Chapter 82
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Levi
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Why was I born a demon?
And if I had to be born a demon, why am I so pathetically weak?
Ever since my memories first connected, that question had never once left my mind.
Even at an age when other children were worrying about what to eat, where to sleep, or what to play tomorrow, my only concern was always one thing.
Why me, of all people?
A demon.
Outwardly, no different from humans.
Two arms, two legs, the same faces, the same voices.
But inside, mixed haphazardly with monstrous instincts.
Because of that, a form rejected by both humans and monsters alike.
Even with the same horns, monsters saw me as human and treated me as prey the moment they approached.
Did that mean I could safely approach humans?
No.
In some villages, there was even a bounty on a demon's head.
Rewards the same as for monster hunting.
No, in some places, they fetched an even higher price.
In the end, I belonged nowhere.
Born in the middle of the world, yet forced to face enemies from every direction because of it.
A curse with no place to run.
I realized that fact at a very early age.
In a deep cave pit.
On the cold, damp floor, next to an unmoving lump of meat.
That was probably my mother.
I don't know her name, her face, or her voice.
I just remember it was a mass of flesh that no longer breathed.
I was born beside it, and then I was alone.
In that moment, I knew.
Aah, my life was cursed from the very start.
"Get lost, you little brat."
"If you're a demon, go hunt your own food and shove it in your mouth yourself."
"P-Please, have mercy..."
The words never made it to the end.
I'd get kicked, stones would fly, or they'd ignore me like I didn't exist.
The daily life of a weak demon among her own kind.
A perfectly natural landscape, and all the more irredeemable for it.
Demon society ran on raw survival of the fittest from start to finish.
To survive in the heart of a continent swarming with enemies on all sides, this race had obsessed over one thing alone.
Strength.
Strength was justice itself, and the words of the strong were law.
I'd heard that elves had at least some morals and discipline.
Humans, hypocritical as they were, wore the mask of noble causes.
Even beastkin, while prizing instinct, kept to their own rules and boundaries.
But not here.
There were no laws, no morals, no justifications.
The strong were simply right, and the weak were proven wrong.
Even the Demon Kings ruling the heart of the demon realm could be toppled by anyone strong enough to knock them down, replaced in an instant.
Simple.
And that made it all the crueler.
Because of it, any talent besides strength was utterly dismissed.
Smart or not, skilled with your hands or not, resilient or not—if your body was weak, you were trash.
And I was trash even by those standards, neither here nor there.
"Sigh. What a worthless bitch."
"It's a miracle she hasn't gotten herself killed with that kind of talent."
"Still, we need bait for the next hunt. Beat her just enough. Not to death."
At those words, I slammed my forehead into the ground.
"...Th-Thank you. Thank you."
A little tougher than most, that was all.
A body too ambiguous to even properly call demonic.
So I was always at the very bottom.
The end of the rankings.
The first option crossed off the list.
In a society where enemies lurked everywhere, there was no reason to protect someone who couldn't even secure their own share.
The only role I had any use for was one.
Monster hunting to procure food.
Stand in front, make noise, draw attention, and endure just long enough not to die first.
Bait.
In other words, expendable.
Munch munch.
"...I'm hungry."
In the demon realm, what passed for food was mostly monster meat.
Demons had almost no dealings with other races.
Holed up in the middle of the continent, they eyed each other warily and lived among their own.
I'd heard that executives in the Demon King's castle or high-ranking demons got to eat meat worthy of the word "meal," not reeking of fishy monster flesh.
Of course, that had nothing to do with me.
My portion was always set.
Once every three days.
A chunk of monster meat, rank with decay, tossed my way only after I'd served as bait and survived.
Small amount, increasingly foul the more you chewed—but in that moment of shoving it in my mouth and masticating, I felt alive.
So I thought.
'I'm probably born just for moments like this.'
To eat, endure, and become bait again.
To be used up and vanish someday.
It was one such day.
We ran into a monster far stronger than expected, and the hunt went wrong from the start.
I, standing in front, was crushed first.
The shock raced up my bones, breath refusing to come properly.
The screams from behind, the footsteps, the cursing voices—all cut off at some point.
Only the feel of the ground remained.
Cold, damp stone.
'Aah, this time it's really the end.'
Before that thought could fully form, consciousness snapped away.
But as darkness closed in, my mind strangely eased.
Finally over, I thought—my worthless utility had reached its limit.
But it wasn't the end.
That wasn't escape from tragedy; it was merely tragedy changing course.
