15 - Memories Continue (1)
We ate lunch together and took a stroll through the nearby forest path to help with digestion. The warm late March sunlight, the rustling spring breeze. And the warmth flowing from our clasped hands. It was the perfect walk.
Back home, we sat facing each other at the dining table. As if by some unspoken promise, we placed our intertwined hands on the table and gazed at each other, grinning like idiots.
"Evan..."
"Piarot..."
"Hehe... Evan..."
"Piarot..."
If anyone saw us, they'd curse us out up one side and down the other—and they'd be right. But whatever. Let them curse. I'm a legendary cradle-to-grave solo who's pickled for at least 130 years, give or take. I'd only just broken free from those suffocating chains of curse.
Heh heh heh heh... I couldn't stop smirking.
In countless loops, there were moments when I searched not for a way to smash the demon king's skull, but for an eternal way to die. How many nights had I drowned in despair, wanting to let it all go? Good thing I didn't give up. Past me who held on—you have my deepest praise.
But.
After every sweet dream-like moment comes the sharp stab of reality.
......
I fiddled with her slender fingers, scrutinizing her face closely. She was a wreck. A shut-in for over two years. Depressed, socially phobic, with eating disorders that had ravaged her health—a scrawny girl on the brink.
Luck had been on my side from our first meeting. In a world that had turned its back on her, I alone extended a hand. But coldly speaking, I'd shamelessly exploited her most vulnerable spot.
Oof. A pang twisted in my chest.
I had to use her to take down the demon king. Even to protect the woman I loved... If I couldn't stop the demon king, she wouldn't escape the coming apocalypse either.
For that, she needed to recover her health. Return to the academy, to society. Stand tall under that brilliant sun.
But suddenly, fear gripped me. What if she regained her healthy body and mind? What if she recovered her lost self-esteem and reclaimed her dazzling status as the marquess's daughter?
Would she... still love me then?
It had only been a week since we met. Was what she felt for me true love, or the desperate dependence of someone grasping at straws?
F-rank abilities. No background as a commoner. Penniless. Could a duck like me fit beside a swan like her when she took flight?
Would she keep loving a guy like me?
It crept in. Anxiety slithered up from my toes like black vines, corroding me.
From now on... I had to prove myself as her true lover, not as a savior, but as plain old human Evan. So that when she left the nest to soar, she wouldn't abandon me—but grab my hand and fly together.
I gritted my teeth. Yeah, I had to bind her to me. Not as a mere benefactor, but as an indispensable man she couldn't live without. So she wouldn't leave me, so we both could survive.
"......"
"Evan?"
As my expression darkened, she tilted her head with worried eyes. The moment I met those clear, innocent red irises, the noisy calculator in my head clicked to a stop.
......I don't know. Whether her feelings are love or dependence. But one thing I do know.
I just wanted the woman in front of me right now to not be in pain. I wanted color to fill her gaunt cheeks, red vitality to her pale lips.
Yeah, that's the one certainty. That I already loved her. Meeting duration, conditions—none of that mattered. That's what I wanted to believe. For now...
Her health comes first.
I squeezed her hand and flashed a bright smile, banishing the anxiety.
"No, just... I'm glad you're by my side."
She smiled back like an angel. Yeah... this is enough for now.
I led Piarot by the hand to the full-length mirror in the corner of the living room.
"Alright, Piarot. What do you see in front of you?"
She leaned slightly on my shoulder and peered into the mirror. Her cheeks flushed shyly, her eyes those of a girl in love.
"Hehe... a hot couple."
Ugh!! My heart nearly stopped. She was an angel, no doubt.
But I shook my head coolly.
"......All I see is a couple of patients."
"Ah... Evan, that's mean."
She pouted her lips. But facts were facts. The man and woman in the mirror: both pale-faced, bones protruding from skinny frames. The epitome of a skin-and-bones couple. That was our raw reality.
Wait a sec.
My gaze lingered on her upper body in the mirror. Limbs like twigs, yet why was that area so bountiful?
......Her boobs must be hogging all the nutrients.
Marveling at the mysteries of the human body, I put on a stern face.
"So, from now on, we take care of each other. Even when I'm not around, eat properly! Got it?"
