Demons Dwell in the Hearts of Men

It was early evening, just as the sun began its descent.

"Tina, Yurian, come say hello."

I gestured toward the hulking man standing before us, built like an iron fortress.

"This is Mr. Raymond. The Count sent him over to help around the house for the day."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, young masters."

Mr. Raymond bowed with rigid military precision. Yurian offered only an impassive nod without so much as a twitch of an eyebrow, whereas Tina shrank back, eyeing the mountainous man with open terror before giving a timid, trembling nod.

Beneath that imposing frame lay an unexpectedly delicate soul, and Mr. Raymond seemed visibly wounded by Tina's fright.

"I have somewhere I need to run off to for a little while," I explained gently. "If you need anything at all while I'm gone, just tell Mr. Raymond."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Understood," Yurian said.

"Yes... Director," Tina whispered softly.

"Good girl."

I patted Tina on the head, offering her a reassuring smile.

Don't worry, Tina. No matter what happens, you're far stronger than Mr. Raymond anyway.

He was introduced under the guise of an 'in-home helper,' but in truth, he was a temporary bodyguard. Still, the notion of one or two ordinary knights overpowering a half-dragon was absurd. In practice, Mr. Raymond's true duty was simply ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to keep watch over the house while I ran the Count's errand.

Standing by the front door, I bid the children farewell.

"I'll be on my way, then."

"Safe travels, Director."

"Please come back soon...!"

Having witnessed my capabilities firsthand, Yurian wasn't the least bit worried. Tina, on the other hand, still suffered from separation anxiety, and her face fell with palpable sorrow.

"I really will have to wrap this up as fast as possible..."

For the sake of the children waiting at home, I decided to push the envelope just a little.

Once the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind me, I turned not toward the bustling street, but toward the staircase leading to the orphanage roof. Stepping out into the cool evening air, I perched casually on the low parapet and gazed up at the emerging canopy of stars.

That was all the preparation I needed.

Finish this in a single stroke.

Ten seconds.

That was the time limit I set by instinct—the bare minimum threshold to ensure that anyone who happened to catch a glimpse of divine light in a populated area would write it off as a passing hallucination. To pull that off, quoting recorded Scripture was far superior to weaving a miracle through lengthy prayer.

To condense a recorded miracle of the Main Deity and manifest it into reality—that was the art of Scriptural citation.

The moment the holy verse parted my lips, shimmering specks of golden dust enveloped me. The particles coalesced into a brilliance beyond mortal reach before shooting straight toward the heavens.

A crisp breeze swept past.

Then, an oppressive, viscous pitch descended over my senses, an overwhelming darkness that brooked no resistance. Enclosed within that absolute void like an unborn child in the womb, I opened the eye of the heavens.

A colossal eye, veiled in the dim expanse of the firmament.

Instantly, an ocean of sensory information crashed over me like a tidal wave. Too much appeared before my eyes. Far too much poured into my ears.

"Yurian, when do you think the Director will come home?"

"Sleep through the night, and he'll be back before you even notice he was gone."

Yurian and Tina chatting, is it? Good to know they get along even when I'm not looking.

"How was business today?"

"Don't ask. Apples just aren't moving lately."

A mundane exchange between merchants. Nothing useful there.

"A ton of people bought flowers from me today! Isn't that great?"

"Of course it is, sweetie. Keep the extra coins for your pocket money."

Floty beamed brightly as she bragged to her mother. It was heartwarming to see such a loving family.

"Phew, what a exhausting day."

"Welcome home, dear. You worked hard."

Ordinary evening greetings in a quiet household. Nothing worth noting.

"Ah, ahn, nnngh, haah!"

"Haa... haa..."

And over here...? Oops, pardon me.

"Does it feel good?"

"Haa... why even ask... it's so much better... than my husband's... ah!"

Pardon you my ass, you wretched bastards!

I saw everything, you two. Just wait until tomorrow morning when I expose the whole filthy affair; you'd better have your divorce papers ready.

"Looks like the Court Count caught wind of things. We need to make one massive score tonight and clear out."

"Fine by me. We just got a massive piece of merchandise in stock anyway."

"A big one?"

