The Monster Knight wants Parental Leave

As the first signs of morning began to illuminate the labyrinthine network of alleyways, the small harbor near the capital was slowly waking up.

This was the location from which the saintess was taken that fateful day.

Hidden under the shroud of a dark cloak, Lucia positioned herself within a narrow alley, carefully observing her surroundings.

‘It has to be one of these places.’

In the past, she had arrived here with the pure intention of fulfilling her assignment, oblivious to the underlying secrets.

Yet, now that she was back, her experience led her to suspect that the seemingly innocuous collection of warehouses were likely a hub of illicit activity, a black market where smugglers hid and exchanged their illegal goods.

These warehouses, brimming with concealed greed, overwhelmed her as she contemplated searching for a child amidst this disarray.

But she quickly snapped herself out of her daunting thoughts.

Even if the task was challenging, she preferred sifting through warehouses now, rather than guarding a child after being named a potential saintess.

With a careful step, she inspected every nook and cranny of the warehouse district, ensuring her presence remained unnoticed.

And then,

‘How revolting. It smells like a long-dead animal.’

As she neared what appeared to be the most aged warehouse in the area, a putrid scent filled her nostrils.

‘Surely, they couldn’t be here. No one could possibly be living in such a place…’

Despite her initial reluctance, Lucia found herself unable to turn away from the warehouse.

The building’s lock seemed incongruously sturdy and new against the decrepit exterior, as if it was guarding something valuable.

‘Why would such a decrepit warehouse have such an expensive lock…’

As Lucia grazed the lock, her white gloves remained dust-free.

The only explanation for this level of cleanliness was that it had been handled daily.

The heavy metal lock seemed impenetrable, securely fastened. But to Lucia, a Sword Master, it was merely another obstacle to overcome.

She manifested an aura blade from her hand, slicing through the lock as effortlessly as through soft pudding.

Then, she pushed the door open.

Inside, it was devoid of life. The putrid stench intensified, a cocktail of rotting refuse making her grimace involuntarily.

‘…It’s more repugnant than a battlefield.’

In essence, it was not an environment fit for any living being, let alone a saintess.

As she was about to exit and close the door behind her,

A sudden, chilling sound resonated, prompting Lucia to slam the door shut immediately.

An alarm?

She concealed herself as best she could, and the noise eventually faded.

Luckily, no one seemed to be coming to investigate the source of the sound. With that reassurance, Lucia quietly ignited the lamp she had brought along.

“……!”

With their vibrant, rare feathers and ostentatious appearances, these birds would drive even the most extravagant of nobles to distraction.

A multitude of exotic wild birds, unseen before, were trapped in cages, filling the dilapidated warehouse to capacity.

“‘Could it be the droppings and waste? I shouldn’t have underestimated this small harbor.”

The black market value of these birds would undoubtedly be astronomical.

Lucia proceeded to carefully survey the warehouse.

Thankfully, the exotic birds were quite serene, seemingly used to the presence of humans.

“Are there only birds? Where….”

She placed the lantern on the ground and removed her hood.

Focusing her attention, she initiated Spatial Synchronization.

Spatial Synchronization, a technique of the Sword Master, allowed her to align a particular space with her body to analyze it comprehensively.

As she closed her eyes and concentrated further, her keen senses meticulously canvassed the warehouse.

And she discerned a small, erratic heartbeat.

It was not the composed heartbeat of the birds that had become used to their condition.

Ceasing her technique, Lucia moved toward the source of the heartbeat.

A sense of unease and extreme nervousness permeated the air.

The faint, apprehensive breath was enough to unsettle even the intrepid Lucia.

“……”

Tucked away under a tattered piece of cloth atop a pile of feathers, there was a child.

The cascade of black hair peeking out from the worn fabric was the giveaway that it was a human.

The first sign of a saintess, hair as black as Lucia’s.

The second indication, the tender age of about five, barely beyond infancy.

If the third sign, the presence of holy power, were to be found, this little girl would undoubtedly be the saintess.

But before even confirming that, Lucia’s gaze was drawn to the child’s hand protruding from the ragged cloth.

A small, pale white hand.

It echoed a memory, a day she could never forget, no matter how many years passed.

‘It’s you.’

The bitter irony of a saintess sent by God inhabiting such a squalid place struck her.

“…..ah.”

Just as she was about to speak to the long-sought-after saintess, the sound startled the child.

And Lucia found herself at a loss for words.

‘…..Have I. Ever spoken to a child? Wait, can children of this age even talk?’

She was clueless.

Lucia, who hadn’t even attended the wedding of a dear friend’s daughter or the birth of a long-awaited granddaughter.

And even her last serving girl had long since grown beyond childhood.

In short, there was nothing in her life that had ever connected her with children.

Despite her urgency to save the saintess, she was completely unequipped to handle a child.

Bewildered, Lucia remained rooted to the spot, her gaze resting on the child.

A ragged piece of cloth stained with filth.

Hair tangled with feathers smeared in excrement.

A child trembling, whether from cold or fear, she couldn’t discern.

The pitiful sight of the child seemed cruel enough to warrant a curse at God himself more than anyone else in the world.

