Chapter 169
Clatter, clatter!
The cargo cart, drawn by camels, set off. The broker disguised himself as a merchant and naturally joined the merchant caravan. The long procession was heading toward the border of the Holy Federation.
And inside the cramped wooden crate on the cargo cart, Simon and Lete were squeezed in together.
They had already quarreled several times over their posture.
Sitting upright was out of the question. The box was narrow and long, a rectangular shape that could barely fit two people if they curled up and lay down.
So, they tried lying face-to-face, but their faces ended up way too close. Lete screamed and hit Simon within five seconds, rejecting the position.
They reversed their orientation, but since they still had to curl up while lying down, their faces ended up near each other's legs—a mortifying arrangement—so that was rejected too.
They tried sitting back-to-back with their knees to their chests or legs extended backward, but that only made things more cramped and uncomfortable.
In the end, they returned to the face-to-face position. Curling up with their legs intertwined was the best they could do.
"...."
"...."
Clatter, clatter.
The sound of the cart wheels echoed loudly. Inside the box, Simon's face was red all the way down to his neck.
'No, this is way too close.'
The tight space was one thing, but they were so close they could feel each other's scent. When they breathed, their breaths mingled, tickling their throats.
Of course, they couldn't stop breathing, so they settled for avoiding eye contact.
Simon stared at the ceiling, Lete looked at the floor. Lete repeatedly warned that making eye contact was grounds for execution.
"...."
Lete, who had initially thrown a fit, now seemed resigned. She lowered her eyes and pressed her cheek to the bottom of the box, lying still like a corpse. It was as if she had given up thinking and decided to become an inanimate object inside the crate.
Simon, sweating from the heat and stuffiness, was enduring it when Lete raised her hands, pressed them together in front of her face, closed her eyes, and began praying in a very small voice.
"Great Goddess, I accept this horrible trial you've given me and will endure it. I've not only defied your will and consorted with the wicked, but I'm also guiding him into holy land. This sinner deserves to be struck dead by lightning on the spot."
Mutter, mutter, mutter.
Simon chuckled inwardly. Was she really using faith to get through this?
If she could endure something this miserable by considering it a trial from her goddess, he supposed it was her own kind of coping mechanism.
"But Goddess, if you were going to punish me, couldn't you just drop a lightning bolt? Or toss me into a filthy pigsty? Why punish me by making me face this horrible bastard? I know it's blasphemous, but I can't help resenting you a little."
"…I'm getting offended now."
"Shut up. Don't eavesdrop on my prayer."
Clatter! Clatter!
Two hours passed while they remained trapped in the crate.
At this point, they truly felt like part of the cart.
I am the cart, and the cart is me. Simon could now empathize with the feelings of cargo in a crate.
'...I didn't know four hours could feel this long. Maybe I should try talking to her.'
People outside were talking loudly, and with the wheels making so much noise, he figured it was safe to speak softly without being overheard.
Simon carefully tried to start a conversation with her.
"Le—"
"Shut your mouth."
Her breath brushed his neck, making him freeze mid-sentence.
"Just stay quiet, please."
No chance. He was rejected before he could even get a word out.
Simon gave up on talking to her and turned his gaze away.
Another twenty minutes passed.
Simon was mentally reviewing everything he'd learned when—
"...Ah, seriously."
Lete's voice broke the silence. When Simon turned his head, he saw her sneaking embarrassed glances at him.
"A man sulking over something like that. Geez, shouldn't you at least try a second time?"
"What?"
"…Ah, shit. Forget it."
She averted her gaze and quietly asked,
"Why did you call me earlier?"
"To talk."
"…Go ahead."
It was clear that Lete was also having a hard time. The boredom was one thing, but being crammed into this shaking box was mentally exhausting.
Simon smiled and opened his mouth.
"It's nothing special, just something personal—"
"Talk softly! Mind your breath! Every time it touches my neck, I get chills!"
"Then I'll just shut up."
"…What personal thing?"
Unusually, Lete seemed to be the one clinging to the conversation now, which made Simon inwardly pleased as he said,
"How did you meet my mom?"
"Aha."
It must've been a decent topic, because Lete smiled slightly.
"You're only asking about something that important now?"
"I've asked before, but you said you didn't want to taint a precious memory by telling it to a necromancer."
"…Ah, when did I say that… Ahem! I still don't like it, but I'll tell you this once, specially."
Lete had been a war orphan.
She'd originally lived in a small mountain village near the border between the Holy Federation and the Dark Alliance. It was a conflict zone, and once, a group of necromancers, furious after losing comrades to a priest, stormed the village and laid it to waste.
Three-year-old Lete survived by hiding in a narrow cupboard, but she lost her parents in that attack. That day, she witnessed a traumatic scene that would haunt her for life.
The necromancers, laughing gleefully as they raised the corpses of villagers and her parents—people who had cherished her—into skeletons.
Eventually, the necromancers left the village, but Lete was so terrified that she couldn't step outside her house.
Days passed like that. Just before she starved to death, someone entered the house.
