Tick, Tack.
Astria looked at the clock with a face full of dissatisfaction.
She had just finished a meeting. However, even though it was well past the appointed time, he hadn’t come back yet. Her eyebrows furrowed, reflecting her displeasure.
‘When you come back, I will tie you up and humiliate you.’
The thought of Sena trembling made her feel a bit better.
At that moment, the door quietly opened, and Betty bowed her head.
“Your Majesty, Sylvia of the Teutonic Knights requests an audience.”
An audience with the Empress was not granted to just anyone. Astria did not enjoy unscheduled meetings.
However, she had made an exception for the Teutonic Knights, allowing them to request an audience at any time. She favored them greatly, and showed unusual leniency toward them.
“Let her in.”
Sylvia, who had come to see her, bowed deeply. Astria glanced over her body. Her clothes were soaked with sweat. It seemed she had endured quite a strenuous training session today.
“Sena is nowhere to be seen. Did Your Majesty give him special orders?”
“Sena has gone out.”
‘I told him to take her with him.’
The physician, who couldn’t be left unattended for even a moment, was truly a handful.
“Hoh, alone?”
“We have posted guards. I instructed him to take escorts as well, but he did not comply.”
“Your Majesty.”
At that moment, Betty interrupted.
“Due to the meeting, the report is delayed. It seems that Sena left alone.”
“What?”
Astria could not believe her ears.
“He disappeared after saying he had left something in his room and hasn’t been seen since.”
‘I told them to be thorough when controlling the gates.’
Sena’s escape was impressive, but the guards failing to catch a frail physician was pathetic.
Astria looked at Sylvia with disdain.
Sylvia’s eyes, like those of a fierce cat, were ready to dash out at any moment.
Astria nodded slightly.
“Bring him back. That furball.”
**
“Have I been abandoned by God?”
The woman spoke to Sena in a dying voice. The pain was excruciating, but what terrified her more was the fear of being abandoned by God. She was a devout follower of the Church of Justitia.
“That cannot be.”
Sena wrapped a bandage around her blackened, necrotic arm. It was not an ordinary bandage. It carried Sena’s divine power.
‘I can’t be sure if it will be effective.’
He was taking a chance.
“Justitia only gives trials that one can endure. This too must be a path guided by God.”
Sena spoke with a smiling face, but inside, he was burning with worry. Perhaps, like her blackened hand, his insides were being consumed by anxiety.
‘How far has the infection spread? What is the source? It might already be too late for any intervention.’
The speed of the Black Death’s transmission was fast. Though it didn’t spread through the air, it was contagious through droplets. That alone made it highly threatening.
Above all, the primary vector of the Black Death, the rat flea, was difficult to control without changing the entire environment.
The slums were vast. Even if he ran around now, there was no way to stop the spread of the plague. It had probably already spread extensively.
‘This requires a national effort.’
There was a limit to what he could do alone. He needed to inform Astria. As soon as possible.
But before that.
“The Black Death, huh. Whoever named this disease did a fine job. It’s utterly devoid of hope.”
He needed to fully understand the situation.
Sena patted Perna’s head, who was looking up at him, and spoke first.
“Will you take care of your mother? Come to me immediately if things get worse.”
“Yes!”
Watching Perna run off, Sena turned his gaze to Garumel.
Outside, Sena crouched down and looked at the lush weeds growing despite the lack of light.
“It looks quite serious.”
“Because it is a serious matter.”
Garumel, who had approached from behind, looked down at Sena.
Garumel felt uneasy seeing Sena’s silver hair almost touch the dirt of the slums. Realizing he was worrying about someone else’s hair getting dirty, he made a puzzled expression.
“Will you help?”
Sena asked abruptly, without any prior explanation.
Garumel paused to understand and then nodded.
“Half-heartedly completing a request isn’t my style.”
“Thank god.”
Sena smiled faintly. He stood up, noticing a bit of black dirt clinging to the tips of his hair.
“When did you first discover this disease?”
“Around five days ago. The first infected person is already dead.”
Garumel stared at the dirt on his hair with an intensely annoyed look.
“And the other patients?”
“They are being confined here as soon as they show symptoms.”
Sena felt relieved. At least the most crucial step, isolation, was being handled properly. However, a question soon arose. How did they know it was an infectious disease?
“If we don’t, the Church will notice.”
“…So that’s why you asked if I was from the Church.”
“Exactly. You understand now? If the Church sees this, who knows what they’ll do.”
They would likely gather their Inquisitors and attempt to eradicate the slums.
Even the innocent would be labeled heretics and killed. With such visible black spots on their bodies, it would be more than enough to incite misunderstanding.
‘Still, it’s fortunate.’
If they hadn’t at least attempted this crude isolation, Sena wouldn’t have had a chance to intervene.
“Can it be cured?”
Sena looked at the ground with a somber expression, hands behind his back.
Squeak.
A gray rat, munching on something unidentifiable, glanced mockingly at Sena and scurried away.
“I should tell you the truth.”
“Why say something so obvious?”
“People already infected are hard to save.”
Sena spoke honestly.
“But we can prevent future victims. This is a contagious disease.”
“…I didn’t dismiss that suspicion entirely.”