"Ugh... Got it."
She nodded, then looked up at me intently.
"What about Evan?"
"Huh? Me?"
"You're skinny too. Don't just worry about me... you'll eat well too, right?"
Her voice dripped with concern. Fair enough—I wasn't exactly poster-child-for-health material either.
"Yes, sir. I'll... eat well too."
"Promise?"
She stuck out her pinky. I chuckled and hooked mine with hers.
"Promise."
We pressed thumbs for the seal. Childish, but it felt good.
"Good. Now, onto practical matters."
I pointed to the kitchen.
"With that dinner we just ate, the fridge is officially empty."
"Ah..."
"So tomorrow, as promised, we go shopping. To the academy shopping district."
I gripped her shoulders and locked eyes.
"Ready...?"
Her first outing in two years. Facing the stares of crowds would take guts.
Her eyes wavered briefly, then steadied as she looked at me.
"...Yeah."
She squeezed my hand and smiled shyly.
"With you... it'll be fine."
That one line hit me with a mountain of responsibility.
"Alright then. I'll head out."
"Yeah... see you tomorrow, Evan."
Piarot watched his retreating figure into the forest, etching it into her eyes. Only after his shadow fully melted into the darkness did she swallow her reluctance and close the door.
Click.
With the front door shut, silence returned to the house. But not the cold, horrific silence of before. The gleaming floor, tidy kitchen, and faint trace of his scent in the air.
Piarot entered the bedroom and flopped onto the bed.
Fluff.
She buried her face deep in the pillow he'd rested on.
"Haa......"
Each breath drew in his lingering fragrance, filling her lungs. A comforting warmth, as if he were still beside her. Hugging the pillow tight, she slowly closed her eyes.
Memories rewound like a spring turning backward. To that night in the warehouse, their true first encounter.
A flash tore across the night sky, illuminating the forest like daylight.
Kaboom-!
An ear-shattering explosion erupted. Crimson dust choked the heavens.
I staggered backward through the thick haze, drenched in sweat and blood. My matted hair obscured my vision grotesquely, my dress torn to rags and soaked in red.
It hurt. It burned. But worse than the physical agony were the stares before me.
A golden-haired young noble with eyes blazing righteous fury. The famous heir to the Caliban dukedom, whom I'd seen in the papers... Leon Caliban.
And behind him, his companions looking at me like vermin.
"Stop the killing now!! Evangeline!!"
Leon aimed his sword tip at my throat and shouted. The saintess behind him crossed herself with a grief-stricken face.
"Three students have already died from bloodsucking at the academy! There are witnesses who saw you drinking blood. Please, just stop......"
"Ha......"
A hollow laugh escaped me. I roughly wiped the blood from my lips with the back of my hand.
Murder? Bloodsucking? I was sick of false accusations for things I didn't do. Explanations were pointless. You'd believe what you wanted anyway.
"......"
Something inside me snapped.
Injustice turned to rage, rage to cold sneer.
"Cut the crap and come at me."
Dark crimson mana whipped from my hand.
Not for survival. Just a final spasm to punch those hypocritical faces at least once.
Kaboom-!
"Kuhk...!"
Seizing the dust-covered moment, I hurled myself into the forest shadows.
"Cough... huff, huff......"
Darkest under the lamp, they say. I veered toward the old warehouse behind the Old Annex—no one would look here.
My abdomen burned like fire. Regeneration was slow. Dhampir blood mixed in, but human dominated long ago. With mana depleted, even natural healing was a pipe dream.
Blood...... I need blood.
Thirst scorched my throat. I'd die like this.
I curled my trembling body into the warehouse's deepest corner.
Creak-.
Then, the rusty iron door screamed open. Moonlight poured in with a long shadow.
A man entered, carrying a flour sack. Slight build, light brown hair.
Not a pursuer.
Prey. Reason frayed. I wanted to lunge, rip into that neck.
But I couldn't even twitch a finger.
I don't want to die like this.
"S-save... me."
He paused as he turned.
"B-blood... I need blood. Please......"
He slowly turned and approached. Instinctively, I commanded him—trusting the irresistible domination in my bloodline.
"I need blood... Offer your blood to me!!"
