A Welcome Reunion (1)
A Welcome Reunion (1)
After parting ways with Knight Yuri, Johan returned straight to the slash-and-burn village. There was still something he had to take care of before leaving.
He headed for the village chief’s hut.
“Are you there?”
As soon as Johan’s voice rang out, the village chief came rushing out barefoot and bowed low.
“Oh dear, my lord. I don’t know how I can ever repay this grace.”
If not for Johan, the chief’s grandson would’ve been taken away by the Order. He would’ve undergone brutal interrogation, and in the end, they would’ve discovered he had been possessed by a demon.
That would have sealed the boy’s fate.
He would have died—no matter what.
It was Johan who had prevented that tragedy.
To the village chief, Johan was nothing less than a savior.
Johan spoke.
“You were the first to take care of me when I collapsed. We helped each other. There’s no need to feel one-sided gratitude.”
The wild mountains at night were full of dangers. Without the chief’s care, Johan might have truly died out there.
He sincerely appreciated the old man.
“All I did was bring an honored guest to this humble place…”
“And that act saved my life. Thank you again, elder.”
As Johan gave a slight bow, the village chief flinched and bowed even lower.
“Please, don’t use honorifics with a lowly man like me. If someone hears, I’ll be in trouble, my lord.”
No matter the age gap, nobles didn’t speak formally to commoners.
That was the law of both the Kingdom and the Empire.
As long as Johan lived in this world, he couldn’t disregard the law.
Johan said,
“Very well. If you accept my proposal, I’ll drop the honorifics.”
“Please, say anything.”
“Become my subject. I will grant you land to farm.”
They were slash-and-burn farmers with no fields of their own, wandering from place to place.
Their one desire amid such hardship was simple.
To settle on fertile land and live a stable life.
Johan could make that happen.
The chief’s face brightened momentarily—but the light soon vanished.
“W-We are not free folk. We don’t have the right to make such a choice.”
“Which house are you bound to?”
“Th-That would be…”
“Please, speak freely.”
The old man hesitated for a long time, then finally opened his mouth.
“We are serfs of Baron Bartoloy.”
The Bartoloy barony? The name felt familiar, but Johan couldn’t immediately recall the family’s role in the original story.
It must not have been a notable name. Probably just mentioned once or twice in passing.
‘Where was it again…?’
After some time thinking, Johan found the answer.
‘Ah, right. The haunted fortress prologue.’
In the early-to-mid sections of the original work, several noble houses in the kingdom fell victim to a certain demon.
The Bartoloy family had been the first casualties in that episode.
As he followed that line of thought, another question arose.
‘But… this isn’t Bartoloy territory.’
The haunted fortress arc took place in the far west of the kingdom.
This area leaned more toward the south—it didn’t make sense for Bartoloy serfs to be farming here.
Johan nodded as if something had clicked.
“You must’ve fled the estate.”
The old man’s shoulders shrank.
“…Yes.”
A serious crime. Serfs were considered closer to property than people. They could not leave their master’s domain without permission.
“Was it because of taxes?”
“That too, but… My son was beaten to death by the lord. We just wanted to live like human beings.”
The chief confessed to his crime without resistance. He normally would never say such a thing aloud—but for some reason, in front of Johan, the barrier in his heart collapsed.
It was because of the Saint’s Eyes.
“You did the right thing. It seems the Great Saint guided you to the right path.”
It was an unexpected reaction.
The village chief had braced himself for a scolding from Johan.
“E-Excuse me? Did you say… I did the right thing?”
“I did. I can’t explain everything, but you ran away well.”
The chief looked dazed as he stared at Johan.
Johan added,
“Either way, this makes things easier. Come to the Miyatro domain. I’ll give you farmland. There will be taxes, but I promise they’ll be fair.”
It was a generous offer. For a slash-and-burn farmer—no, a fugitive serf—to be welcomed like this. But he couldn’t accept immediately. A few questions still lingered.
“I… I’m deeply grateful, but… why would you grant such grace, my lord?”
“My domain lacks labor, and you need land. It’s simply an exchange to fill each other’s needs—not one-sided charity.”
To the chief, it was hard to understand. He had lived his whole life as a noble’s property. The idea of making a deal with his master was alien to him.
“But we are not even free folk… how could we…”
“All of my subjects are free. They may leave whenever they choose.”
The chief’s eyes widened.
“How can that be!”
“It’s the truth. So the decision is yours. Think carefully and come see me whenever you’re ready. I’ll drop the honorifics then.”
Johan glanced toward the hut.
“That’s enough of that. How is your grandson?”
Still dazed, the old man answered with a slightly trembling voice.
“H-He just woke up.”
“Before I go, may I speak with him?”
“Of course.”
The boy had likely seen Johan’s true form. Though he had been possessed by an Imp, there was a chance he retained some memory.
No matter how busy Johan was, he couldn’t leave without addressing that.
“I’ll just check on the child’s condition and be on my way.”
“I truly don’t know how to thank you enough. Oh, Great Saint, please bless the young lord with light…”
It seemed there had been a misunderstanding—but Johan didn’t bother to correct it.
He headed for the hut.
