Chapter 173
Chapter 173
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 173
Chapter Title: Play (3)
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Elpante was a complex structure, with buildings of all kinds woven together like a spiderweb, given how long it had stood.
Even Yuria, with her extreme tendencies, had a building where she could quietly hole up without a sound.
Which meant pulling off something big in a deserted spot, without anyone noticing, wasn't all that hard.
“...Tying knots is kinda tricky...”
Dawood Campbell muttered that with completely unfocused eyes.
The way he fashioned a noose from some sturdy rope he'd scrounged up looked beyond pathetic—almost deranged.
[...]
[...]
In the Soul Linker, neatly set aside a short distance away alongside his 'last will and testament,' two spirits fell silent at once.
[...You sure we shouldn't stop him?]
Valkasus, who had woken up at some point, said that to Kalliban, but Kalliban just let out a deep sigh instead of answering.
[No, even if we tried, he's not gonna listen.]
[...But we can't just let him kill himself!]
Valkasus yelled in alarm at Kalliban's calm reply.
No, how was he staying so damn composed when the guy was right on the edge?
Even as these words flowed through his mind, Dawood was nearly done prepping the noose around his neck. He checked it with eyes brimming with tears.
[No reason not to be calm.]
But Kalliban's voice came back unflustered, despite Valkasus's urgency.
[The ones stuck to that guy are 'demons,' plural, Valkasus.]
He gave a wry smile as he continued.
[Even if he wants to die, at least one of them won't let him.]
Valkasus didn't need to ask what that meant.
-!
The instant Dawood whistled and looped the noose around his neck, the part fixed to the roof exploded and flew off.
With nothing holding it up anymore, Dawood thudded to the ground.
As he rolled pathetically across the floor amid crashing noises, someone descended lightly from above.
“...Seriously...”
Feynol, who had been levitating with magic, drew back the flames wrapping her body and sighed deeply.
“I've been swamped prepping for the second trial, so we haven't met up lately. And the first thing I see when we finally do? This. From you.”
“...”
Dawood stared blankly at Feynol, illuminated by moonlight.
Her dress fluttered against the wide-open night sky, almost dreamlike.
But the biggest factor in that ethereal vibe was something else.
Dawood's dazed gaze drifted up to what protruded from her head.
'...Horns?'
From someone whose memories were gone but knowledge intact, he was certain: no human on the continent sprouted anything like that from their head.
He just felt puzzled by the unfamiliar sight.
But the two spirits in the Soul Linker had different reactions.
Horns were, no explanation needed, the clear mark of a 'demon.'
The blast that took out the roof was definitely related.
That had been karmic fire, the red demon's authority, without a doubt.
The raw power wasn't a big deal. Even Elpante's sturdy buildings couldn't fully withstand a demon's authority—enough to damage even a cherub's barrier.
What was absurd was...
[...Did she just 'carve off' exactly the top part of the building with a demon's authority?]
Valkasus groaned.
No vessel in the world could draw out and wield a demon's authority like that at will.
Usually, it manifested when the fragment overtook the host and they rampaged.
To control it with such precision implied a lot.
[...]
Kalliban watched quietly, lips sealed.
It wasn't pleasant seeing the power of a demon he'd personally exorcised in life, right before his eyes.
But an even more chilling dread crawled down his spine.
'...She said before that as she regained emotions, her control over the demon's power grew stronger.'
And without question.
The red demon's authority he saw now was leagues beyond the Night Raid incident in finesse.
Compared to its previous blind spread, it now moved with clear intent, almost calculated.
So, if—just hypothetically.
From someone who'd fought her once, an unwelcome assumption arose.
If this girl, for whatever reason.
Became an 'enemy.'
With firepower from three demon fragments, plus this level of precision to burn the world...
[...]
A disaster dwarfing the Night Raid—which turned half a dozen cities to ash in half a day—wouldn't be surprising.
As those thoughts swirled, Feynol sighed, hands on hips, eyes narrowed.
Her posture screamed she couldn't rein him in.
“You can't die even if you want to. So what's this? Playing pretend?”
“...Pardon?”
Dawood blurted in confusion.
No, she'd never even been in his hospital room when he collapsed—this was their first meeting.
So why act like they knew each other?
As he glared upward with those thoughts, Feynol landed lightly on the ground.
She strode over, grabbed the collar of the sprawled Dawood, and yanked him up.
Unimaginable strength from her slender frame, but questioning a demon vessel about that was pointless.
“...Wh-who are you...?”
Then.
Feynol kissed him, just like that.
“...? ...?! ----?!”
Startled, Dawood thrashed wildly, but her grip held firm.
She pressed in. Until he was out of breath. As he struggled.
“...Wh-what... the hell...?”
The moment their lips parted, Dawood stammered in panic.
His lost memories made it fuzzy, but a strange sense of déjà vu hit—like this had happened before.
“...Recharging.”
“...Huh?”
“Been apart from you lately, so I haven't felt that pounding in my chest.”
Feynol continued flatly.
Feeling emotions was a huge deal for her—like an oasis to a desert wanderer.
Especially intense 'resonance' from this man.
Kissing him on sight wasn't special.
At least, not to her.
“...”
“You said you'd make me happy, so take responsibility. I was desperate too.”
“...You too...?”
His head spun, for real.
Dawood's eyes lost focus again.
He staggered up and snatched the discarded noose from the floor.
“...And what're you gonna do with that?”
Feynol smirked and asked. Dawood muttered, half out of his mind.
“...Maybe it'd be better if someone like me just died...”
