Chapter 46
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: Secret (2)
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[ "Did the founding head also have this demon?" ]
[ "Yes." ]
Roel widened her eyes.
A flustered expression at the unimaginable truth.
She couldn't hide her look of shock.
I was the same.
"......Really?"
Thinking about it, I knew next to nothing about this role.
I've simply followed the system's lead, committing all sorts of misdeeds without ever understanding why.
It's not like I never tried to find out.
I tossed questions into the suggestion box and even subtly probed Roel once or twice.
But nothing worked, so I eventually gave up...
This was a family heirloom?
[ "Ah, please tell me! What is this demon? How do I...!" ]
[ "Roel." ]
Roel was desperate.
This incident had hit her especially hard, so she wanted to gain control somehow.
On the other hand, the family head remained calm.
He seemed to have picked up on her fragile state.
[ "You should rest first. You must be tired from the long journey." ]
[ "I...!" ]
Roel started to say something, then held back.
[ "......Understood." ]
The family head's gaze was resolute.
Stubborn as stone—no give whatsoever.
Even I would fold under a look like that.
[ "Miss, allow me to carry your luggage." ]
One of the servants stepped forward.
I watched Roel trail after him in silence, feeling a twinge of pity.
The mansion was opulent.
As befitting nobles, though the servant staff seemed thin for a place that size.
The Griffith family was unmistakably on the decline.
[ "You're back, sister." ]
Someone intercepted Roel on her way to her room.
Blonde hair, blue eyes. Short cut, though.
Just like imagining Roel a year or two younger.
Roel's little sister, no doubt.
[ "Sion." ]
[ "Any results to show?" ]
[ "......" ]
[ "No answer, huh." ]
They didn't look close at all.
Sure, sisters could be like that, but this went beyond some soft 'love-hate' vibe to me.
Sion spoke up.
[ "Figures from you." ]
Raw contempt aimed straight at Roel.
[ "Would've been better if I'd gotten the blessing instead. Right?" ]
[ "Stop." ]
[ "You're the weak one, hogging all the family's hopes, and you bring back nothing? Doesn't add up." ]
Sion carried some kind of inferiority complex.
I could piece together the rough picture.
The little sister was far superior, yet the blessing went to the older one.
So despite her efforts, the family passed her over.
[ "Miss Sion." ]
The servant guiding Roel cut in.
[ "Miss Roel is currently the top cadet at the Academy." ]
[ "What?" ]
This term's finals hadn't been graded.
Blamed on the massive lure spell hung over Roel—the exam couldn't go on properly.
My little rampage played a part too, and rescheduling was a hassle all around, so no retake.
Roel still held the top spot.
[ "No way." ]
[ "It's true." ]
[ "Roel, of all people, how...?" ]
Roel brushed past the baffled Sion without a word.
[ "Miss Roel, the Baron's wife wishes to see you." ]
[ "Got it." ]
Roel let out a sigh.
The Baron's wife—her mother—and the first sound out of her mouth was a sigh... Not promising.
Honestly, rest sounded ideal right now.
The head had said as much.
But she wouldn't heed me anyway.
[ "Roel, it's been a while." ]
Roel entered the wife's room.
A refined middle-aged woman greeted her with a smile.
[ "I've heard all about it." ]
The wife cut straight to it, no chit-chat.
[ "A demon showed up for you?" ]
No pat on the back for her troubles. No concern if she was alright.
No Academy questions, not even rote pleasantries.
[ "At least you held onto the candidate spot." ]
[ "......Yes." ]
[ "Snagging top rank was good, but no more messes like this." ]
[ "Understood." ]
[ "Good girl. My daughter." ]
Seemed encouraging on the surface.
But not a whiff of maternal warmth.
A strange pressure lurked under the kindness.
[ "You know failure means the end for our house." ]
All the family elders pulling this routine?
Even when Roel was just fifteen...?
The Griffiths were more ruthless than I'd figured.