"You won't be disappointed. It's none other than the fallen—"

Snap!

"Damn it."

The flood of sensory input vanished as abruptly as it had arrived. My predetermined ten seconds had expired.

Even so, the harvest was plentiful. I had pinpointed the exact location and confirmed that the illegal auction was taking place tonight, straight through my own eyes and ears.

"Man, I am never using that again. It forces you to learn things you'd rather die than know."

It gave me a newfound respect for the Main Deity's stomach. You truly needed nerves of steel to be a god.

A few minor mental scars aside, my preparations were complete. I brushed off my trousers and pushed myself up from the parapet.

Now that I had the location and their timeline, my job was technically to report back to Count Arwell. Leaving it at that would have been the prudent choice, but one detail gnawed relentlessly at my mind.

"A massive score... a high-profile piece of merchandise, huh?"

If that merchandise turned out to be something that could bring ruin upon the Count, that would be a disaster. Benefactors as generous and upright as Count Arwell didn't exactly grow on trees. More than that, for the sake of Yurian and Tina, I needed to see this through myself.

Good customer service means offering a thorough follow-up, right?

Time to pay the auction house a visit.

Naturally, no matter how depraved a person's desires may be, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only amateur scoundrels parade them out in the open. In that regard, the criminals running this underground auction possessed a masterclass in subtlety.

The site sat on the quiet outskirts, just far enough from the red-light district. It wasn't completely devoid of foot traffic, yet not so desolate that passersby would feel uneasy—a location balanced right on the razor's edge of discretion. Standing on that plot was a well-kept manor, draped heavily in ivy so that, from a distance, it appeared to be nothing more than an abandoned estate whose glory days had long passed.

By the time I arrived, the auction was already well underway, and the organizers had likely concluded that no further guests would be arriving. As I strode boldly toward the entrance without bothering to conceal myself, a middle-aged man with an affable demeanor stepped forward, wearing a cordial smile.

"Pardon the intrusion, sir, but may I see your token?"

"What?"

"If you do not possess a token, I must politely ask you to turn back."

I was genuinely impressed by his polished manners and deferential tone. Opting for the ambiguous word 'token' rather than 'ticket' was equally clever. Handled like this, nobody would ever suspect this man was operating a squalid den of human trafficking.

Which was precisely why I decided to take the exact opposite approach.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to, you little shit?"

"...Excuse me?"

"The nerve of you, blocking my way. Shit, does anyone even show up here with their bare face showing? Can't you tell who you're dealing with when I walked right up without a mask?"

"Well, you see, that is..."

"Cut the crap. Give me your name and your rank first, asshole."

"T-That is quite difficult, sir..."

Ah, dammit. My heart is too soft for this.

I thought I could easily channel the entitled, obnoxious monster-parents I used to deal with at the kids' cafe in my past life, but the pang of conscience was stinging far too much. Only lukewarm insults kept coming out, and the guards weren't taking the bait.

"Listen here, you punk! Huh? I've shared drinks with your boss! Gone to the baths together! Exchanged all sorts of delicate favors! I've done it all with him, you hear me?!"

"..."

Just as the flustered guard broke into a cold sweat, unsure of what to do, another young man dressed in identical attire emerged from the stairway leading underground.

"What's going on here?" the newcomer asked.

The flustered guard pulled him aside into the shadows and began whispering frantically.

"He won't show a token and he's throwing a massive tantrum. I think he forgot his at home, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what do we do?"

"Ah, we get those types occasionally. It's tough enough getting through security in Count Arwell's territory, so the nobles are already on edge before they get here. Well, what's your read on him?"

"He's the real deal. Young as he is, every time he opens his mouth, you can tell he's spent his entire life treating people like dirt under his boots. The guy has a foul sewer for a mouth."

"Sounds like our average clientele, then."

"Pretty much."

You miserable, subhuman scumbags.

I heard every single word. Even without miraculous enhancements, sharp senses picked up that kind of hushed muttering with ease. Swallowing my wounded pride, I scowled and snapped at them again.

"Hey! You two bastards, get your boss out here! Are you the only two guarding this damn door?"

"Ah, yes, sir. Just the two of us."

"Is that right? You swear?"

