The Scars on His Back
“The Black Fog will make it impossible to see ahead while we pass through it. Hold onto the hem of my clothes.”
“Understood.”
They stepped into the Black Fog. Just as Raphael had warned, their vision plunged into darkness at once.
I can’t see a thing.
Canna walked forward relying solely on the soft texture of his clothing. Then, at some point, the world suddenly brightened.
“……!”
It wasn’t only Canna who was startled. Raphael froze mid-step as well. The Black Fog that had filled the corridor vanished in an instant, as if it had never existed.
What it left behind was a scene straight from hell.
Jet-black monsters, people infected by the Black Fog, and corpses. The sight was gruesome enough to turn the stomach, yet Raphael spoke calmly.
“Duchess, we will continue.”
He strode back into that nightmarish chaos. Even as the monsters that spotted them charged with murderous intent, he never once slowed. He simply made a quiet request.
“Please look only at my back.”
The next moment, brutal sounds hammered against her eardrums. The crunch of shattering bone, the wet rip of tearing flesh, the heavy thud of bodies slamming into the floor, and the ceaseless groans of inhuman creatures.
Yet Canna kept her tight grip on Raphael’s clothing and obeyed his warning.
Please look only at my back.
He had said those words. He had said please.
So she should do exactly that.
“……!”
In the single instant her gaze slipped, Canna saw it after all. The scenes Raphael most certainly had not wanted her to witness.
He extended one long arm. His large hand seized a monster’s skull and crushed it with a sickening crack. He ran straight through the body of a charging infected and tore back out the other side.
The act looked so effortless that the bodies ripped apart by his hands might as well have been scraps of paper.
Oh my god…
Canna’s face turned deathly pale. The destructive slaughter was nothing a priest’s hands should be capable of. That was not human strength.
“Duchess!”
Claude’s voice rang out from the far side of the corridor.
“Duchess, are you all right!”
Claude finished off the last monster and came running. The sound of his voice brought Canna a rush of relief so strong it felt as if she could finally breathe again.
Thank goodness.
Claude was alive. He had not been infected.
“Are you unharmed? Are you injured anywhere?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry, Duchess. Please kill me for my failure.”
Claude’s face looked on the verge of tears.
“The Black Fog blocked the door. I knew you were in danger, but there was nothing I could do…”
Canna released Raphael’s clothing and turned to face him. His blond hair was a wild mess. The sight was so comical that it allowed her to calm down completely. Her composure returned.
“It’s all right. Fortunately Raphael came, so I was able to stay safe.”
At those words Claude bowed so deeply it seemed he might drop to his knees.
“Thank you, Priest! Or rather—you’re not a priest anymore, are you? I don’t know what I should call you, but thank you all the same!”
Claude was blurting out whatever came to mind.
Canna understood his confusion. The Black Fog had appeared on the ship and deliberately sealed the rooms as if it possessed intent. Then it had vanished just as suddenly.
It shared the same traits as the Black Fog that haunted Pailon Island.
She shared the conversation she had held with Jerome.
“I believe it disappeared because Jerome died. He said he had finally succeeded in gaining complete control over the Black Fog.”
……And that he wanted to talk.
Now that the danger had passed, the question rose in her mind.
What could he possibly have wanted to say?
What could a Black Apostle have to tell her?
Fortunately, there were few victims. It was late at night, so most passengers had remained shut inside their rooms. Once the commotion had completely died down, Canna went to Raphael’s quarters.
“I know you’re injured.”
The moment he opened the door, she spoke without preamble.
“Duchess?”
Canna strode inside. She carried a bag filled with medical supplies.
“I saw it earlier. There was a wound on your forearm.”
“It is nothing. Please pay it no mind.”
Raphael’s tone was curt enough to sound blunt. But she could not simply ignore it.
He was hurt because he was protecting me.
In truth, Canna was moved.
Someone willingly risking injury to save her was not something she had grown used to in this world.
