3
Chapter 3
Bullshit.
That is the most nonsensical load of bullshit I have ever heard. It's more absurd than trying to translate a dog's bark into human speech.
I honestly wonder what is going on inside the Saint's head for her to say something like that with a straight face.
"Pfft."
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because a noble Saint is making a lame joke that sounds like something a third-rate hack would say."
"I was taught that the most precious things are often found in the lowest places."
"I guess they teach idealism in the Holy Nation?"
"......."
Actually, what the Saint just said can't even be called idealism.
Does love have energy? Does it have a form? Mass? Mana?
Love is something utterly lowly. It is nothing more than a fancy wrapper used by those who don't know how to express their instinctual desires to make them appear refined. The true essence of love is filthy lust.
That's why it's lowly. Even its origin is derived from a lie.
That is why I don't understand. How on earth did the Saint treat my vocal cords?
With Holy Power, which causes demons to seize up upon mere contact, how did she heal me so perfectly and without a single shred of pain?
"Love and idealism are different."
"Living in a delusional fantasy seems even worse than being an idealist, don't you think?"
"Even if it is a delusion, it does not matter. I simply move according to the Lord's will."
"You really love that Lord of yours."
Perhaps the Saint is unaware of her own abilities.
In terms of prestige, the title of Saint ranks in the top five on the continent. I'm, at best, in the top ten.
She might be under the delusion that her ability to shatter the laws of the world is due to something absurd like love. Given her low intelligence, that's a perfectly viable hypothesis.
"Now, stop with the strange thoughts and tell me about the promise you made."
Sensing my deep suspicion, the Saint smiled brightly and parted her lips.
"What promise?"
"The reason why you entered this place."
"Oh, that?"
"If you are reflecting on your sins, I will take responsibility and help you."
The Saint is definitely a persistent woman.
Still, there's no reason I can't tell her, so it's probably better to just answer. I don't mind talking to her in this boring place, but I absolutely detest being pestered.
"I'm not reflecting on anything, so you don't need to help. Also, my crime is the same as yours."
"If it is the same as mine...."
"Crime of Disrespect. That Demon King bastard threw me in here for that. Dammit, I had over three weaknesses of that Demon King held over him, but I was locked up here before I could use them, making them all useless."
"Crime of Disrespect? Do you perhaps believe in the Lord?"
"Don't get your hopes up. The god I believe in is the Demon God."
As I spoke sarcastically, the Saint looked slightly disappointed. I mean, who else would a demon believe in if not the Demon God?
"I still can't believe it. Where else would you find a demon as devout as I was?"
"You were devout?"
"Why, you don't believe me?"
"Honestly, a little... but I'm glad. Firmly believing and relying on something is a good source of support."
The Saint sighed. She sounded genuinely relieved. We've barely met, so why is she worrying about me so much?
What a meddlesome woman. Utterly pathetic.
Suddenly, a mischievous desire flared up within me to shatter that meddling concern and relief. It was the destructive urge of a demon. I also just hated the sight of the Saint constantly spouting bullshit about love.
"To give you an idea of how devout I was, whenever I got angry, instead of smashing innocent objects, I would curse the Demon God."
"......."
"I even stole Lycanthropes meant for sacrifices to brew soup. When I ran out of things to talk about while drinking, I'd tell dirty jokes about the Demon God. Ah, truly, I was an impeccably devout demon."
Even while my limbs were bound, I was thinking of fulfilling my destructive urges through words. I really am something else.
Of course, it's true that I was a devout demon. Compared to others, anyway.
*****
I was a thug.
What does the word 'thug' even mean? Isn't it a term for a vulgar, wicked fellow who does whatever the hell he pleases?
Therefore, I am the perfect thug. A thug who happens to be very slightly stronger than average. That's me.
Anyone who messed with me, I paid back in kind. Anyone who messed with my family, I messed with their family. For those without families, I took away something more precious than family.
Burning down the Great Forest of the elves and logging the World Tree is a prime example.
That's not to say I was some reckless idiot who didn't know his place. I was a textbook case of 'strong against the weak, weak against the strong.' I clung to the powerful and showed no mercy to the weak.