Garumel shook his head, rejecting the notion of it being an infectious disease.
“If that were the case, my friends and I should have contracted this Black Death.”
“…No one has shown symptoms?”
“Not a single one. Even those who nursed the patients closely.”
Sena stroked his chin. That was strange. The Black Death did not discriminate.
If they had been in close contact with the patients, they should have been infected with high certainty, if not inevitably.
‘But I can’t be certain. The Black Death is from Earth. This world has two moons, so it can’t be exactly the same.’
Moreover, this was a world with mana and divine power. There would be differences.
This required careful, long-term observation.
“…Not all contact spreads contagious diseases. There must be a transmission route we haven’t identified yet, but I’m certain it’s an infectious disease. Please trust me.”
Garumel was not one to easily trust others.
However, Sena had a way of instilling confidence with just a simple plea for trust.
Garumel nodded quietly. There must be a reason for his insistence. At the very least, he knew more than a mercenary would.
“I’ll trust you.”
“When contacting patients, please wear a helmet that covers your entire face. Under no circumstances should you remove it.”
“Is it really necessary to be that cumbersome?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
Garumel scratched his head in frustration but nodded.
“…And, please ensure strict isolation, even if it requires harsh measures.”
“That won’t be difficult.”
Garumel grinned, baring his teeth.
“But, is it really that serious?”
Garumel didn’t fully grasp the situation.
To him, the primary concern was keeping this from reaching the Church.
He didn’t understand the gravity of the ‘plague’. Sena knew he had to be brief for the message to stick.
“Half.”
“Half of the infected die? That’s severe.”
“No.”
Sena closed his eyes for a moment, then turned his body towards Garumel and spoke.
“Half of humanity.”
“That’s the estimated death toll if this plague is left unchecked.”
**
Half of humanity.
It was a statement that couldn’t even be considered a joke.
How many would believe such an absurd claim?
But it was also impossible to dismiss it entirely.
“Is anything bothering you?”
“Even if it’s tough, please bear with it for a little while. You can get better.”
“Really, Justitia hasn’t abandoned you. Don’t say such things.”
Sena didn’t bat an eye at the wounds Garumel found hard to look at.
He treated everyone with a bright smile, despite the clear difference in their social status.
“How can I possibly receive treatment from someone like you?”
“I’m not a noble. I’m from the slums too.”
Even when it was an obvious lie.
Garumel might have dismissed it if it had been just once or twice. He had seen people being kind to others a few times.
But—
It had been eight hours.
That was how long Sena had been treating people.
Eight hours spent treating strangers without expecting anything in return.
The intensity of the work was not low, but Sena was still smiling.
This couldn’t be explained by anything other than a genuine crisis for humanity. That’s why Garumel decided to believe him.
If he didn’t help Sena, half of humanity might perish.
“What’s your dream?”
Sena was holding Perna in his arms, stroking her head.
Perna was a child from the slums. Naturally, she was dirty. Water for washing was an excessive luxury.
Sena’s white robe quickly became soiled, but he didn’t care and continued to cherish Perna.
Garumel thought, those stains couldn’t diminish Sena’s light at all.
“A dream?”
“Yeah. Something you want to do, something you want to achieve later.”
“I want to become a knight!”
“A knight?”
“Yes! I want to become a knight so that my mom can rest from working!”
Perna’s mother, lying on the bed, turned her back and cried silently, covering her mouth.
“Perna will become a great knight. Because I’ll pray for you every day. Justitia listens to me quite well, so you can believe it.”
‘Amazing.’
It was hard to pinpoint what exactly was amazing.
Not wrinkling his nose in a smelly place?
Not blinking an eye at the horrific wounds that would make even non-believers cry out to God?
Working tirelessly for hours without rest, treating patients?
Facing the people of the slums without prejudice? And all this stemming from a simple request from someone he met for the second time today?
No, it wasn’t any of those.
Garumel was amazed at him.
He had no reason to live. He chased money because he felt a mercenary should do so.
The only value he found was in strength. With strength, he could do anything. That’s why he never understood knights.
Why use that great strength for others and not for oneself?
But now, he felt he could understand the old knight he once killed.
“Thank you for taking care of me, someone so insignificant, and for giving such warm… such warm words to my child.”
“I should be the one thanking you. Your adorable daughter is giving me strength.”
Garumel felt that dying for the silver-haired boy in front of him wouldn’t make him feel his life was wasted.
He felt he might find a reason to live.
His emotions were a complicated mix. Unable to contain them, Garumel stood up.
He wanted to wield his sword with these feelings. It felt like he might reach something.
“I’m going to go out for a while.”
“Can you check when the herbs will arrive? I asked a few hours ago, but they’re late.”
“Got it.”
Garumel hurriedly grabbed his sword and stepped outside. The cool night air greeted him. But as soon as he stepped out, he saw someone.
A knight with flowing pink hair. Her suppressed magic power was so extreme that he hadn’t felt her approach until she was right there.
And beside her were the three mercenaries he had sent for the herbs, their faces battered.
Sylvia, approaching Garumel with a clear look, drew her sword with a simple motion.
She gritted her teeth.
“Finally found you, kidnapper. You b*stard.”