She sat on the sofa and patted the spot beside her.
“Take off your shirt and come here. I’ll treat you.”
Raphael stood rooted in place, looking troubled. But Canna knew.
He’ll listen to me eventually. Why hesitate?
It was almost impossible to imagine Raphael refusing one of her orders to the end.
Sure enough, he sat with his back to her and began unbuttoning his shirt.
As I thought, he’s obedient.
Canna smiled with satisfaction. But the moment Raphael removed his shirt, the smile vanished from her face.
His back looked as if it had been forged from steel. The broad shoulders, the slim waist, the sharply defined muscles—it was almost sensual.
What shocked her, however, was not the muscular physique one would never expect from a priest.
His entire back was covered in scars.
How did he end up with scars like these…?
Suddenly Claude’s earlier words echoed in her mind.
The Great Temple had not spared him. They simply could not kill him.
Canna pretended not to notice. She examined only the fresh wound on his shoulder.
“This must have hurt.”
“……”
“You poor thing.”
Canna carefully laid her fingers on it. The touch was hot and hard, like iron fresh from the forge. The instant her body heat met his skin, she felt the muscles at the nape of his neck tense.
I won’t bite. I won’t bite. Relax.
Of course he would be wary. After all, Juhwa had once tried to smash his skull with a rock.
Until now he must have held back because I was legally Sylvien’s wife. I am his friend’s wife, after all.
A man who was practically a human weapon had silently endured it all this time. If Juhwa ever learned that, she would faint on the spot.
“I’m going to start. It might sting a little.”
Canna opened her bag and took out her tools. She cleaned the blood, disinfected the wound thoroughly, then applied an anti-inflammatory ointment.
Does it not hurt?
She glanced up, but Raphael continued staring straight ahead.
“How is it? Does it sting?”
No answer. Canna continued regardless.
“With this medicine it should heal quickly. I made it myself, and the effect is remarkable. It’s on a completely different level from anything you can buy.”
“I know.”
You know? How could you?
At the strange reply she unconsciously lifted her head, and their eyes met.
A slanted gaze looking down at her.
Raphael had only moved his eyes to stare at her.
“……”
Canna could not look away. It felt as though something had seized hold of her and refused to let go.
How can a person’s eyes…
be like this?
She found herself mesmerized, as if drawn into those purple irises.
Would a wounded wild beast have eyes like these? They seemed both melancholic and lonely, yet sharp enough to forbid any approach.
She had felt it from the first time their eyes met, but they were eyes that made it incredibly difficult to look away.
Without realizing it, Canna studied his face with open admiration. The sharp lines from forehead to nose to chin radiated pure masculinity. What surprised her was the puritanical restraint she sensed beneath it all.
Lips that looked as though they had never smiled, eyes that seemed unfamiliar with joy—ascetic, yet strangely dangerous. In other words…
He has an unexpectedly decadent air about him…
In that instant his gaze shoved her away as if repelled. It tore free. The sudden end to their locked eyes jolted Canna back to her senses.
“……”
Embarrassment flooded in belatedly. She had been staring at his face in a complete daze. The tips of her ears burned hot.
Of course he was handsome. She had seen more than a few handsome men since arriving here. To be acting so foolishly over it now.
But he had done the same thing.
Since he had also taken his time studying her face, it was only fair.
Canna cleared her throat and pressed down the flutter in her chest.
“All done.”
“Thank you.”
His voice was rigidly stiff.
“Forgive me for being rude, but I would appreciate it if you left now.”
It was an unusually forceful tone coming from him. Since she too wanted nothing more than to escape, she hurried out.
Only after the door clicked shut behind her did Canna release a sigh of relief. And then she could not understand her own reaction.
Why did I run out like I was fleeing?
She had not even wished him a good night. She had meant to properly thank him for saving her earlier, too…
I didn’t manage to do any of it.
It was too late to knock again now and say she had been grateful.
There will be another chance.