Chapter 149: Cruel Truth, Cruel Fate (2)
Chapter 149: Cruel Truth, Cruel Fate (2)
The 0th Legion Commander resumed his halted steps.
As if the rumors that he was suffering from a high fever were true, the gatekeepers couldn't help but stiffen at the searing heat they felt radiating from him as he passed them by.
'No matter how I look at it... he really should be resting in his room instead of going to the library.......'
Leaving the gatekeepers' unvoiced concerns behind, Deon Hart stepped into the library.
A librarian on one side spotted him and shot to his feet, but Deon walked past him as if he wasn't even there and stopped in front of a familiar bookshelf.
He found the book he was looking for without difficulty.
[Information on the Current Heroes of the Empire]
[Authors: Idelia, Dvelania]
He had pressed Idelia and Dvelania to produce information on Cruel. If they didn't have it, he'd told them to scrape it together and hand it over, unreasonably insisting like never before. The reply had come that the scope was too vast and it would take a long time, but he'd pushed his unreasonable demand and shortened the timeframe.
He had no intention of sitting still and doing nothing during the empty hours while the two of them moved to gather information.
Deon reached out and pulled the book from the shelf. He flipped through the earlier contents haphazardly and stopped at the section where Cruel's portrait appeared. He met the familiar green eyes.
[(Former) Fourth Hero. Cruel Hart. (Currently deceased. Information slated for expiration.)]
[Known to be blood-related to the Third Hero, Deon Hart. Though it is known he was not the Emperor's man but the man of the Duke who opposes him....]
Right, this was where he had closed the book before.
Strength entered his hand. Not even blinking, Deon read the next part.
[...He displayed behavior that seemed more like restraining the Duke than faithfully following him, such as distorting or nullifying his orders.]
There was no way the Duke would have entrusted Cruel with handling important information, so the orders he gave were likely the kind that involved killing or burying someone.
So, who had the Duke primarily wanted to kill?
His head wasn't working properly due to the fever, but even in that state, Deon could find the answer.
"......Ha."
He just let out a laugh.
"Hahaha... Ahahahaha!!"
He felt like he was going insane. He really felt like he was going to lose his mind.
He never imagined he'd resent the sharp mind that he'd praised Cruel for having as a child this much.
If only he had read this when Cruel was still alive, he could have laughed it off, saying there was no way that target was him. And then, unable to shake the uncomfortable feeling, he would have started investigating.
The Duke, giving orders to harm someone, and Cruel, acting as a filter in between.
And since Cruel died shielding him, it was as if a stamp had been slammed firmly onto the suspicion raised by that first clue.
There could be no clearer proof.
Vomiting up the blood surging inside him without restraint, Deon laughed like a madman.
It was me.
You were protecting me.
From the perspective of the head of the Noble Faction, who would be the most troublesome human?
A man known as one of the Emperor's favorite swords and his loyal dog, who, unlike the other Heroes operating openly, moved in the shadows, making it hard to predict where he would pop up next.
Wasn't that exactly Deon Hart?
"Then why did you do it?"
The habits built up over ten-plus years tried to make him ignore the unbearable truth. When he consciously stopped this, his train of thought instead chose to resent Cruel.
Because there was still an unresolved question.
"Why did you send me out to the battlefield?"
If you were going to die like that, then you should have just abandoned me. When was it you sent me to the battlefield, and why are you trying to protect me now?
Did you feel a belated sense of guilt? If so, then I have no need to feel guilt. It would only have been the act of a despicable hypocrite trying to ease his own conscience.
"Demon."
"......Your Majesty."
He lifted his head in a slightly dazed state of mind.
The Demon King, having seen Deon's face, a mess of rage, despair, guilt, and every other indescribable emotion mixed together, slowly lowered his gaze as if assessing his physical condition. His clothes soaked in cold sweat were a sight, but it was the sight of his bare, white feet that made him click his tongue softly.
But only for a moment. He spoke as if he hadn't seen anything.
"I heard you requested information on Cruel Hart."