However, perhaps due to my nature, I hated clinging to anyone. I hated bowing my head to others, and I hated being pushed around.
So, I grew my power.
Though I followed the rule of the strong, I made sure there was only one person in the world stronger than me. That was the Demon King. A transcendental existence beyond reach.
If it wasn't the Demon King, not even the Demon God could look down on me. I made it that way.
I was merely a thug who did as he pleased, not an unrestrained colt. At the very least, I knew how to look after myself. I was far from careless.
When I slept, I surrounded myself with eleven layers of protective barriers—something even an 8th-circle Mage would find difficult—and I only kept people around me who had been with me for at least twenty years. Even the Demon King, as long as he was in my circle, I made sure to hold a weakness over him.
Wasn't that quite meticulous? Even if I am currently a death row prisoner in Tartarus, an inescapable prison, with my limbs bound to the four cardinal directions as if being torn apart.
...I suppose being at the end of my life makes me sentimental. I can tell by the useless thoughts drifting into my head.
"I pray to the Lord."
The Saint is praying in the corner.
A faint Light Aura flowing along the curves of her body slightly brightens the dim darkness.
"Thank you for providing us with precious daily bread today."
"Saint, the meal service is given by the jailer. Not your fancy Lord."
"...Please grant mercy and grace to this poor sheep as well. A pitiful sheep who has lost their way."
"......."
No matter if she's the Saint of the Sun, this place is the Inferno. It's hot enough as it is, so why is she making it hotter for herself by kneeling?
Honestly, she's an abnormal human. I wonder if she hit her head as a child.
"Hey, Saint. I'm curious about something."
"Please, tell me."
The Saint broke her intense prayer at my words. She seemed quite happy that I had a question, a clear smile lingering on her lips.
Of course, she's always smiling, so I can't be sure.
"That rosary."
"Yes."
"Why is it black? Is it just covered in grime?"
"Do you mean this, in my hand?"
With her answer, the Saint held up the rosary. The cross, which appeared especially black amidst the Light Aura, caught my eye.
"Yeah, that. Usually, priests carry pure white rosaries to symbolize nobility or golden ones to signify holiness."
"Most do indeed."
The Saint hugged the rosary to her chest as if it were something precious. It was the same way she had held me earlier.
"But for me... I have the heavy duty of embracing the pitiful sheep who are neglected because others lack the capacity to care for them. The black color of the rosary is a symbol of that intent."
"You mean the trash from the back alleys?"
"I mean those who are marginalized in the shadows where the light does not reach."
"Bullshit. Those people would laugh in your face. Do you have any idea how vicious the ones in the back alleys are?"
"That is exactly why they must be embraced. Just like this black rosary. Or, like you."
I wondered who she thought she was trying to help, considering she had blood-soaked bandages wrapped around her eyes.
Just as I was about to raise a dissatisfied question, the iron prison door, which had remained closed since the Saint entered, opened.
Is it meal service already? There should be about two hours left.
But after tasting the soft bread provided by the Saint, no other bread caught my eye.
...Please don't let it be another newcomer. I can't stand that anymore.
The Saint alone is enough to get on my nerves. If someone like the Elf Queen or the Emperor were to walk in, I'd lose my mind.
The voice of Kelth, sounding in the next moment, cut through my worries.
"Saint, there is a request for a visitation."
It was Kelth's calm summons.
A visitation... I haven't had a single visitor since entering Tartarus, so I didn't have much use for the knowledge, but in Tartarus, visitors and prisoners typically conduct visits with only iron bars between them.
...It's not that I absolutely have no friends. That's just how demons are. There's no reason for demons to go through the awkwardness of visiting one another.
Ahem.
Anyway, at the word 'visitor', the Saint prepared herself with a smile full of anticipation. Though she might not know it, blood was streaming down her bandages, making her look utterly ghastly.
"A visitation? Please, let them in."
At the Saint's answer, Kelth opened the iron door completely and entered Tartarus. Beside him stood a human man, standing tall.
