A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The sunset descends.

The sun settles by the window, distorting the edge of the sky. A dim crescent moon hangs in the chilly, fading eastern sky, and clusters of twinkling stars seem embedded in the dark blue canvas, like the act of opening one’s closed eyes.

Lucia, who had been scribbling with her quill pen, suddenly narrowed her brows.

The sunlight streaming through the glass shattered like waves crashing onto a white sandy beach, and the faint reflections from the ink bottle, which was barely half-full, tickled Lucia’s eyes.

Having been transcribing passages from the scriptures since dawn, Lucia rested her chin on her hand while gazing at the sun sinking beyond the hills.

—–

Episode 12 – The Most Powerful Magician Ever

The three years spent in the North were exceptionally dear to me.

Having lost my parents and, with the help of Cardinal Raul, safely received my priestly ordination, I was assigned to this area for the first time.

Three New Years and three major festivals. Countless minor holidays and commemorative days that I can’t even begin to count.

In those three years, my once-immature healing arts elevated to a higher realm, turning a young pilgrim into a priest, and ample time to transform a girl who could do nothing without help into something much more significant.

There were burdensome tasks, and at times experiences I wouldn’t want to face again, but Lucia never turned away from, nor denied, the three years she spent in the North.

However,

When asked, “Can you consider yourself a saint?” Lucia found it hard to answer affirmatively.

“……”

Everyone called her a saint, yet she believed herself to be far from the mark.

Though she could have risen to the status of a saint, she ultimately refused the position and remained wandering, far more lacking than her sister who, receiving revelations, heard the voice of angels and wielded the power of the Holy Spirit.

Then, if she asked herself whether she was an adult, that also was not the case.

Legally, it was true, but Lucia never regarded herself as an adult.

The trigger was the battle that occurred early this morning in the underground sewer.

While the other priests might praise it as a great achievement, the fact remained that she had lost. Ultimately, she had been cornered to such an extent that death seemed imminent.

So much so that she almost dragged an innocent man along with her, who wasn’t even a priest.

Perhaps that could be attributed to a lack of ability, a lack of will, or simply a run of bad luck, but Lucia viewed it all as her fault, and in the end, she voluntarily entered seclusion.

Regardless of the process, the fact remained that she had made a mistake, which also placed others in danger.

Judging by her standards, she was merely someone grappling to take care of herself, let alone others.

As those thoughts crossed her mind, a single thought naturally arose in Lucia’s head while gazing at the sunset outside the window.

No matter how she thought about it, she felt she wasn’t suited to be an adult.

“……”

Though she didn’t voice it out loud, she always thought that way.

She obeyed the life given to her and felt a sense of duty as a priest before being a saint, but she was not someone who could take responsibility for herself.

And those who can’t even look after themselves should never rise to a position of responsibility over others.

A person unable to bear their own fate cannot manage the fates of others; a person without the means to care for themselves can never be equipped or qualified to watch over others.

From that perspective, she too, having fallen into the trap of a necromancer’s curse, endangering her own existence while dragging innocent companions into peril, was equally unqualified to rise to the status of a saint.

Then what should she do?

Lucia sank into contemplation.

If she refused the position of saint, there would undoubtedly be a significant uproar, both externally and internally.

It was not uncommon for flaws to be revealed during examinations, or for those who refused to become saints to have their canonization rescinded, but in the history, no one had ever rejected the position of saint right before the ceremony.

The political standing of the bishop and cardinal supporting and backing her would certainly be put into a tricky position. Even if she was not involved in politics, she wasn’t naive enough to be unaware of that.

Her sister, Veronica, would undoubtedly be in a bind too. Her actions, always protective and never letting go, would only worry her even more at such a sudden decision.

It would likely be the same for her colleagues.

And that man who trusted and followed her as well.

“……”

Burdened with worries, like waves crashing onto the beach, Lucia sat silently at her desk, unable to look directly at the ticklish sunset.

She could not bear it.

– Knock. Knock.

Lucia snapped back to reality when the sun was halfway on the horizon.

Startled by the sudden knock, she momentarily set down her quill and stood up. There was no time to tidy her desk as she had to greet the late visitor.

Walking promptly to the door, Lucia cleared her throat and placed her hand on the doorknob, asking,

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

The moment she heard the response from beyond the door, Lucia felt her shoulders stiffen.

It seemed it wasn’t just her shoulders that froze. Stunned by the unexpected voice, Lucia was momentarily at a loss for thought.

Her clarity returned when a voice from the other side asked, slightly puzzled,

“Could you open the door for me?”

Regaining her composure, Lucia hastily released the latch, and carefully, ever so slowly, opened the door.

As the door cracked open, revealing the figure behind, when their eyes met properly, a small gasp escaped Lucia’s lips.

“Oh…”

To be honest, it was a later thought, but looking back, her expression must have looked somewhat foolish.