"You're... alive?"
The moment I opened my eyes, something felt off.
No sky.
No purple haze always looming overhead.
Instead, a smooth ceiling blocked my view upward.
No dust seeping through rock crevices, no blood stench.
A proper roof over my head.
As I shifted slightly, sensation lagged behind.
A tight pressure all over.
Bandages wrapped around my body finally registered.
Bandages.
Something only "warriors" of any worth among demons got, to keep them from dying too easily.
Far too lavish for trash like me.
'Why is something like this... on my body?'
Before the thought finished, my gaze was drawn away.
"Hee hee hee. You're finally coming to."
A stranger's voice.
"H-Human?!"
My throat locked first.
"Oh dear, stay still now. Luckily, my husband's an apothecary. You can't move carelessly in that state. It was a serious wound."
Human.
In the past, I'd thought maybe outside the demon realm it would be different.
Foolish hope that if even fellow demons discarded me, at least the outside world might be kinder.
Reality was simpler.
Whether words got through or not didn't matter. Pleas, tears—meaningless.
Arrows flew, stones followed.
To outsiders... especially humans, we were just monsters.
No, even more reviled than monsters.
So even with just one old woman before me, I couldn't believe it.
Humans always moved in packs.
There had to be more hidden nearby.
"G-Get away! S-Spare me... spare me spare me spare me!"
With a cracked voice, I begged like my life depended on it.
But in that instant, the wrinkled hand extended wasn't a knife or rope... it was.
"Here, soup."
A bowl steaming gently.
It hit my nose first.
Oil, spices, cooked vegetables.
Not the fishy reek I'd only ever known from monster meat.
For the first time, a smell worthy of "food."
"...Huh?"
My hand wouldn't move. My head couldn't process.
Scavenging scraps from the roadside, peering through windows—that was all I'd known.
The old woman spoke casually, like it was nothing.
"No intent to harm you. You need to eat to heal."
"......"
My hand shook; I couldn't grip the bowl properly.
But then.
The warm steam touched my face, and I couldn't hold back.
Hot or not, spill or burn—didn't matter.
I scooped with my hands, shoved into my mouth.
Gobbling frantically.
Not even catching my breath.
"D-Delicious...!"
My voice cracked.
"Hee hee. Is it? Want more?"
"Y-Yeah... c-can I...?"
"Of course."
The spoon didn't stop.
Hands, mouth, thoughts—all kept going even as I ate.
Why give me this?
Is it really okay?
Am I being fattened up before they eat me?
Those thoughts flashed, but my hands didn't stop.
My mouth kept swallowing.
Then I noticed my vision blurring.
Tears were falling.
It was delicious, but more than that, it was warm.
Because this was the first time anything had warmed me down to my core.
"Hic... sob...!"
The old woman said nothing, just gently stroked my back.
"...My husband's coming home for dinner. Eat together then."
I'd heard humans had slaves in their world.
Used instead of eaten.
Lured and bound with tasty bait, sometimes.
But even if so, I didn't care.
For trash like me, this treatment was far too generous a price.
A little later, even sitting before a table with non-monster meat and vegetables—not just soup—didn't change my mind.
Even if it was all lies, I wanted to stay here longer.
"Um, excuse me..."
"Yes?"
"Whether you sell me later, or eat me... whatever... "
I swallowed.
"Just one more time... can I eat what's in front of me just one more time?"
The moment the words left, I hated myself so much I bowed my head.
The only way trash like me knew.
The ingrained method for survival.
Begging.
And submission.
The table went quiet.
Spoons stopped; clinking bowls fell silent.
I kept my head down, barely breathing.
I already knew what words would come next.
'Of course not.'
'I got greedy for nothing.'
Shouldn't have said anything.
Just eat what was given and slip away quietly.
As those thoughts swirled—
"Hahaha! Hahahaha!"
Explosive laughter sliced through the table.
My heart dropped.
Mockery, as expected.
But just as I started to bow lower—
"We can't do that."
"...Yeah."
"Just once? Wouldn't that be too regrettable?"
"...Pardon?"
It took seconds to parse her words.
Just once?
The old woman was still smiling.
Not mockery, but strangely gentle.
"In life, ending after just one warm meal? Too unfair, don't you think?"
In that moment, something inside my chest crumbled.
Because I'd never once received something I could consider "rightfully mine."
That day, for the first time, I heard it was okay to live.
A quiet, warm moment worthy of being called salvation.
...So later I realized.
Even for their sake, I should have died that day instead.