Red Riding Hood - Chapter 40
When Cinq, now able to run errands alone without Six, rang the temple bell, Quiel mustered his courage.
Dressed in freshly pressed white priestly robes, wearing the white goat mask, and holding a bottle of wine for Vinya, he stepped outside.
At the back door of the temple, which connected to the graveyard, stood the girl.
Her red hood stood out so vividly it seemed to burn his sensitive sight. She clutched a basket tightly in her small, delicate hands, her dainty fingers adorned with petal-like nails moving rhythmically in a way he couldn’t understand. Strands of bright golden hair, not fully hidden, hung over her bowed face, glinting like spider silk.
Ah, Cinq.
You surpass all imagination.
Your lowered eyelids shimmered like pearls, and the flutter of your lashes was like the wings of a butterfly. Your small, upturned nose seemed blessed simply for existing, and your soft pink lips—how divine they were. The faint humming carried on the wind revealed your desire to roast a handful of almonds to perfection.
It was utterly meaningless, yet your song carried more significance to me than the most eloquent speeches of any performer.
As he approached the girl, his heart began to pound. So forcefully that it felt as if his entire body had become a drum, resonating with its rhythm.
In a trembling voice like that of a goat, he spoke.
“Cinq, come here. I’ve been waiting for you.”
At the unfamiliar voice, the girl stopped humming and slowly raised her head, looking up at him.
Ah, her eyes were a clear blue.
A pristine blue that neither pale snow nor damp moss could ever dare face.
His young heart felt as though it would burst with passion.
***
Cinq.
Seasons passed—spring, summer, autumn, and winter—again and again between us.
In that time, I became not just a young priest but the true priest, the highest figure in this village, while you… you became a woman.
You no longer flitted like a red butterfly. The beasts, with their filthy gazes and drooling mouths, made sure of that.
You wrapped yourself in a red hood and thick clothing. Even your already small body seemed to shrink further, and you clutched your basket to your chest like a lifeline, walking cautiously.
Your fear is my fear. Your anxiety is my anxiety.
Ah, Cinq.
I can barely resist the urge to draw your rosy cheeks close and gaze into your blue eyes as I whisper devilish suggestions.
Cinq, kill your vile keeper.
I’ve been raising a lamb just for you. On the day your hands are stained with blood, that lamb will be your offering. I’ll personally slit its throat to absolve your sins!
But she remained innocent, and his veins burned with unfulfilled longing.
In the end, he spiked the wine with a sleeping potion.
***
A late confession…
Whenever he felt like he would burn up with longing, he often donned his veil after removing the goat mask and walked the forest paths at night to see Cinq.
Or rather, to see Cinq asleep.
It wasn’t for any particular reason. He simply wanted to see her.
From beyond the curtained window, he traced her sleeping silhouette. If she awoke to his presence and glanced toward the window, he would flee like a startled rabbit.
At first, that had been enough. Just seeing her asleep through the window was enough to mend his tattered heart, sending it pounding wildly again.
But eventually, it wasn’t enough.
So, he devised a special sleeping potion—one that left no harmful effects on the fragile human body, merely ensuring deep slumber—and mixed it into the wine.
On the night Cinq took the wine, he walked the forest paths as usual, wearing the veil after removing his goat mask. The long veil fluttered behind him like wings, trailing his tense, rigid steps.
The sleeping potion in the wine seemed to have worked well, as Vinya and Six were soundly asleep, showing no signs of waking.
But what about Cinq?
Quiel stood before her bedroom door, trembling like someone who had fallen into an icy lake. His shadow stretched across the worn wooden door, dark and foreboding. Seeing that shadow, he felt as though he might lose his mind.
God.
A man sneaking into a woman’s bedroom after secretly drugging her—how depraved.
That dark shadow felt like the embodiment of his demonic nature, and it was unbearable.
In a sudden, impulsive motion, he thrust out his hand and pushed against the door. The bedroom door swung open with a loud creak, a sound he hadn’t intended to make.
Frozen like a wooden plank, Quiel stood in the doorway. Even then, his pink eyes darted around frantically, searching for her.
