, reclaiming their light, and as if she had simply been waiting for permission, she drew close to Cecilia's side at once.
"…Yes, my lady! Please stay still. I'll look you over right away."
Thank goodness. I finally have her permission. It's been bothering me this whole time. Those wounds. What in the world are they? What were they, that she was so embarrassed about them?
Lucia quietly reached out and began to examine Cecilia's injuries. Her fingertips traced gently over the scraped shoulder, the grazed arm, the skin revealed through the torn fabric — her eyes following every spot one by one.
It's my first time seeing her this close up.
The flesh of the woman she had longed to touch for so long was right there before her eyes. Feeling her mind grow hazy at the sensation of it, she stroked over the wounds.
Wait — what is this?
…Huh? No way. Could Lady Cecilia be…?
No, surely not. Impossible.
Every time her hand made contact, Cecilia's body kept flinching. When her shoulder was brushed, the shoulder twitched; when her arm was touched, the arm gave a tiny tremor. Cecilia bit down hard on her lip, desperately fighting something — fighting so hard that cold sweat beaded on her skin as she clenched her fists.
"…Nngh. G-gently. Touch me gently. Please."
"…L-Lady Cecilia? Does it hurt that much?"
Lucia asked anxiously. In place of an answer, Cecilia only shook her head. Even speaking seemed to be an effort for her — though whether that was a denial or a plea to stop, there was no clear answer to be found. Even the strange scent hanging around her was suspicious.
What's happening to her? I'm being so gentle. Why is she drooling like that?
I don't understand. I want to know. Should I find out?
Cecilia's body, trained so thoroughly by Chloe's hands, had been left exquisitely sensitive. But Lucia knew nothing of this — nothing of the fact that her lady had been tamed to the point where the mere brush of contact made her tremble. The innocent Saintess couldn't have guessed. Couldn't have imagined that her own kindness was tormenting Cecilia, that she was unintentionally pressing on the most sensitive places. Right now, Lucia understood nothing at all.
"…W-wait. Not there… hahnn…."
Cecilia managed to force out in a strangled voice. But Lucia understood it only as an instruction to avoid the injured spots.
"Does it hurt here? I'll be gentler."
Her touch only grew more careful — and the more careful it became, the closer Cecilia came to losing her mind.
When Lucia's fingers slid tenderly down near her collarbone—
"…Nnh! Stop, please! My breath, I can't—"
Cecilia's body was trembling visibly now. The harder she tried to hold it in, the more violent the shaking became. Cecilia, always cold as frost — surely not. Surely not. This much? It was hard to believe.
She was swallowing back the moans that kept leaking out of her despite her desperate efforts. That defenseless sight shook Lucia's heart to its core.
This scene… I've seen it somewhere before.
…Ah. She's feeling it. Because of me. Because I'm touching her.
Something stirred deep inside Lucia. An impulse she had never once felt before. She wanted to see more. To watch Cecilia come apart — to watch her come undone, and undone again, until she was utterly ruined right there in front of her.
…With my own hands. I want to make her that way myself.
What's wrong with me? I mustn't feel this.
To want, of all things, to tangle a person further into ruin — this was surely a desire God had forbidden. She had to endure it. No more. She knew it in her head, but her heart was racing in exactly the opposite direction. The person she had revered for so long. The one she had yearned to touch but never could. And now that very person was trembling because of her. Wasn't that magnificent? This sight of her collapsing so helplessly, right now — it was unbearably beautiful. Even the gods in heaven might marvel at it.
And so she couldn't bring herself to stop. If anything, those dark emotions soaked sweetly through her entire body. A faint glow rose at Lucia's fingertips.
The power of healing. Just once, she told herself. She was curious what would happen if she used it again.
Offering herself that flimsy excuse, Lucia laid the light against Cecilia's wounds. The moment a power that Cecilia's body rejected touched her skin, her whole frame reacted violently. Even her thrashing was a sight to behold.
That glazed look in her eyes is lovely too. Lady Cecilia. Lady Cecilia. Scream for me. Because of me.
"Wait! Not that light — don't, don't you dare—!"
Cecilia cried out in a panic. Her body remembered that vicious agony from last time before her mind could. But it was already too late. The light had already touched her.
"Aaahh…! Aaaaahhhh!"
Cecilia's back arched like a drawn bow. The moans she had swallowed and swallowed finally tore through her throat and burst free. Her whole body went taut, then shuddered uncontrollably. The back of her neck burned scarlet.
Lucia watched it all, transfixed.
Ah. This is it. This is what I wanted to see.
From the very depths of her chest, an inexplicable euphoria came bubbling up. Hot, electric, dizzying. Just from watching Cecilia fall apart, a tingling heat pulsed low in her belly.
"…Haah, haah… What the hell are you doing to me…"
"Ah — I'm sorry! I couldn't help myself!"
Lucia yanked her hand away in a fluster. The apology was sincere. But the euphoria blooming inside her — that, she found utterly impossible to hide.
"Liar. Just now, you definitely—"
Cecilia shot her a suspicious glare. It seemed, for a moment, as though she'd glimpsed a different light behind that apologetic face. But her exhausted body had nothing left to chase down the source of that wrongness.
"Lady Cecilia. It still hurts, doesn't it?"
"W-wait. Stop. I said stop—!"
"Let me heal you. All of it. Every last wound."
What is this feeling, exactly?
Lucia still could not name it. Of only one thing she was certain: more. I want to see more of that face. More. More.
Even in all the days she had lived in service of God, she had never once worn a smile like this.