As those in the know would realize, Tartarus is as hot as molten magma. The human standing perfectly fine in such a place must be, at the very least, on Kelth's level.
Step-.
The man took a step forward alongside Kelth. He was confident. For a mere visitor to lead the way before a jailer of Tartarus—it was beyond confident; it was almost arrogant.
However, he was a man who had the right to be so.
"Since I currently lack the sight to see, I am unable to recognize the guest who has so boldly visited me."
As the Saint murmured softly, the light entering from the open door illuminated the man's face.
A face I knew well sparkled along with the Light Aura. No, he wasn't just known to me; he was known to the entire continent.
Vincent, the Traitor.
A turncoat hated by humans, cursed by elves, and even put on a wanted list by dragons.
...And simultaneously, a legendary figure who, as a human, rose to the rank of Legion Commander in the Demon Army. I had crossed paths with him a few times.
Among the information Vincent handed over to the Demon Army, there were many top-secret Imperial documents that would normally cost a fortune to obtain. That was the primary reason he was able to fast-track his promotions in the Demon Army.
Of course, from the perspective of the Continental Alliance Army, he was the number one target for elimination. The fact that he is still alive and well even after the long war proves Vincent's survival instincts.
Not just anyone can be a traitor.
"Must I reveal my identity?"
Vincent asked the Saint in a low voice.
It must be uncomfortable. I don't know why he came to visit the Saint of the Sun, but she was the leader of the continent who never abandoned the Continental Army until the end.
It was obvious she would be angry if she knew the visitor was a traitor.
"If it makes you uncomfortable, you do not have to. I do not force choices."
Whether by luck or misfortune, the Saint gave the visitor a choice.
"...No, since I must reveal who I am to state my business anyway. I shall speak openly."
However, the visitor declined the chance, whatever his purpose. He then stood confidently before the Saint, separated by the thick bars.
I watched silently from behind them. Being deep inside Tartarus and shrouded in darkness, Vincent could not see me.
Too bad. It would have been an interesting situation if he'd seen me. Though it might have been terrifying if the Saint figured out my identity.
"My name is Vincent."
Vincent spoke in a dry voice, devoid of any emotion.
The Saint replied with a gentle smile.
"There are about ten people named Vincent in my mind."
"You may think of the one most hated of them all."
"Hate... You describe yourself with such a hideous word."
"The world, the people, the continent—they all call me that. Every single one of them."
The Saint's pale face shifted slightly. Her already white complexion seemed to grow a bit paler.
"So you were Legion Commander Vincent of the Demon Army."
"You are the first 'person' to show me respect after learning my identity."
"The honor is mine."
"No, the honor is mine."
That was all. The Saint showed no hostility nor emitted an aura of contempt. The warm and gentle energy she had shown me flowed through the bars of Tartarus.
Vincent, the traitor, was quite surprised by this. His dark pupils trembled slightly.
"But why has a Legion Commander of the Demon Army come to visit a death row prisoner like me?"
"I have come despite the rudeness of my visit to seek your help."
"Help?"
Wow, the nerve. Who do you think got the Saint trapped in this Tartarus? If Vincent hadn't handed over precious shortcuts and Imperial information to the Demon Army, the Continental Army wouldn't have collapsed so hollowly.
Ah, of course, the war was fierce. When I say 'hollowly', it's only in comparison to the 'original' Continental Army. If a war could be lost just because of one traitor, it wouldn't have been called a war in the first place.
"I have heard that the Saint's White Wisdom Eye possesses the greatest insight and wisdom in the world."
"Those are exaggerated rumors. A descriptor far beyond my merit."
"Still, surely you are capable of providing an answer to the dilemma this foolish human is facing."
"...First, please tell me what it is."
Vincent gave a short nod. The Saint couldn't see it directly, but she read it through the atmosphere.
"As you know, I was a man of the Empire. And you, Saint, were a daughter of the Holy Nation."
"Hmm... 'daughter' is a somewhat embarrassing expression. I was merely a subject of the Lord, just like everyone else."
"I hated the Empire. I believed it was a nation that deserved to fall, and when the Demon Army invaded the continent, I gladly clung to them."
