Chapter 2
Celia had always been alone.
She had been abandoned on the outskirts of the Holy Nation moments after birth, her umbilical cord still untended. A priest found her before a monster could make a meal of her and took her to an orphanage, saving her life.
It wasn’t a terrible place. The orphanage was old and shabby, but warm. They sometimes went hungry, but affection was never in short supply.
The problem was Celia. She alone was the flaw.
“Celia’s turning into a monster again!” one of the children cried to a priest.
With sun-bright hair, milky skin, and pale jade-green eyes, Celia was the kind of beautiful child people liked on sight.
And just as quickly, they came to hate her.
Because of the curse mark on her left shoulder.
People at the orphanage whispered that Celia had been given such a beautiful face so she could bewitch others and spread her curse.
“She must be a witch or a monster.”
“Yeah. They say witches are beautiful. She’s trying to kill us with her curse.”
Whenever young Celia overheard the children whispering, she thought the same thing.
They’re right. That must be why my parents abandoned me.
Even the priest’s forced kindness hurt. Celia knew it wasn’t sincere, and that made every gentle touch cut deeper.
The worst days were when the seizures came.
The children would scream that Celia was finally turning into a monster.
“Celia!”
A priest screaming her name. The children whispering around her.
Whenever it happened, Celia wanted to crawl under her bed and hide. She would have, if not for the burning pain in her left shoulder.
But it hurt too much.
All she could do was writhe.
For some reason, the curse did not merely harm the people around her. It hurt Celia, too.
Screams tore from her throat. Her sweet little face twisted grotesquely, her limbs convulsing like an overturned spider’s.
The pain was too much for her small body to control.
No one understood how much it hurt. Not the priests, not the other children.
They only found the sight of her thrashing disgusting.
Whenever the convulsions started, the adult priests pinned her down. They crushed her head against the floor, held her still even after she wet herself, and tore off her shirt.
The black scar of the curse on her left shoulder lay exposed.
“It hurts! It hurts so much!”
Ignoring Celia’s tearful pleas, the priests poured holy water over the curse. That only made her thrash harder, like an insect doused in poison.
Dozens of eyes crowded the windows, watching her writhe beneath the priests’ hands.
“Look at her.”
“Ugh. Gross.”
Celia understood the children who found her repulsive. She understood the priests who couldn’t hide their contempt. Anyone who spread rumors about Celia or treated her badly inevitably came to harm. They fell down stairs. Sometimes they even died.
The curse was real.
Celia truly was a cursed child. Of course they hated her.
“Celia is cursed. That wicked child should be put to death.”
“Celia has holy power. It is our duty to raise every child who possesses it and send them safely to the Holy Nation.”
That was the priest’s argument, but Celia knew better.
They were afraid of her.
They feared her curse would turn on them, and her holy power gave them an excuse not to act.
“Celia. You may be cursed through and through, but merciful Sola has granted you holy power. We mere believers cannot know His will. But don’t let that power make you arrogant. If you want to keep the life you’ve somehow managed to preserve, behave yourself.”
Even so, Celia was grateful to the priest for not throwing her out.
“If we don’t let you play tag with us, are you going to curse us too?”
“You looked so disgusting when they poured holy water on you. All that squirming! You looked like a squashed caterpillar!”
She was grateful to the children, too. Even when they mocked and bullied her, at least they still let her play with them.
No matter how their hatred stung, no matter how cruel their words, she endured it.
Even so, she was allowed to live.
And Celia wanted to live.
“I don’t have to play tag. I’ll play with my doll.”
That was all.
She just wanted to live.
Celia learned early that she didn’t even have the luxury of being sad. So she taught herself to be grateful simply to be alive.
She clung stubbornly to the holy power bestowed upon her by Sola, god of the Western Continent, and used it as her shield.
She took citizenship in the Holy Nation because she didn’t want to die. When even that failed to make her feel safe, she became a holy knight.
The remote orphanage where she had grown up was shut down not long afterward, officially because the area was unsuitable for raising children. Those who feared her curse kept silent and scattered throughout the Holy Nation, vanishing like a mirage.
Once Celia became a holy knight, she hid the curse beneath her armor. She put on a cold mask and never let anyone close.
And so she remained alone.
She had never cried or leaned on anyone, never collapsed or admitted weakness.
She had endured it all alone. Always.
Endurance was the only thing she knew, so she survived through sheer stubbornness. She buried loneliness in training, sorrow in monster hunts, and pain behind a gag clenched between her teeth.
That was how she had lived.
But now…
She had to raise this little fox.
She had no idea where to even begin.
