Chapter 26
There was a lily scent. A terribly strong one.
Ten days before the typhoon.
Ian Brighton had been suffering from dreadful nightmares recently.
A person with short white hair and lake-blue eyes staring at him.
A holy knight in armor, wielding a consecrated spear, piercing his heart and crushing his head.
『In the name of Cecilia, I shall strike you down here, ■■.』
Ian hurled curses at her.
Or rather—was that really him cursing?
Just as the knight’s spear surged toward him and his vision turned black, Ian would wake up.
Drenched in sweat, he’d sit up slowly and swallow the creeping realization.
These were the demon’s memories.
Over time, he and the demon were becoming more and more assimilated.
It had already been three years, after all.
Dawn was breaking—faint light seeping through the window.
Ian stared blankly at it and rang the bell.
Soon after, Sissi arrived in his room in her pajamas.
Judging by her half-asleep face, she must have come straight from bed.
Just seeing her like that gave Ian a strange sense of satisfaction.
Still lying on the bed, he tapped the edge beside him.
“Come here.”
“What’s wrong, Young Master? Are you ill? Is something wrong? Should I call the physician?!”
“Don’t be dramatic. Just come sit.”
“Oh my goodness. You look pale. Are you really okay?”
Sissi obediently sat down at the head of the bed, and looked at him with concern.
Ian tilted his eyes toward her as she gently placed the back of her hand on his forehead.
Every time she looked at him like that, he felt like something was scratching at his insides.
An unbearable emotion surged within him.
And that was more than enough to erase the nightmare that had plagued him just moments before.
“Sing me that awful lullaby of yours.”
“I’ll sing as many as you want. But are you really okay?”
“It was just a nightmare.”
Sissi’s expression turned odd.
“You had a nightmare…?”
“Why that face? What do you think I am?”
“N-no, it’s just… was it something like having a tea party with your doll friends in a lovely garden?”
Ian let out a small snort of laughter.
“Exactly. You finally understand me.”
“Wait, seriously?!”
“Do I look like I’d dream that? Stop the nonsense and sing.”
“Yes, sir.”
A soft voice began to hum a lullaby.
♪ When mother goes to gather oysters beneath the shady cliffs… ♪
The lyrics were absurd, and the melody unfamiliar, but he didn’t care.
Ian quietly closed his eyes.
Nightmares meant nothing now.
“I dreamt I died.”
The words slipped from Ian’s lips without his will.
The lullaby stopped.
“You died in the dream?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s… awful.”
“Someone stomped on my head and drove a spear through my heart.”
A gentle hand stroked his forehead.
Ian let her keep doing it.
Her cool touch was a stark contrast to the faint heat on his skin.
“Did you hate it?” Sissi asked softly.
Ian found himself asking internally—did he?
“I don’t know.”
His answer was vague.
“Rather than hate… it felt like overwhelming hatred.”
Sissi fell silent.
In that silence, Ian impulsively grabbed the hand stroking his forehead.
“I’ll forgive you if it’s you who smashes my head in.”
He hadn’t meant to say that either.
“…Pardon?”
A panicked response. She was clearly taken aback.
Ian chuckled quietly.
“What’s with that reaction? I’m giving you special treatment here.”
“Me, smashing your head… No way! How could you say something so terrible?!”
“Ah, it’s half true. If you were the one to pierce my heart…”
Also half a joke.
But the more he spoke, the more Ian realized—he meant every word.
“I don’t think I could bring myself to hate you…”
Now, engulfed by the pungent lily scent, Ian felt that same “itching in his gut” again.
But this sensation was clearly different from the usual.
Whereas the usual feeling was an unbearable itch, this one sparked a destructive impulse.
“Maybe this is the moment when Sissi will stab your heart with a spear, Ian.”
A shadow whispered to him.
Possessiveness, obsession, and from them—explosive rage clouded his thoughts.