Vincent spoke clearly without hesitation. However, the sweat on the back of his neck—visible only to me watching from behind—betrayed his level of tension.
"In the end, my wish was granted, and the once-mighty Empire crumbled like sand. The officials scattered, the Emperor was murdered by an assassin sent by the Demon Army, and it finally collapsed due to the schemes of a devil named Joker."
"That must be wonderful for you."
"...I thought it would be, but the reality is not wonderful at all."
For the record, I like Vincent very much.
Is it because I was the second-in-command of the Demon Army that I naturally like the Empire's traitor? No, my affection for Vincent isn't for such a trivial reason.
There are countless types of people, and plenty of jackals who cling to the strong. Vincent is famous because he was the first traitor and the human who reached the highest rank.
It's not that I like all traitors. In fact, I hate those mediocre villains. What charm is there in something ugly and pathetic?
But Vincent is different.
"Once it was all done, the world of the Demon Army was a greater hell than the Empire ever was. I didn't start this without knowing that, but now I feel some skepticism about whether my choice back then was correct."
"You have fallen into the agony of regret."
"Therefore, I ask for an answer. Are you not the wisest person on the continent? I do not doubt that you can blow away this foolish agony of mine in an instant."
The Saint wore a faint smile. She seemed pleased by the repeated, sincere compliments.
With only a bar between them, Vincent looked at the Saint with desperate eyes, as if she were his only window of salvation. Though, because of his stiff personality, it wasn't very apparent.
Vincent is rigid and blunt. You could call him a principled man. Why would such a person betray the Empire and join the Demon Army?
"Do you regret betraying the Empire?"
"No, absolutely not. I only have some doubts about whether the choice at the time was the right one."
"You came all the way to the Babel Tower to meet me just because of a doubt."
"...Actually."
Suddenly, Vincent lifted the shirt covering his abdomen.
A set of sleek and firm six-pack abs were revealed. The brows of Kelth and I, who were watching, narrowed slightly.
A faint scent of blood wafts through the air. The kind of smell that heightens combat instincts and fuels aggression. That exact scent was emanating from the three crimson holes in Vincent's abdomen.
The Saint may be blind, but her sense of smell is perfectly intact. As she caught the scent of blood, her brow furrowed.
"I lived my life with such caution... yet the resentment of tens of millions is a burden too heavy to bear forever."
"It seems you were struck in a precarious area."
"I am barely holding on by gathering every last bit of my energy, but even that will only last five more minutes."
"You've come to spend time as precious as honey on me."
"I have no family or anything left. The remnants of the Empire ensured that everyone close to me disappeared."
"...."
"I believed I had evaded them, but I was wrong. Since the outcome of the war was already decided, the Empire deliberately kept this wretched traitor alive. They killed my subordinates, my family, my colleagues... isolating me by killing everyone around me. Then, they delivered their punishment just as the continent was fully conquered and at its most celebratory peak."
Oh, I didn't know that. I wondered why Vincent's adjutants seemed to change every single day. So that was the work of the Imperial remnants.
They knew the war was lost, so they decided to ruin the traitor's life first. A cruel method, perfectly fitting for the Empire. Thinking about how I was the one to bring down such a nation makes me feel proud of myself all over again.
"I was enjoying the victor's banquet as usual, when a muzzle glittered in the corner. There were three flashes of light, like the ember of a cigarette. Bang, bang, bang. I killed the gunman instantly, but the Empire's bullets had already pierced my lungs and organs."
"Did you not consider seeking treatment from priests?"
"Hah, do you truly believe they would exert Holy Power for someone like me?"
As the once-mighty Empire fell, other nations and races followed suit toward destruction. The Holy Nation, where the Saint and priests belonged, was one of them.
"I know I am shameless. You must despise me, Saint. But in my final moment, you were the only one who came to mind."
"Is that so."
"I feel it is truly regrettable that the Holy Nation fell due to my actions. It was not an unforeseen consequence, but I had no other choice."
