#041
Black smoke wafted with a faint charred stench. A fire-affinity demon, perhaps? The black smoke cried out.
"You've chased me all this way...!"
The man reacted to the shout.
"I'm a bit persistent, Madam."
The man smiled amiably and continued.
"What do you say? We should end this pointless squabble here. Let's settle it once and for all, Madam. Will you come with me, or close your eyes forever right here?"
"How dare you talk so sweetly of killing me, you insolent wretch."
The demon's voice dripped with fury and raw desperation.
Ah. Catherine had a vague inkling of the faux-priest's true nature.
A demon hunter.
A demon had been hiding in this bed, and the man had bought it to hunt the demon down. But then, what was that remark about her origins?
"Ugh. Must be love or something."
Yaong let out a groan, and the thick smoke billowed outward. A shrill, crackling voice soon battered her eardrums.
"Love? Looove? Where do you get off spouting such nonsense, you squishy little kitten pest?!"
"What?! This body ain't no squishy little kitten pest!"
Crunch.
Ah, damn it.
Catherine pressed her forehead at the sound of splintering wood. Yaong, riled up by the "little" jab, had ballooned in size. Massive wings whooshed past her head.
"...A pureblood gargoyle? Why is a high-level monster that no human can tame doing here?"
The man stared up at Yaong with utter disbelief. In the meantime, the bed's left post lay half-shattered. Yaong barreled after the smoke, smashing every piece of furniture in its path. It was chaos incarnate.
"Hold on!"
Catherine lunged, clinging to the agile Yaong's back. Soft fur tangled between her fingers.
"Calm down. Calm down and shrink back quick, Yaong."
"This auntie thinks I'm just some thing!"
"Auntie?! Kyaaak, you crazy cat!"
She grabbed the thrashing Yaong's neck and stroked it slowly.
"If you keep rampaging like this, the last bed standing will collapse too. Got it?"
In truth, it was already pretty much rubble... But her words got through. Yaong's enormous bulk shrank rapidly, reverting to its fist-sized kitten form. Huffing indignantly, it crawled back into the bag.
"Totally! Infuriating!"
But it was pretty small right now. Monster pride was as baffling as ever.
Clap, clap, clap.
Applause rang out from somewhere. The faux-priest was nodding in repeated admiration.
"Taming a gargoyle—no, a pureblood one that bows to no human—like a dog? That's a first for me. Thanks to you, miss, I've witnessed quite the spectacle."
"Not a dog! Yaong!"
Haha. Her amusement was short-lived. The man's long arm pierced the black smoke, clenching at empty air. The smoke shuddered violently in response.
"So... Fontpado Madam?"
The hazy form began to take shape. The black smoke that had blanketed floor and ceiling gathered into one spot. What emerged was a stunning black-haired beauty in an antique dress. Now in human form, Fontpado Madam exuded a thick, languid allure. The massive, heavy ribbon adorning her wide-brimmed hat somehow suited her perfectly. A seductive red mouth and a striking black beauty mark beneath her right eye made her resemble a single, blooming rose.
Fontpado Madam glared daggers at the man. His hand gripped her slender neck.
"Answer me."
Urged by his tone, she let out a hollow laugh.
"Ha. I just can't wrap my head around it. What gives you the right to toy with my life?"
"Because without us, Madam, you'd become a living calamity on this land soon enough."
"Don't presume to judge my future. You've only got about twenty years on me, at best."
Twenty years? Was the man a demon too? But his eyes weren't purple.
Hold on. The Madam's eyes aren't purple either.
The man smirked.
"Fontpado Madam. Don't deny reality. Unstable nephilim like you have only one path: contract with a master, or turn into a walking disaster."
Nephilim. Demon-human hybrids.
Ah...!
Everything clicked into place. Why he'd singled her out with his nonsense, why he threatened the Fontpado Madam before him.
Nephilim were born with immense power. Most possessed magic nullification, were highly magic-affine, and enjoyed lifespans nearly double a human's. But "lifespan" here meant the time they retained human reason. Past that point, they lost control, descending into madness as living disasters.
There was only one way to preserve their sanity: contract with a skilled mage and share their power.
Treated as demons with human intellect, nephilim were eagerly sought by mages. Traded at exorbitant prices in the underworld, they lived under constant threat. Many sought refuge with nations for this reason.
