Chapter 196: Weary Return

“[…Rememver, is that you?”]

“[Right, the note from the Duke mentioned ‘Rememver’.]”

To be precise, it had the Duke’s seal along with Rememver’s name and signature.

Ardal bowed after glancing at the note Elpidius offered. Recruited personally by the former Emperor Eudoardo Deserte, he, unlike Nemesius who died with the emperor, chose to serve the ‘current Empire’. His loyalty was to the Empire itself, not the Emperor.

Thus, he bowed to the ‘current Empire’ before him and replied respectfully.

“[I will obey.]”

As long as Elpidius didn’t make decisions detrimental to the Empire, Chancellor Ardal would continue to follow him without question, as he always had.

***

Deon Hart had returned to the Demon Realm.

Despite accomplishing the monumental feat of assassinating the Emperor, there was no grand welcome. The man who deserved the praise had made it clear he hated loud noises, his red eyes flashing a dangerous glint.

After dismissing the common demon soldiers at the entrance, Deon ignored the furtive glances cast his way and proceeded to the inner section. Once there, he dismissed even the 0th Legion before entering the building.

Ben, who had been quietly following, checked their direction and tilted his head in confusion.

“Excuse me, Sir, but Lord Demon King isn’t that way.”

“Lord Demon King? I’m just heading to my room.”

“Huh? You mean without reporting first?”

“Yeah, I’m exhausted.”

He meant to rest immediately without even seeing the Demon King.

What if he incurred the Demon King’s wrath by doing that? Leaving the flustered Ben behind, Deon calmly walked on, then noticed someone standing in the middle of the hallway and narrowed his eyes. The figure was backlit, their face in shadow, but with his enhanced vision as a Hero, recognizing the person wasn’t difficult.

Besides, there were only a few demons who would dare to stand defiantly in the middle of the hallway as if waiting for someone. Even in his original condition, he would have recognized them quickly.

“…Ed.”

“Yes, De….”

At the familiar call, Ed instinctively looked up at Deon, then froze.

“…Sir Deon.”

“Looks like you’ve come to greet me again. I told you it wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s my duty as your adjutant… But…”

He approached hesitantly and reached out a hand. As if belatedly realizing the impoliteness, he quickly recoiled, startled. His voice, sounding dazed, stammered a question.

“Could it be… you’ve become a Hero?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I see… I heard about the Hero’s Awakening, but I never imagined it was you, Sir Deon.”

Was it that shocking?

Just as confusion flickered in Deon’s eyes, Ed, ever the capable adjutant, quickly composed himself, offering a slight smile and a bow.

“Congratulations, Sir! I heard you accomplished something great this time as well. Good things just keep happening for you.”

“Good things, huh…”

From a demon’s perspective, I guess they might see it that way.

Deon chuckled and resumed walking, having paused briefly. Ed, noticing the direction he was headed, belatedly voiced his confusion.

“Are you going to your room?”

“Yeah.”

“But I heard you just arrived… Have you already met Lord Demon King? That was quick…”

“Nope, haven’t met him.”

That blasted Demon King.

It wasn’t like he’d gotten any sleep lately, and killing people he knew had drained his mental energy more than usual, leaving his nerves frayed. Why were they all being so bothersome?

His voice snapped out sharper than intended. Confusion clouded Ed’s face.

“Huh?”

“I said I haven’t met him. I’m exhausted, so I’m resting first.”

“Ah…”

Deon didn’t care about the change in his tone again, it was nothing new. What caught Ed’s attention was the content of his words.

It wasn’t just any ordinary situation; he’d assassinated the Emperor, the Hero’s greatest foe! Yet, he was going to rest without even reporting to the Demon King? Could he really do that? If it weren’t wartime, or if he were heavily injured, it might be understandable. But they were in the middle of a war where every piece of information was vital and speed was crucial, and Deon Hart was merely tired, not injured at all.

“…Hah.”

Reading the hesitation on Ed’s face, Deon scoffed in annoyance and walked past him. Ed called out, “Sir Deon?” from behind, but Deon didn’t even acknowledge him.

After walking a short distance, he reached his door and threw it open without hesitation. Contrary to his expectation of finding the room empty, there was someone already inside.

…No, not a guest, more like an errand runner.

Dan was by the windowsill, apparently changing the water in a vase. Holding the vase and a vibrant flower in his hands, he saw Deon, quickly finished what he was doing, and approached. His voice, as calm as ever, called out to him casually.

“Master.”

“The task I assigned… looks like you handled it well.”

His unperturbed demeanor had already hinted at it, but seeing it in person felt different.

Deon’s red eyes fixed on the wooden box on the desk. Following his gaze, Dan chuckled as if Deon had stated the obvious.

“You state the obvious, Master.”

…

There was no response. Probably not even listening.

Though his expression was carefully blank, Dan somehow sensed his emotions. He clicked his tongue softly and said,

“Well then, I’ll take my leave. You look exhausted, get some rest.”

Dan, sensing the mood, left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Only after being left alone in the silent, still room did Deon finally move. Hesitant, slow steps took him toward the wooden box.

He placed a hand on the lid and took a soft, deep breath.

‘I have to check.’

He had to confirm it was moved without any damage…

But he wasn’t sure he could face his brother’s head again… Deon hesitated, his hand resting on the lid, then finally bit his lip and opened it.

