Chapter 13: The Martyrdom of the Priest(3)

He seemed to be sulking, as he twisted his body slightly to pull his arm away. I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding him tightly as he tried to move away.

“There’s still one thing left.”

“…Sister Alicia.”

“There’s one thing I haven’t done with anyone yet.”

I gently guided his palm, which had been hovering in the air, and placed it on my wildly beating heart.

“I want to do it. For the first time with you, Father…”

I drew his hand, which had been resting on my chest, downwards. His thick fingers burrowed under the hem of my skirt.

He seemed as though he might stop me immediately with words of protest, but instead, he watched me intently with a blatant gaze, without uttering a word.

“Ah, Father…”

I could feel the contours of his thick fingers through the thin underwear. A peculiar mix of shame and affection created an unusual sensation.

“Ha…”

Breathing heavily, I rested my cheek on his chest. As I wiggled my lower body to feel his warmth against the inside of my thighs, he whispered in a low voice.

“You’ll regret this.”

“I won’t regret it. Absolutely not…”

His lips met the tears gathered at the ends of my eyelashes. He carefully swept his tongue across my tear-streaked eyes and asked gently.

“How would you like me to proceed?”

“…I’d like you to touch me more.”

My mind must have been in disarray. Otherwise, I couldn’t have uttered such embarrassing words so readily.

“Understood.”

Burying his face in the white garment, he began to tenderly caress the inside of my thighs with careful hands.

His fingertips, gently brushing over the underwear, rubbed in circular motions around the protruding bulge.

“Ah…”

“Is this spot good?”

His persistent touch made my waist twist, and a trembling moan escaped my lips. His fingertips slowly drew down the underwear.

His long fingers dug into the tender, moist skin. The unfamiliar sensation creeping into my mucous membranes reddened my eyes.

“Ha…”

As my body twisted, he hurriedly withdrew his hand. I grabbed his retreating arm. My face, now streaked with tears, turned away in distress.

“It’s okay, please continue a little longer.”

“But…”

“I want you, Father. So please…”

I rubbed against his solid bicep. Hesitantly, his fingertips slowly began to enter the tightly closed entrance.

“Ugh…”

“Even one joint is hard to swallow.”

“It’s okay if it’s painful; just go deeper.”

His fingers, which had been gently stirring the mucous membrane, gradually pushed further in. As his body heat penetrated deeply, my thigh muscles twitched uncontrollably.

Squish, squish.

With the moist friction, the rhythmic motion continued. Tears welled up from the rough sensation, and when his thick fingers withdrew, a sigh of regret escaped.

“Ha, ugh, ah!”

While relentlessly probing the mucous membrane, he began to rub the protruding bulge with his other hand. Stimulating the already sensitized bulge, a shivering thrill spread over my waist.

“Ah, Father, no, ugh, that feels strange!”

I looked up at his face through my tear-blurred vision. He was grimacing and lifting his chin, as if he were suppressing a storm of desire.

“Ah, ugh…”

Looking at his resolute jawline, a hot heat surged in my lower abdomen.

“Father, it’s enough now…”

As I gently pushed away his solid chest, he abruptly withdrew his fingers. He extended his tongue and sensually licked the wet fingers.

“Have you finally decided to sleep quietly now?”

“No, not yet…”

I stroked his thighs with trembling hands. The pure white fabric, always so neatly arranged, was now standing *rect.

“This…”

As I pressed the sh*ft with my fingertips, his large palm roughly grasped my wrist.

“I’m fine.”

“But memories are meant to be made together. I can’t do it alone…”

“If we complete this properly and I am still alive beside you, it won’t be too late to build memories then.”

Swallowing my words with my head bowed deeply, he extended his arms and drew me into his embrace.

“I don’t want to create a situation where, even by the slightest chance, you are left alone to bear the responsibility.”

“Father…”

“Then please wait just a little longer.”

It didn’t matter, perhaps because it could be the last time, I wanted to get closer. 

I couldn’t voice the sincerity that had risen to my throat.

* * *

I had a dream. Edwin appeared in the dream, dressed in casual clothes without his clerical robes. In the dream, we walked hand in hand through a flower garden.

Our steps matched, summer flowers bloomed vibrantly, the scent of flowers tickled my nose, and his smile was as vivid as an oil painting…

“Father Edwin…”

A hollow laugh escaped me as I faced the despairing scene upon waking. Edwin, why have you made me so wretched? Why have you not been content with just once, but have to carve my heart twice?

He had vanished without a trace, even though he had been lying quietly on the blanket just before I fell asleep.

“No, it can’t be.”

I reassured myself that he had only stepped away for a moment and waited for him on the inn bed.

My clenched palms were covered in cold sweat. With each tick of the clock, my whole body felt like it was being torn apart.

When I realized he wasn’t coming, my weary body had already become a rag.

Bowing my head in resignation, my gaze fell on the pouch at the side of the bed.

“…Father.”

