Irene's Choice Part 2

‘Seria.’

Yet the expression on Irene’s face as she gazed at Seria was nothing like the forced, saccharine smile she had worn during the brainwashing. Instead, her blue eyes held a chilling indifference that cut deeper than any blade.

Even under brainwashing, she had never truly loved Seria. In that state, the girl had been nothing but a doll, and Ferdinand had merely issued a command to treat his daughter kindly. He had never once ordered her to cherish or adore the child. As a mere ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sex doll, Irene had never been capable of genuine maternal love.

Only after the brainwashing broke and her mind cleared again did the love she felt for Jae-hyun and the guilt for the sins she had committed flood her heart. The girl standing before her now—the same Seria—was the living curse born the moment Irene had become a sex doll and turned into a complete toy.

She could never love the child. She did not even want to.

One could speak of “the crime of being born,” but Irene knew those words came only from people who had never stood in her shoes. She had been the daughter of the man she killed, the daughter of the one she tormented. How could she love someone who carried her own sins inside her?

She could have forgiven the child for existing, but simply existing was already a crime in her eyes. She had no desire to end her own life in tragedy. The guilt that weighed on her heart demanded to be washed away.

There was a flicker of hesitation. Pure innocence stared back at her, and in those eyes Irene saw her younger self. If only the girl had resembled Ferdinand even slightly, the hesitation would never have arisen. Instead, the girl she had created for herself stirred guilt and doubt.

At that moment, Jae-hyun’s voice whispered softly into her mind.

“Kill that source of your guilt. You wouldn’t consider sparing her out of maternal instinct, would you? Please don’t betray me.”

Treachery.

The single word shattered the last thread of hesitation. Irene’s blue eyes burned with iron resolve. She had already sullied her own body. The proof of her sin stood right in front of her. She could not disappoint Jae-hyun or betray him in this moment.

It felt exactly like watching a demon seduce a human until the soul fell. And right now, Jae-hyun was the demon—the Demon King, ruler of all demons.

Irene reached down and drew her Holy Sword up with telekinesis, the invisible force of high-level martial artists. The legendary blade, forged by the dwarves of the Intermediate World, carried mithril and orichalcum infused with their finest craftsmanship. It was no match for the Holy Sword or the Demonic Sword in raw power, yet among all swords made in the Intermediate World, it ranked among the greatest.

With both slashing and thrusting forms in mind, the long sword hummed in her hand. It had been one of the weapons gifted to her when she stood as a Hero’s companion during the war against the Dark Legion. Elves and dwarves had fought side by side to survive, and the dwarves had provided their very best to the heroes.

Irene stared at Seria, tightened her grip on the hilt, and swung.

“Father?”

Seria, still paralyzed by mana, was calling out to Ferdinand when the blade sheared through her small neck. The slash, laced with aura, left no wound—only the head tumbling to the ground, eyes already lifeless.

She had died without understanding how.

Irene had murdered the daughter she had carried within her, killing her with the very hatred and vengeance that had been forged in fire. The sight brought a smile to the Demon King’s lips.

“Hoo hoo, well done, Irene.”

Jae-hyun placed a gentle hand on her back, the gesture warm and approving. Her choice had pleased him.

She had not disappointed him. She had not betrayed him.

“…Haaah…”

Irene drew a deep breath and glared at Ferdinand. Jae-hyun immediately pulled her into his arms and whispered.

“Stop. You cannot kill her yet, Irene. Your hatred and revenge are not things that end with death. Mine won’t either. We must make the ones who crushed us long for death while they watch their own corpses rot. That is the true way to crush them.”

“…That makes sense.”

Irene nodded, the words sinking into her like cool water. The seed of hatred had been cut away. Even without her old pure smile, the burden of guilt toward Jae-hyun had lightened. For a moment, the calm she had always carried as a swordswoman and mage returned.

Mages were never allowed to lose their reason. Anger could not explode and shatter composure. If anger burned, it had to be cold and merciless, expressed through icy smiles and frozen eyes. That was the discipline of the mind.

“First, let that fool experience the pain you suffered. Hee hee.”

