The scenery whipped past in a wild blur, and Mona completely checked out.
She no longer even had the energy to beg for her life in silence.
Unaware that the tied cord of her robe’s hood had slipped half-loose, she clutched the saddle pommel with desperate, white-knuckled strength just to stay alive.
“…”
Behind her, focused on urging the horse forward, Natasha had no idea how Mona was faring and felt a quiet streak of admiration.
‘I slowed down from our usual pace, but for someone who doesn’t ride, she’s handling this remarkably well.’
The more Natasha observed Mona Bellose, the more she proved different from how she looked.
Her initial impression had painted Mona as a frail, bookish scholar who belonged solely inside a laboratory.
Yet everything from splashing a self-defense reagent on a mercenary without hesitation to accompanying them on a monster subjugation and distinguishing herself there had been completely unexpected.
‘Is this what they call soft on the outside, steel on the inside…?’
It suddenly occurred to Natasha that she might be far weaker than the monster scholar before her.
Pride had forbidden her from passing her assignment to another knight, so she had boldly seated Mona on her horse, but her own condition was actually far from good.
Every time Mona’s back bumped against her chest and pulled away, Natasha tensed, dreading what bizarre sensation might register against her senses.
She had assumed sitting tandem would spare her from keeping her expression in check, but that hadn’t solved the problem.
‘Cowering over mere tactile distortion. I’m a disgrace as a knight.’
She chided herself, but truthfully, she wanted nothing more than to dismount this instant.
Much of her heightened revulsion toward physical contact today traced back to that mercenary.
The squishy, slime-coated sensation she had felt when grabbing the mercenaries’ hair still lingered on her fingertips, repeatedly putting her on edge.
‘Even through leather gloves, it felt sickeningly foul.’
Of course, she had not felt anything grotesque from touching Mona yet.
Still, when a bizarre sensation struck while touching someone you harbored no dislike toward, the emotional toll felt that much more devastating.
‘…Just focus on guiding the horse.’
Cold sweat beaded on Natasha’s skin as she made minute adjustments to the reins.
Just as they crossed the rolling hills and plunged into the enclosed forest, a violent gust tore through the trees.
A low howl whistled through the canopy.
“!?”
As the fierce wind swept between the dense trunks, the hood covering Mona’s head flipped backward.
At the same moment, a mass of frizzy, dull ash curls billowed in the draft.
‘Oh no…!’
Of all directions, Mona’s hair whipped straight toward Natasha’s face—the only exposed patch of bare skin she had.
Bracing for the grotesque sensation bound to follow, Natasha bit down hard on the inside of her cheek.
“!?”
Yet when Mona’s hair brushed her cheek, it felt impossibly soft, leaving Natasha reeling from an even deeper shock.
The horse gave a shrill whinny.
Flustered, Natasha hauled back hard on the reins without thinking, bringing the horse to an abrupt halt as its forelegs reared into the air.
Mona lurched violently backward, but Natasha’s body caught and steadied her, keeping her from falling or taking an injury.
It had simply scared the daylights out of her.
At the horse’s harsh cry echoing through the woods, Rihart and the Black Knights riding ahead reined in simultaneously and halted.
Lewis was the first to wheel his horse around and trot over toward Natasha and Mona.
Natasha looked utterly dazed, as if her spirit had slipped away.
When she merely sat frozen, having let go of the reins, Rihart snapped at her.
At the ice-cold voice, Natasha started slightly and offered an excuse.
Hugo spoke with a trace of concern beneath his words, and Natasha bowed her head slightly.
Rihart dismounted, gesturing with his chin toward a stream trickling through the undergrowth.
At the commander’s welcome declaration of a break, Mona staggered down from the horse and collapsed right onto the ground.
‘I just knocked on the gates of the underworld.’
While Mona held a hand over her furiously hammering heart, Lewis approached and pointed toward her head.
Hastily combing back her tangled, windblown curls with her fingers, Mona flipped her fallen hood back up.
She always kept her hair covered just in case, but clinging to the horse had demanded so much focus that she hadn’t even noticed the hood slipping off.
“…?”
While tying the cord tight, she felt an intense, lingering gaze on her back.
Glancing over, she met Natasha’s violet eyes, which resembled blooming violets, looking straight at her.
‘…Why is she staring so hard?’
Lewis seemed to sense something off about her as well, asking in a sober tone.
Natasha cut him down without a tenth of a second’s hesitation.
Hugo chimed in after returning from watering his horse.
Hugo and Natasha spoke in unison.
Leaving Lewis to bury his face in his hands with theatrical sobs, Hugo looked toward Natasha.
In truth, it was precisely the absence of a problem that left her so unsettled.
Why on earth had her sense of touch functioned normally the moment Mona Bellose’s hair touched her?
…Had it simply been a coincidence?
Given the capricious nature of Khaos itself, this might have been nothing more than an unpredictable, fleeting aberration, so Natasha forced herself to brush it aside.
‘It was soft…’
Yet the trace of gentle sensation, something she had not felt since the war, lingered on her cheek and refused to fade.
***
Thanks to the plea Mona had summoned every scrap of courage to utter right before departure, the group rode at a gentler pace than before.
They passed the spot where the twin-headed serpent had fled and continued pressing north along the boundary line.
Rihart said, scanning the map.
His target was a spot lying along the shortest direct route to the mountain range’s summit.
Lewis murmured, looking around.
Dominic looked at him with an incredulous expression.
Lewis let out an admiring hum at Dominic’s explanation.
At Hugo’s scolding, Lewis slumped his shoulders.
Hugo and Lewis bickering was such a routine occurrence that Dominic quickly stepped in to mediate.
Trading idle chatter like that, the knights traveled deeper into the woods for quite some time.
Dominic’s expression stiffened at the subtle shift in the surrounding landscape.
The heart of the forest had fallen eerily silent.
The rustle of wind through leaves had vanished without a trace, and shriveled, withered trees began encroaching upon their view.
Amid the contorted trees, downy tufts floating in the air caught their eyes.
Dominic called out to Mona, but she offered no answer.
She merely pushed up her thick glasses and stared quietly at the bluish clumps of fluff.
