Escape (2)
A man, a beggar, and the lowest scum of society. That was me.
A woman, rich, and the king of an entire race. That was me too.
At this point, which one was the real me?
If you asked about the me inside, I could answer the former. But if you asked about the me on the outside, I'd have to say the latter.
People with mismatched insides and outsides get called disgusting and shunned by everyone—and that was exactly me.
It was laughable that all these completely opposing labels belonged to the same person.
And now, one more was about to join the list.
The me who could stand tall with pride, and the me who couldn't and had to run away. Both of those were me too.
But in a material world, could a person live without a body? The answer was a resounding no.
So it didn't matter that my inside was a man, or that I had some drawn-out backstory about grinding myself to death from overwork back in Korea. None of that shit mattered.
The outside was Lobelia Yuris, and there was the simple fact that if I didn't run, some hero whose face I didn't even know would hunt me down and try to kill me.
I bolted out of the garden, panting hard as I trailed behind Kudbeka.
"Hah, haa... Kud... beka..."
Even as the Demon King, without magic, this was just the body of a frail little girl—and the humiliation burned.
I just wanted to bitch about why the hell it had to be a girl's body of all things.
Fuck, I couldn't wrap my head around why these massive lumps were stuck on such a tiny frame.
Clutching my jiggling tits, I barely snagged the hem of Kudbeka's clothes as he led the way. He paused at my voice and gesture, turning back to me.
"Master, are you alright?"
"Haa... no... it's... t-tough..."
My breath was so ragged the ends of my words stretched out like gooey cheese strings, totally against my will.
Damn it. I'd never exercised beyond pacing the mansion, so my body flat-out refused to cooperate.
If this was my old laborer bod, I could've marched all night without a peep. It was enough to drive me insane.
Hunched over, fighting to steady my heaving breaths, Kudbeka gently cupped my hand and pried it loose from his clothes.
Even so, I trusted he wouldn't pull anything shady, so I just focused on catching my breath, staying put.
My shoulders rising and falling, vision blurring—it hit me hard that this body was nothing but a scrawny girl's, totally reliant on magic. Irritation bubbled up.
Even the mightiest Demon King, even if magic could handle everything, should've kept up some exercise. Lobelia's body without mana was pure frailty incarnate.
Like something fresh off a sickbed.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Like a newborn taking in the world for the first time, I'd been too distracted poking at everything to bother working out. That was my crime, all those short few days of it.
Cursing my recent self and scowling, a sudden buoyant lift hoisted my body up.
"My apologies."
The instant float made me hope for magic, but nope—not a drop. Just Kudbeka's good intentions.
In a flash, he was lugging my clothes, the suitcase stuffed with cash, and me like extra baggage.
My frame was petite everywhere but the chest, so the massive Kudbeka scooped me up one-handed without breaking a sweat.
A little embarrassing, sure, but I was terrified I'd collapse from exhaustion before we even snuck into a village if I kept stumbling after him. I accepted gratefully.
"Thanks."
"Think nothing of it."
Thud. Thud.
Once we passed the garden gate, the landscape worthy of the Demon Realm unfolded before us.
Black soil, cracked with vivid purple fissures that scattered something ethereal between them.
Fascinating, but I knew now wasn't the time to indulge my curiosity—I just burned it into memory with a glance.
How much farther did we go? Kudbeka spoke up first.
"Master."
"Call me Yuris."
"Haha, I'll do so in front of others."
Cheeky bastard. "So?"
As long as we didn't get nabbed, I didn't give a damn how we played it. I left the plans to him and prodded him to go on.
He adjusted his grip on me and continued. "I'll cast a spell for you. It'll conceal your horns, but your features are too well-known, so you'll need a hood regardless. And we'll need to tweak your hair color a bit."
"H-horns hidden is good, but... why the hair?"
"Black hair paired with red eyes has been passed down through legends as the Demon King's mark since time immemorial. Your look right now proves it. A simple hair color change will suffice."
"Then... the eyes can stay?"
"Yes. Just the hair, slightly altered."
"Make it the most common color, then."
"Understood."
The exchange wrapped up, plunging us back into silence.
If he didn't start the convo, neither would I.
His hands were already jammed with the suitcase and me—didn't wanna pile on more hassle.
How much longer? Kudbeka let out a deep sigh, scanned the surroundings.