Lucia looked at the lantern in her hand.

The lone source of light in this forsaken place.

At the sound of the lantern being set down before her, the child winced and retreated further into the corner.

Lucia’s memory returned to a child she had found on a battlefield when she was seventeen.

The circumstances were alike, yet even that child had been older than the saintess.

‘Heath… He must be about 18 now.’

The eccentric lad who had become a part of her crew due to his innate talents came to mind.

While she sat in silent contemplation before the child, a faint rustling noise broke the silence.

Likely, the child, emboldened by Lucia’s quietude, was tentatively lifting the cloth to peek out at her.

Eventually, a single eye, previously concealed behind a curtain of hair, came into view.

“……Mom?”

Lucia was momentarily stunned.

The vivid golden eyes from her memories, and the final word uttered by the child before releasing her hand, flashed through her mind.

In the fourth year of the New Empire, nestled within the Geraci district, was a modest rural orphanage.

Late in the night, with all the lights extinguished, moonlight filtered in through an aged window, casting an ethereal glow over numerous bunk beds that filled the room.

From a corner of these many beds, a faint whimper echoed.

From the lower tier of the bunk bed that housed the sound, a little girl with rare black hair shivered, her brow beaded with cold sweat, as if tormented by a nightmare.

-Squeak

The noise originated from the upper bunk of the bed where the black-haired child lay.

The rickety bed quivered slightly as a girl, appearing to be about ten years old, nimbly climbed down to the younger child’s side.

“Annie, wake up. Annie.”

The older girl, who maintained an uncanny neatness despite her upbringing in an orphanage, whispered gently into the ear of the dreaming child, rousing her with care.

“……Hu, huaang!”

“Shh.”

“……Ah, sister…”

“Yes. That’s right. It’s your sister Mia. Did you have another nightmare?”

The young child, who had been sweating in her sleep, startled awake from her dream. However, Mia, the girl known by that name, seemed accustomed to it, comforting the child.

“…….”

Annie, still too young to articulate words properly, understood the term ‘nightmare.’

Yet, she was unable to discern whether it was a good dream or a bad one, thus she remained silent.

Because the dream involved her mother arriving in a resplendent carriage.

A dream as distressing as a nightmare, yet the happiest dream.

“Here.”

Mia extended her hand.

Instinctively, the girl reached out. After every dream, the young child would clutch her hand desperately.

Mia, having drifted through numerous orphanages, had encountered many children with such habits.

As per her observations, it was one of the habits that emerged when the last vestige of parental abandonment was the warmth of a mother’s hand.

Yet, it was strange that Annie, who had been deserted since birth and spent her entire life here, had this habit.

“……We’ll get in trouble.”

Annie spoke up, concern coloring her voice as Mia settled beside her.

Despite the shabby and crowded living conditions in the orphanage, there was a strict rule that each child should occupy a separate bed.

Though seemingly harsh, the rule was designed to prevent the children, who would inevitably leave the orphanage someday, from developing deep attachments to one another.

“Don’t worry. Once you fall back asleep, I’ll return to my bed.”

“……Uuung.”

The child responded with a weak nod, appearing weary.

“Annie, was today’s work too tough?”

Sensing Annie fumbling with her hand and the difficulty she was having falling back asleep, Mia gently initiated a conversation.

“……That contemptible, rubbish director. He fills my spot with a young child like you when I’m due to be adopted by the countess.”

Mia’s harsh words likely mirrored her guilt about Annie having to assume her responsibilities due to her imminent adoption.

“Someday when I make it, I’ll come back for you. I’ll work hard to ensure it’s not too long from now, so just hang on until then. We’ll definitely meet again.”

Annie simply nodded in response to Mia’s promise, laced with guilt and frustration.

“And remember what I told you? If those arrogant village kids bother you, hurl a shovel at them. Understand? They’re nothing.”

‘Dirty Annie! Stinky Annie!’

Mia’s words triggered the echo of the village children’s taunts in Annie’s mind, causing her to tightly shut her eyes.

The small village orphanage, suffering due to diminishing support from the Count of Geraci, assigned the children to carry out village chores.

Their task was to clean the village’s communal latrines, a loathsome job that even adults shunned. It seemed the most appropriate job to delegate to the pitiable children who had lost their parents.

The village children, having parents with such attitudes, mirrored their parents’ behaviors and even took to bullying the orphanage children.

“Sigh. You’re too kind to act on that advice. Go to sleep.”

Mia feigned sleep, closing her eyes as if to demonstrate.

As soon as Annie, clutching her hand, shut her eyes, Mia, who had been harshly reprimanding earlier, re-opened her eyes, a worried gaze fixed on the child.

Even with her eyes closed, Annie knew Mia was concerned about her.

However, Annie felt more loneliness at the prospect of having no one to fill the void of her empty hand, rather than the issues Mia worried about.

But Annie had faith.

She believed in what Mia, the wisest person she knew, once said—that dreams were the opposite.

Despite having lost her mother’s hand in her dreams numerous times, she believed that one day, her mother would appear before her, firmly hold her hand, and stay by her side.

So, even if she’s constantly plagued by regret, this isn’t a nightmare.