The pungent, untainted smell of blood stung his nostrils. Momentarily shaken, his red eyes regained their focus and meticulously examined the contents.

“…At least, what I can see from this angle… looks alright…”

He didn’t have the courage to lift it and examine the unseen parts himself. But he couldn’t entrust it to anyone else either.

He reached into the box, then hesitated, repeating the motion several times before finally giving up and closing the lid.

For a fleeting moment, something flickered across his otherwise impassive face. It was unmistakably the shadow of utter despair.

“…Brother.”

This is just because I’m tired.

Lack of sleep, too much happening at once, and no rest despite it all. In other words, he wasn’t in his right mind.

“I’m suffocating.”

A complaint he was never allowed to voice escaped his lips.

Slowly, he raised a hand, placed it on his neck, and raked his nails down as if to claw at it. Five red lines appeared where his nails had been, then vanished without a trace thanks to his rapid healing. Some areas had even beaded with blood, but Deon didn’t notice.

The sharp, belated pain snapped him back to his senses.

“…Ha.”

Crazy.

The perpetrator whining to the victim? Was there anything more shameless and absurd than that?

He should have taken his fix before it got this bad. Ben had been glued to his side the entire time, preventing him from even reaching for it. That’s why he was like this. He quickly dug into his pouch, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply.

He called it a cigarette for convenience, but it was essentially a drug. The effect was immediate.

“That’s a bit better.”

The emotion that had been clinging to him like a second skin, suffocating him, began to dissipate under the drug’s influence. He was finally regaining his composure.

No sooner had he felt the drug’s effect than Deon stubbed out the cigarette on his thigh. Cradling the box, he staggered to the sofa and slumped down. He clutched the wooden box to his chest, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes…

—He succumbed to the sleep that crashed over him like a tidal wave, sleep he had been postponing for too long.

***

In a pitch-black space devoid of light, I was held in someone’s arms.

His embrace was rigid with a fierce resolve to protect me from something, yet his arms trembled subtly. The moment I felt it, I instinctively knew.

No matter what he did, I would eventually be exposed to that unknown danger.

He knew it was impossible to protect me. Yet, he was desperately holding me close, huddled and unyielding.

“Who…?”

The question naturally came out of my mouth.

As far as I knew, there was no one in this world who cared for me this much. Who were you?

…

“It’s a bit… stuffy…”

Forget about who he was, I didn’t even understand why he was doing this. It was stuffy and suffocating. I squirmed, trying to get free, but his grip was too tight. I managed to crane my neck and rest my chin on his shoulder, finally able to breathe a little easier.

I tried to turn my head to see his face, but he pressed firmly on the back of my head, forcing me to look over his shoulder instead.

Thanks to that, I could see.

“…What is that?”

Black liquid is rushing in from all directions.

It writhed as if alive, sometimes rising as if to take shape, sometimes coalescing into tidal waves. It was clearly moving towards us with malicious intent.

It looked like an unstoppable cataclysm at first glance. Was this person holding me really trying to protect me from that? Even knowing it was impossible before he even tried to defend me?

And he still hadn’t given up. Just as I was growing intensely curious about who this person was and was only able to roll my eyes, he finally spoke.

“…—.”

“Huh?”

——.

“What did you say?”

“—What sin has he committed…?”

It wasn’t directed at me, just a meaningless murmur aimed at empty air.

“What sin has this young, weak child committed to deserve this…?”

Young? Weak?

Before the absurdity could fully register, an intuitive realization dragged other emotions to the surface.

Shock, longing, guilt. And… fear.

‘No way.’

I think I know his identity.

I opened my mouth instinctively, but words that had been flowing freely just moments ago suddenly wouldn’t come out, as if blocked by a stone. But I had to speak, to get confirmation. I forced strength into my throat.

I have to call him.

“…Brother?”

…

The other person paused.

White light burst out.

***

“Hah!”

Deon gasped awake, his body jolting. He’d fallen asleep sitting up, but somehow he was now lying curled on his side on the sofa.

Disoriented, he blinked slowly, taking in the familiar, silent room. Only when he felt the wooden box in his arms did the reality of the situation sink in.

Then that just now was… .

“…It was a dream.”

He was sure he hadn’t had nightmares in this room, at least not since he’d managed to escape them before.

After catching his breath for a moment, he placed the box on the sofa and put his feet on the floor. *Squish*. An unfamiliar, unpleasant sensation made him look down.

“What is this… blood?”

No matter how he looked at it, it was blood. Why would blood be pooling in his room? He reflexively glanced at the wooden box beside him, but there were no signs of leakage.

To get a better look, he bent down and touched the blood pooling beneath his feet. The pungent smell of blood intensified, and a sticky sensation clung to his fingertips. But when he straightened up and looked at his hand, it was clean.

Even though he was sure he hadn’t wiped it off anywhere.

‘…Ah.’

I think I know what it is.

Blood pooled precisely beneath his feet. His hand, which had definitely touched it, was now perfectly clean, without a trace of blood.

He rubbed his fingertips together, then looked down again and took a step. He was certain he’d stepped on a spot where there was no blood, but a puddle formed there, and the sticky sensation returned.

“It’s… a hallucination.”