WHFIO02

Episode 2

I climbed out of bed and walked over to the mirror standing in the corner of the room.

The reflection staring back at me wasn’t “Yuhana.” Nor was it “Ruel,” the body I had possessed in the first round.

No—the woman in the mirror was a stranger with soft platinum hair flowing down to her waist and eyes of luminous amber.

Her name was Elses Rohine.

I had just coaxed the name out of a maid a little while ago. By gently steering our conversation, I’d managed to get a quick grasp on my situation.

“Elysion Year 294. Three years since both Ruel and the Demon Lord Rezantia perished. Which means… three years have passed after the ending, just like in the real world.”

And as for the woman whose body I had taken—Elses Rohine:

“Age twenty-two, only daughter of Baron Rohine. Her father, the baron, died a month ago in a cargo shipwreck. Her only family, gone.”

The maid seemed to think my odd manner of speaking about her late father was nothing more than a sign that I had been left half-mad from the shock.

“Well, that hardly matters.”

What truly mattered was that this Elses… was branded the “Vessel of the Demon Lord.”

Why in the world was this body chosen as the Demon Lord’s reincarnation?

I leaned closer to the mirror, studying my face.

“Pretty enough, I suppose… but fragile. Definitely not the look of a hero.”

In Last Heroes—the game I had spent my real life grinding away at—none of the countless heroes had this appearance or this name. The woman looked utterly ordinary, with no ties to the Demon Lord whatsoever.

“Status window.”

I called it out, but nothing appeared. That was why I’d had to pry Elses’s name and background directly from the maid earlier.

I tried again. Still nothing.

“So, because I’m not a player but the final boss, I don’t get a status window?”

After all, the role of the final boss was only to stand and be slain by the players. No need for them to know their own stats.

Realizing the truth, I let out a sigh deep enough to sink the floor.

“What the hell kind of situation is this?”

I didn’t understand why, but one thing was absolutely clear:

“I’m screwed.”

And not just a little.

“If Ruel died and returned to the real world… does that mean if I die, I’ll wake up back home too?”

I clutched my head, recalling what had happened right before I ended up here.

“Wait—I was hit by a car before this, wasn’t I…?”

The next memory I had was opening my eyes in this body.

The first possession had dragged me here out of the blue. But this time, it felt like I had arrived after dying.

Which meant recklessly testing the theory by dying again was far too dangerous.

“So then… what the hell am I supposed to do now?”

I had no desire to play the villain, but I couldn’t just sit idle either. The heroes would eventually come for the Demon Lord’s power—come to kill me.

And the fate of the final boss in any game?

“Death. With nearly one hundred percent certainty.”

I ground my teeth in frustration at my predetermined bad ending.

“No, the more I think about this, the more unfair it gets! I’m supposed to just sit here and let the very heroes I raised cut me down?”

If I had known my own heroes would one day come to kill me, I never would have slaved away grinding them up in the first place!

“What is this, some kind of mafia game? One round I’m the innocent villager, the next I’m the mafia?”

The creator of this game—or the so-called “god” who had thrown me into this world—clearly had some perverse streak.

“If I ever meet that bastard of a developer, I swear I’ll wring his neck!”

Just then, a knock came at the door.

“My lady, I’ve brought your meal.”

I quickly shoved down the chaos of emotions boiling inside me and answered in a carefully composed tone.

“Come in.”

A maid named Leni entered, setting the tray down on the table where I sat. But she lingered, hesitating instead of leaving.

I looked at her quizzically, and she ventured cautiously:

“My lady… are you truly certain you don’t wish for a physician to be summoned?”

She clearly thought my behavior strange.

“Well, to be fair—I forgot my father’s existence overnight, even forgot my own age. Suspicious, indeed.”

I answered lightly, “I’m fine.”

And it was true enough. But more importantly—

“Now that Father is gone, I am the head of this house. If word spreads that the new baroness is unwell, vermin will come crawling from every corner.”

I couldn’t yet tell if Leni was trustworthy. Best to hide all weaknesses.

“Leave me be. I’d like some time alone.”

Expecting at last to eat in peace, I picked up my utensils.

But to my surprise, Leni suddenly went pale, trembling as though about to cry, bowing low.

“F-forgive me, my lady! I overstepped by speaking out of turn. Please, don’t cast me out. I swear it won’t happen again…!”

“Huh? I wouldn’t dismiss you over something like that.”

I waved my hands awkwardly, startled.

“So… the original Elses must have been a real tyrant of a master.”

Feeling pity for the poor maid, I forced a smile and said:

“Thank you… for worrying about me.”

It wouldn’t erase the past, but it was something.

Leni blinked at me in shock.

“The young lady… has changed?”

The original Elses had been moody and mercurial—generous when she was pleased, vicious when she was not. Since her father’s death, life under her had been like walking on a knife’s edge.

But today, she had thanked Leni.

The maid stumbled over her words of gratitude, bowing repeatedly before backing toward the door.

“Go have your own meal now, Leni. You must be hungry.”

I was about to dismiss her when a thought struck me, and I called her back.

“Leni, wait—I want to ask you something.”

She straightened quickly. “Yes, my lady! Anything.”

“Do you remember the heroes who saved this world from the Demon Lord three years ago?”

Surely anyone would know of them. I had lived with them for over a decade—of course I was curious what had become of them. Perhaps they could even help me now.

But at the mention of “heroes,” Leni flinched.

“Ah… those people…”

Her expression looked more like she was speaking of villains.

I pressed her gently:

“Have you heard any recent news about them?”

Still wary, she stammered out an answer.

“Lord Astaire—you know, my lady—he became a cardinal, and recently he was transferred to the Imperial Cathedral. Everyone’s clamoring just for a glimpse of him these days.”

“Astaire… a cardinal?”

I had never seen the heroes’ lives after the ending. Once the final boss fell, the story ended; mobile games weren’t designed to let players see the “end.” Only endless new scenarios, to keep the money flowing.

And Ruel had vanished along with Rezantia, so I had never known.

“Good for you, Astaire. You really made it.”

I couldn’t help but feel proud.

But Leni’s face darkened again as she continued:

“As for Lord Rasiel… he became Tower Master three years ago. Since then, he’s never left the Mage Tower. There are rumors he’s researching black magic… though I can’t say for certain.”

My eyes flew wide.

Black magic was forbidden by law. To research it meant standing against the Empire—and the entire continent.

“N-no, that must just be rumor. My boy Rasiel would never…”

I shoved the thought away, clinging to denial.

“Lord Cassian, I don’t know about. And Lord Tezet… well, I imagine you’d know better than I.”

“Better than me? What, are we related or something?”

I wanted to ask, but feared looking even more suspicious. If we were that close, I’d find out soon enough anyway.

“Yes… I suppose.”

I nodded, and Leni, taking the hint, excused herself.

“Please call if you need anything.”

Left alone, I turned to my meal, sorting through the information.

But something caught my eye.

“…Weren’t there six cookies on this plate?”

I tilted my head. Maybe I was imagining it.

Still thinking, I finished the bread absentmindedly and reached for dessert.

“…Huh?”

There were only four cookies now.

My breath caught.

“…I’m the only one in this room.”

I hadn’t feared ghosts since grade school. Humans were far scarier. But faced with this inexplicable phenomenon, I felt a cold shiver down my spine.

I stared at the cookies in a daze. Then, pretending to drop my fork, I bent down—and snapped my head back up.

And froze.

Across from me, a stuffed rabbit doll, wreathed in dark miasma, was shoveling the cookies straight into its mouth.

The doll froze too, meeting my eyes.

Clatter.

The empty plate slipped from its paws and hit the table.

Silence descended.