The Crying Maid and the Madwoman's Past
“Miss? Queen, miss!”
By the time Winz arrived at the blood-soaked spot where Beel and Queen had vanished, only the metallic stench of iron remained. She clutched the cake box tightly, scanning the empty street in growing panic.
She had searched the underground passage for what felt like hours. Queen should have been there. Beel should have been there. Instead, nothing but the heavy reek of blood clung to the air.
“No… it can’t be…”
Winz broke into a run, following the strongest traces of blood until she reached the slope beneath the hill.
There she was.
Queen Wednesday lay unconscious, drenched in crimson. Winz dropped the cake box. Her face drained of color in an instant.
“No… no, no, no. Miss? Hah—Queen, miss!”
She rushed down the slope, hands trembling as she reached out. The moment her fingers touched Queen’s blood-soaked skin, her breath caught.
“Ah… please, no. Say something, miss. Not again… please, I’m begging you…!”
Winz gathered Queen into her arms and sobbed. The nightmare she had always feared had finally become reality. No matter how hard she shook her, Queen did not wake. Only the faintest thread of breath remained.
She lifted Queen and sprinted toward the guild at a speed that shattered the air itself. Lightning and sparks trailed in her wake.
By the time she burst through the guild doors, the staff on duty looked ready to faint.
“I—I understand it’s urgent, but our members take priority right now…”
Winz’s gentle demeanor had vanished. Her hair seemed to burn with a reddish hue, her pupils narrowed to vertical slits, and killing intent rolled off her in waves so thick it felt almost physical.
“Our miss ended up like this because of your guild. Beel is one of your instructors. You’re telling me you won’t even give her a bed?”
The staff member swallowed hard. “I… I’ll prepare a room right away.”
Winz’s voice was ice. “If you don’t, I’ll erase this guild from the map myself.”
The staff member collapsed into tears. Winz turned away, fists clenched. Revenge was all that remained.
“How long until she wakes?”
“I’ll need to examine her properly first… By the way, what about Beel?”
Winz ignored the question and headed for the exit. The staff called after her in alarm.
“Wait—where are you going?”
“To kill Beel.”
The flat, emotionless declaration sent chills down everyone’s spine. Winz looked like death incarnate.
“Shouldn’t Queen come first?”
A familiar voice spoke from behind her. Renoir, dressed in her white coat, had appeared. Winz glared at her and tried to walk past.
Renoir sighed. “Calm down and think for a second. I just got the report too. I’m as confused as you are.”
“I only need to kill her.”
“You’re not acting like yourself at all. Just listen for a moment.”
Winz’s eyes narrowed. “This has nothing to do with you. Unless you want me to hold you responsible as well?”
Renoir met that murderous gaze with a faint smile. “Would Queen want you to do this? She’d rather have you by her side, especially when she’s covered in blood.”
Winz’s composure cracked. Tears spilled over as she sank to her knees, the murderous aura fading. Her voice trembled with raw pain.
“…I don’t want to lose her again. Never again. I’d rather die myself!”
Renoir clicked her tongue, then gently placed a hand on Winz’s shoulder. “She’s not dead. Her condition looks bad, but she’ll recover. I’ll look after her too.”
Winz wept quietly, fists clenched. Renoir helped her to her feet.
“Come on, head maid. Let’s go to the infirmary together.”
Queen opened her eyes to an endless black void. Stars and galaxies flickered in the distance. She floated weightlessly through what appeared to be outer space.
“…Huh?”
A golden ring encircled her. It began to spin, splitting into multiple rings that unfolded into countless scenes.
In one, a man clad in Eastern fantasy robes stared at her with glowing eyes. “Let me ask you something I’m truly curious about. Do you honestly believe you can defeat me?”
In another, a crimson dragon roared down at her. “Prove yourself, hero!”
A dark-haired man offered her a card. “I’m just a passing hero. Don’t remember me!”
Countless other scenes flashed by—lives she had never lived, yet somehow recognized.
A voice echoed through the void.
So you’ve finally begun to remember.
“Who the hell are you?” Queen snapped.
That’s the wrong question. You should be asking about yourself, little madwoman. Or would you prefer I call you by your true name—Myeong Yeong-woong?
“This is my mental world? What kind of mental world is outer space?”
Stand up. This is no time to be lying down.
“At least tell me who you are!”
Still an amateur, I see. Very well. Rest a little longer.
The voice faded. Queen sat down with a sigh and let sleep claim her once more.
The bell above the bakery door chimed softly. Beel stepped inside, the sweet scent of pastries wrapping around her like a familiar blanket. She moved with hurried steps toward the counter.
The baker smiled warmly. “In quite a rush today, aren’t you? Here’s your macaron cake!”
“Th-thanks…” Beel snatched the box and immediately began devouring the cake with desperate hunger, as though she hadn’t eaten in days.
The baker watched in concern. “Slow down! The cake isn’t going anywhere.”
Beel paused, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Sorry. I’ve just been feeling uneasy. I know I should keep up appearances, but…”
“No need to apologize. Ah—your chest is wet. Did something happen?”
Beel glanced down at the bloodstain spreading across her clothes and forced a smile. “It’s nothing. Just got a little damp.”
She resumed eating, this time tearing into the cake with her bare hands. The baker’s worried gaze lingered.
“You’ve always loved sweets, haven’t you? Ever since that day your human self broke.”
Silence fell. The baker gently patted Beel’s shoulder. “You’ve carried that pain for so long. I understand.”
Beel looked up. “You had a son recently, didn’t you?”
The baker’s face lit up. “Haha, my first child—and a late one at that. I still don’t know how to be a proper father!”
Beel watched him with a bittersweet expression. “Raising a child is difficult. I wonder how I would have raised my own daughter…”
She finished the cake and stared at her messy hands. Conflict warred in her eyes. She had come here intending to carry out her plan, yet Queen’s words had left her shaken.
Like a seeker begging a god for answers, Beel whispered to the empty air.
“Justitia… what should this worthless father do now?”
Tears slid down her cheeks.