Irene had already recovered. The time for revenge was near. Jae-hyun’s lips curved. He would not drag Ferdinand through every torment at once. Instead, he would show him the things the arrogant prince had once cherished, one by one, shattered.

And with a flick of his fingers, he released a portion of the pressure that had kept Ferdinand bound. The prince’s mouth could move freely, though his body remained paralyzed.

“GWAH! You filthy beast! What are you trying to do?!”

The moment his voice returned, fear flooded Ferdinand’s eyes. He had lost his daughter to Irene’s blade before his very eyes, yet the sight meant nothing to him. He had never felt real paternal love. He had only been satisfied that Irene had borne his child. Commanding her to treat the girl kindly had been nothing more than a way to watch the two of them smile and feed his own lust for conquest.

Seria had been born purely as a tool to confirm Irene’s conquest. She had never known true parental love.

Now, Ferdinand cared only that his own body hurt. He did not even mention his daughter’s death.

“Even after your daughter dies, you don’t even flinch.”

Jae-hyun’s words still hung in the air, but Ferdinand ignored them completely. He screamed louder.

“I am the Emperor! The Emperor! Irene! What is the meaning of this? Will you become the Empress of the Empire and commit treason by throwing yourself at this lowly beast? Kill him at once!”

Irene’s hand trembled with rage. As a swordswoman, she had learned to control her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anger, but ten years of slavery and humiliation had pushed her hatred and fury to their breaking point. Ferdinand’s casual order to kill Jae-hyun while she had just been freed from the worst years of her life was an act of pure provocation.

Yet she did not move. The moment she became a Great Archdemon would come later, inside the Demon King’s Castle. Here and now, she would only watch.

“Don’t worry, Irene. The bastard will soon feel every pain you endured.”

“Yes, brother.”

Irene gave a tiny nod, the fire in her eyes dimming just enough. Jae-hyun turned back to Ferdinand and continued.

“The saint who betrayed me, Lucretia, is already suffering exactly as you will. Watch carefully.”

Before the sentence finished, a translucent image bloomed in front of Ferdinand.

Lucretia, silver hair matted with tears, forced into the arms of the grotesque Tarzan. The gorilla-like beast’s lips claimed hers in a brutal kiss. Then came the Brider—its tentacles piercing both breasts and both buttocks, injecting eggs that hatched inside her, splitting her flesh as they emerged into the light.

["Eep... AAAAAAHHHH!!!"]

Lucretia’s scream tore from her throat the instant she was freed from Tarzan’s lips. Ferdinand’s face paled.

“W-what?! Would you do the same to me?!”

Even watching the scene, Ferdinand’s body shook. He had grown up as a crown prince, never knowing true hardship. Only the memories of the wars he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had once led remained, and those memories were nothing compared to what Irene had endured. He had never learned to endure pain the way she had.

“No need to worry. Not yet. Hee hee. But if the Habsburg Empire falls, your fate will be as sweet as Lucretia’s—knowing you were simply a tool. Beg all you want. Struggle all you want.”

Ferdinand sighed in relief.

“Ha… ha ha ha!”

He still believed he would survive. Jae-hyun had shown no sign of giving him that level of torment immediately. The realization brought a laugh that was almost wise. He stayed silent, refusing to provoke the Demon King further.

He did not know that Jae-hyun had already placed a curse upon him. One that could only be completed here, where he was now.

Jae-hyun swallowed the laughter that threatened to burst from his chest. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠To truly understand the pain Irene had endured, he needed to be here. He would watch this man—his father-in-law—break as the curse slowly took root.

“Well, then. Let us return. Come along, Irene.”

“Yes, brother.”

Irene glanced curiously at the corpse of Seria, but she said nothing. She simply followed Jae-hyun out.

Thump.

Just as they stepped out of the Habsburg Palace, Jae-hyun snapped his fingers. Black mist swirled around Irene, and a simple white dress formed around her body—covering her completely for the first time in this place.

“Brother, thank you. I love you.”

The moment the dress appeared, Irene smiled brightly and pressed a quick kiss to Jae-hyun’s cheek. This was the first kiss he had received since becoming the Demon King. For a second he felt awkward. Then the awkwardness melted into something warmer.

He was feeling human again. His old self.