Chapter 150: Cruel Truth, Cruel Fate

The answer didn’t come immediately. His low-set, red pupils seemed to drift towards the floor, then back to the Demon King, and finally down again.

A moment later, a slightly cracked voice spoke roughly.

“Do you know why the Duke acted that way?”

“…No. How would I know the inner thoughts of a mere human?”

Could he have noticed something? The Demon King’s nerves tightened.

Fortunately, it seemed like just a random question. Deon lowered his gaze, saying, ‘I see,’ before raising his head and asking what seemed to be his real question.

“…Is it impossible to turn back time with magic?”

“Hmm?”

Surprised by the unexpected question, the Demon King quickly understood his intention and arched an eyebrow with pity.

“Magic isn’t omnipotent. There are some realms you can never touch, no matter what you do. Bringing back the dead and turning back time are prime examples.”

“…I see. Understood.”

Lulls

The Demon King paused, surprised by the far more composed and calm reaction than he’d anticipated. He’d even considered calling for Ben, who was waiting outside in case of a fit or outburst.

Seemingly oblivious to the Demon King’s hesitation, Deon calmly turned away. As he approached the door, he glanced back at the Demon King before touching the handle.

“I’ll be going to the Human Realm for a bit.”

Lulls

A bewildered silence answered him, but that seemed enough. He placed his hand on the doorknob.

The Demon King offered his belated permission by not stopping him.

…

“Demon-nim!”

Ben was the one he encountered upon opening the door.

Fidgeting anxiously in front of the door, Ben’s face lit up with relief as he hurried over, as if he’d been waiting. His gaze anxiously scanned Deon’s condition.

“Are you alright? You still have a high fever. You shouldn’t move around so much…”

Lulls

“…Demon-nim…?”

Lulls

It didn’t take long for Ben to sense something was off.

Ben walked alongside Deon’s swaying gait, refraining from offering support, and rattled off various worried suggestions. Then, he stopped abruptly. He was standing still, but Deon continued walking forward without pausing, as if Ben wasn’t even there.

Taken aback by his almost vacant appearance, Ben quickly moved to his side.

“Demon-nim, can you hear me?”

Lulls

“Demon-nim?”

Lulls

“Demon-nim!”

“Ugh, cough!”

Blood splattered onto the hallway floor.

Normally, Ben would have rushed to administer aid, but he found himself unable to move.

‘What is that look…’

The raw killing intent in Deon’s eyes, as he casually wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, was too palpable.

His outward appearance seemed calm, but the instincts honed from living in the Demon King’s castle screamed at Ben not to interfere. All he could do was stand there and watch his retreating figure.

***

The Emperor doesn’t lie.

What reason would a man who considers himself a tyrant and revels in wickedness have to lie when asked if he committed a cruel act? A self-proclaimed villain would answer proudly.

Even without that, there were plenty of reasons why the Emperor wouldn’t lie.

‘The Emperor… clings to his imperial image.’

Stigma had said so. That he didn’t truly acknowledge his position and was obsessed with proving it.

After hearing that, it all became clear. His manner of speaking, his habitual phrases, the ever-present symbols of his authority, his very demeanor.

He hadn’t been raised as an heir from childhood; he’d seized the throne through rebellion. Yet, his bearing was almost unnervingly perfect.

‘How could I have been so blind?’

Everything about Eudoardo Deserte screamed his identity as the Emperor.

Therefore, he likely wouldn’t lie unless absolutely necessary. Someone in the highest position doesn’t need to.

‘To commit a crime and declare it openly, knowing no one can truly challenge it—that’s power.’

Of course, that was an extreme example. Even the Emperor would face criticism from the nobles if he committed a wrong, but Deon Hart was certain.

Except for the occasional white lie, most falsehoods were ugly.

The Emperor was a man who would rather die than become unsightly.

This wasn’t about upholding the noble image of the ‘Emperor’; it was simply his inherent nature.

Thud.

Footprints marked the white snow. Standing before the ornate main gate, Deon Hart observed the gatekeepers who glared warily at him before pulling back his robe’s hood.

“…Marquis Hart…?”

“I wish to see His Majesty.”

“Ah, please wait a moment…”

“Now.”

Loud bangs

For the mysterious figure who had arrived on foot at the Imperial Palace, usually bustling with carriages, to be the missing Honorary Marquis Hart was already shocking.

That alone was enough to take their breath away, but now he was demanding an immediate audience with the Emperor.

Normally, they would have stepped aside without hesitation, but the atmosphere surrounding him was unsettling. Moreover, the heat in his breath was noticeably more intense than others’.

“…Are you unwell?”

He seems to have a fever.

“That’s beyond your authority.”

The response was chilling.

Startled, the gatekeeper glanced at his comrade, nodded, and stepped aside. His companion followed suit, clearing the way.

“My apologies. Please, go in.”

They didn’t have the authority to stop Deon Hart in the first place.

Honorary Marquis Deon Hart was someone the Emperor had granted permission to visit anytime, in any state. Now that he had returned from being missing, the first person he needed to see was none other than the Emperor.

***

“Where is His Majesty?”

“Who… H-Honorary Marquis Hart?”

“Answer.”