“Ah.”
Feynol smirked again at his words.
“Who said you get to decide that?”
“...”
With that, the noose in his hand burst into flames conjured from thin air.
As if she'd never allow it.
“Don't get the wrong idea, Dawood Campbell.”
Feynol continued, still smiling.
“Your life isn't entirely yours.”
“...Pardon?”
Focus returned to Dawood's eyes.
Mostly from sheer disbelief.
“You barge into people's lives uninvited. Steal their hearts. Then talk about dying on your whim.”
But her eyes weren't smiling.
More like gleaming with a sinister, sticky light.
“Isn't that too selfish?”
“...”
“You have a duty to survive to the end, make me happy, and get happy yourself.”
“...”
“If you die, I'll chase you to the ends of hell and make you answer for it. So cut the nonsense. Got it?”
Feynol pecked his lips lightly again.
Just a brush compared to before.
But chillingly ominous.
“...That's enough, Feynol.”
As Dawood broke out in cold sweats, a voice cut in from the side.
“I'll credit you for finding him so fast, but with an artificial soul already making his mind unstable, how do you justify provoking it like that?”
“...My apologies.”
Feynol set Dawood down with a nod. Sullivan, who had just opened the door, sighed and ran a hand through her hair.
“No causing trouble, Viscount Campbell. You need to remember you're a patient.”
Warm voice.
But to Dawood, hounded by women endlessly, it felt like ominous kindness laced with fear.
'...No way.'
This woman too? Entwined with him?
“...Um, Prime Minister, if I may.”
Dawood asked in a trembling voice.
“Wh-what's our relationship...?”
“...”
Sullivan furrowed her brow at the sudden question.
Her response carried a 'what kind of obvious thing is that?' tone.
“No relationship.”
“...!”
Dawood's face lit up instantly.
Yeah, had to be.
No matter how crazy he'd been before losing his memories, at least one person had to be normal—
“You thought that, didn't you.”
“...”
“I have slightly special feelings for you, though.”
The Prime Minister said that with a soft smile, gently stroking his cheek.
To Dawood, it felt like the Grim Reaper's touch.
“Anyway, enough commotion. Time to head back.”
“...Head back...?”
“There are plenty worried about you.”
“...Just kill me... please kill me, Prime Minister...”
Dawood muttered with unfocused eyes.
“...?”
Then he clamped his mouth shut.
He'd noticed something off.
“...Prime Minister?”
Sullivan, who had looked unflappably stern until a second ago.
Her face paled noticeably at those words.
“...Urp.”
She hurriedly covered her mouth, like fighting nausea.
Cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
She breathed raggedly. The emotions on her face looked like sheer terror.
As if.
Some 'trauma' had been triggered.
“...”
“...”
Dawood and even Feynol stared in confusion.
The Prime Minister.
The woman who could put the Emperor at her feet if she wanted.
The Iron-Blooded Prime Minister.
Reeling back like a scared child from Dawood's single plea.
“...Prime Minister?”
“Hand over the patient, Feynol.”
Sullivan's tone grew markedly rougher as she issued the order.
“...I have urgent business. I'll... go.”
She barely got the words out before turning on her heel.
Then bolted down the hall almost at a run.
“...”
“...”
Silence stretched for minutes.
“...Did I say something wrong?”
“Dunno...?”
All that remained where Sullivan had fled were Dawood and Feynol, both bewildered.
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“...Prime Minister?”
Chaos.
That was the only sensation Sullivan felt upon reaching her private quarters in Elpante.
“...Prime Minister, are you alright?”
She ignored her attendant's repeated questions at the door, bursting inside pale-faced.
And right away.
“...Urp...!”
She hit the bathroom and vomited up her guts.
In her mind, 'old' memories with someone replayed.
From ancient times, impossibly distant.
Memories that didn't exist in 'this world.'
-Thank you, always, Sullivan.
Someone's voice.
-I get the Prime Minister gig is busy, but take it easy. Lean on me a bit.
Someone's warmth.
-...Demon vessel or whatever, I'll never abandon you. Not me.
Someone's smile.
Memories untouched even as the world 'regressed.'
They pounded her head. Invaded her consciousness.
Then.
That one line from moments ago echoed.
-...Just kill me... please kill me, Prime Minister...
She knew it wasn't sincere. The context was different; she knew better than anyone he hadn't meant it that way.
But.
“...”
What a nightmarish experience.
Precious memories.
Overwritten by a single line from the 'same person.'
Into the most horrific scene.
-Please.
It was raining.
She remembered the shattered palace, horrifically ruined.
The man in her arms, breathing faintly.
-Please.
-Sorry, but... it hurts... so much...
-...Would you kill me? Instead?
Blood on her hands. Guts on her feet.
Dawood Campbell, forcing a smile, begging her for that.
The memory, dusty on the fringes of her mind, replayed—and instantly.
“...Ugh-... Urp...-!”
Tears mixing with her face, Sullivan heaved even more violently.
She went on for ages, retching long after her stomach emptied.
“...”
How long?
Exhausted, Sullivan collapsed there.
“...No. This time...”
A choked sob escaped.
“This world... no... it won't be...”
Endlessly.
“I can protect you...”
The golden Prime Minister whispered through tears.
“I won't let you die...”
She would, no matter what.
Betting everything she had.
No demon, no damned forebear, no Emperor, no Pontiff—nobody.
Could take Dawood Campbell from her.
'...At least, this time.'
Golden magic faintly glowed in her heaving chest as she repeated the vow.
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