A few moments after parting with the boy, this was in her head, "Who would have thought?" as she started reminiscing their few more exchange of words back.
Martha Deus Jerusalem, the head of the Sacred Omen, was in an unusual predicament. Normally, her days were filled with orchestrating plans, issuing commands, and ensuring her organization remained undefeated. Yet here she was, walking beside Gleren Stasis, her sworn enemy, playing the part of a gracious local. How did this happen? And why did she, of all people, offer to help him?
It was a calculated decision—at least, that's what she told herself. The truth was far more chaotic. She had been observing him from afar, his confused scratching of the head and general "lost puppy" energy drawing her attention. Then, seeing an opportunity, she made her approach.
Gleren accepted her offer graciously, his smile so genuine it was almost disarming. Almost.
"This place sure is a wonder," Gleren said, his eyes darting between the massive columns, the detailed statues, and the striking artwork. He looked like a child seeing fireworks for the first time. "Everything's just... wow. It feels like I'm in a museum, but it's a whole city!"
Martha chuckled softly, finding his enthusiasm contagious. "The Vatican is like that. It's a melting pot of art, culture, and faith. They call it a holy city for good reason."
"Yeah, I can see why," Gleren replied, snapping a photo of a nearby fountain with his phone. He fumbled a bit, nearly dropping it. "Oh, man. My little sister would kill me if I didn't send her pics."
"You have a little sister?" Martha asked, trying to sound casually interested while mentally filing away the information.
"Yeah, she's the princess of the family. Spoiled rotten," he said with a fond smile. "Always lecturing me about being more cultured. If she knew I was here and didn't learn about the history of every little thing, she'd start sulking."
Martha's chest tightened for reasons she didn't fully understand. Was it envy? Or something else? The memory of her own sister surfaced—a sister she lost long ago. Shaking off the thought, she focused on Gleren's cheerful demeanor.
"I'm sure she means well," Martha said. "You're lucky to have someone who cares that much about you."
"Well, lucky is one way to put it," Gleren joked, snapping another picture. "Though I'm sure she thinks I'm hopeless. Guess I don't exactly scream 'cultured' with my vibe, huh?"
Martha chuckled again, genuinely amused. "No, but you have your charm."
Gleren blinked. "Charm? Me? Nah, you've got the wrong guy."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You're not used to compliments, are you?"
"I mean, I'm used to people calling me a nuisance, if that counts," Gleren said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "But thanks, I guess."
The two continued walking, Gleren pausing every now and then to marvel at the intricate architecture. Martha couldn't help but find his curiosity endearing, though she reminded herself that she wasn't here to admire him—she was here to learn more about him. Yet the more they talked, the more she realized he wasn't quite the person she expected from the reports. He was far more... normal.
***
Finally, after winding through the picturesque streets, they arrived at Gleren's lodging. The building wasn't as extravagant as the ones they'd passed, but it had a quaint charm. Gleren let out an appreciative whistle.
"Nice! This place has that old-timey vibe. Feels like it's straight out of a period drama," he said, already imagining himself as a brooding nobleman in a fancy coat.
"I'm glad you approve," Martha replied with a smile. "It seems like a good place to rest."
As Gleren turned to her, an idea struck him. "Hey, how about I treat you to something as a thank-you? You've been really helpful."
Martha raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How gallant of you. But there's no need. You already saved me from my little predicament earlier."
"That? Nah, that wasn't much. Besides, it's not every day a guy gets to thank a beautiful—uh, I mean, a helpful guide."
Martha's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in slightly, her voice teasing. "Are you sure you're not trying to make me feel even more indebted to you?"
Gleren's face turned a shade of red that would put a tomato to shame. "N-No! I mean—uh—okay, maybe I am a little."
Martha chuckled softly. "You're fun to tease, Gleren."
"Great, now I'm the butt of the joke," he muttered, scratching his head again.
She straightened, still smiling. "Thank you for the offer, but I really must be going."
"Well, thanks again for the help," Gleren said, bowing slightly. "Stay safe, okay?"
As Martha turned and began walking away, Gleren suddenly smacked his forehead. "Wait, I forgot to ask her how to get to the church entrance from here!"
***
Martha's smile faded as she took a turn into one of the quieter alleyways. She hadn't been walking long when a group of five rough-looking men appeared, blocking her path. They were the kind of opportunistic thugs who thrived in shadows, even in a place as sacred as the Vatican.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" one of them sneered, his eyes raking over her. "A lost little lamb?"
The others laughed, their leers making Martha's skin crawl. She could take them out easily—her powers would make short work of them. But doing so in a populated area would risk exposing her identity.
"Why don't you come with us, sweetheart?" another thug said, reaching for her arm.
Before he could touch her, a strong hand grabbed his wrist. The thug yelped in pain as Gleren stepped into view, his expression icy.
"Get your filthy hands off her," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
Martha blinked in surprise. She hadn't sensed him approaching. How had he managed to sneak up on them so quietly?
The other thugs weren't amused. "Who the hell are you?" one snarled, pulling out a knife. "Think you're some kind of hero?"
"Not really," Gleren said, cracking his knuckles. "But I can't stand guys who pick on women."
***
The thug lunged, knife flashing. Gleren sidestepped smoothly, catching the thug's wrist and twisting it. The knife clattered to the ground as the thug cried out in pain.