"Of course, sir! Why would we ever lie to an honored VIP?"

Just how depraved and unhinged were the actual VIPs here that this ridiculous routine actually worked? Then again, scum who profited off the misery of others were cut from the same cloth everywhere.

"Fine, whatever. Come over here, both of you."

Step, step.

The two guards fell into a neat horizontal line right in front of me. How terribly accommodating of them. It would make tying them up remarkably easy.

Without wasting a breath, I recited the sacred chant.

"In the name of the Main Deity and the Holy Spirit, chains of light."

In an instant, thick golden chains materialized from the empty air, coiling tightly around both men.

Clatter, rattle!

Bound before they even realized what had struck them, the two men could only stare at me in dumbfounded silence. Then, as the reality of their predicament finally set in, they began squawking in panic.

"Y-You tricked us, you bastard...!"

"Wait, did he say 'Main Deity'...? Don't tell me... a man from the Temple?!"

"What? It wasn't a trick?! That degenerate scumbag is an actual priest?! That's insane!"

"What the fuck?! Where on earth does the Temple find a priest with a mouth like an open sewer?! Is the clergy even allowed to act like this?!"

"Who are you crazy bastards calling a degenerate with a sewer mouth? And yes, against criminals like you, I'm allowed to do whatever I damn well please."

I hastily pulled out the gags I had brought and shoved them into their mouths. A sensitive, empathetic soul like mine bruised far too easily, like falling flower petals.

Having dealt with the doorkeepers, I mounted the stairs leading to the upper level. Walking down the solitary corridor, my eyes caught on an ornate double door. Without hesitation, I threw it open.

The immediate blast of sickly sweet perfume made my head spin. Breathless gasps and vulgar cheering heated the air inside to a fever pitch. In front of a stage decorated with gaudy extravagance sat an audience of men and women, young and old alike, every one of them concealed behind masquerade masks.

If I signal the Count right now, he could raid the place and round them all up in one fell swoop.

Just as I turned to slip away and make the report, the auctioneer's triumphant roar echoed through the hall, stopping me dead in my tracks.

"And now, the moment you have all been waiting for—our main dish of the evening!"

With theatrical gestures, he commanded the room's rapt attention. It was clear he had orchestrated spectacles like this many times before. As every gaze locked onto the stage, the house lights plunged into darkness.

Next came the grinding rattle of wheels—the heavy resonance of an iron cage being rolled toward the center of the platform.

Flash!

A narrow, glaring spotlight ignited, illuminating the cage and nothing else.

"Behold, the absolute finest of our premium stock! Hair as dark as the midnight sky, and eyes black as obsidian! A youth bearing the unmistakable traits of a fallen kingdom's royal bloodline!"

"Ooooh...!"

"Ah, what a prize...!"

"Regrettably, he has suffered a bit of wear during his disciplinary training... but he is young, is he not? Youth mends quickly!"

'A bit of wear' was a grotesque understatement. The boy's condition was horrific.

Crusted, dark-red blood coated his face and neck in thick smears. It was obvious they had attempted to wipe him clean, but the sheer volume of bleeding had made it impossible. His eyelids were swollen shut, reducing his eyes to barely visible slits, and his chest heaved violently with ragged, shallow breaths.

Whenever his battered body slumped against the cold iron bars, a brute standing beside the cage delivered a vicious kick to the metal, forcing the trembling child to pull himself upright again.

Tears spilled silently over the boy's knees—a human being reduced to a piece of merchandise overnight.

Only then did I realize that I had never truly understood what genuine malice looked like.

I had never imagined that a person could inflict such cruelty upon another human being. Not in the peaceful days of my past life, nor in the quiet, stifling walls of the Temple in this one had I ever encountered wickedness of this depth.

"..."

I should run to the Count right now.

I should bring the subjugation squad, storm this place, and throw every last one of them into chains.

I have to make these beasts, who threw away their humanity, answer for their sins.

My mind went stark white with furious resolve. And then, entirely separate from my conscious will, my lips began to murmur the sacred tongue of God.

"...Because you did not broker peace and fellowship."

And because you refused to cast your eyes upon righteousness and the law.

"...I have sent forth not peace, but a sword."