Lete hurriedly hid in the wardrobe, but the person gently knocked and spoke a few comforting words before slowly opening the door. That was when Lete—
—I'm sorry.
Met a miracle.
—I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We truly are sorry.
Her name was Anna Cross.
At that time, Anna had completely broken ties with Efnelle, joined the Dark Alliance, and even given birth to Richard's child. But after recovering, she would occasionally visit her homeland, the Holy Federation.
She donated all the vast wealth she'd amassed during her active years. Using her own money, she established over twenty monasteries across the country.
These monasteries weren't the usual kind that led village prayers and collected church taxes, they were orphanages. She took in children who had lost their parents to war and raised them.
Anna, a few times each year, would secretly cross into the Holy Federation and help manage the monasteries.
It was during this time that Anna and Lete formed a bond.
—Miss Anna!
Lete adored Anna, the woman who had saved her life, like her own mother, and Anna cherished her in return.
—I want to grow up to be a great priest like you, Miss!
At Lete's words, Anna gave a smile that was hard to read.
—You have to become a greater priest than your teacher.
—I heard you were the Saint of Miracles! There's no priest greater than you in this world!
At that, Anna gently stroked Lete's head with sad eyes and said,
—Your teacher made too many people sad and miserable, Lete. Don't be like that.
No matter what Anna said, Lete's role model was always Anna.
She built up sincere faith in the monastery, and after undergoing the 19 tribulations, she became a promising priest at a young age. The elders, fascinated by her talent, all excitedly called her the reincarnation of "Anna Cross".
Though she couldn't break Anna's record for youngest appointment, just being compared to Anna by the adults made Lete happy. She continued to grow and entered Efnelle as the top-ranked student.
"I was honestly shocked when I heard the truth about Miss Anna."
Lete said in a drained voice.
"My lifesaver, the person I respected the most, the legendary genius saint, had married a necromancer and even had his child."
Her voice bubbled with suppressed emotion.
"To think she gave up her title as a saint because of some necromancer, ended up with an incurable disease that could take her any time, and suffered in some rural backwater… Honestly, I can't understand it."
"...…"
Simon was so shocked that he couldn't say anything.
'So that's why Lete hates necromancers so much.'
A traumatic memory, buried deep in her chest. Watching her own parents turned into undead right before her eyes, and the necromancers laughing like it was a game, who could come away from that without hatred?
On top of that, with years of religious education, her hostility toward necromancers would've only grown more intense. Considering that, how she treated Simon and Richard was, in her own way, already her best effort.
"But life's unpredictable, isn't it."
Her gaze turned to Simon.
"Now here I am, face-to-face, skin-to-skin, with one of those necromancers. Makes me wanna bite my tongue and die."
"...…"
Simon, as a fellow necromancer, wanted to apologize in place of those who had desecrated her parents' corpses. But he knew such an apology would be meaningless, just empty words.
It would be pointless and offer her no comfort.
So instead—
"I'll do my best to change your perception."
As always, all Simon could do was try.
"No matter what you do, I'm never changing."
Lete snorted. Still, her tone was softer than the contemptuous sneers she used to give him.
Tap.
Just then, both of them flinched and fell silent. Someone was knocking directly on the box.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
Five short knocks in a row. There was only one thing this signal could mean.
"Get ready. We're about to enter the Gate of Holiness."
The Gate of Holiness was essentially a checkpoint. If anything or anyone passed through carrying evil energy, the color of the gate would dull instantly, and inquisitors would search everything.
After the broker sent the signal, the movement of the cart slowed. The carts were lining up and passing through the gate one at a time.
"Nervous?"
At Lete's indifferent-sounding question, Simon simply smiled.
"I'm confident."
Simon activated holiness. Then, so the energy from his Core near his heart wouldn't be detected, he cloaked his entire body in holiness.
Now even speaking felt like a risk. The two of them shut their mouths and only moved their eyes.
Thud!
Suddenly, a loud noise rang out as if someone had slapped the cart. Lete, caught off guard, quickly covered her mouth in panic.
One accidental noise, and they'd be exposed instantly.
Thunk!
This time, it felt like someone had climbed onto the cart.
'Oh, come on, they're not doing this on purpose… right?'
Lete struggled to hold back the murderous intent rising inside her. Simon rolled his eyes, trying to assess.
They could hear the man on top of the cart chatting with someone. When the broker complained about the cargo being damaged, the man reluctantly climbed back down.
'Now we're going through the gate.'
As a holiness user, Simon was confident he wouldn't be discovered, but he couldn't help being tense.
That was when Lete shifted and pressed in closer to Simon. As he felt her breath, Simon tensed even more.
"Hold still."
Lete placed both hands on Simon's chest. A flow of holiness from her body spread out and wrapped around Simon's entire body like a film.
And moments later—
Fwoosh!
Simon felt himself pass through something foreign. They had safely crossed the Gate of Holiness.
'Haaaah, we made it.'
As Simon sighed in relief, she giggled and shifted her body.
"Welcome, necromancer."
Her soft, fluttering voice felt incredibly close. With a finger pressed to her lips, she winked one eye.
"To the Holy Federation."