The 71st Demon King, Part 2
Creak, creak.
The pulley groaned as I pulled the rope, drawing up a bucket of water from the well in the center of the village. I lifted the bucket with practiced ease and poured it into a tin pail.
Come to think of it, even this felt quite heavy at first.
Perhaps because my Strength stat had increased significantly, the bucket now felt light as a feather. Looking back, so much had changed compared to when I first possessed Alan's body. Then again, it would be stranger if nothing had changed after all the grueling effort I'd put in.
And the way people look at me has changed, too.
Suddenly, whispers drifted over from nearby. I was reminded once again of just how sharp this guy's hearing was.
"Hey, who wants to go smack the back of Alan's head?"
"Are you crazy? What if you get caught? Don't you remember that bandit who got beaten half to death by him?"
"Well, if I don't get caught..."
"You really think you won't get caught?"
They were still just kids, but they seemed to harbor a healthy amount of fear toward me now. Having left the village for a journey and returned, I probably looked like a mature adult to them. Though in reality, I had been wandering through the far more perilous Chaos Zone.
As long as they don't get in my way, it's fine.
Shouldering the two tin pails, I returned to the inn and pushed the door open. My eyes immediately fell upon Wyss, who was sitting behind the counter. She looked completely at home now, fully adjusted to the inn's daily routine.
If Wyss really is a Demon King, then even this cozy domesticity must be an act.
A Demon King would infiltrate a village to scout before tearing a hole in the barrier. They would assess whether there were any formidable forces capable of defending the town. Yet, Wyss's adaptability was almost too rapid for a scout. She had thrown herself into the chores as if planning to settle down here forever, making me wonder if she was truly just a tragic refugee who had lost her homeland.
By the way...
That guy is here again.
It was the young Pathfinder who had brought Wyss to the inn. I believed his name was Finn. He claimed he was just checking up on her, but to any onlooker, his romantic interest was painfully obvious.
Not that it's any of my business.
I didn't particularly care. In fact, if he was keeping an eye on Wyss for me, I should be thanking him. With that thought, I set the pails down. The heavy thud finally drew Wyss's attention.
"Alan? I was wondering where you went, and you were fetching water. You really are so diligent."
Diligent, my foot. Lately, I barely left my room, spending most of my time cooped up training my Wind Authority. Her exaggerated praise felt somewhat burdensome.
"I'll be in my room, so please call me when it's lunchtime. I'm on duty for lunch today."
I told her to call me...
By the time she finally knocked on my door, lunch was already fully prepared. I looked down at the dish in my bowl. A colorful assortment of vegetables was beautifully stir-fried alongside tender potatoes. It looked remarkably appetizing.
She didn't poison it, did she?
Wyss had no reason to suspect I was strong. To keep her own identity hidden, she wouldn't go around murdering innocent bystanders. Clinging to that logical assumption, I took a bite.
Oh?
My eyes widened. It was delicious. Up until now, I had assumed that no matter how one cooked the ingredients of this world, they would always taste bland and uninspiring. This dish completely shattered that prejudice.
"My, the young lady is quite the cook," the Innkeeper praised, clearly enjoying the meal as well.
"I knew carrying her back from outside the barrier would pay off," Finn chimed in.
Why was this guy naturally joining our family meal? Well, whatever. I focused on clearing my plate. Opportunities to eat food this good were rare in these parts.
Just then, the Innkeeper turned to the young Pathfinder. "By the way, kid, aren't you going outside the barrier lately? I thought you said you were a Pathfinder."
The question seemed to strike a nerve, as Finn flinched slightly. "Well, I sold the relic I brought back last time, so I have a bit of breathing room financially."
He seemed to be the type who only ventured outside the barrier when he ran out of money, rather than actively saving up. In truth, most Pathfinders were like that. Choosing such a profession in the first place meant they didn't have a strong attachment to a long life.
However, his next words were somewhat unexpected. "And besides, I don't want to be a Pathfinder forever. I'd like to use the money I save from selling relics to open my own shop."
The Innkeeper let out a hearty chuckle. "Oho, do you have any idea how much capital it takes to open a shop?"
"Well, I plan to start small with a street stall first."
He seemed to be underestimating the difficulties of running a business, but it wasn't my concern. If he failed, he would probably just head back outside the barrier. Just as I was about to excuse myself from the table—
"By the way, have you heard about the bandits outside the barrier vanishing recently? There's a rumor going around that a Hero did it. Is it true?"
Suddenly, a topic directly related to me was brought up. Naturally, the disappearance of a bandit group was of great interest to a Pathfinder. But as for the identity of this "Hero"...