***
“Are you sure this is the place?”
A red furball peeked its head out of the pocket in Illea’s white fur coat.
“It is! The Great End gave me His trial right in that hut! One day, this place shall be known as the origin of sin and become a sanctuary for all demonkind!”
Its voice echoed through the village. Fortunately, it was so late at night that no one was awake to hear it.
Illea grabbed the Imp with a firm grip and lifted it up.
“He doesn’t seem to be here. I don’t sense Johan’s presence at all.”
Her face came close to the Imp. Her features were overwhelmingly beautiful, but the Imp could feel nothing but fear.
What was etched into its mind was the terrifying power she had displayed.
“I-I’m not lying! He was definitely here!”
“I don’t see him. I asked if you knew his current location, and you gave me the wrong answer. You won’t get to die peacefully.”
She tugged the Imp’s arms to either side, stretching and releasing repeatedly.
Agonized whimpers burst from the furball.
“Give me another chance! I’ll find him! Stop pulling! Please!”
With a sigh, Illea stopped the torture.
“This is your last chance. If you fail again… I won’t finish the sentence.”
“D-Don’t worry! I’m good at sniffing! I can see footprints too! Put me on the ground!”
The Imp flopped down and began sniffing the earth.
“Small footprints… scent of a human boy… that strange discomfort I felt that time…”
The discomfort it referred to was the feeling it experienced when it made eye contact with the Saint’s Eyes.
Listening to the Imp muttering, Illea tilted her head.
“Wait a second. Who are you even looking for?”
“What kind of question is that! Of course I’m tracking the Great One’s trail!”
“And you’re saying he had small footprints and the scent of a boy?”
“He disguised himself as a human! Stop interrupting when you don’t even know! Hmph, guess there are things even witches don’t know!”
Illea couldn’t understand it. Johan had revealed he was a ‘Half-Demon’? That was completely out of character for him.
“Did you meet him during the day?”
“No! Always at night! And stop asking questions! You’re making it hard to—gahk!”
A heavy pressure crushed the Imp’s body.
Illea was pressing down on it with her foot.
“I’ll give you five minutes. Find Johan immediately.”
Her voice was chillingly cold.
The surrounding air turned icy.
She was unusually impatient.
‘Something’s wrong with Johan.’
If the Imp was telling the truth, then Johan was maintaining a human form even during the night.
Logically, it was impossible. But it didn’t sound like a lie either.
Illea couldn’t help but feel anxious.
Sensing her urgency, the Imp shut its mouth and resumed its desperate sniffing.
To survive. To pass the Apostle’s trial.
It gave everything it had.
***
Fortunately, the chief’s grandson remembered nothing.
He had lost all memories of the possession and only complained of a lingering headache.
After confirming his condition, Johan left the village.
He wanted to get out of the sacred sealing array as soon as possible.
The buried fear was creeping up again.
All signs pointed to one thing—Johan hadn’t died in his ‘demon’ state.
In other words, he could transform again at any moment.
The sun would rise soon, so it wouldn’t matter for now—but if he remained inside the sealing array until tomorrow, things could get ugly.
He had to escape before the day was over.
‘First thing, I need to find Illea once I return.’
Too much had happened over the past few days, and countless questions had arisen.
There were too many problems he couldn’t solve alone.
The witch could help.
He didn’t want to rely on her—but right now, there was no choice.
‘I need to meet her as soon as possible.’
But unlike his urgency, this body was too slow.
He tired quickly and felt hungry.
At this rate, he wouldn’t reach the domain even in a few weeks.
A sense of danger suddenly surged.
This was different from before. He couldn’t fly, couldn’t count on Gaf’s help, and had even lost his horse.
Could he make it back to the domain? No—that was a secondary issue.
Survival itself was uncertain.
He was now a lone child in a dangerous world, hundreds of kilometers from home.
That was when Johan felt a visceral fear of this world for the first time.
‘I had it easy until now.’
Everything had gone according to plan. He’d always walked a well-paved road.
Someone had always been by his side. There had always been a backup plan.
Not anymore.
He was alone now. He had to pierce through all threats with just his own body and reach his land.
It was practically impossible.
He came to a stop.
A cold wind blew. Beastly cries echoed now and then. The surroundings were dark and quiet.
He had to go back.
Return, find Shaferia—or at least travel with the slash-and-burn villagers. He needed another way to return.
Trying to get back to the domain alone was suicide.
Just as he turned to go back.
A rustling sound came from the bushes ahead.
His hair stood on end. He swallowed dryly. Intense tension surged through his body.
Just as he clenched his fists, something popped out of the bushes.
Johan’s stiff expression relaxed.
“O Great End! This lowly spawn has overcome the trial!”
The red-furred Imp pointed its finger proudly at Johan, beaming with pride.
A familiar figure emerged behind it.
“…Johan?”
It was Illea.
Relief spread across Johan’s face.
In contrast, Illea’s expression hardened.
Her gaze locked onto the top of Johan’s head.
“What is that?”
Tangled like a spiderweb, twisted mana and warped space stirred the witch’s senses.
It was an unknown phenomenon—visible and tangible only to her.