The Saint's eyebrow twitched slightly. At the mention of the Holy Nation, she seemed to be remembering her own birthplace.
"...Just."
With a slight tremor in her voice, the Saint parted her lips.
"Just why did you betray the Empire?"
Assuming Vincent was standing right there, the Saint asked, pressing down her indignation.
"The Empire was a powerful nation. It operated like a machine under the strict decrees of the Emperor, a place where corruption was unthinkable. Why did you betray such an Empire?"
The question was asked in a low tone, but the emotion behind it was quite passionate.
The Saint could never understand Vincent. Though she had endured the storms of war, she was ultimately a human who grew up in the flowery sanctuary of the Holy Nation.
I mentioned earlier that I like Vincent, right?
That's because he has one thing in common—and one thing different—from other 'turncoats.'
"Why did I betray the Empire? You ask such an obvious question."
"Obvious...?"
After a brief pause, the traitor spoke with bitterness.
"The Empire never treated me as a human."
"...."
Yes, that's exactly it.
Vincent was a slave in the Empire.
The lowest class of society, treated not as a person, but as an object, livestock, or a beast.
A plaything with a life as fragile as a fly whenever guests visited the house, a bottom-feeder living a life worse than the drug addicts in the slums.
That was the treatment Vincent received in the Empire.
"I simply didn't treat them as a nation."
"Such... ah."
I don't like mediocre villains. The same goes for those who chase money, fame, or power. Isn't that all too boring?
Most humans who joined the Demon Army were of that sort. They spouted empty words about pledging loyalty to the Demon King or admiring the Demon Army since old times. I've never seen that loyalty hold up in the face of death.
But Vincent is different. What he harbored for the Empire was deep-rooted revenge. He is no petty opportunist. If he were, he would never have thrown his life away on the front lines of every battle, nor would he have climbed the ranks so radically to become a Legion Commander.
That is why I like Vincent. A villain driven by revenge is a cliché, but classics are classics for a reason—they are captivating.
He believes he is merely delivering a justified payback, but in the end, once the revenge is complete, he will find someone in the mirror who has become exactly like those he hated.
What a fascinating villain.
"You were someone with a pitiful story."
"I figured that you, of all people, would easily show sympathy even to a wretch like me."
"Where in this world is there a sheep without a story?"
"Since you understand that, I trust you can answer my question as well."
"Hmm...."
"Was I right to bring down the Empire? No matter how insect-like the nation was, should I have protected it simply because it was my motherland?"
The question is wrong.
Vincent doesn't realize it, but the agony he's trapped in isn't regret over his choice. Such a thing doesn't suit a principled man like him.
Vincent's struggle isn't regret; it's the fact that he has become a 'villain' just like the Empire.
Since the man who loathed the Empire became like the Empire, a deep self-hatred must surge every time he looks in the mirror. A common end for revenge-driven villains.
If I were a remnant of the Empire, I wouldn't have killed Vincent. Even if left alone, he wouldn't have enjoyed wealth or glory; he would have ended his life by suicide in a bottomless swamp of self-loathing.
The most painful death is not burning, beheading, or gunshots, but suicide. Since suicide is chosen when life becomes more agonizing than death, those who take their own lives suffer more than death itself before they go.
"Hmm...."
I wonder if the Saint noticed Vincent's inner turmoil.
"I am not a prophet who foretells the future. Nor am I a scholar who digs up the past."
Huh? What is this? Why is she laying such a sophisticated groundwork for her answer?
"I am merely a foolish sheep who received the Lord's command to heal people and purify this world."
"...Even the great Saint cannot give me an answer?"
"One must find their own answer. However, to help you find that answer..."
Whirrr-.
A white Light Aura bloomed from the Saint's hand. It was the same light used to heal my throat, which had been causing searing pain. A divine and merciful touch of light gradually approached Vincent.
The light she called 'love.'
"What are you trying to do, Saint?"
"This is the only thing I know how to do, so please understand. It is a precious duty granted to me by the Lord when I was born."
"...I asked for an answer, and you give me something else entirely."
Whirrr-.