He halted, set me down, then slipped thumb and forefinger into his mouth and unleashed a piercing whistle.
Sharp enough to shred eardrums—I squeezed my eyes shut and clapped hands over mine on reflex.
The hell was he doing? Peeking at him, a colossal Magic Beast came barreling our way from nearby.
Wolf-shaped, huge enough to carry even Kudbeka's two-meter bulk on its back.
Glossy black fur, crimson eyes. Screamed "Demon King's pet" at first glance.
Just like my own black hair and red peepers.
If this worked, why not summon it from the jump? I grumbled inwardly—then Kudbeka hopped onto the beast's back with the suitcase, extended a hand like he'd read my mind.
"Didn't want to wake you with the racket while you slept, so no Magic Beasts within a certain radius of the Demon King's Castle. Had to hoof it. Sorry for the hardship."
"Nah, I was bracing for a night in the bushes."
"I'd never leave you to sleep in the undergrowth."
I snickered at his reply and reached out.
A firm tug yanked my arm; I floated right into the seat ahead of him.
"Hold on tight."
I fisted the beast's fur, and it rocketed forward like a shot.
*
We reached the village outskirts in a blink. I dismounted at a distance, per Kudbeka's plan.
Strolling up close on a Magic Beast? Instant suspicion. Walking from out of sight made sense.
Hopping down with his help, I took in the surroundings.
Out of the Demon Realm already, treading blue earth—it felt refreshingly novel. Real, wild scenery, not some manicured garden.
Figured we'd hoof it blindly from there, but no.
Prep before hitting the village. I stood still ahead of him.
"Just a moment, please."
He raised his hands carefully, not quite brushing my face, and began muttering.
Hiding horns, dyeing hair. How long would it take?
I counted seconds in my head... then quit.
Minutes later, he'd gone with dull brown locks, morphing into your everyday guy.
Even trimmed down that towering two-meter frame. No more neck cramps craning up—felt liberating.
His hand mirror revealed a platinum-blonde girl with red eyes staring back.
No horns, but unmistakably Lobelia with a new 'do.
"Perfect. You look beautiful."
Not my true face, but him calling it beautiful drew a involuntary chuckle.
No take-backs, so I brushed it off. "Thanks. You clean up handsome yourself, Kudbeka."
We snickered a bit, figuring we matched well enough to fly under radar—then pulled on cloaks and tugged hoods low.
No point flaunting killer looks. The dark fabric screamed quality without ostentation, just subtle enough not to draw eyes. I approved, falling in step behind him.
Trudged till I flagged again, leaning on his strength to keep up. Soon, lights winked, houses appeared.
Village at last.
"We'll keep moving, so just a quick inn."
Gazing at the half-medieval, half-modern-ish vibe, Kudbeka voiced the next move and eased his pace.
Legs like a runway model's demanded huge strides, but he dialed it back for my stubs. Sweet little gesture—what could I even do to repay it?
Didn't know his tastes after such a short time; too slammed answering my own curiosities. Par for the course, I guessed.
Sighed and shuffled on.
Not long after, he eyed signs, hummed over a building, and turned to me.
"How's this one?"
"Hm... looks tidy enough."
"Here, then? Two rooms."
"Nah, we're fugitives—money's finite now. Splurge when we've got income."
Fugitive life meant low expectations. I grabbed him on impulse.
Anxiety making me cling unconsciously? Pointless overthinking—my subconscious drove it.
Hard to face your own truths when you're bullshitting yourself into rationalizing.
Anyway, told him so; he replied, "As you wish," and led into the inn, holding the door.
If we'd met on Earth, he'd vibe young British gent.
Inside slow: ground floor had a counter doubling as food pickup, tables crammed for diners.
Spacious, spotless—matched the exterior's promise. Solid pick.
Sure, peanuts next to my old mansion.
Peeking curiously from my hood behind him, Kudbeka approached the counter first.
Addressed the innkeeper cautiously. "Innkeeper, got a room with two beds?"
Shift in tone from how he spoke to me.
Special master treatment? I caught myself humming a tune.
Being valued felt good, weirdly.
Though nitpick my worth, and it'd sour quick.
Humming cut short—innkeeper's reply froze me solid, ears ringing in disbelief.
"Sorry, but rooms with two beds are all booked. We do have one with a big bed, though—will that work?"