Is he picking up faint traces of demon and monster scent on me? Must think I'm a nephilim.
The man seemed an extraordinarily powerful mage. Otherwise, he couldn't have sensed her resistance to time magic or her aura—something only a cardinal-level figure might detect.
And of all things, my magic nullification blocks time spells too...
"You're spinning quite the yarn about contracting with you to ensure my survival!"
In other words, the woman's lifespan was nearly up. Uncontracted nephilim past their limit were hunted down preemptively, before they became disasters.
The man shook his head calmly.
"You don't have to choose me. We have plenty of capable mages on our side. Pick whichever one suits you."
"As if any of them could handle my power."
"Three or four could, at least."
Not just him, then? Perhaps he was a royal mage dispatched by the kingdom. Either way, it wasn't Catherine's place to interfere. She just hoped this resolved quickly so the magic would lift.
"Poor auntie."
Yaong, watching the standoff, clucked its tongue.
"Powerful mages just wanna dominate nephilim and demons. Not Catherine though."
...Me?
Well, she wasn't a mage.
"That guy's got impure eyes too. Just like the other mages. Not our Catherine."
Why was it suddenly saying this? Catherine clamped Yaong's tiny muzzle shut.
"Hush, Yaong."
Best not to meddle in others' fights. Especially now—shrimp could get crushed in a whale brawl.
But Yaong's mutterings reached Fontpado Madam's ears. She shoved off the man's hand from her throat and turned to Catherine.
"Miss. Are you a mage?"
"No."
Yaong wriggled free from Catherine's grip and piped up.
"Our Catherine's an aspiring mage! But she's got magic nullification, so her future's bright!"
"Oh ho?"
Regrettable, but true—Catherine had no magic talent. Her mother's word, so reliable.
"Where do you live?"
"Christopher."
"Family?"
"One gardener and one maid. That's it."
"Hobbies?"
"Petting me!"
"Special skills?"
"Huh? Dunno. Cleaning?"
"...Excuse me."
Why keep talking to Yaong when I'm right here? Weren't they just fighting?
Fontpado Madam, chin raised, slowly blinked and pointed a pale finger at her.
"Perfect. I'll go with this miss."
What?
"Pretty, simple, and capable to boot—what more could I want? Hear that, Giovanni? I'm contracting with this miss, not you or your family. What luck! A rare magic-nullifying mage falls right into my lap!"
Catherine waved her hands frantically, thunderstruck.
"Wait, I have no intention of contracting with you."
"Huh? Why not?"
Why? Reasons overflowed; just listing them took time. For starters, she wasn't a mage, and with a Great Demon already as contractor, she'd need his permission for another. Otherwise, he'll blow up like last time, accusing me of two-timing.
Beyond that, she had zero interest in another demon. Her current household was overwhelming enough without adding more.
As Catherine grimaced, Fontpado Madam scurried over eagerly.
"What do I lack? Huh? I'm top-tier nephilim that mages drool over. Why else would pricey Giovanni chase me here?"
Giovanni? She'd heard that name before.
"I might've seemed pathetic stuck to that bed, but I'm useful! I've got politicians on this ship who adore me—over twenty faces spring to mind. And my wealth? I could share it all with my dear miss..."
Catherine pondered how to rebuff this zealous woman when Fontpado suddenly froze mid-sentence. Blinking wide eyes, she clamped her lips shut. She inhaled slowly, scanning the surroundings, then began backing away.
"Oh dear, I've dragged this out too long. Think it over seriously, miss..."
"A masterless nephilim."
The voice etched itself into the air. Catherine shook her head, eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden darkness. Now she saw—it wasn't blackout; a black something had appeared dead ahead. A back clad in deep gray suit. Chezare's back blocked her view.
"Has your time run out?"
He sidestepped languidly. A long index finger lightly lifted Fontpado Madam's chin. Her face drained pale, eyes downcast in utter terror—frozen unlike before.
"To board so fearlessly."
Chezare dropped his hand indifferently. The rigid air thawed at once. People in the showroom resumed walking, chatting, laughing as if nothing happened. The furniture and ceiling wrecked by Yaong's rampage restored to pristine condition, as if the time stop had been mere illusion.
"Miss, you alright?"
Demian, the only one who'd noticed the magic, asked Catherine.
"Seems so."