[ "Roel, I have high hopes." ]
A surge of irritation hit me.
Click.
"Roel."
I flicked on the mic. Roel flinched on the other side of the screen.
I knew she wouldn't listen.
With all the resentment piled up, nothing I said would land well.
That left me wondering.
To get good intentions across, do I have to sugarcoat it?
Can't send the message any other way?
"Becoming a hero for these people?"
Probably not.
The how and when of delivery changes how it's taken.
I had to play that angle.
"That your level of resolve, huh."
Of course I knew better.
Roel's hero dream wasn't for the family—it was about saving lives.
Still, she hadn't fully broken free of them.
Roel needed liberation first.
[ "......I'll take my leave." ]
[ "Yes, get some rest." ]
Roel stepped out.
Strode purposefully down the hall.
"Screw hero stuff—why not just quit?"
[ "Shut up." ]
Uncharacteristically snappy footsteps.
"Better than letting them jerk you around."
Whatever it was, drill it in long enough and it sticks.
Roel was conditioned to the 'family's expectations.'
Unconsciously chasing those baked-in hopes.
Best bet to shatter conditioning like that? Rage.
Bang!
Roel flung the door wide.
Not her room.
[ "Father." ]
[ "......Didn't I tell you to rest?" ]
[ "I said I'm fine." ]
Roel was rejecting me.
In doing so, rejecting the ingrained obedience too.
[ "Tell me about the demon. Right now." ]
The head of the Griffith family, Arken Griffith, sighed like it was a massive headache.
His daughter standing tall before him. The door she'd smashed to splinters.
A situation that demanded a sigh.
"Roel, didn't I tell you to rest?"
"I told you I'm fine."
"Sounds like the Academy changed you for good."
Arken rose from his work.
'Well, should be fine now.'
Talking about the 'demon' could happen anytime.
So why send her off before?
Simple—she'd been too fragile.
'Not fragile now. She's pissed.'
Why?
The demon somehow?
"Follow me."
Nurturing an inner demon was a Griffith trait, but not everyone had one.
Family history recorded only three possessors, founder included.
Lucky break.
Even with just three, the records were thorough.
"Roel, what do you make of the demon inside you?"
"......Not sure."
"I'll spell it out."
Clank.
Arken unlocked the basement door.
Creak.
The old door groaned open, unnaturally.
Stale air rushed up.
With lit candle in hand, Arken descended first.
"We don't know where these demons come from. The founder's records just mention a 'curse.' One thing's sure: the demon isn't on your side."
Long stairs down to the basement.
rickety shelves, ancient tomes.
Cold stone floor etched with a 'ritual circle.'
"Mark my words, Roel. That demon wants your body. You fight like hell not to get devoured."
Arken hung the candle on the wall.
The dim flicker made the dark space feel sinister.
"......My body?"
"Right. You've lost control a few times already, haven't you?"
Roel flinched.
Arken pressed on.
"Don't fool yourself it's protecting you. It's just keeping the vessel intact for its own flesh."
Pure mana beaded at Arken's fingertips.
Droplet form, then plip onto the ritual circle.
The circle blazed to life.
A force alien to any magic.
"But its power is vast. Wouldn't you want to harness it?"
Arken backed away.
Gestured Roel inside.
"Subjugate the demon yourself. Its power becomes yours."
Now it clicked.
The circle's purpose.
Roel swallowed hard.
Tension refused to ease.
......Am I really meeting it?
The demon.
"I'll go."
No room to falter.
No choices from the start.
Fail, and she'd hurt her friends again.
Roel stepped forward.
Onto the ritual circle.
Whoosh.
An irresistible force swallowed her.
Yanked out against her will, sucked into somewhere.
Dizziness threatened blackout.
"Gasp."
Coming to, Roel stood in a familiar void.
The all-white world sprawled before her once more.
And.
"First time seeing me like this?"
"......Yeah."
At last, face to face with the demon.