CHAPTER 16…………………………………………….
Jenya wrapped a faint layer of holy power around her palm as she watched the child collapse to the floor after using holy power on her mother.
‘This isn’t a dream.’
The strength circulating through her body—and the exhaustion she felt the moment she used it—were unmistakably real.
[Princess!]
[Lady Astria, please get a hold of yourself!]
Servants rushed toward the child. Jenya lifted her head. When their eyes met, Vine spoke calmly.
“So it’s you.”
Jenya didn’t show much reaction either.
“Yes. It is.”
She watched her mother’s back as she pushed through the servants and disappeared with the child in her arms. She had barely been able to remember her mother’s face anymore—she never imagined she would see it again like this.
She knew this wasn’t a good time to dwell on the past. But her gaze followed her mother anyway.
As if to remind her of the present situation, Vine spoke.
“Looks like you were targeted because you’re weaker than me.”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Shall we move? The more we move, the more memories from the past will keep surfacing.”
Having her memories thoroughly exposed in front of a demon was far from good news. Right now they were only old memories—but what if, as time passed, more recent ones began to appear?
“That’s the worst.”
What would happen if memories related to the Hero were revealed? Jenya pressed a hand to her throbbing head and asked,
“Is there a way not to see everything?”
“If the magic is broken from the outside, then yes.”
That meant she had no choice but to trust Relazier and Beris. She wasn’t even sure whether the two demons had stopped fighting after she and Vine disappeared.
“Do you think they’re even paying attention to this side?”
“We can only hope.”
Vine didn’t sound particularly confident in them either. Jenya thumped her tight chest and made a decision.
“Let’s go for now.”
She chose to trust Relazier—more precisely, she chose to trust his obsession with beautiful things.
‘It’d be nice if they rescue us before more recent memories show up.’
She hated having to leave everything to chance. But there was only one thing she could do right now:
Keep her expression under control, as if she had nothing to hide.
Watching the scenery shift again, Jenya followed after Vine.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He opened his eyes to the tickling sound—and was greeted by pitch-black darkness.
In that lightless void, he heard the sound of drops falling again. Turning toward the noise, he saw red everywhere.
Watching blood drip into a pool already filled to the brim, a thought crossed his mind.
‘Maybe I can stop it.’
With a light heart, he stepped toward the pool.
The moment he reached out, bright red blood splashed onto his palm. After the first drop, several more followed, slipping between his fingers.
The sticky, hot sensation made Lumiere realize this was far more horrifying than he’d imagined.
He frantically tried to wipe it away. But no matter how much he cleaned, more blood kept falling, ruining his hands.
He looked down at them—soaked through, their original color no longer visible.
What began as a single drop covered his entire hand and flowed down his arm and across his body.
Once it started, it could never be stopped by his strength alone. No matter how much he tried to erase it, no matter how hard he tried to halt it—it was impossible.
It had begun with mild curiosity, pity, and the belief that he might be able to help. But by the time he came to his senses, the consequences of goodwill born from ignorance were choking his entire body.
The day he realized he could never be clean again—never be pure again—
He gave up everything. His anguish, his sorrow, the justice he used to repeat like a mantra.
Once he erased his emotions, life became easier.
When people flinched at his expressionless face, he would pull up the corners of his lips. It was the same smile he’d always worn to look good to others and keep them from worrying, so it didn’t feel awkward at all.
He smiled out of habit and swung his sword, and no one noticed how empty he was inside.
“Your eyes are dead.”
Except for that one person.
Was it because he wasn’t smiling then? Or was it only natural, being stared at so directly?
How long had it been since someone looked straight into his eyes like that? Since someone found his tight-lipped silence strange?
He always moved as ordered and never argued.
He worked quietly and without complaint—following his companions’ lead, the temple’s demands, the imperial family’s requests.
In the end, it was for a good cause. They all wanted a better world.
[We must save the world in chaos.]
Even when doubts arose, he closed his eyes. Even when he wanted something, he stayed silent.
Keeping his mouth shut and nodding without question became natural. When someone asked his opinion, a faint smile was enough.
When he returned drenched in blood, people gathered around him with praise.
[As expected. You’re our unchanging Hero.]
Unchanging?
He thought he might have moved his lips at those words—wanting to say something, feeling like he should.
But before he could, they turned their backs and walked away, as if they had no interest in anything he might say. As if he would never speak anyway.
Even so, the hollow inside him wasn’t hurt. He had expected it. After throwing everything away, there was nothing left to bruise.
But was that really true?
He looked down at his blood-soaked hands. The blood had dried and hardened, making them even more grotesque.
To scrub off that dried blood, it felt like he would have to plunge his hands back into the pool again. But even if he did and tried desperately to clean them, only deeper stains would remain.
‘Nothing changes, no matter how hard you try.’
So just accept it. Stay silent like always. Just keep smiling. Right as that whisper nearly reached his ears—
A gentle hand stroked his hair, and white light wrapped around him.
Warm and soft, it touched his hands—and like a lie, the blood began to vanish. The fresh blood and the hardened stains alike crumbled away.
The hands hidden beneath were revealed. Not as radiant as the light around them, but still white and clean.
Hands restored to their original state—something he had believed impossible.
As he stared blankly, the light dimmed and violet eyes filled his vision.
“Ah.”
He snapped awake.
Pressing a hand to his dry eyes and catching his breath, he realized it had all been a dream and sat up.
Since arriving in the demon realm, his body felt at ease, but whenever he slept, scenes from the past often appeared in his dreams.
That was why he tried not to sleep on nights when the woman was nearby. But he didn’t want to sleep when he was alone either—so eventually she found out that he dreamed whenever he slept.
“…Jenya.”
The human woman living in the demon realm—the one who saved him.
Jenya was a very strange person.
It was odd enough that a human served as a maid in the Demon King’s castle, but stranger still was how excessively kind she was for someone clearly wanting something from him.
She often looked at him with an annoyed expression, yet her eyes and actions were gentle.
She was different from the people who had tried to use him before. They had spring-breeze smiles with snake-like eyes and gestures.
That made her hard to deal with. Should he just smile appropriately and let himself be used, like he always had?
After all, she had said it outright—she approached him because she wanted something.
If he told her she was right, that he was the Hero, and that he would grant her wish in return for saving him, things between them would likely resolve smoothly.
They had helped each other. She could stay here, and he could return to the human world.
But the words that came so easily with others wouldn’t come out with her.
He had lived granting unreasonable requests. So it wasn’t because he thought her wish would be difficult—or strange.
Though most who asked things of him had been screened by his mother, so this case was a bit different.
Still, that wasn’t the real issue.
“…I want to rest.”
More precisely, he wanted to rest beside someone with holy power that embraced him—beside someone whose gaze was warm, even if she had an agenda.
That night he woke from a nightmare to a ticklish touch—her gentle voice and the faint smile at her lips had never left his memory.
He hadn’t tried that hard, hadn’t even smiled for her—yet she treated him so well. He wondered if she would be even kinder if he smiled at her like he did for others.
So after that day, he faced Jenya with the same practiced smile as before. But it didn’t have much effect. Jenya felt awkward when he smiled.
“It’s not that she dislikes it.”
She didn’t blush like before, but whenever he smiled, the back of her neck and her ears turned red.
It wasn’t the reaction he expected—but it was an unexpected gain. Watching her grow shy gave him a different kind of satisfaction.
It was strange. Many people had flushed head to toe looking at him before.
Why was she different?
