The Culprit
Sometimes, a hero's intuition prickles sharply, standing on end. And right now, that prickling sensation surged through me, rooting my gaze to its source as cold sweat beaded on my skin unbidden.
The long, straight black hair cascading to her waist, the jewel-like red eyes sparkling in hers, and the single remaining horn on her left side—they belonged to the demon I knew, the slave I'd dragged around with me.
I'd just realized how brutally I'd treated this demon, but was it already too late? Or had I utterly destroyed a life? I needed to know.
Yet even though she looked exactly the same—appearance, voice unchanged—her atmosphere had shifted, radiating a threat that chilled me.
The pleading tone was gone, replaced by an authoritative, matter-of-fact voice that carried as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
…Kudbeka's gone. No, is it my mana that's missing? I can't tell. Could all my memories from that time have vanished? If it's some kind of defense mechanism, memory loss does happen, but if that's what's occurring in this demon right now… how do I even apologize?
"I'm hungry."
"I-I'll get something right away."
I bolted from the room. It wasn't too late yet—the tavern downstairs should still be open.
Even as I kicked open the door and pounded down the stairs, my turmoil didn't fade.
Finally, I'd shed my colored lenses and could see the demon's face, her emotions… only for the chance to apologize to slip away. That frustration dizzied me.
Apologizing to someone with no memory of it? If she got clingy, she'd just say, I get it, now leave—obvious as day.
Such forgiveness would feel hollow, devoid of emotion.
So for now, if she did anything to restore her memories…
Do I even need to? This isn't just to ease my conscience, but looking back objectively, the things I did weren't exactly fond memories.
No—they were the worst kind, the ones that make even me cringe in shame. How must the victim feel?
Maybe forgetting is better for her.
With those conflicted thoughts, I grabbed the most popular set from the kitchen.
Returning to the room, my brows furrowed the instant I opened the door.
"This bed's so hard. This is where humans sleep?"
A place that should trigger trauma, yet without her memories, was this normal? I scowled unwittingly.
Trusting this eerie instinct for once, I spoke up.
"Who… are you?"
As tension laced my words, her lips curved into a sly grin.
"I am the master of the Demon Realm, king of all magic beasts. Lobelia Yuris."
Her red eyes gleamed fiercely—not the dull, lifeless gaze of the dead.
"The Demon King…?"
"Yes, but… why do I sense traces of Kudbeka on you? Did you kill him? My loyal servant."
Her voice dripped with dignity, nothing like the terrified expression when we'd first met. No desperate clinging to Kudbeka for protection, no frailty.
Demon King? It almost seemed plausible.
But with no mana emanating from her, was it a bluff? Or had she finally snapped, deluded into thinking she was the Demon King?
I couldn't tell.
Her name rang a vague bell from before, but who bothers memorizing a slave's? And now this.
Groaning inwardly, I studied Lobelia's expression. It suited her too perfectly for a mere "master"—could she really be the Demon King?
But if she was insane, how should I handle her? Guard her until sanity returned? Would that atone for me?
As I hesitated, Lobelia extended a pale hand.
"Will you help me up?"
"…Sure."
If I could do something, anything—fine. I reached out, clasping her hand like a handshake.
Then a massive chunk of my mana drained away. I yanked free and staggered back.
"W-What the hell!?"
Heading to the Demon Realm? She'd siphoned nearly 20% of my stockpiled mana.
The hollow sensation left me reeling; my eyes locked on her.
Lobelia hummed thoughtfully, shaking her head.
"Kudbeka's definitely dead, then. Rascal it is."
She snapped her fingers. From beyond the barrier, a massive howl erupted from the black earth.
Awoooooooo!
Gooseflesh prickled my skin. Was this the same roar from before she fainted—before I violated her?
A wolf-like magic beast. If it had a name, what would it be?
And this thing I'd thought mana-less had sucked mine dry with a mere touch to summon it. What did that make her?
If that's what she wanted, should I just let it slide?
No way in hell.
"Stop. Even if you drained my mana, that's only 20%. Cut it out now."
The once-powerless demon, Lobelia—might be the Demon King, humanity's threat.
