Prayer
The capital of the Lugbelk Kingdom was a place teeming with endless streams of people. It was guarded fiercely by soldiers of the royal army, a hub where countless individuals and fortunes flowed in and out. But the hero didn't exactly welcome his arrival here. After all, he had failed.
The Demon King's escape had turned the subjugation into a fiasco, and he'd led the dozens of soldiers the king had assigned him straight into the jaws of death, wiping them out entirely. And worse still, he hadn't even managed to deal with the Demon King—nor had he protected the one woman he truly loved, the lady Cecilia Lamiris. Because of that, the hero was broken.
No matter how nobly or honorably he acted, no one acknowledged it. People only cared about results. That despicably cowardly Demon King had fled twice. Even now, recalling the chilling mana that oozed from that man—hidden with precision yet impossible to miss—sent shivers down his spine. But when he thought back, the fact that it had all been some kind of puppet only filled him with bewilderment.
He'd been grinding his teeth in rage right up to the end, but as he walked silently toward the royal castle, the time to think allowed his thoughts to line up one by one. The Demon King... recalling what happened in the Demon King's Castle, the woman had said something that made the Demon King out to be a man named Kudbeka. So what the hell was that demon bitch who'd been trailing alongside Kudbeka—and was now locked in his basement—supposed to be?
At first, he'd assumed she was just a servant. But after raping her today, that didn't hold up either. Seeing her virgin blood profusely staining his cock had already erased any such doubts. Black hair, red eyes—all classic demon traits. She had horns too, but for some reason, he couldn't sense the distinctive demonic mana from her. She kept insisting she was the Demon King, desperately covering for her master, but such nonsense wouldn't fly with a hero like him. He could only scoff.
The sight of that pathetic little thing claiming to be the Demon King was so ridiculous that a laugh escaped him unbidden. But the smile didn't last. His expression soon turned icy again. He'd lost everything, and now even his last remaining status as the hero was about to be stripped away. Of course he was tormented.
"Haa..."
He'd lost his loyal subordinates. His beloved woman. There was nothing left to anchor his sanity. But he had no intention of dying for treason against the state, so he calmly reined in his emotions. His enemy was the demons and the Demon King, not the kingdom—it felt wrong to lash out at the wrong target.
He'd spent the past week rampaging through the Demon Realm, slaughtering every pack of demons he found. But it still didn't feel like enough. Even if the king stripped him of his hero title upon arriving at the castle, he'd throw himself into avenging Cecilia Lamiris, burning his body to ashes if need be. He strode forward boldly, yearning for the extinction of all demons.
*
Dried semen and virgin blood clung unpleasantly to her thighs and face. With no water available, she'd wiped them off with her hands as best she could, but it hadn't been enough to clean properly. The hair stuck to her side had hardened into a bizarre mess. Clutching her throbbing body and curling up only made the bruises everywhere ache more; even shifting slightly took immense resolve.
"Eut, haaek."
No matter that she was a demon, could anyone really kick and punch the body of a girl who looked so young without mercy? Sure, he hated demons enough that gender or age shouldn't matter. But having that hatred turned on her made it pure agony. Her legs still trembled faintly.
Her senses as a man had been dull, yet as a woman, they were hypersensitive—her gut still burned, her insides twisted in a way she couldn't shake. Damn that hero. Why had she opened her eyes in the body of Lobelia Yuris, right on the brink of death, only to suffer this humiliation? She felt rage boiling inside her. But it fizzled out quickly. With a body like this, she couldn't do a damn thing anyway.
No matter how hard she swung her fists, she wouldn't even bruise him—and it'd just stoke his anger, leading to a repeat. "This is driving me insane..." Dragging her defiled body upright, the bruises screamed in protest. Wincing at the pulsing pain, she leaned against the wall. The oppressive silence of the empty space felt torturously heavy. Loneliness, maybe. And thinking of loneliness brought Kudbeka to mind.
The hero had called him a mana puppet, but she didn't trust the enemy's words. Besides, that explanation didn't hold water—he could have set up a decoy and hidden elsewhere. Maybe Kudbeka was searching for her right now. She hoped so. She wanted him to find her soon. If he did, next time they'd just head back to the Demon Realm, roast some of that tough magic beast meat, and share a meal. She craved Luplettas's famous sausages again too. Meals with Kudbeka had been so delicious—the burst of texture, the juices and flavors spilling out...
How long had she been unconscious? What prison was this? Sorting through her situation, the answer came quickly. Recalling the hero's voice saying he was heading to the castle made her want to vomit, but she could infer this was the capital. Haa. She let out a bitter sigh. She wanted to escape. But in this state, it was a pipe dream. Say she broke through the bars—what then? Got clothes and slipped out—what then?