When I opened it, I found all the remaining money from paying for the inn room. It seemed he had left it behind, worried about me returning alone to the monastery.

Yes, with this money, I should be able to return safely to the Archelio Monastery.

“Heartless person.”

I was concerned about him leaving without a penny to his name, like a vagabond on the streets. It would have been better if he had taken at least his share with him. The pouch left behind seemed like his final, resigned silhouette.

There was no time left to be sad. I dusted off my habit, stood up, and took the pouch he had left behind as I went out of the room.

I handed over the entire travel money that Father Edwin had left to the scruffy innkeeper.

“Please lend me a horse.”

With the money I had, I was able to rent a worn-out donkey. When I revealed that my destination was the source of the epidemic, they provided me with a sickly donkey that looked like it might die any moment. As I mounted the donkey, it made a strange, laborious noise.

“…Just this once, please.”

I carefully kissed the donkey’s head. Perhaps due to my earnest wish, the donkey, which had been unsteady on its trembling legs, seemed to find its balance and started moving forward.

I ran through the sparsely populated forest. Unlike the refreshing forest air, my heart sank heavily.

Before long, I approached the fence erected near the palace.

“From here on.”

Crossing the fence meant taking on the risk of contagion. But Edwin was inside the fence; he was there.

I couldn’t hesitate even for a moment to meet him. Swallowing the tension that had gathered at the back of my throat, I stepped inside the fence.

Was it just my imagination? The air felt different, heavier, even though I had only crossed a low fence. Had the shadow of death already begun to follow me? The donkey’s steps grew slower.

“I’ll go alone from here.”

I couldn’t force the struggling donkey any further. I turned it back toward the village. Once I confirmed it had safely crossed the fence, I resumed my steps.

Navigating through the dense foliage, I emerged into the view of the town.

“…Father Edwin, I’ll be there soon.”

Even though the sun was still high, there were no people on the street. The dilapidated market stalls were filled only with withered vegetables. The only sound was the breath I exhaled. 

“Father Edwin!”

I called out his name loudly, but there was no response. If he didn’t come out to greet me, I had no choice but to go find him.

I cautiously made my way down the street where he had walked.

The stench from rotting fish and decaying meat swarmed, forcing me to cover my nose. Foods that had once been someone’s valuable livelihood had now become trash.

Even after leaving the market area, the smell of rotten meat persisted. Eventually, I had to cover my mouth upon seeing the scene before me. The stench of rotting meat wasn’t coming from the market stalls.

“What is this…”

The nauseating smell that penetrated my nostrils made me gag. Amidst the pile of corpses, a figure in pristine white garments stood motionless.

Holding a rusty shovel, he silently gazed down at the bodies.

“Father Edwin.”

It didn’t take him long to spot me. In an instant, his eyes flickered with countless emotions.

“Do not come any closer!”

Edwin’s voice was sharp and filled with anxiety. 

Ignoring his warning, I carefully reduced the distance between us. This time, pleading words began to spill from him.

“…Please, don’t come any closer. Just stay where you are.”

“I’ll come to you. Let me help. It’ll be faster if we work together.”

“Licia… This is my last request. The disease spreads through contact with the patient’s fluids. So please, don’t come any closer. Just stay where you are.”

Edwin was clearly agitated. His hands, gripping the shovel, trembled uncontrollably.

“Have I ever told you,” he began, his voice steady despite the tremors.

“What I endured after being exposed as a false Saint and accused of witchcraft?”

Memories I wished to forget. If only I could erase them from my mind.

“I was branded with a horseshoe seal by someone I trusted. My skin was scorched with a hot iron, and salt was rubbed into the melted flesh. The grains of salt embedded themselves in my tender skin, showing bright red against the raw muscles.”

The betrayal by a loved one was more painful than the tattered state of my back.

“Afterward, I was dragged to a dungeon where I lived on feed meant for animals. They would rip out my nails and claws, claiming it was part of witch experiments. I was subjected to water torture, left just short of drowning, to see if I could still breathe underwater.”

“Every orifice in my face was filled with the fetid muck of the sewers. Just recalling that day makes it hard to breathe.”

“Through the prolonged torture, my whole body festered. My elbows and knees were reduced to exposed bones. The pain was so intense that I wanted to beg for death, but I couldn’t even scream. They said that if I screamed, my father would be blamed instead.”

“Licia…”

“…But I survived. Father, I didn’t die. I wanted to, but God wouldn’t allow it.”

The shovel Edwin had tightly gripped clattered to the ground. He seemed deeply troubled, clutching his silver hair in frustration.

“Please, believe in me. I won’t die.”

I approached him. As my hand touched the stained vestments, he dropped his head in despair.

“What happens if I, the inept one, can’t protect you?”

I, too, despised the notion of “what if.”

“I will protect you. I will save everyone with my own hands and break the chains that once strangled my life.”

With unwavering eyes, I swore to the incomplete adverb.

“Please believe me.”