#084
"Yes. I'm dying to know."
Of course he was. It had been so long since he'd seen with his own eyes.
"I already told you my name."
"Honestly, I'm starting to regret even asking that. My greed just keeps growing."
What greed? The desire to torment me?
"You're memorizing my face to blackmail me later, right?"
A faintly bitter smile crossed his face.
"Can't you see my situation? Tied to a tree trunk like a hunting dog—or worse. I'm just… just curious about you."
History recorded that the sixth Demon King was executed immediately after his subjugation at Iterana Fortress. That meant no jailbreak for Orzen.
It should be fine.
But situations like this always came with an ironclad rule: turns out it wasn't fine after all. Or maybe a betrayal from behind.
"All right."
Still, Catherine decided to untie the cloth over Orzen's eyes. She was curious what would happen once he recognized her face.
Will this guy remember his past lives too?
A Great Demon's contractor. Humans who contracted with demons reincarnated dozens of times, carrying memories of their past lives. But no human ever introduced themselves like, "This is my… hmm, eighth? No, ninth life."
The reason was simple. Demons erased all memories of reincarnation in their contractors.
Ancient records claimed that mages in those days retained their memories fully. They grew stronger with each life, and the exceptional ones even enslaved their contracted demons. Sensing the threat, the demons decided to wipe human memories clean. It evolved into an unspoken rule in demon society.
Over time, mages with past-life memories faded away, and the contract clause—"The contractor retains past-life memories until their soul is completely extinguished"—became mere window dressing.
But did that rule hold for Archdemons too?
Chezare showed no sign of tampering with Catherine's memories—not even a speck. The way he mocked her as a "worm mage" proved it.
Then what about Behemoth?
Assuming the Demon King's demon was Behemoth, would he leave his contractor's memories intact like Chezare? If her guess was right, she wondered what kind of life the man before her lived in the modern day.
Hold on. If that's the case, then Chezare remembers the current me…
Does he? Me from 600 years ago?
Hmm.
Let's stop here. Almost fell into the inference pit again.
She hated complications. Catherine dropped the headache-inducing thoughts and removed Orzen's blindfold.
He winced at the long-forgotten light, keeping his eyelids shut for a while. Finally, Orzen opened his eyes.
His face was just as she'd seen in the Demon King's castle—refined and noble. If they'd met outside, she'd have pegged him for a young lord from a fine family. His ink-black pupils, like fountain pen ink, locked straight onto her.
Just their eyes meeting sent a strange chill through Catherine.
"So, what do you think?"
No answer. He stared right through her face without so much as a blink.
"I showed you what you wanted. At least give me your impression."
Orzen's eyes curved softly. With a whisper laced with faint playfulness, he said,
"Love at first sight. That good enough?"
As if. Ignoring the wordplay, she rebound his eyes and mouth.
Would she really meet this man again in the modern day?
"I'm heading out. See you tomorrow."
With that farewell, Catherine left the underground chamber.
As the knight's endless scolding finally wound down, she asked quietly,
"By the way. Were all the previous handlers for this job women before me?"
The knight, exhausted from nagging her, nodded wearily.
"About half."
"What happened to them?"
At her question, the knight glanced around cautiously. Then, leaning in as if sharing a grave secret, he whispered,
"The women all died. The men quit on their own—they couldn't handle the pressure."
All the women died, huh. And conveniently, Catherine was a woman too.
"You think it's okay to leave it to me?"
The knight gave her a look like what's the problem?
"Of course. You're the one Mars picked."
Everything here started and ended with Mars, as expected.
After parting with the knight, Catherine headed straight for Mars's tent.
Dinner was over, and everyone was busy resting when a voice stopped her.
"Things seem to be going smoothly, Catherine."
The speaker was the mage in the ferret mask.
"Your face looks much brighter."
Did it? For him to notice a change in someone he wasn't close to, he must be pretty perceptive.
"It's all thanks to your advice, mage. Though compared to before, at least the captain treats me like a person now."
"If advice guaranteed success, his tent wouldn't be so peaceful. I'm actually surprised. I didn't think you'd really get close to Mars."
Get close? If she got any more comfortable, people might mistake them for siblings.
"You seem to know Mars well."
The mage shook her head.
"No. I just like studying people. With the captain, it's just an old comrade thing."
Then, as if sharing intriguing news, she leaned in with a soft whisper.