My voice cracked, but laced with mana. A normal human's eyes would glaze, offering their carotid willingly.
But.
He just furrowed his brow slightly and muttered annoyedly.
"S-sorry."
"What? H-how?"
My command... failed? Weakened by wounds?
He turned indifferently as I panicked. My sole lifeline, last hope, was walking away.
Ah... no!!
No time for pride.
"P-please... I need blood. Save me..."
"Ha..."
He paused. I sensed death then. Humans' reactions to a witch's plea were predictable.
He seemed to ponder, then crouched before me.
"Just... a little. Drink a bit and go."
"!!!"
Why? I couldn't comprehend. Why not run? Why bare his neck to a witch like me?
He unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his collar. Under moonlight, his pale neck pulsed sweetly, intoxicatingly.
"Ugh..."
No more thinking. I lost reason, lunging beast-like.
Stab-!
Fangs pierced flesh. Thump-! Thump-! His blood surged through my veins.
Not mere sustenance. Pure, concentrated mana.
Ruuuumble-!
Bliss as mana circuits forcibly expanded. Wounds healed instantly; unprecedented power boiled up.
What is this...?
Like shackles unlocking. A thrill of true power awakening, unknown even to me.
Lost in ecstasy, I couldn't stop. Just a bit more, a bit more...
Then I realized. The man slipping limply from my arms.
Thud.
He crumpled to the floor. Face ashen as paper, chest still.
"......Ah."
I frantically cupped his cheeks. Ice-cold, chillingly so.
"Hey, wake up. Open your eyes......!"
No response to my shaking. Reality sank in.
I'd drained him dry in frenzy, and he... never resisted to the end.
Moonlit face. He was... smiling. Even as life faded, no resentment toward me.
Why?
For an nameless witch. Without reward.
"You idiot......"
Guilt and unnamed emotions tore my chest. Swallowing sobs, I buried my face in his cold chest.
Drop.
A clear teardrop from my eye wet his chilled cheek.
"Sorry...... and thank you."
With trembling hands, I gently closed his unseeing eyes. His last warmth lingered on my fingertips.
New power coursed my veins. The life he'd given.
Then—urgent footsteps and shouts outside.
"Over here!! Unholy aura from the warehouse!!"
Pursuers. Rusty door flung open; torches and magic lit the dark.
Silence.
Leon's eyes first fell on the cooling corpse before me. They quaked like an earthquake.
"E... Evan?"
Evan?
Leon gripped his sword with trembling hands and yelled.
"Evangeline!! You... you killed Evan!!"
"N-no, that's not..."
I reflexively denied, but this was no misunderstanding.
I'd killed a man. One who'd willingly given his life to save mine.
My greedy thirst devoured him.
"If only I'd been... a bit stronger... Damn it!"
Leon bit his lip in self-reproach.
"Evan... sorry. I couldn't save you..."
"It's not your fault, Sir Leon."
The saintess embraced his shoulder, glaring contemptuously at me.
"Yes!! It's all that witch's fault!! That evil woman preyed on an innocent student...!"
Witch... Yeah, I was a witch. No excuses for a monster who devoured others to survive.
Clank.
They tightened the encirclement.
Just surrender peacefully... No. I shook my head.
I didn't want to live anymore. Dusty room or underground dungeon—hell either way.
End it.
This endless nightmare.
Roooar-!
Crimson mana exploded from me.
"Sh-she's resisting!!"
"Prepare to attack!!"
I roared beast-like and charged him.
"Raaarghhh!!"
Leon's eyes sharpened. He drew without hesitation.
Blue aura on the blade gleamed beautifully, chillingly.
His sword flew straight for my heart.
Deep, clear... endlessly righteous blue eyes met mine.
Ah... was I really... a witch?
Strength fled my arm.
Schluck-!
Cold metal burrowing in. Hot pierce through my back.
"Guhk..."
Bitter blood flooded my mouth.
Legs buckled. Vision spun, world tilted.
Thud.
Over blurring sight, Leon's shocked face floated.
Good...
Relief in fading consciousness.
Now I can rest. No more hatred.
As eyelids drooped—heavy darkness lit by sudden blue flare on my retina.
Unknown error occurred.
Returning to specific point. Memories continue.