Are they talking about Gwen?
It seemed the credit for wiping out the bandits had been attributed to Gwen. Since I had no desire to stand in the spotlight, this was actually a welcome development.
"According to some of the guests, a Hero did stay at our inn recently," the Innkeeper said. Being a warm and sociable man, he was always well-informed about the rumors circulating among travelers. Still, I hadn't expected him to know about Gwen.
"I think they called her the Rose Hero? Apparently, she's quite famous."
"A famous Hero? Is she still staying at the inn?"
"No, she already left."
"Ah, I see. I wanted to express my gratitude..."
The actual recipient of that gratitude was sitting right in front of him, but I saw no reason to speak up. I quietly slipped away from the dining table.
"Thank you," I said, placing the purchased groceries into the basket. But just as I went to lift it, another hand reached for the handle. Ignoring the gesture, I snatched the basket away.
"Um, I can carry that..."
"I'll carry it."
Wyss's face fell into a dejected pout. Ignoring her dejected expression, I began scanning the stalls for the next item on my shopping list.
"Oh, Miss Wyss! Come over here, the vegetables are incredibly fresh today!"
"And isn't that young Alan next to her? It's been a while! Are you two out on a date?"
Alan's sharp ears didn't miss a single word of the surrounding chatter. I chose not to respond, though it was rather annoying.
How has Wyss become so popular when she's barely been in the village for a week?
Every villager we passed seemed to call out to her, and each time, Wyss would offer a bright, radiant smile in return. Well, she was undeniably beautiful. Combined with her gentle, approachable nature, it was no wonder the locals adored her.
After wandering around the village with Wyss for a while, I finally managed to purchase everything we needed. Although the ingredients available in a remote border village were limited, we had gathered a fairly decent bounty.
"Would it be alright if I prepared dinner tonight as well?" Wyss asked.
"I'll do it. Technically, I was supposed to be on duty for lunch today."
Of course, dinner would undoubtedly taste better if Wyss made it. But it wasn't as if I was completely incompetent in the kitchen. At the very least, I was confident I could cook better than the Innkeeper.
"By the way, Wyss."
We stood alone in the dimming alleyway as the sun began to set, the grocery basket hanging from my hand. It was the perfect environment to ask a question.
"You lost your homeland, didn't you?"
"Pardon?... Ah, yes, that's right."
A week had already passed since we met. The time was fast approaching for me to obtain some certainty. To find that certainty, I pressed further.
"Then how were you able to adapt so quickly?"
"What do you mean by..."
"How can you be so kind to everyone?"
In that instant, Wyss froze in her tracks. I turned my head to look at her.
"I... I..."
Her eyes welled with tears. Only then did I realize I had made a terrible mistake.
"I'm sorry. That was an incredibly rude question..."
Watching her wipe her tears with her sleeve, a heavy wave of guilt washed over me. I hadn't intended to hurt her. But looking back, my question had been deeply insensitive. What if she wasn't a Demon King? I had asked without considering that possibility at all.
"...It's alright. It's my fault."
"What?"
"I was being too overbearing... and it made you uncomfortable, didn't it?"
No. That wasn't it at all.
"No, it didn't make me uncomfortable."
I had simply wanted to know.
"I just wanted to ask... if you weren't sad about losing your home."
In hindsight, even this follow-up was rather tactless. But I truly wanted to understand. After all, not a single trace of sorrow had shown through her demeanor until now.
"I see. You wondered if I wasn't grieving my home..."
She lowered her sleeve. Her tears had already stopped.
"Of course I'm sad. How could I not be? My home vanished before I could even process it, and suddenly I was thrown into a strange, unfamiliar place."
She suddenly offered a faint smile.
"But there's nothing I can do about it. My homeland is already gone, and I still have to survive."
I could only stare blankly at her smile. I hadn't realized it until now, but in a way, she was in the exact same position as me. There was no going back. Yet, we still had to live. In the face of such despair, she chose to smile. Unlike me, who had nearly given up on everything, she was strong enough to conceal her grief behind a cheerful facade.
"To survive here, I had no choice but to force myself to smile. Kindness was the only weapon I had left."
She had quickly figured out her own way to survive. And that way was kindness.
"I didn't care if my kindness ended up hurting someone along the way. I was simply too desperate to keep myself alive."
I wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, but she looked far too resilient for my words to reach her.
"So, I'm sorry, Alan."
I couldn't bring myself to look her straight in the eye anymore. Her face was messy, smudged with dried tears, but to me, she looked overwhelmingly beautiful.
"Can you forgive me?"
But I couldn't give her an answer. Not now, not yet. Because a day might come when I would have to kill her.