"Pro tip," Gleren said, his tone almost casual. "If you're gonna use a knife, make sure you actually know how to handle it."
Another thug swung a metal bat, but Gleren caught it mid-swing with one hand, the impact reverberating through the alley. The thug's jaw dropped.
"That's not how you use a bat," Gleren quipped, pulling it out of the thug's grasp with ease. He tossed it aside, the clang echoing through the narrow street.
The remaining thugs hesitated, glancing at each other nervously. Gleren crossed his arms, giving them a bored look. "Well? You guys done yet?"
Realizing they were outmatched, the thugs grabbed their unconscious companions and bolted. "We'll remember this!" one of them shouted over his shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah," Gleren muttered, waving dismissively. "Don't trip on your way out."
He turned back to Martha, his expression softening. "You okay?"
Martha nodded, though her heart was racing for reasons she couldn't quite explain. "Yes. Thank you."
"Good," Gleren said, running a hand through his hair. "Glad I made it in time. Let me walk you somewhere safe."
Martha hesitated. "I can't just—"
"I insist," he said firmly. "I'd feel bad if something happened after I left."
Martha couldn't help but smile. "You're really something, you know that?"
"Uh, thanks?" Gleren said, looking a little flustered.
"You must make women cry a lot," Martha teased, her tone light.
"What? No! Where did that even come from?" he protested, his face turning red again.
Martha found herself laughing softly. This boy was so different from the cold, calculating enemy she'd envisioned. He was gallant, yes, but also awkward and endearing. It was… dangerous.
***
As they reached a safer part of the city, Gleren pulled out his phone. "Hey, would you like to exchange numbers? That way, if you ever need help—"
Martha stared at him, her expression blank. Then, to his surprise, she looked away, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment. "I… don't have a phone."
"You don't—wait, seriously?" Gleren said, his jaw dropping. "How do you even function?"
Martha's shoulders slumped. "I manage…"
Gleren sighed, shaking his head. "Well, if you ever decide to join the 21st century, let me know."
Martha laughed softly, finding his exasperation oddly charming. "I'll keep that in mind."
***
As they parted ways, Martha couldn't help but glance back at him. The warmth in her chest was unexpected, almost unwelcome. This was her enemy. She was supposed to gather information on him, not feel... this. What was this, anyway? Admiration? Curiosity? Attraction? She wasn't naïve enough to think it was simple.
Walking back to her hidden domain beneath the city, her thoughts were a whirlwind. Gleren wasn't what she expected. He wasn't the cold, calculating enemy she had envisioned. He was impulsive, awkward, and surprisingly kind. And that kindness was dangerous—dangerous because it made her feel things she couldn't afford to feel.
"This is bad," she murmured to herself, her cheeks still warm. "I can't let my guard down. Not with him."
Even as she resolved to steel herself, her fingers brushed against the spot on her arm where he had lightly touched her to check if she was okay. The memory of his worried expression replayed in her mind, unbidden.
Shaking her head, she scowled. "Focus, Martha. You're the leader of the Sacred Omen. You don't have time for… whatever this is."
Yet despite her inner pep talk, her mind kept circling back to the same thought:
Why does he make me feel so… alive?
***
Back in her underground base, Martha paced the room, her boots clicking against the stone floor. Her subordinates watched her from a distance, exchanging nervous glances. Their usually composed leader was clearly agitated.
"Uh, Your Eminence?" one of them ventured hesitantly. "Is everything all right?"
Martha stopped, glaring at him. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"
The subordinate shrank back. "N-No reason."
With a huff, Martha sat down at her desk, resting her chin in her hand. She had reviewed every interaction she'd had with Gleren, trying to figure out what about him unsettled her so much. He was just a boy—a cute boy, yes, but still just a boy.
"A very cute boy," she muttered, then immediately groaned, burying her face in her hands. "What is wrong with me?"
Her thoughts wandered to his awkward jokes, his gallant rescue, and the way he insisted on escorting her to safety. It had been so long since anyone treated her with such genuine kindness. Most people either feared her or respected her out of obligation. But Gleren? He seemed to like her just for being… herself.
"That idiot," she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.
She decided to go out of her lair, again, trying to play it off as a reconnaissance.
***
As fate would have it, their paths crossed again later that afternoon. Gleren had ventured out when he wasn't able to find where Lorain was; to explore more of the city when he spotted a familiar figure near a smaller church.
"Martha?" he called out.
She turned, her expression one of surprise—and something else he couldn't quite place. Relief, maybe?
"Gleren," she greeted, her voice warm. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," he said, grinning. "Don't tell me you're stalking me."
Martha raised an eyebrow. "If I were stalking you, you wouldn't know."
He laughed, holding up his hands. "Fair point. But seriously, I'm glad I ran into you. I, uh, realized I never thanked you properly for helping me out yesterday."
"I believe you did," she said with a small smile.
"Well, maybe I wanted an excuse to see you again," he joked.
Martha's cheeks flushed slightly, but she quickly masked it with her usual composure. "You're quite persistent, aren't you?"
"Hey, when I meet someone as cool as you, I can't help it," he said with a wink.
She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. For a moment, they stood there, the noise of the bustling city fading into the background.
Neither of them realized how complicated their relationship was about to become.