His vision darkened under the weight of his emotions.
Of course, Ian Brighton couldn’t fully comprehend the subtleties of what he was feeling.
All he could register were two overwhelming emotions: rage and jealousy.
But that was enough.
The shadows at his feet spread to fill the study completely.
Lily scent.
“That one’s scent.”
“His trace.”
“His blessing.”
“His consecration.”
Countless voices echoed from the shadows.
“Why does Sissi have his scent?”
“Did she meet him?”
“Did they touch?”
“Did he give her that himself?”
“Why?”
Why?
Why?!
For what reason?
What justifies it?
He’d heard the rumors that the reincarnation of Saint Cecilia had appeared.
A savior of the empire, a divine wall resurrected by the grace of the Creator.
The day he heard those absurd stories—that was when the nightmares began.
Saint Cecilia. The one and only who ever defeated the demon.
So that reincarnation came here?
But more importantly—
That person met her.
Ian’s lips parted.
“Why?”
Sissi looked up at him, her face clouded with confusion.
The demon wondered: Why did she meet the one who killed me?
But Ian’s question was different.
Why did she meet him alone?
The room darkened further.
Thunder cracked through the rain falling outside the window.
The study was now filled with shadows and voices of whispers, pitch-black and oppressive.
“Why did you meet him?”
You said we’d always be together.
“You said you liked me.”
You said our time together was precious—that’s why you liked me.
“You said even if you went back in time, you’d choose me again.”
And yet…
That damned lily scent that fills the air.
Lingering with a clean trace of green leaves.
Ahh…
These so-called ‘children of the gods’ with their holy fragrance were really just annoying.
In that moment, Ian became aware of the demon’s rage stirring within him.
But… did it matter?
“Holy knight or whatever…”
The demon whispered.
“What if Sissi tries to kill us?”
No, no.
“What if she betrays us?”
That’s not the issue.
“‘Ian’?”
If betrayal and death aren’t the problem, then why are you so angry?
Because—
“You came back reeking of another man’s lily scent…”
For the first time since Ian Brighton’s birth, the demon inside him fell silent.
At the same time, the chaotic shadows obeyed, calmly spreading outward from Ian as their center.
This was his will.
Not the demon’s.
Not its fury at a saint from a thousand years ago.
This time, it was Ian’s own chaotic, pitiful jealousy that tightened the reins around the demon.
The first person to notice this change was none other than the girl he claimed as “his.”
Sissi’s face turned pale.
She reached toward Ian in a hurry.
“Nothing has changed! Really! I didn’t meet the priest for any hidden reason! It was just coincidence! I wasn’t trying to leave you or anything…”
But she couldn’t reach him. Ian Brighton had already locked himself in his own world.
“Oh, for crying out loud! Listen when someone’s talking! Young Master!”
Sissi kicked at the shadows wrapping around her ankles and struggled forward a step.
“Ian Brighton!!”
Even shouting his name didn’t reach him.
The darkness completely consumed him.
At that moment, every light in the mansion went out.
A lightning bolt struck the cliff.
The estate, swallowed by shadow, fell eerily silent.
An unnatural stillness.
Some might chalk it up to a storm knocking out the power…
But not Cecil, who stood at the mansion’s entrance, holding a handkerchief Sissi had dropped at the temple.
“…”
She looked up at one spot on the upper floor of the mansion.
Then slipped the handkerchief into her pocket and turned to the coachman.
“Don’t wait for me. Please return to the temple.”
“Ma’am? Will you be alright?”
“I’ll be fine. But if I don’t return by dawn, tell the commander to send someone to the Brighton estate.”
“O-oh, understood…”
Scratching his cheek in confusion, the coachman grabbed the reins. Then he hesitated.
“Still… it’s quite the storm. I worry about your way back. Seems like lightning might’ve caused some trouble in the mansion.”
Cecil gave him a faint smile.
“Who knows… was it lightning, really?”
