A Chance to Set Things Right

"It's been a while, Aaron."

Hair like black pearls. A human face. A voice so sultry it would have ensnared any ordinary man on the spot.

The blood of the young man who had only just clawed his way back to consciousness screamed at him to kill the woman standing before his eyes.

There was only one reason his blood ran so wild.

Anomaly.

No horns were visible, but the blood of the Patrick family could not be deceived.

"A demon, of all things. No... you are no ordinary demon."

Ruby eyes. Aaron knew precisely what they signified, and his questions only multiplied.

"The Demon King's daughter, saving a human. That isn't even a joke worth laughing at."

"A Demon King's daughter can save a human if she wants to. That's just prejudice."

"And you would still do so, knowing that human is the Malevolent Fiend who slaughtered thousands of your kind."

"And yet here I am, doing exactly that."

"So you knew, and saved me anyway. I was under the impression I ranked rather high on the demons' extermination list."

More important than that, she seemed to say.

"There's something you ought to say first, you know."

The Demon King's daughter pointed at the young man's body. Aaron took in the bandages wound about him from head to foot.

"You have my thanks."

"Wow. Receiving a thank-you from the Malevolent Fiend himself—now that's an achievement I'll remember for the rest of my demon life. Honestly, I thought you'd never apologize, not even at the bitter end. You're surprisingly decent at this."

"Have you no intention of explaining why you saved me?"

The Demon King's daughter shrugged.

"Nah. It's nothing special, really. You saved my life, so I saved yours. Simple, right?"

Nothing came to mind.

"By human standards, it was a long time ago. And just so you know, I have no intention of walking you through it one by one. Kindly go and remember it yourself!"

"If I owe you no debt, then I see no need to repay one."

He rose from where he lay, and blood soaked through the bandages at once. Pain sharp enough to bleach his mind crashed over him. His face remained expressionless, so he might have looked recovered—but the one who had treated him personally could hardly have failed to notice.

"What do you think you're doing?! I finally put that wreck of a body back together, and you're already trying to move? You don't even have the strength to stand. How are you moving at all?!"

"Unhand me."

"I save your life and this is what I get? You should be lying still, and instead—what do you think you're doing?!"

"Anyone who didn't know better would take you for a saintess, not a demon."

"Oh, enough. Just stay put, if you have any respect for the effort I put into treating you!"

"Do I strike you as a man of fond attachments?"

"No!"

Her answer came so quickly that Aaron concluded there was no problem, then, and made to move again. She threw herself in his path with desperate stubbornness. Only when she threatened to put him to sleep with magic if he insisted on leaving did he sit back down.

"Daughter of the Demon King."

"Call me Skadi. You keep saying 'Demon King's daughter, Demon King's daughter,' like you're allergic to being decent."

"If this continues, the pursuers on my trail will bring harm to you as well."

"Then I'll protect you."

"However confident you may be in your skill, you will not suffice against them."

"Heeh."

The Demon King's daughter's expression turned sly. Every little gesture of hers set the Patrick blood recoiling in disgust. Whether she knew it or not, this foolish woman kept leaning in close.

"You put on all those thorns, but you're still quietly looking after people. Some things never change."

"And what would the likes of you know of it."

"From the looks of it, I know a lot more than you think I do, Aaron."

The brow that had remained smooth until now furrowed at last.

"Are you aware that your father murdered my parents?"

She flinched. The smile she had worn without interruption since the start cracked apart.

"On your father's orders, my parents were turned into chimeras—the thing they hated more than anything in this world."

The image of them had never left him: his mother and father, stripped of human form, unable to recognize even their own son. It remained vivid behind closed eyelids, sharp enough to bring on a headache.

"And what became of your parents, after they were turned into chimeras?"

"I am a Patrick."

Aaron Patrick said it evenly.

"I carried out that duty in full."

The Demon King's daughter was not so dull as to miss what that duty meant. And so he asked. He looked into those ruby eyes as if to forbid her from running.

"Daughter of my enemy. If you mean to come with me to the very end, then steel yourself. I may be a man who lives by the vocation of nobility—"

In the end, he added,

"I am nothing more than a man who cannot even govern a single emotion."

"I am a man who will erase the grace of a life saved from his memory in an instant, seize you by the throat, and twist. So I will ask one last time."

"Will you give your life to me?"

Killing intent spilled from him, thick and viscous, as if to prove he was not lying. That, he thought, would be enough to make her go her own way.

Instead, a pale white hand appeared before his eyes.

"I will."

"...Did you actually listen to a word I said?"

"Simply put, you're telling me that to you I'm the daughter of your enemy, so I should watch how I conduct myself."

"Your choice of words isn't merely crude. It's vulgar."

"I'm phrasing it this way because I've thought it through."

"That's the sort of thing that makes society call a person an idiot..."

"Can you give up being a noble, Aaron?"

The words struck through to the heart of the matter. He ground his teeth and struck her hand away.

"You insolent girl."

"Then walk with me while you're at it, and see for yourself that the daughter of your enemy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠isn't as bad as you think. And take off those tinted glasses you wear whenever you look at a demon, while you're at it."

"Revulsion toward Anomalies is not a matter of personal preference. It precedes like and dislike. It is a matter of blood."

The foolish woman, recognizing this as acceptance, smiled. Aaron did not care for that at all.

Nothing had changed. Aaron ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could not move, and for his sake the insolent woman fetched food and changed his bandages, over and over.

Two days passed that way.