* * *
Celia stared at the cloth-covered iron cage, observing an impromptu moment of silence.
She had gotten up in the middle of the night without even rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her blond hair was a strawlike mess, and she hadn’t bothered to fix it.
That bizarrely suggestive dream had left her unsettled.
Who was that man?
Of all things, she had dreamed of being held that tightly by a man.
Celia had never been hugged by anyone in her life, not even as a child in the orphanage. Worse, the man had been absurdly beautiful. Far too beautiful to forget, even for someone she’d only seen in a dream.
She had never seen a man who looked so… indecent.
Celia had spent her entire life surrounded by holy knights who fought monsters for a living. Never once had she encountered a man capable of entrancing someone simply by existing.
I don’t even have that much of an imagination. Where did he come from?
Celia abruptly came to her senses and shook her head.
This wasn’t the time. She needed to figure out what to do.
After sitting blankly for another moment, she rose hesitantly and approached the cage.
Should I check on it?
She carefully lifted the cloth.
Inside the iron cage, the badly injured nine-tailed fox lay unconscious.
Celia’s heart sank.
How was she supposed to treat it?
Treat it herself? Was that truly what she was expected to do?
How was someone cursed like her supposed to cradle a young life and nurse it back to health?
If it stayed in her hands, it would surely die.
The fox was barely breathing. If she did nothing, it looked unlikely to survive until the next day.
A low, pained growl broke through her panic.
“S-Sorry.”
Celia apologized awkwardly and lifted the nine-tailed fox from the cage.
Holy water probably wouldn’t work on a demon.
She dressed its wounds with medicinal herbs she had received from the healing priests, though she had no idea whether she was applying them properly. Then she spent another long while simply staring at the suffering fox.
A faint whimper escaped it in its sleep.
Animals and monsters tended to hide any sign of weakness when badly injured, so it sounded less like a cry of pain than the whimper of a fox trapped in a nightmare.
“Shh…”
Celia gathered the fox, swaddled tightly in bandages, into her arms.
The instant its warmth touched her skin, goosebumps rose along her arms. The presence of another living creature against her body felt utterly foreign.
What was she supposed to do with it?
Celia sighed.
Then a certain healing priestess came to mind.
She was sharp-tongued and abrasive, but not a bad person. She might complain, but she’d never ignore a suffering creature. She took her calling seriously, and her complete lack of pretense made her easy to trust.
And for some inexplicable reason, she seemed to like Celia. Celia had always found that baffling. Right now, she was grateful for it.
Asking for a little help should be all right.
She had never asked anyone for a favor before.
One troublesome creature had dropped into her lap, and already she was doing things she’d never done in her life.
“I need to get you grown up and out of here as soon as possible. So hurry up and grow, all right?”
Celia gently rocked the little fox in her arms, her whisper almost a song.
“Grow up quickly and become independent. Once you’re an adult, I’ll let you go without regret. You’ll be free to fly away like a butterfly.”
Free.
Unlike Celia, who could never escape her curse.
“You’re a demon now, but you’re the child of a Celestial Fox. Maybe if you keep training, you can become a sacred beast too.”
The fox gave no response.
“Become a sacred beast and be loved to your heart’s content. Make lots of friends. Meet a pretty fox and fall in love. Be free and happy.”
Without realizing it, Celia gave the little fox every dream she’d ever had for herself, murmuring them like a lullaby.
By the time she finished, the fox had fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Celia had just placed it back in the cage when a sharp gasp escaped her.
Without warning, a stabbing pain tore through the scarred mark on her left shoulder.
With the ease of long practice, Celia swallowed her groan and withdrew to the far end of her bedroom, where she put a gag between her teeth.
By now, she knew how not to cry. She knew how to swallow her groans. She knew all of that.
But this pain—the terrible agony eating away at her life—was something she could never get used to.
While the fox slept peacefully, Celia endured the pain alone through the quiet night.
* * *
The next morning, the fox was burning with fever.
Celia finally called for the healing priestess.
True to her blunt nature, the woman’s first response to Celia’s request was a pointed question.
“Captain, since when do you ask anyone for favors?”
Even so, she immediately gathered her things and followed Celia, a faint spring in her step.
“Are we finally getting a little closer?” she muttered under her breath, so quickly that Celia could not be certain she had heard correctly.
Whatever the healing priestess had said, she seemed pleased. Celia decided that was a good sign and showed her the fox.
The healing priestess had been humming cheerfully before she stopped dead and clapped both hands to her cheeks.
“A demon!”
Her shriek could have put a dolphin to shame.