Please, Devour Me [01]
The stone was cold.
Cecilia leaned against the wall with her knees drawn up. As the chill from underground seeped through her thin clothes, her body shrank back.
The moon hung beyond the bars. But something was different. It was ash-gray.
"…You're beautiful today, too."
A dry mutter slipped out. She couldn't remember when it had started — the world was nothing but black and white, with countless shades of gray between them. It was the price she'd paid to give her colors to the devil.
She stared at that ash-gray moon with blank eyes.
Her eyelids were heavy, but she couldn't sleep.
If she slept, she'd dream, and in her dreams everything was still before it had begun. Even now, she couldn't believe the reality before her eyes.
The novel she'd read in her past life. Daughter of the Lily of the Valley…
A heroine born the daughter of a maid. An abandoned hidden child of the imperial family. A common romance fantasy you could find anywhere. Clichés she'd read countless times.
And in that story, the role she'd been given was one. The villainess of the duke's house, Cecilia. A woman who existed only to torment the protagonists. A supporting character who plotted sordid schemes and fell while bearing all the blame. To readers, she was just a villainess to point fingers at and move on.
She'd known from the moment she was reborn. So she'd struggled. She'd tried to change the lines, to break free from the predetermined flow. She'd even reached out to the heroine.
But the story didn't change. The more she tried to escape, the tighter the noose around her neck. Deeper. Deeper. It held her and let her fall.
The name of that noose was her mother.
Her life was like a stain that could be wiped away at any moment. Her father had placed that life on the scales and manipulated his daughter. So that all the duke's house's scandals would flow toward Cecilia. So she'd die embracing the family's darkness alone. A truly beautiful sacrifice.
Cecilia was a puppet. Cut the strings, and her mother would fall.
So she played the villainess. Perfectly enough to make everyone spit in disgust.
Suddenly she looked down at her own hand. A white, fair back of the hand tinged with ash-gray. The typical skin of a noble.
"…Unlike me, she was truly beautiful."
A face that made anyone in the empire lose their mind, a figure that poets competed to sing about. But that empty shell couldn't defeat the heroine. Because her role was already decided. In the end, she had no choice but to be pushed aside in the competition.
At the same time, her father's scales tipped over. A puppet that had served its purpose. Her father let go of the strings without hesitation. All the family's sins were dumped onto Cecilia's name.
She couldn't even protect the mother she'd tried to save.
Cecilia closed her eyes. Someone's face blurred like paint. What did she look like? Even that was hazy.
She had nothing left to lose. So she reached out. To the thing waiting in the darkness.
The Devil's Contract. Cecilia had given her colors as payment and received power. She'd planned to overturn everything with that power, but the traces of the contract were soon discovered, and the charge of witchcraft was added.
And in the end, she arrived at this prison. On a night when color had drained from the world, Cecilia laughed silently.
How common an ending. The villainess is punished. Like a predetermined line in a romance fantasy.
Is it ending here? Just as she was resigning herself to everything.
Clack. Clack. Footsteps from down the corridor. The sound of a lock turning. The prison's iron door opened heavily.
The one who stepped in was a woman with long hair hanging down. Neat features, unshaken steps. Eyes burning alone in the darkness.
Chloe. The eldest daughter of the marquis's house.
Cecilia groped at hazy memories. Where had she seen this woman's name in the novel? The pieces slowly clicked together.
"…So this is what you've come to."
Chloe opened her mouth. Her tone was laced with contempt.
"Lady Cecilia, who played with the empire on the palm of her hand. To think you're rotting away in a place like this. I can't believe it even seeing it with my own eyes."
Cecilia didn't respond. With her face buried in her knees, she took in the words. She had no energy left to reply. She accepted it calmly.
"Do you know how many people you've trampled? Among them was my friend. Played with your tongue, lost their honor, and in the end hanged themselves…"
Each word fell like a whip. Cecilia didn't move. She'd long ago given up any right to refute.
The villainess she'd played had actually pushed people off cliffs. The excuse that someone had told her to do it meant nothing to those who had fallen.
It was all her own fault. She was used to being treated this way.
She just listened. To the hatred spewing from the woman. While silently accepting that hatred, a corner of her mind turned cold.
Why did she come?
At that moment, a fragment of memory surfaced. Chloe de Valois. The eldest daughter of the marquis's house. In the novel, she had passed by in a single line.
Someone who possessed outstanding talent but ultimately disappeared without leaving a name. There was something painful there. Let's see, what was it?
Cecilia examined Chloe again. Beneath the stern expression, a pale complexion. Cold sweat beading at her temples. The fingertips gripping her sword trembled slightly. Her shoulder was stiffened to one side, as if always guarding a painful spot. As she traced the symptoms one by one, something hazy slowly came to mind.
Mana Arteriosclerosis.
…She wasn't sure. A single line in the novel. Even that was a memory faded to gray.
A disease where mana flowing through the body blocks the blood vessels. In the novel, Chloe had put down her sword because of that, and been pushed behind the stage. Without ever becoming the protagonist. For some reason, she thought it was similar.
Those who were pushed aside without gaining a name. Roles destined to crumble in the darkness.
Then let's use this.
Cecilia wasn't surprised by the thought that arose. All that remains for a person who has fallen to the very bottom is a single knife forged by gnawing at oneself.
A smile crept onto her lips of its own accord.