Vincent did not resist, unlike I had. No matter if he's a Legion Commander of the Demon Realm, he is human by birth. Or perhaps it was simply a case of having nothing left to lose.
The bud of light nurtured by the Saint settled over Vincent's wound. Bright dew seeped into the three red circles. Vincent spoke.
"Saint, why are you saving me?"
The Saint's Holy Power was potent. Vincent's wounds began to close instantly, and a spark of vitality returned to his face.
Vincent continued, unable to comprehend.
"I am a traitor. I betrayed the continent, and though unintended, I had a significant impact on the defeat of the Holy Nation you belonged to. Why save me from the clutches of death?"
"That is......."
"Ah, perhaps you mean for me to survive and taste the agony of life forever? Then I shall accept it gladly. I'll consider it a reward for granting me Holy Power that no one else would..."
"Surely, that cannot be the case."
The Saint answered, shaking her head.
"If there is a sick person before me, I treat them. Whether they are a sinner, a traitor, a speechless beast, or a former enemy general from the battlefield—emotions can be biased, but Holy Power must not be tainted by personal feelings."
Wow, now that is a true saint. I let out a silent cheer of admiration.
"...To show mercy even to a traitor."
Whirrr... shimmer-.
Once his internal organs and skin were fully healed, Vincent stroked his abdomen with a stunned expression. He muttered in a grumpy tone, though he seemed deeply moved.
"I have never seen a priest like you, Saint."
"Is that so. I imagine there are countless Saints in this world far more exceptional than I."
"No, even if you brought every priest in the world, not one would heal a traitor."
"The Lord said to love one's enemies. As a subject of the Lord, I simply follow in silence."
Wow, look at her, a true believer through and through.
Love your enemies? Now I see why the Saint was the biggest reason for the loss in the war. When you inject things like mercy and love into a war, you're bound to fall.
Well, even if she'd approached it with the coldness of a bloodless sociopath, she would have eventually lost due to the insurmountable wall that is the Demon King.
"Love your enemies... May I ask what they call that in the Holy Nation?"
Was it because he had just been saved? The traitor asked, his eyes reddening. Within those eyes dwelt a strange radiance, one I had never seen in him before.
What I had instilled in Vincent during my time in the Demon Army was madness, malice, and a thirst for revenge. But this... it was almost.......
"I have never heard such words from anyone. Yet, the fact that a phrase I've never heard before stirs my heart so deeply means it must be something extraordinary."
The faint Light Aura flowing through the Saint's body.
It looked exactly like that.
"We call it"
Pausing for a beat, the Saint looked toward me. Since she's blind, saying she 'looked' is a stretch, but she faced my direction as she spoke. It was as if she were explaining it to me, even though I hadn't asked.
"Embrace."
Embrace. A short and simple word of two syllables. Upon hearing it, Vincent closed his eyes for a moment, then quietly opened them and turned to leave.
"...I see. I've learned something precious today."
"Are you leaving?"
"The position of a Legion Commander is not a leisurely one that can be left vacant for long."
"Yes, please do not forget what you have learned from me."
As if his claim of being busy wasn't a lie, Vincent hurried out of Tartarus. The lifeless gait he had upon entering was now the most brisk and upright of anyone in the world. The overflowing vitality and energy he left behind remained as remnants in the bleakness of Tartarus.
"It is a tragedy."
Before the aftereffects of the traitor's visit had faded, the Saint returned to her spot and spoke. She looked slightly more haggard and pale than before.
"What is?"
"If that man had grown up in proper circumstances, he would never have sold his country."
"Who knows. Human life is unpredictable. You never know when someone might turn into a traitor even while they're doing well. There are plenty of people like that, aren't there?"
"Hmm... I'm sure they all have their own stories."
"Your head is just a total flower garden, Saint."
Slowly approaching, the Saint knelt demurely beside me. Why? What is she trying to do?
"I wanted to embrace people like him."
"Really?"
"Those who reside where the Lord's grace does not reach... Thus, until the war broke out, I traveled across the continent, visiting the darkest places. I only resent the fact that I have but one body."
