The Kneeling Demon (12)
"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm only doing this because I don't want to see you die."
"No misunderstanding here. What about the Asenaris?"
"Right at your feet. Safe and sound."
"Good."
With that, Pelle pressed her forehead against my chest and curled up against me. Her breath tickled my skin, and her hair carried a dry, woody scent. I pulled her close, pressing our bodies together. The tunnel was brutally cold, and without this, her body—which she'd only just warmed up—would freeze again in no time.
We fell silent, listening only to each other's breathing. No weird thoughts crossed my mind. Right now, getting back to the city in one piece was all that mattered.
The tunnel itself was straightforward—just blast through. But outside was the problem. Even riding a Hell Horse straight to town, could Pelle handle the cold without clothes? If I gave her my cloak and threw on these troll-blood-soaked rags, maybe... Did I have spare clothes in the bag? If this were a bed, sure, but with a mountain of problems staring me down, no room for lewd ideas.
My head was spinning with all this when Pelle cleared her throat uncomfortably.
"Ahem..."
She squirmed a bit, pulling away slightly. I hadn't noticed, but my unwitting hard-on had been poking her navel.
"Uh... weird. Must be the blood rushing to fend off frostbite or something...?"
I spouted nonsense, and she just snorted in response. At least she seemed willing to laugh it off.
The mood got a little awkward, so I stayed quiet. Best policy in moments like this—shut up instead of saying something dumb.
Then Pelle spoke first.
"Boss."
"Yeah? What?"
"Can I ask you something?"
Still resting her face against my chest, she whispered. Her warm breath tickled again.
"Shoot."
"The thing I asked you at the temple last night."
Racking my brain, I remembered. She'd asked if she was that important to me—enough to kill for.
Yeah, that was it. I'd been about to answer when those lunatics tried torching the temple, and we bolted outside.
"Oh... that?"
I was gearing up to reply when she cut in.
"What am I to you, boss?"
"Huh...?"
I caught the subtle shift in her question. What was she to me? Obviously, a damn competent inn employee. Cool-headed, smart, gets shit done. But that wasn't the answer she wanted. I could feel it.
"Well... let's see..."
What was Pelle to me? A demon who'd lost everything because of me, scraping by until I half-forced her into the inn. She works hard, but she's kept her walls up because of our messy history. Still, she'd stepped inside my circle, so I had to take responsibility no matter what.
I opened my mouth slowly.
"Pelle. I don't know how you see it, but..."
She waited quietly.
"You're someone I have to protect, trust, and take responsibility for."
"Why? I'm not your fiancée, lover, or family. Just a contracted employee—not worth that kind of treatment."
"You might see me as the guy signing your paychecks, but I don't."
"What do you mean?"
How to explain this? I picked my words carefully, then tried again.
"You've stepped inside my fence."
"Say it simpler."
"I've got this fence that separates me from the world. You know, drawing a line? That's my fence. And mine's pretty damn clear-cut."
I build my fence, protect what's inside with my life, steal from others if I have to so no one starves, and crush anything—kill if needed—that breaches it. That's how I live.
"Fence..."
Pelle mulled it over.
"Yeah. The inn's inside it, my money and pension too. And you girls."
"You girls meaning the staff?"
"Yep. You, Della, Idi, Marim."
"But I still don't get it. Just working at the inn gets us inside your... fence?"
"Of course. You didn't answer a job ad. You rely on me, at least partly."
...We rely on Bertrand...?
It could've sounded arrogant, but Pelle felt no resistance. He was right. Della escaped her adoptive father's prostitution and debt collectors. Idi was pulled from her cursed life and entrusted herself fully to him. Marim was a gray area, but she'd quit dangerous thieving and could now reliably support her siblings.
And Pelle... until recently, she'd seen Bertrand as her arch-nemesis, the one who'd ruined her life beyond repair. After the Demon King's castle fell, she'd wandered lost, scorned by Ammugar and humans alike.
But like last night's talk, the castle's fall was just one mission among many for him as a hero. Demon armies massacring human troops for territory, or a hero wiping out the demon army for humans—it was all the same at root. Just doing what they could in the moment for their needs.
Once she grasped that, Pelle finally saw past her hate and fear. Bertrand had saved her and Ammugar from loan sharks, sorted their business cleanly. He took her in without interest, provided room and board. Even if it was for her skills, a powerhouse like him could've exploited her harshly.
But he didn't. He granted her every request, never controlled her off-hours. He defended her against fellow humans, even resorting to violence and burning a temple. His actions on the northern journey, last night's words, and crucially, what he'd said at the Apenzel inn.
'That woman's my employee. Touch a hair on her head, and you're all dead.'
All that hit like a battering ram, shattering her locked gate. The bolt was broken; now it could open if she willed it.
Of course, the gate opens from inside only.
"That's why. Not just because you're employees. At least while you're with me, I have a duty to take responsibility for your lives."
Our lives. Huddled behind the gate, peeking out, Pelle finally shoved it wide open.
"Boss."
"Yeah."
"It's cold."
Pelle pressed deep into Bertrand's chest, placing her hand there. His hardness poked her belly again.
"Still... like this..."
"Yeah... won't go down..."
"Because of me...?"
Bertrand said nothing. Pelle traced meaningless patterns on his chest with her fingers, whispering.
"How... do you make it go down...?"
Whatever pressed against her belly twitched hard, thudding heavily.
"Well, see..."
"Everyone okay?!"
A voice echoed from the collapsed tunnel side. The old man waiting outside.
Pelle jolted away in surprise. I stuck my head out from under the cloak and yelled back.
"Y-Yeah! We're fine! Any trolls on your end?"
"None! But with it collapsed like this, how the hell do we get out...?"
The old man trailed off, futilely shoving rocks. I heard the clatter.
"We can get out. But it's dangerous there—head outside the tunnel."
"What're you planning?"
"Got ways. Just go. Don't stand at the entrance—move aside."
He grumbled suspiciously but agreed, footsteps fading toward the exit.
"Pelle, get dressed. Wait—no, hold on."
I rummaged in my bag—spares, thank god. They were baggy on her, sleeves and pant legs swallowing hands and feet. Perfect for now, without gloves or boots. I crammed into my stiff troll-blood clothes, draped my cloak over her, tossed her the bag with Asenaris inside. Ready.
Drawing the Holy Sword flooded our space with blinding light. Pelle shielded her face and backed up.
"Just bear it a sec. Keep eyes on me and follow close, got it?"
"Yes, boss...!"
Out of the abandoned mine, the old man had sidestepped the entrance as the young man instructed. Their terrifying steed stood there, unmoving, no steam from its body—just black flames flickering.
He was out, but... how the hell were they escaping a buried tunnel? Couldn't call city folk, couldn't just leave them. This was his fault for guiding them to the Asenaris spot.
The old man wasn't that heartless. One of Apenzel's few upstanding folks.
Suddenly, an ear-splitting roar and tremors sent him scrambling. Landslide?! Chaos erupted repeatedly. Then a storm of boulders and dust blasted outward from the depths.
Terrified, he dove into the snow, covering his head, shaking. Troll roars from inside earlier... something worse now?!
As the quakes faded, footsteps crunched toward him through the snow. Looking up, the dust-caked young man loomed over him.
"H-How...?"
"Let's go, sir. Time for the guilty to pay."