Unfortunately, I'm an Evil Villainess

Chapter 127 - The Real Demon (III)

It was a blur after that. As per protocol, a small guard accompanied him back, including me, while the rest of the squadron would continue with the day's task. I could not look at him on the way, because I couldn't look in his direction without seeing the long, deep, wide gash across his back. Dark blood kept pouring out despite the priests' best efforts. The beast's claw had crumpled through his armour and protective spells like paper. Bile rose in my throat. I couldn't hear anything except the pounding thumps of my heartbeat.

"Mikhail."

Blood kept soaking through the bandages, and they had to keep reapplying them. His skin was so pale. Lying facedown on a small bed in the infirmary, his eyes shut peacefully, he looked like a fallen angel. They forced me away to dress my minor wounds, and by the time they were done with me the priests from his side had dissipated and I was allowed to sit next to his bed.

"He's strong," Priest Fernandez told me grimly. "He'll make it."

Delilah handed me a handkerchief. I had not noticed when my friends had entered, nor that I was sobbing. I glanced around quickly. Even in my frenzied state of mind, I remembered that no one must see me cry. Delilah embraced me gently.

"It's okay," she whispered. "No one's watching."

I nodded, and tears flowed freely down my cheeks. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I was scared, and it would be improper. Now that there was no imminent threat, my mind was left to its own devices. Was this my punishment? Was this fate jeering at me? I clenched the handkerchief. For perhaps the first time in my life, I was genuinely afraid, and for the first and hopefully last time, I sincerely prayed.

When Father returned at night, I ran into his arms. He held me tightly.

"I heard what happened. Thank god Mikhail will survive, he's a good boy," he squeezed me. "This may happen again, my angel. No matter what we do, people will die; it is unavoidable in a conflict. Be ready to compose yourself. What matters most, always, is that you're safe."

"Yes, Father. Please take care of yourself as well."

More people were going to die because I was not the real saint. Their lives were going to be sacrificed to make me a real saint. Ironic, wasn't it? Yet I was accustomed to sacrifice, even some of my own pawns throughout my years of strengthening my position had to be strategically disposed for the greater good. The other wounded soldiers weighed little on my conscience, like all the other collateral of my countless crimes, having successfully convinced myself long ago they were an unfortunate necessity.

Not my Mikhail.

Not my Mikhail, who had almost become an extension of myself over the years, who had always stood by me from the very beginning, one of the only things in the world that was truly, unconditionally mine.

The next days went on as normal, as if nothing was wrong, with a different, much less handsome knight taking Mikhail's usual place by my side. I cut through the demons numbly, everything hazy, making steady progress as according to our revised plan. Finally, on the eve of the last day, I received news.

"Mikhail."

"I'm sorry, my lady."

He was lying on his side, surrounded by several priests. When I approached, he tried to sit up, and I immediately made him get back down.

"You should be."

I glanced at the priests. Priest Fernandez nodded to them and all except him scattered, and my mentor also stepped back a bit to give us some privacy.

"Whatever am I supposed to do, should you have died?"

His light blue eyes swelled with tears, and a faint flush crept onto his cheeks.