*

Standing there, holding the doorknob dazed, Lucia welcomed her visitor.

“Oh, welcome.”

“It’s been a while, Saint. Given I saw you this morning, I guess it’s not quite right to say it’s been a while?”

“There’s no need to stand on ceremony… It’s just the two of us now.”

Saying not to bother with etiquette felt genuine.

Had the words been spoken by a bishop or cardinal, I might have mumbled thanks and inwardly scoffed at the elderly fool, but regrettably, the person who said it was none other than Lucia herself.

From what I know, Lucia is an unpretentious person.

Not someone like Veronica or Francesca, who might be hiding a few snakes in their stomachs.

So, when she says not to stand on ceremony, it is likely heartfelt.

“If you say that, then, as you wish. Have you had dinner yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I brought dinner. Please eat before it gets cold.”

I entered Lucia’s room, carrying a meal tray.

Being a grand cathedral, St. Basil’s Cathedral boasts a long history and a considerable size, with separate dining quarters and dormitories for priests and monks.

According to Veronica, it has been expanded variously over hundreds of years.

The church has even been able to construct splendid marble buildings with the donations garnered from the North, showcasing how superbly they manage their finances.

For the record, Veronica occupies the best room here. In contrast, Lucia’s room paled in comparison, much smaller and less dignified.

A single bed. A personal desk. One dresser and one chair.

That’s it. It’s honestly bare.

“I was going to put the food on the desk… Ah, there’s no empty space.”

I had subconsciously reached to place the meal on the desk when I noticed it was piled high with papers, pausing my hand.

“Oh, please hand it over. I’ll place it,” Lucia said, extending her hand for me to pass the food. She pulled out a slightly vacant chair and set the dish upon it.

Uncertain of what the papers contained, I accidentally caught sight of the densely written lines and recognized it as scripture passages.

“Were you copying them?”

“Yes. Just… did a little transcribing.”

As she bent down to place the food on the chair, Lucia brushed her hair behind her ear while trailing off her words.

For something she claimed to have done briefly, there was quite a pile. The paperwork I handled daily at work was not much different in quantity.

I turned toward Lucia, standing awkwardly, and said,

“You really have no talent for lying, do you?”

“…What?”

When I heard her dazed response, I turned my back, a chuckle escaping me.

“You can’t deceive people to save your life. I know you’ve been in seclusion since this morning, so how could this be a brief transcription? Am I wrong?”

“……”

Perhaps it was an unexpected remark; Lucia fell momentarily silent. With wide eyes and her lips fluttering, she bowed her head low, tightly clutching the medium she laid over her thighs.

It seemed she felt embarrassed for being caught in a lie.

After closing the lid of the ink bottle to prevent the ink from drying, I playfully asked the now-timid Lucia,

“Was your seclusion fun?”

Her voice, slightly muffled beneath her hair, came out creeping.

“…It’s not meant to be fun.”

“Of course. But discipline is discipline, and food is food, isn’t it? So don’t just stand there; sit down quickly.”

Lucia slightly nodded, her head bobbing up and down. The hues of red creeping into her ears suggested she was too shy to say a word.

Having finally mustered the courage, Lucia started looking for a place to sit for the meal. Yet, there seemed to be no suitable space.

A thick, heavy book, along with hundreds of pages, occupied the entirety of her desk, and there were neither conference tables nor small tables typically found in hotel rooms. Admittedly tight, other than the chair, there was nowhere to place the food.

Ultimately, Lucia made up her mind to put her meal on the chair, much like an introvert eating alone in the bathroom. With the floor being dirty, she perched herself on the bed, using it as a seat.

An ironic situation unfolded, with the chair becoming a desk and the bed becoming a chair, but Lucia wasn’t calm enough to think that far ahead.

Lucia was like a child facing her parents after being scolded, hesitatingly staring at the food in front of her while glancing over at me.

“……”

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I… will. But…”

“…?”

I was left waiting, curious about what she had to say, yet no answer came.

Lucia, glancing at me from the corner of her eyes, remained silent for a moment.

With her gaze fixed on the floor, wearing an expression of deep thought, she took a small breath and opened her mouth.

“Are you headed somewhere right now?”

“I have no other plans for today.”

“Then please sit next to me. Your legs must be tired.”

She patted the space beside her with her hand. I felt thankful, but the fact that she was pointing to the bed left me feeling a bit uncomfortable.

I complied with Lucia’s request and sat next to her. The bed let out a slight creak under our combined weight, but fortunately, there was no major issue.

“Please eat comfortably. Don’t mind me.”

“…Understood.”

Lucia joined her hands and closed her eyes, offering a prayer before the meal. A soft, brief prayer followed.

After concluding her prayer, Lucia opened her eyes and grabbed a spoon in one hand.

She seemed ready to eat the soft porridge, but instead, she merely sat there, spoon in hand, staring at the bowl.

“……”

“…Saint?”

Aren’t you going to eat?