"I heard you got stuck with feeding the Demon King."
Demon King's feeding duty. Pfft. Catherine couldn't hold back a laugh, and the mage asked in confusion,
"Why the laugh?"
"…Ah. Sorry if it offended you. It's just the first time I've heard someone phrase it exactly like that. Everyone else vaguely calls it 'that duty.'"
As if even mentioning it was taboo.
The mage nodded in agreement.
"Guess you and I see eye to eye on this stuff. That line you said in the Demon King's castle a few days ago was funny too."
What had she said back then? While Catherine pondered, the mage's tone grew heavy.
"Miss Catherine. The other knights have probably warned you already, but… be careful around the Demon King."
So that's why she called me over.
At the warning, Catherine pictured the man's face—utterly unlike any Demon King. Talking to him melted away her guard naturally. He chatted so easily, it made the nickname seem absurd. Impossible to imagine him as a heinous criminal.
But if everyone's warning me, there must be a reason.
From tomorrow, she'd refuse any requests, no matter what.
"Don't listen to a word he says. You're smart, Miss Catherine, so I trust you get what I'm saying."
"Got it."
After splitting from the ferret-masked mage, Catherine quickened her pace. She worried Mars might chase her off for showing up too late.
Not that she'd leave without saying her piece even then.
"Back again…"
Ignoring the guard knight's greeting, she stood at the tent entrance and called out.
"Captain. I'm coming in."
The inside was still dark. But now she knew the rough layout—where the furniture was placed.
No "get out" or irritated reflex from Mars. Catherine sat near the entrance, facing what she guessed was his direction.
Hmm.
What to start with today.
To cover any contingencies, she confessed what happened in the prison honestly.
"Captain. I think I messed up today."
Dead silence—not even a breath.
It felt like talking to a wall.
"I showed the Demon King my face when he asked."
Then, a blue flame flickered to life in the center of the tent, fluttering like wings. Light filled the pitch-black space.
Mars lay on his bed. His sharp features were perfectly composed, long lashes neatly framing his closed eyes.
His lazy voice echoed through the tent.
"He's getting his head chopped off for display anyway."
Right? She'd known that before acting, but hearing confirmation from the greatest mage brought a whole new level of relief.
"But have you lost your damn mind?"
This time, his tone had a subtle edge.
When she looked up, Mars had already sat up. Unlike before, he wore only a light shirt.
Catherine inwardly sighed in relief at that.
His face, already fierce, twisted further in dissatisfaction as he strode over with wide steps, right up to her nose. Then his large hand clamped onto her head.
"Or is there just no brain in this tiny skull? That it?"
"Ow! That hurts!"
Why so strong? Well, of course—Mars's body was tougher than any lance knight's. The issue was his total lack of control.
"Quit whining."
She'd never whined in her life. The Panya Marchioness had even lamented she'd never acted like a kid.
Wrenching her head free from his grip, Catherine retorted,
"I'm not whining. You think I'm some burly knight like you? My eyes were watering."
Subtly, almost imperceptibly, Mars's expression softened. He stared at his palm in bewilderment, like inspecting a bug stuck to it.
As Catherine fixed her mussed hair, she casually brought up yesterday's note.
"Captain Mars. Did you see the note I left yesterday?"
His gaze turned icy again.
"Why would I?"
Brutal as ever.
…Even if he denies it, I bet he read it anyway.
"If you didn't, I can tell you now. Yesterday, when I gave the Demon King the red bead…"
"Can't you go even a day without some crazy stunt? Does your mouth itch without it?"
At the unexpectedly sharp reaction, Catherine muttered back softly,
"Anyone hearing you would think I'm actually insane."
"That bastard's a hundred years older than you. A pro at handling people. Four knights rotated out in less than a week dealing with him—two died helping him escape, and the other two ran off trembling like scared pups."
And yet you shoved me in there? Harsh, even for 600-years-younger Chezare.
"But here you are, three days in, fine as ever. Giggling over bead colors and all. Got yourself a real hero."
So he did read the note.
"Know how those two died? Same as you—chatting and flirting pointlessly. Two days in, acting like star-crossed lovers, fiddling with his collar to bust out together. Fried like electrocuted dogs. Higher-level idiots than I could've imagined."
Mars rested one hand on his hip, scolding her in a menacing voice.
To her, it all just sounded like petty nagging.