"That's just how it is. If you're unhappy about it, try making a homunculus. Though our devout Saint probably wouldn't even dream of such a thing."
"...An artificial human? Why would anyone create something so horrific?"
"I was just talking. Just ignore it."
The Saint nodded in agreement. A Light Aura, slightly dimmer than before Vincent arrived, enveloped her entire body. It was the one and only light in the utter darkness of Tartarus.
"Ah, this reminds me of the old days."
"The old days?"
"Yeah. The Demon Realm where I was born is a place of extreme darkness and violence. Being in Tartarus brings back memories of that time. Though I don't particularly miss the frantic madness and hot-bloodedness."
As I spoke with a melancholic gaze, the Saint lowered her head slightly, her lips twitching.
"...You also have a sorrowful past, like the others."
"...? What? Why are you suddenly deciding what my past was like?"
"Do you believe that you had a happy past?"
"Of course. Do you know how happy the home I grew up in was? Why are you treating me like some miserable soul?"
"I have committed a discourtesy. I apologize."
The Saint bowed her head toward the empty space beside me.
It was a gesture full of politeness, but the flaw was that she apologized to the wrong spot because she couldn't see. A small, silly chuckle escaped me. I spoke to her mockingly.
"Let me tell you how happy my home was. First, my noona's head was chopped off by humans and displayed on a pike in the marketplace. The dragons beheaded my mother and threw her to the orcs as food."
"......."
"And my father was burned alive by the elves. Doesn't that sound like a truly happy family? There's probably no demon who grew up in a more affluent household than I did."
That mischievous desire flared up again. I really need to stop doing this. It's just that teasing people is too much fun.
Now, our noble and merciful Saint Maria. How are you going to react this time?
I've toyed with you twice now. Aren't you furious? Can your precious love still function amidst a rage that shakes your composure?
"...You."
Oops, her voice didn't sound agitated. It seems she didn't fly into a rage as I expected.
However, seeing the slight tremble in her voice, she seems to have heated up a bit.
Yes, show a little annoyance. Break that loathsome 'embrace' with your own hands. The moment you complain even once, I'll use that as a clue to uncover your dark inner self.
"You were a sheep with many knots tied in your heart."
...Huh?
"By nature, anger is dispelled through love. I shall accept it all, so please pour out all the resentment and trauma that eat away at you."
As she spoke, she lifted my head and placed it upon her lap. I could feel her thin thighs, which were far from plump, against the back of my neck.
Additionally, I felt the soft yet durable texture of the dark nun's habit covering them.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"
"Your sorrow, your pain. Release it all to me. Even if you are the most fallen creation of God, as an apostle of God, I have a duty to lead even someone like you."
An unfamiliar sensation wrapped around my head like a snake. My already dim vision went completely dark.
My airway was blocked by a dull sensation.
"...Seriously, what is this?"
I asked with a hint of irritation. I hate feeling suffocated. I like the dark, but I hate being enclosed.
"I am embracing you."
"What, what? Embrace?"
"I cannot fully understand you, but I can embrace you."
"Hey, wake up. Did you get shot in the head? I'm a demon."
"Which is exactly why I must embrace you with even more meticulous care."
Ah, damn it. Come to think of it, this woman is someone who showed embrace even to the traitor who destroyed her homeland. Dammit, logic won't work on her.
Squeeze-.
It's been almost five hundred years since I've been in someone's arms. Hah, even after centuries, it feels sticky and dirty.
Calling this an 'embrace' is a joke. She should have just poured Holy Power into me like she did for Vincent.
Tighten-.
Wait, why does it feel like I'm getting more and more suffocated? I feel like the two nostrils of my nose are being blocked by something heavy.
"The purpose of an embrace is repentance. If I embrace you strongly, you'll be able to repent better, right?"
"Y-you wicked human...!"
"Please relax your heart. Repentance comes from peace of mind."
"S-stop...! L-let me go right now...!"
Tighten-.
"Gwaaaah...!"
I take it back. The Saint is of the same breed as I am. No, she's an even worse species of monster.
The smile on the Saint's lips looked, in this moment, like the most evil smile in the world.