"......."
"The kids were aghast, saying the scope was too vast...."
His Inverse Eyes stared into the red eyes holding a deep saturation.
"Did you say that because you genuinely couldn't specify the scope you wanted, or because you couldn't tell them the scope you wanted?"
"......."
"The latter, I see."
Well, Cruel Hart is connected to the Empire's Third Hero, 'Deon Hart,' so he would have had to choose his words carefully. One slip and he might have been exposed as the same person as the 0th Legion Commander.
With his fever so high it must be hard to even think straight, the fact that he still managed to distinguish between what he could and couldn't say was remarkable.
After regarding Deon with renewed admiration for just a moment, the Demon King, unable to leave a patient he'd barely saved unattended like this, softly drew a smile meant to reassure the other.
"Then tell me. It's fine if it's me, isn't it?"
"......."
"I'll help."
Since the Demon King knew his identity and was playing the role of concealing it, there would be nothing to get caught up on.
Perhaps slightly reassured by this, Deon, his reason finally consumed by fever, staggered toward the Demon King. Raising his trembling hands as if clinging, he grabbed the Demon King by the collar and haltingly opened his mouth.
Incomplete sentences tumbled out in a jumble, like a child's.
"So, Cruel died in my place, but... we were clearly on bad terms......."
"......Aha."
The Demon King, having pieced together the rambling words that finally spilled out, grasped the situation and let out a low murmur of understanding.
"I see. I'll look into it."
"Thank...."
"So, for now, let's get you to sleep."
Even though he wasn't touching him directly, just grabbed by the collar, the air touching his skin felt hot. How on earth did he walk all the way here like this? And barefoot, at that.
He tapped Deon's forehead with the tip of his finger. Only after catching Deon with magic as his eyes slowly closed and he collapsed did the Demon King recall that his own mana wasn't what it used to be.
'In the past, I wouldn't have felt a thing using magic of this level.'
Now, he could feel his mana decreasing, even if only a little.
Still, since he'd already used the magic, he decided he'd only use it long enough to return Deon Hart to his room and then restrain himself, rolling his eyes again to look at the pitiful human.
Even in sleep, he seemed to be tormented by the fever, his brow faintly furrowed as he breathed in restless, shallow gasps.
"Deon Hart."
As if to confirm he was asleep, he whispered his name softly.
"Do you know when humans become corrupted?"
Having lived for a long time as the Demon King, he had witnessed the corruption of countless humans.
Ah, right. 'Corrupted' wasn't quite the right word. It would be more accurate to say they 'break.'
"It's when they lose something precious."
More precisely, when they have nothing left to lose.
When cornered and pressured until they can barely breathe, humans thoroughly break and become corrupted. And there's no human more chilling and terrifying than that.
He whispered the cruel fact calmly, as if reading from a book.
"You've lost the one human who truly cared for you."
He would likely never find another human like him.
Who else would try to give up everything they have for another?
"Poor Deon."
The Demon King smiled soundlessly.
"You're truly alone now."
* * *
[Before you deliver the information to Demon, bring it to me first.]
After intercepting the researched information from Idelia and Dvelania and roughly organizing it, the Demon King sought out Deon Hart, carrying only a single sheet of paper summarizing everything.
Because he knew exactly what kind of information Deon Hart wanted, he dismissed everyone from the room and, without hesitation, placed the document he was holding onto Deon's lap.
"The information Dvelania and Idelia obtained was so vast that I thought you'd have trouble finding what you needed, so I summarized it. This is the information you wanted, right?"
"......."
Sitting on the bed, Deon stared at the Demon King for a moment before picking up the paper on his lap. His bloodshot, reddened eyes began to read the letters.
The whites of his eyes, which had been just a bit bloodshot and otherwise fine when he read the first letter, became increasingly streaked with red veins and the rims of his eyes grew redder the further he read. Was it from sorrow?
......No, this was rage.
"Ha, haha...."
A vicious killing intent directed at himself.