She was Lobelia Yuris, the demon king hated by all. So... even if she ran out and got torn apart or burned alive, it wouldn't be surprising. If the hero's perception was average, like he'd said, she might get dragged off for a gang rape. Even if it wasn't her real body, now that her consciousness inhabited it, she didn't want that to happen. Because enduring that torment inscribed on a woman's body would be her suffering too. Even as she screamed from the agony, she'd gritted her teeth to hold onto herself.
I want to go back. Back to Earth. To that safe place with good public safety, no threat of death. But Min Siyoon of Earth was already dead, so that was impossible. Depression settled in. Huddled alone in the cell, her thoughts multiplied. But she had no choice—otherwise, the throbbing bruises would torment her endlessly.
She was Min Siyoon, 23, from South Korea. She'd saved ten million won working construction sites... No, better not dwell on money; it'd just make her regret leaving it behind. Closing her eyes gently, she sighed. She wanted to escape. To live. Back to the Demon Realm, the Demon King's Castle, to spend a day with Kudbeka. He'd made everything feel so easy. She shut her eyes again. This frail body tired so quickly after hardship; she couldn't fight the overwhelming fatigue. Slowly, she closed them once more. Maybe never opening them again would bring her peace. Lobelia Yuris could return then. Things might work out somehow. She couldn't endure anymore.
*
"Wake up!"
"Heok...!"
Had she fallen asleep? The flickering torch on the wall was her only light; she had no sense of time. She just opened her eyes at the sharp voice and hauled herself up. As she did, the hero scowled at her and approached. He came right up to the bars, face twisted in irritation, and slammed his hand against them. The cage rattled with an ominous clang. She swallowed involuntarily and shrank back.
"Haa, fuck."
Scratching his head furiously, he growled in frustration before pulling a key from his back pocket and unlocking the lock. Not again? She hesitated, retreating to the corner, but there was nowhere left to go. She didn't want to relive that nightmare. Please. He shoved the creaking door open and stepped in; she squeezed her eyes shut, listening to his footsteps, bracing herself. No amount of resolve could prepare her for it. Who could endure their body being violated by force?
Trembling in the corner, she heard him click his tongue and grab her arm, yanking her forward. "Come on."
Her left arm throbbed—whether from the bruise or his grip, she couldn't tell. Dragged along naked and smeared with fluids, she followed. Before she knew it, he'd pulled her into a bathroom. Huh? Bewildered, she stared blankly downward. The hero, rummaging in a large wooden tub, grabbed a basket and flung water at her.
"...?! Puha, eupoo...!"
Caught off-guard by the sudden deluge, she wiped her face with her hands, groaning. No special reason—it was just freezing. Hunched over, scrubbing her face, she wondered if this was some new torment, enduring her pounding headache as she looked up. But no words came, just another splash.
Chwaaak! The water soaked her, snapping her to her senses enough to hear the hero. "Wash up. We gotta go."
How the hell am I supposed to wash with ice water like this...! Shivering and groaning from the cold, she watched him sigh heavily and dump the basket in front of her. "I'm fired. Not a hero anymore, so we gotta get out."
"Wha...?"
"What, it's obvious. Let the Demon King escape, get all the soldiers killed, fail to protect a noble lady's daughter—how could anyone call me a hero after that?"
A queasy feeling stirred, but was it her fault? No, she'd been soft on the invasion Lobelia had led before. Even if letting the Demon King go was due to her flight, the soldiers died because he entered the Demon Realm. The lady... she didn't know what happened, but fine, she was dead. He spilled it all like a confession, then clicked his tongue and scratched his head.
"Hah, why am I even telling a demon this shit. Whatever. Wash up properly and come out. We gotta go."
Sighing, he brushed past her, casually smacking her head on his way out. That filthy bastard. It wasn't like she'd fired him—why take it out on her? "Ehew."
Alone in the bathroom, she sighed in disbelief. Dropping from demon king to slave in one go felt utterly wretched. Even a day laborer on construction sites with daily pay beat this. No terrifying ordeals. Lost in gloomy thoughts, she eyed the full wooden tub. Fantasy world or not, it was medieval-ish; probably had to heat water manually. The cold water looked deep enough to submerge her current body.
Cold. But thinking ahead... She stepped onto the wooden chair beside it, slowly dipping a hand in. Her skin stung and prickled from the chill. Scooping water with her right hand, she splashed her legs and feet, underarms, breasts—adapting gradually. Swallowing hard, she climbed in with a grunt, feet first. The icy water gripped her legs.
She could never get used to the numbing ache, but she'd steeled herself. Plung! She dunked her body under and sat. Submerged, she didn't need to breathe. At first, the cold was unbearable, but it beat getting beaten and raped—no real pain, just tolerable. I've sunk this low, comparing it to that. Chuckling bitterly, she closed her eyes, wishing to die right there.
Bubble bubble. The muffled sounds in her ears made it feel like she was somewhere else entirely. This buoyancy seemed to whisper she could die soon. If it's just more suffering, let me die now. With that, she deliberately exhaled the air from her lungs.