The unexpected experience of cohabiting with a demon left him with a peculiar impression. His blood despised her, hated her without question—and yet that was not how he actually felt. He tried, because she was the daughter of his enemy, not to look on her kindly. He found he could not. Aaron Patrick was not so wicked a man as to desecrate genuine kindness, and as a noble, such conduct would have been unconscionable. He had no choice in the matter.

"Aaron! I've brought good news. Today's meal is drake meat, rich with juices. This time, one way or another, I'm going to hear you say it tastes good."

"...You would have a patient whose body is in tatters try to digest meat."

"Ah."

There were times her way of showing kindness missed the mark entirely. But the care behind it was transparent as glass, and he could not bring himself to look away.

"How many times must I tell you that if you simply hand me the bandages, I can manage them myself."

"Bandages wrapped by a beautiful girl have an effect that speeds recovery, you know."

"The only effect I am certain of is nausea."

Whenever his blood's revulsion toward her demonic nature reached its limit, she put distance between them like a ghost. That consideration of hers, as if she knew everything. He felt as though he might drown in a warmth he had not known in so long.

"...You insolent girl."

The words that left his mouth did not match his heart.

It happened on the fourth day.

They ate lunch as usual, and the Demon King's daughter went out to bring back ingredients.

One hour.

Two hours.

Three hours.

When what felt like four hours had passed, he knew something had gone wrong. Whether she found ingredients or not had never ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mattered. She always returned at exactly the three-hour mark.

He forced himself upright, and blood and discharge burst from beneath the bandages. The pain was enough to steal his consciousness, but Aaron had no intention of paying it any mind. He left the ramshackle cabin and went to find her.

Of all things, a torrential rain was falling. His body was deteriorating in real time. Reason stood in his way, insisting this was needless worry, that there was no cause to go this far for a mere demon. But his body was already wading through the mud.

Aaron Patrick pulled on his gloves at last and completed the runic characters in the empty air.

The moment the Rune Magic was complete, he saw it—fortunately, a single faint pulse of lingering life. He drove his legs forward.

His body temperature plummeted. Blood ran with the rain. Against his will, his vision grew darker and darker. He found her just before he collapsed.

He could not, in good conscience, call it fortunate.

"You stubborn woman..."

"Haha. So you found me anyway. I mean, what did you even do to have Lord Hodrik, the 1st Legion Commander of the Demon King's army, coming after you? The Empire has a Sword Saint, you know."

"Don't speak. You'll tear the wound open."

Her entrails.

...

......

.........

Shit.

"Still, I suppose being the Demon King's daughter counts for something. He didn't cut me all the way in half."

"I have knowledge of first aid. If I suture the wound and heal it with Rune Magic, there is a chance. So close that noisy mouth of yours."

He tried to move his fingers to form the runic characters. He could not. She was holding his arm.

If I weren't injured—I'd have forced the rune complete no matter what!

Never had he resented his mana circuits, seventy percent of them burned out, or this ruined body, as bitterly as he did now.

"Aaron. At the end I used decoy magic to draw their eyes away. The rain will make it hard, but I bought you time to run."

"You stupid woman! I am already at my limit! You surviving would be the greater possibility by far!"

Perhaps it was the rain, leaching the warmth from his body. He could no longer think rationally.

"Let go of this arm. Even on ethical grounds, it is right that you should live—you, whose road ahead is still long and bright. So stop this stubbornness and—!"

"Stubbornness."

The scent of blood invaded his nostrils. His body ought to have been cold from the rain, and yet the hand against his cheek was strangely, impossibly warm.

"You know it's you being stubborn, Aaron. Not me."

Why are you—you're a demon, and yet—

"Close your eyes and at least hear out your student's last words."

And that sweet fragrance of hers—

How could she show him a smile so brilliant it made his chest ache?

"No. There is still a way. There must be a way."

The warmth against his cheek vanished. He reached for the falling hand again and again, and again and again it slipped through his fingers.

"And what, exactly, am I supposed to live for?"

Even holding on to consciousness was reaching its limit.

"If you're going to leave last words, they should at least be ones I can keep."

Had he known it would come to this, he would have called her Skadi. Just once. Regret swallowed him like a rising tide. Even so, he could not simply sink to his knees and end it here.

Aaron Patrick moved his fingers, and poured a wish into them. He had a feeling—unaccountable, but there—that in this moment he might use a Rune Magic that did not exist.

A judgment with no rationality in it whatsoever. But the inexpressible feeling in him now shoved him forward and told him to do it anyway.

If he had to name a reason: better that a chance go to a girl of brighter character and far more brilliant promise than to a half-measure of a man who had succeeded at being neither good nor evil.

His fingers moved. And yet not a single line was drawn ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠upon the air. Even so, Aaron Patrick was not alarmed.

For that was the nature of such a character to begin with.

"I wish."

The wish he had not believed would be answered... answered him, thankfully, all the same.

First came the familiar stench of blood. Then the corpses, so numerous he had long since grown numb to them. And last, the sensation of his hand crushing the life vessel of Isaac—the enemy who had turned his parents into chimeras—told him this was no dream.

This was real.

The instant he understood that, he scanned his surroundings. And there, caught at once in his field of view, was a knight about to cut down a demon who had not even reached adulthood.

On the off chance—he ran.

Without even thinking to reinforce his body with Rune Magic, Aaron drove his legs as hard as they would go and caught the knight's blade. The knight showed every sign of shock at the man who had appeared from nowhere, but Aaron had not a shred of attention to spare for him.

Robe and mask hid her face, but Aaron could still see them—those ruby eyes, the mark of Skadi, daughter of the Demon King.

He had not thought beyond this moment, and now that he faced her, he had no idea what to say. What came out in the end was—

"Good to see you."

A stupid greeting, utterly unworthy of a noble.