During the Eight-Year War, it was originally Cruel who was supposed to go to war. The documents were swapped in the middle, and he ended up going instead.
"I......"
The cause was the Duke. He tampered with the documents and sent him.
The family members he killed with his own hands had sent petitions for correction to the Imperial Palace numerous times in the early stages of the war, trying to bring him back, and when they couldn't wait any longer, they even sent people, but all went unanswered, so they had no way to do anything.
Of course, the one who cut off the family's correspondence in the middle was also the Duke.
"What have I... done?"
He wanted to kill.
He wanted to die. He wanted to drive this useless body of his to death in the cruelest way possible right that instant, but he also couldn't easily sever the life Cruel had saved by sacrificing himself.
Closing his eyes to suppress his emotions, Deon Hart ultimately couldn't hold out, and even forgetting he was in front of the Demon King, he grabbed whatever was in reach and hurled it to the floor.
Crash!
A thrown flowerpot among the objects shattered into pieces, sending fragments flying. Deon silently stared at a large shard that landed on his blanket before reaching out his hand.
His attempt to grab it was foiled by the Demon King's action of seizing his wrist to stop him.
Thanks to that, as if he had come to his senses slightly, Deon lifted his gaze along the hand holding his wrist and met the Demon King's eyes. Suppressed murderous intent and rage surged within those red pupils.
"......Did the Emperor know about this?"
Hmm. The Demon King released his wrist, crossed his arms, and tilted his head to one side.
He had deliberately omitted the information on 'why the Duke acted that way' when he gave it, but he didn't ask. Well, he probably doesn't have the mental capacity to think about that right now.
Well, it's convenient for him, so he didn't mind.
"After rewarding you based on merit, how could he not know?"
"Haha."
Deon slowly dragged a hand down his face.
He thought he understood now why Cruel had said those things.
Because if he hadn't broken down his 'wall' in advance, when he obtained this information now, the wall pushed to its limit would surely have collapsed, causing exponentially more stress than he was under now.
"Cough."
Even he, who had hurriedly broken down the wall beforehand and barely managed to patch himself up, found this truth and stress nearly unbearable. What would it have been like if it had combined with the collapse of the wall?
'The wall collapsing alone nearly killed me.'
Without a doubt, he would have certainly died.
'You're protecting me even in death.'
The more he learned, the more his murderous intent toward himself grew. What was he supposed to do?
He couldn't easily throw away the life you saved.
Reaching the peak of rage, he became eerily calm instead. Instead of throwing things again or shouting at the top of his lungs, Deon quietly lifted his head and stared at the empty air.
'Brother.'
I'm sorry.
He had no right to apologize, and he knew that this couldn't be resolved with a mere 'sorry', but no other words came to mind.
'I shouldn't be thinking this way anymore.'
Really.
'I want to die.'
As if his suppressed emotions had been converted into blood, the bitter liquid finally surged up and down his throat. At the unexpectedly large amount, the Demon King clicked his tongue and muttered, 'Oh dear...' and with that as his last sensation, Deon willingly surrendered his body to the darkness swallowing his consciousness.
* * *
The world built on misunderstandings and delusions shattered.
* * *
The moment Deon Hart regained consciousness, he sought out the Demon King.
Standing solemnly in front of the office desk, just like that time he had submitted his resignation letter, Deon looked down quietly at the Demon King, who looked up at him and picked up the communication stone nearby. After a few signals, someone received the call.
"Ben, come to the front of the office door right now."
- Yes? Are you injured somewhere?!
"No. And don't confuse it—it's 'in front of the office door,' not the office itself. Wait there until I call you."
A sense of bewilderment at the incomprehensible order clearly transmitted even through the communicator, but since he wasn't the one who mattered, the Demon King ignored it and hung up.
Putting down the communication stone, he raised his head again and laid his eyes on Deon. Their eyes met, and his Inverse Eyes disappeared beneath eyelids that curved like crescent moons.
"Then, I'll ask you now."
"......."
"What's the reason you came all the way here?"
Even though you're unwell.