That thought had me gripping my sword, previously set aside.
Lobelia turned her blazing eyes on me.
"20%. So you are the hero. I'll kill you soon. I have to—drive out the intruder."
"I-Intruder?! You're the intruder!"
Lobelia flung open the window and leaped out effortlessly, light as air. Stunned, I followed through the open frame.
How could she dash barefoot so nimbly? Something rippled beneath her feet—like stepping on water, a silent echo as her foothold.
Spellcasting without incantations, that mad audacity—it screamed Demon King.
Who was the Demon King, and who the retainer?
I'd pegged Kudbeka as the king, mana pouring from him. But now, Lobelia—who'd absorbed just 20% of mine—handled it far superiorly.
Muttering incantations, I enhanced my body with mana and gave chase.
But soon, a colossal wolf emerged from the dark night.
A pitch-black beast in wolf form.
Rascal.
The old Lobelia hadn't known its name, but this one called it casually upon summoning. Unsettling, but no time to dwell.
"Tch!"
If needed, I'd cut down the wolf—and Lobelia—with it. No room for guilt now.
As I poured mana into my sword, her pale hand pointed to the sleeping buildings.
"Not precious to you? I don't care."
Dread knotted my gut at her gaze. Turning, I realized the wolf-shapes weren't just one or two.
Hers was the largest, sure—but the others weren't small.
"Gaaah! What the—?!"
"The beasts have gone mad!"
"Help!"
Screams pierced the night from the sudden magic beast assault.
My heart thundered.
You… you're the culprit.
But judgment lasted a heartbeat—my feet carried me toward the people instead.
If this was the real Demon King, drawing my sword now would take too long; I couldn't save the others.
"Farewell—and come again. I'm hungry."
Her words ground my teeth, rage boiling that I couldn't sever her head on the spot. Tears pricked my eyes from the injustice.
With that power, it solidified: she killed my Cecilia.
*
Black void once more. Nothing visible.
But now, it felt so comforting I slumped down unwittingly.
The agony had been too much; I wanted to see nothing, hear nothing.
This was my sanctuary.
No floor, no bed, no expanse, no corner—just this formless space, my sole refuge.
Reality held none for me.
The terrifying man's semen had invaded my haven. Memories of the frightening hero erased it.
So I'd made this my sanctuary.
Quite comfortable—I didn't want to leave. Out there, breaths quickened, mind frayed, pure displeasure. Here, no such confrontations. Peace.
Lost in haze, I missed Kudbeka.
The only one kind to me in this world.
No—a demon, technically. The correction drew an involuntary pfft of laughter.
But he couldn't be here. The mirth chilled to ice.
Staring blankly, Lobelia surfaced unbidden. Pale skin, jet-black hair, blood-scented eyes fixed on me.
"No role left for you. Just vanish."
But…
"Scary, isn't it? Hiding here from fear."
True. Terrifying.
Clinging to the hero? All from fear, helpless.
My last sanctuary stolen—how stay composed?
Grumbling inwardly, her lips curled up.
"Won't vanish on your own? No matter. The seal's release is your end."
I gaped up at her blankly.
Seal? What did that mean?
Its release erases me? What?
Stupid-faced, her smirk faded. Cold eyes pierced me, blade-sharp—I flinched.
"What can you do? Too scared to even step out."
Her mouth moved again.
"I despise you. You who severed my proud horn."
Not me—I didn't cut it. The hero did.
"Your incompetence is your sin. So your erasure is your punishment."
The words stung; tears welled.
I wanted to do well, live well, try hard.
But how? No clue.
A massive wall crashing down at the start—how endure from zero? Like demanding heavy lifts without muscle. Absurd.
Wronged, yet speechless.
True—I was too scared to leave.
"No more weak Lobelia. Humans are ugly creatures—now they need judgment."
Lobelia melted into shadow.
Alone, I stared at her spot blankly.
What to do out there?
No way to beat the hero anyway.
Too scary—don't wanna go.
But staying… will the seal break? Do I die?
Don't wanna die.
Yet somehow, it doesn't sound so bad right now.
Miss Mom.