Just as I was about to ask that, Lucia set down her spoon and cautiously pushed her chair forward.

Then, she said she wouldn’t be eating because she didn’t have an appetite.

“I’m not hungry right now. I’m sorry for coming all this way just to serve me.”

“No, well…”

If she’s not hungry, what can be done?

“If you feel like eating later, please do.”

I nodded lightly without adding further comments.

Lucia, seemingly disinterested in dining now, arranged her hands neatly on her lap as she stared at the floor, while I observed her profile.

“It seems you have a concern.”

“……”

Despite her gaze glued to the floor, I could definitely see her head move slightly.

Lucia’s lips fluttered.

“I have a little.”

“It appears to be related to today’s events.”

“Yes…”

“Do you think you could share it with me?”

“……”

Lucia’s gaze, which had been directed towards the floor, shifted to me. Looking up, she emitted a small sound of discomfort and began to unload the weight of her worries.

Lucia spoke.

“I’m unsure if what I did was right. No, whether I’m doing it properly.”

Her worries were not trivial. She had kept the events of this morning, precisely the occurrences from last night to this morning, locked away in her heart.

The priest had stated.

“I fell under the demon’s temptation and lost control of my emotions. Because of that, the Grand Exorcism failed, and we all fell into danger. It was my mistake.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes.”

The saint replied firmly.

She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, not looking at me. Despite her assertive tone, her eyes displayed a hint of uncertainty as she spoke.

“It was clearly my fault. Beyond the failure of the Grand Exorcism, I am the one who fell into the trap, dragging you into this situation as well.”

“You can just call me casually.”

“…Understood. If that is what you desire, I shall do so.”

Lucia continued to list the mistakes she believed she had made.

Failing to quickly neutralize the demon, failing the Grand Exorcism, being incapacitated by the necromancer, and failing to notice the trap, not having the pendant that distinguishes magical beings ready in time, and dragging me into this—all of it.

Some were not solely her fault; some were mine, but Lucia felt even those were her failings.

“It’s all my negligence. I’m sorry.”

Her head fell low.

“Honestly speaking, I find myself questioning whether I deserve to be a saint.”

She even declared that she was unworthy of being a saint.

If one were to pick the next most positive person after Camila in our party, I would confidently say it was Lucia, but the Lucia before me was far from positive.

The usual image of her was completely gone, and she seemed to act like she was being pursued by something. Almost like an addict hiding in a dim room in the late afternoon, chugging down soju.

I sighed softly and cautiously opened my mouth.

“You don’t need to think that way.”

“No. No matter how I think about it…”

“You said you weren’t perfect.”

“Yes…?”

“Humans were not created perfect, right? Didn’t you tell me that before? God made humans imperfect.”

Lucia, who had been staring at the floor, raised her head.

I met her gaze. Her pair of blue eyes widened, taking me in.

“Didn’t you say God created humans imperfectly?”

“Yes… that’s correct.”

“Even the popes, who are representatives of God according to church law, have many flaws. Those dignified priests, regarded as the best among them, are just left staring blankly at their empty heads – why are you so gloomy about it?”

“……”

“Everyone makes mistakes at least once in their lifetime. Those historical figures did not start out impressive, right? They, too, grew up breastfeeding like everyone else and drawing on blankets.”

Lucia gazed silently at me, and I added nonchalantly,

“So please refrain from that defeatist dialogue.”

“……”

“Who else besides you should take the position of a saint in this world?”

At the very least, Lucia is far more fitting for the role than Veronica. Considering someone who frequents cafes to smoke or gets caught in gambling houses, there’s no way Lucia would fall short.

“If it’s too burdensome, then pass it on to someone else.”

“Are you suggesting I should hand over the position of the saint to another?”

“If that’s possible.”

“To whom specifically would you have me pass it?”

“Well… I don’t know.”

Scratching the back of my head, I casually blurted out any thought.

“How about a guy who found himself suddenly transformed from a man to a woman?”

“…Does such a person exist in the world?”

“Who’s to say? I’ve no idea. But I’m sure if you look around, you’ll find at least one.”

A small smile appeared on Lucia’s lips. It seemed like she found it amusing, her smile effective against my unintentional joke.

The smile lingered briefly before she turned her gaze back to the floor, the sunset light streaming through the window tinging her cheeks and ears a rosy hue.

Golden hair reminiscent of molten light and blue eyes, now glistening with emotion, blushed a deeper shade beneath that vibrant sunset.

In that moment, Lucia, awash in the sunset, appeared as beautiful as a watercolor painting, lost in thought.

“That was a joke. Don’t take it too seriously.”

“…Yes.”

“Feeling a bit better now?”

“Thanks to you, a little.”

It’s getting better.

In the room where the sunset had settled, we both fell silent, sitting on the bed, looking out at the torrential golden light outside.

It was only a few minutes later that I became aware of the warm touch of another hand resting atop mine.