"…Don't you want to cure your illness?"
For just a moment, Chloe's pupils trembled. Then a moment later, they twisted harshly.
"…What?"
"The disease where mana hardens. Your heart hurts at night, doesn't it? Your fingertips go numb. They must have told you no one can cure it. No doctor in the empire."
Chloe's face went pale. The look of someone caught revealing something they'd never told anyone. You could see her fluster. Cecilia watched that tremor lazily. Not bad.
The gamble had paid off. She exhaled only inwardly.
Chloe's voice cracked low.
"This time too, you'll bewitch people with that tongue of yours and take what you want. So what are you after this time? Fine. Tell me yourself."
A natural reaction. The villainous reputation Cecilia had built now turned all her words into poison. There was no help for it. She'd fallen into a trap she'd dug herself.
Words couldn't cross this wall. So she stood up as if she had no choice. Even that made her legs tremble. She couldn't remember how many days she'd gone without food. And yet Cecilia walked. One step, then another. Closing the distance.
"What are you…"
Cecilia grabbed Chloe's wrist as she tried to pull back warily. Strength filled her dry fingers. So she wouldn't escape. She began to lean in closer. Her face, and her eyes, grew larger right before Chloe's.
Cecilia brought her lips to that ear. In a calm, settled voice.
"All I have left is this body, but this body can cure your illness."
It was nonsense. Chloe's expression said as much.
Strength went into her arm as she tried to push away. Cecilia didn't let go. She put all her remaining strength into the hand that held her. And she pressed Cecilia's lips to Chloe's.
"W-wait! Wh-… Mmph! I-I can't breathe!"
Chloe swallowed her breath. Her whole body stiffened like stone.
She must have felt it too. The pain that had tormented her every night… disappearing as if by magic.
Chloe pushed Cecilia away. Shock at disbelief. Fear of a sensation she'd never experienced. Her face had collapsed pitifully. Looking at her like this, she was just an ordinary woman.
"What is this…"
"You can't believe it, can you?"
Cecilia propped herself up against the wall with her hand. The cost of using her ability had drained even her remaining energy. And yet she laughed. Messily.
"But your body knows, doesn't it? What just happened. How about you try moving your body?"
Chloe couldn't answer. The fingertips she'd placed over her heart trembled. The place where pain she'd lived with for years had disappeared. That empty sensation was the clearest evidence of all.
Cecilia sat down again, pressing her back against the floor. In her upward-looking eyes, there was still no focus. But something was burning low within them.
"Let's make a deal."
She continued, catching her breath.
"Take me out of this underground. Then I'll cure that illness somehow. In exchange, protect me under the marquis's name. How about it? Isn't that a good deal?"
Cecilia struggled to stand again. She gripped the last remaining collar of her clothes. Her fingertips trembled finely. She couldn't tell if it was from the cold, or from throwing something away herself.
"…Take me. Both the cure for your illness, and this body. I have nothing else left anyway."
Chloe's eyes widened. Pride, name, fear. At the bottom, those things were luxuries. Cecilia had placed everything she had left on the scales. To survive. For that one thing.
Chloe's breathing faltered. The words flowing from the prisoner's mouth were gradually tearing down the dam of reason. The vanished pain whispered. Hold onto this woman.
Chloe finally closed the distance. Her voice was hoarse.
"I know what you've done. Killing my friend, rotting this country. It's all you. I despise you. Even now."
The end of her voice cracked. Hatred and desire were tearing at each other within a single sentence.
"…Do you think I can trust you?"
"Don't."
Smiling faintly, Cecilia closed her eyes.
"Don't trust me. Just use me. I'll use you too. This isn't trust, it's a deal. If you're afraid of betrayal… just keep my neck within your reach."
"If it's a lie?"
"Then cut my neck. It's a neck that'll rot here anyway. If it's your hand, that's not so bad."
Those words were the final nail. Before Cecilia could react, the distance closed in an instant. Her shoulders were grabbed, and her back touched the cold stone wall. Her wrists were pressed above her head. All escape routes were cut off in a single moment.
Chloe's large eyes were right before her. Within them, hatred and shock, and something more that couldn't be named, tangled and burned. Strength filled the hand pressing down on Cecilia.
Cecilia didn't resist. Pressed down, she looked up at Chloe. In her unfocused eyes, a faint smile kept growing larger.
"…Now you seem satisfied."
"Shut up. That mouth, if you move it one more time…"
"If I move it? Are you going to strangle this neck?"
Cecilia asked softly. Even though her voice was weak, she didn't back down.
Chloe couldn't continue speaking. She swallowed the end of her threat. She could strangle her, or push away and leave. But her hands remained holding Cecilia against the wall. The one who couldn't leave wasn't Cecilia, it was Chloe.
Their breaths intertwined. In the cold of the prison, only that distance was hot. It was no longer clear who was holding whom.
"It's the price of the contract. Chloe. Eat me."
The ash-gray moonlight flowed down over the two of them. At the same time, clothes fell to the floor. Chloe's small, white hand touched Cecilia's chest, and her slender thighs held her so she couldn't escape. Every gesture was intensely hot.
Cecilia closed her eyes. The story should have ended here. The villainess crumbles underground, and the stage remains the heroine's. Fate had already been written that way.
But I'm not dead yet.
My story will continue.
Even if I have to sacrifice my body…
I will struggle desperately.
