Only I Was Human (3)
I'd stayed up until dawn, so my eyes felt heavy. The riders on horseback never returned. The village stayed quiet through the morning, with nothing happening. Before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep, and when I woke, Adelaide was already packing our things.
"You look rough."
"Slept poorly."
"Why?"
"...Just did."
I didn't bother voicing the real reason. She would've just asked why I hadn't woken her.
Adelaide folded a cloth and brought it over to my head. Like yesterday, she wrapped my silver hair, tucking in the stray bangs with her fingers. She gave the top of my head a final pat, then turned away.
"There. Let's go."
"...Already?"
"Can't stay long."
She bowed her head to the homeowner in thanks, and we left the village. Looking back, the man who'd waved yesterday raised his hand again. I lifted mine too. It felt awkward, but that was okay. And so our journey—just the two of us—began.
We crossed fields, climbed hills, followed paths worn by human feet. We had no real destination. All we knew was west, and even that relied on Adelaide's instincts.
On the first day, we passed a village. Adelaide said there were too many people; I nodded.
On the second, we refilled our water in a small hamlet. An old man working the fields told us a bigger village lay about two days west.
By the third day, we'd settled into a rhythm. Walk at sunrise, rest when tired, sleep wherever when night fell. Our travels were monotonous—nothing compared to my days in the fortress.
But it was good.
One night, we slept under a massive tree. Adelaide snapped off branches to clear the ground, gathered dry grass for bedding. All I could do was split fruit for us. Hand her half, and she'd eat without a word. We'd lean back-to-back, gazing at the stars.
"The stars look prettier here."
"The Land of Darkness had nothing but stars. They got annoying."
"...Maybe."
"Sleep."
Her breathing would lull me under as I closed my eyes. Nights like that weren't bad.
Our conversations on the road were always short.
"Hungry."
"You ate earlier."
"That was ages ago."
"One sun ago."
"...Still hungry."
"Deal with it."
Such pointless days repeated. On this aimless, endless road, the only certainties were the footsteps and voice beside me. We kept exactly half a step apart—never agreed on it, but it felt like a promise.
"Adel."
"What."
"Think there's an ocean in this world?"
"...Random."
"Just wondered."
"There is. South of the continent."
"Seen it?"
"No."
Her voice dipped a little on "no." Maybe she was secretly embarrassed never to have seen the sea. Not weird—I only remembered it vaguely from long ago.
"Wanna go?"
Adelaide stared at me silently, as if weighing my intent. She opened her mouth, closed it, then spoke.
"Let's."
The sea. I'd said it offhand, but it sounded like a promise. Maybe it was one. I hoped so.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, we met a river. Not wide, but clear with a gentle current. Adelaide suggested resting here. No reason not to—my legs were starting to ache anyway.
We sat side by side, scooping water to drink. It was cold. Leaning down, my face reflected on the surface. Silver hair still cloth-wrapped, a few strands escaping over my forehead. Red eyes wavered above. Adelaide's face overlapped mine. Blue hair draped her shoulders; her eyes in the water looked softer than usual.
Was it the reflection? Two ordinary faces—for a Demon King and Hero. Mismatched in the water together, yet it felt natural.
"...What're you looking at?"
"Our reflections."
"...Yeah."
"Kinda pathetic for a Demon King and Hero, huh?"
"Maybe."
Adelaide peered at her reflection, then dipped her feet in. Her shoulders twitched at the chill, but she didn't pull away.
"Not cold?"
"It is. But okay."
"...Can I?"
"They're your feet."
I kicked off my shoes and submerged mine. Cold crept up from my toes. But sitting on sun-warmed rocks made the contrast strangely pleasant. Water flowed between them. I knew moments like this wouldn't last. Still, I wanted more.
Fifth day, maybe sixth. Rain fell from the sky without warning. As drops thickened, we laughed and bolted for a building atop a nearby hill.
A chapel? Roof half-collapsed, walls vine-choked. One door hung crooked, blocking half the weather. Inside, the rain's sound shifted—rat-a-tat-tat. Long pews lay toppled in what must've been the nave. I righted one and sat. Adelaide perched at the far end, then soon slid next to me. I didn't ask why.
We sat in silence. It reminded me of the cave. Times when just sitting sufficed.
Something lingered on the wall—a mural, probably. Colors mostly flaked off, outlines faint. But the composition was clear. Like the one behind the Istius temple: King of Darkness, Sword of Light. Shadows stretching one side, radiance the other. The star in the center was nearly gone.
King of Darkness, Sword of Light
Shadows stretch, radiance gleams
Star at center—faded, lost
"It's here too."
"It's everywhere. That's why it repeats."
"...Us too?"
Adelaide didn't answer. It repeats. Demon King and Hero always fight, one always dies. Seven hundred years ago, and before. Would we?
I glanced at her. She stared at the mural, face serene.
"Adel."
"What."
"Will we end up painted here?"
"...Weird thing to say."
"Just asking."
"...What changes if we do?"
"Nothing. Just."
Pointless talk. But exchanging it sometimes meant something.
When I opened my eyes, my head rested on Adelaide's shoulder. I'd dozed off. I started to sit up, but she didn't move, so I stayed. The rain was easing.
"...Sorry. Useless now."
"What're you on about."
"No shadows. Just dead weight."
"You were dead weight before."
"...Harsh much?"
"Truth."
Her expression stayed neutral, but I caught the lip twitch. Dead weight. Joke or not, it was true. Demon King without shadows—what's left? Rumors of a silver-haired, red-eyed witch. Those chasing them. And one person walking beside.
...That felt enough. Part of me did.
Subjugation Army main camp, Duke Kamur's central tent.
On the table's western continent map: three red ink dots—Demon King sightings. Two blue—scout positions.
Duke Kamur tapped a dot, eyeing the Holy Knight Order Leader.
"Consistent path. West. Always west."
"Fleeing, Your Grace."
"..."
The duke closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.
"Form a pursuit unit. Twenty elite knights, three mages. Clear objectives."
He glanced at the map.
"One: Recover Hero Adelaide von Estia. Two—"
A beat late.
"Execute the Demon King."
The leader bowed.
"Leave personnel to me. Ready by noon."
"Good."
Lorian entered from outside the tent.
"I'll volunteer for pursuit."
The leader turned.
"Volunteer? The Hero's adjutant?"
"As her adjutant, I must. To confirm her situation myself."
"...Situation. A traitor's?"
"We can't discuss execution without confirming treason."
The leader frowned, but the duke raised a hand.
"Enough. Let him go."
"...Understood."
Lorian bowed and withdrew.
Same time. Land of Darkness fortress.
Sahadin descended to a cramped underground chamber. Three figures waited—demonkin in human guise, doppelgangers.
"New orders."
All three bowed.
"Find Her Majesty. Heading west. Persuade her return. Or—"
He paused.
They looked up, expectant. But his mouth stayed shut. Seven hundred years ago, he'd have said it easily. Not to this Demon King.
"...Or?"
"...If persuasion fails, report and withdraw."
A flicker in the eyes of his seven-century servant. The doppelgangers missed it.
"Depart immediately. Travel as ordinary travelers. Hero likely nearby—no engagements."
"Understood."
After they left, Sahadin stood long. The empty throne cooled. Questioning wasn't his role. Follow when she goes, stand when she stands—that was all.
Emerging, he walked the corridor. Soon, a low officer rushed up.
"Sahadin, sir—twelve deserted the western defense line."
"Reason."
"No Demon King, no point defending..."
"Record names, reassign the rest."
"...Yes, sir."