“He’s in his office. If you wait a moment, I can contact… Marquis!”

The office. It’s in the office.

Without needing to search his memory, Deon strode forward.

In truth, he was more familiar with the office than the audience chamber. For him and the Emperor, who both had secrets to hide, the office, with its fewer people and good soundproofing, was far more comfortable.

How long had he walked? He soon encountered the knights guarding the office door.

The knights, who had been regarding the intruder with fierce eyes, quickly recognized him and their eyes widened. The return of the missing hero eased their tension considerably.

“…Marquis? Are you really Marquis? We were told you were missing…”

“I need to see His Majesty.”

The abruptly delivered statement silenced the knights.

The atmosphere grew heavy. The tension, which had seemed to dissipate, sharpened again.

One of the silent knights spoke cautiously.

“Even if you are the Marquis, you can’t just barge in like this. You should at least seek His Majesty’s permission…”

“It’s done.”

The seemingly impenetrable office door swung open.

“His Majesty has granted permission.”

Nemesius, who had been eyeing Deon Hart disapprovingly, shifted aside from the doorway, gesturing for him to enter.

Without any hint of apology or hesitation, Deon passed him and stepped into the office. Ignoring Nemesius’s voice ordering the knights to stand down, he looked straight ahead, meeting a familiar pair of golden eyes.

“…You don’t look well.”

The Emperor, instantly noticing Deon Hart’s condition, put down his pen and began tidying the papers on his desk.

“You could have contacted me via communicator. Why come all this way in your poor condition?”

He didn’t ask if he was alright, if he needed to rest, or if he should summon the court physician.

There was a reason he had defied convention and come to see him in person, and above all, he couldn’t say anything else looking into those eyes.

The Emperor simply waited patiently while organizing his papers, allowing the other man to speak comfortably. After opening and closing his mouth several times, Deon Hart finally managed to force out a strained voice.

“…Did you know?”

A pause.

For a moment, the hand organizing the papers froze.

There was no need to ask what he was referring to. The Emperor released the papers and looked up, meeting the red gaze that seemed to demand an answer.

“Yes.”

“…Why?”

The simple, unembellished answer, devoid of lies or excuses, made his voice tremble.

The Emperor had confirmed it. That alone was enough, but Deon, overwhelmed with emotion, couldn’t help but voice his questions and resentment.

“Why did you do it?”

Lulls

“If you had told me, if you had given me a hint, if you had even just rejected my request!”

If the Emperor had chosen differently than silence during the post-war distribution of honors after the eight-year war.

“Everyone… would have lived…”

His parents wouldn’t have suffered a brutal death at the hands of their own child, and his brother wouldn’t have sacrificed himself for his sake.

And Deon Hart wouldn’t be in a position where he wanted to kill the very being he was.

The last words were barely a whisper, but the Emperor, with his exceptional hearing, understood. He spoke slowly.

“Are you blaming me now?”

Lulls

“Your resentment is misplaced. In the world of nobles, ignorance is a sin. The consequences are your own to bear.”

Isn’t that why the saying ‘better to pretend to know than to remain ignorant’ exists?

“You are still a child.”

Moreover, the Emperor had clearly given him an opportunity.

As a price for his silence, the Emperor had offered a secure title, gemstones, and territory—a far better option. The one who desired the destruction of his own family was none other than Deon Hart himself.

“…But…”

Lulls

“All of that was your choice, and I merely granted your request. But if you still seek a reason, very well.”

Lulls

“My desire to acquire talent like yours was the underlying motive.”

In truth, he had intended to say something else entirely.

Do not blame others for your own sins, nor take on the sins of others. Judge objectively and consider who you truly resent and hate.

Yet, he disregarded all of that and deliberately spoke those words, embracing the role of the villain. Why?

‘Just a whim.’

No, even calling it embracing the role of a villain was dubious. The Emperor could hardly be considered a virtuous man.

Deon Hart’s expression hardened.

Suppressing his surging killing intent for a moment, he glared at the Emperor with cold red eyes, spitting out each word.

“I am not the kind of talent you think I am, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor offered no reply.

***

After Deon Hart left, Nemesius, who had been observing the situation, spoke quietly.

“Why did you let him go?”

Even without knowing the full details, it was clear to Nemesius that Deon Hart harbored immense hatred for the Emperor.

That alone was reason enough not to let Deon Hart leave. Especially after seeing the look in his eyes as he turned away, a soldier’s instinct sent a strong warning.

“He will undoubtedly cause trouble later.”

“…I know.”

The Emperor was well aware.

He was the one who had met with Deon Hart every time he traveled to and from the Demon Realm, directly observing his eyes to gauge his neutrality. Today, in this very room, the Emperor had realized that Deon Hart had completely turned his back on him.

If asked why he still let him go, he could only say it was a whim.

“Then, why?!”

“Well…”

But he couldn’t exactly offer that as a reason.

Nemesius would surely be furious and wouldn’t accept it. So, if he had to offer a concrete reason… yes.

“Isn’t he like me?”

Having killed his family due to a momentary misunderstanding.

“Though, I always had a poor relationship with my family, which is a difference.”

Lulls

As the Emperor had anticipated, Nemesius could say nothing more.