Chapter 226: Death’s Advice and a Teacher’s Expectations

Deon’s eyes crinkled playfully.

The Demon King, who had been watching him with a hint of disbelief, seemed to decide against arguing. Instead of adding anything, he turned his gaze back to the canvas, returning to their original topic.

“I understand what you mean, but… it seems difficult for now.”

“Well… we could just carelessly crush another kingdom or two. If that’s not enough, we can trample a few more.”

“At that rate, you’ll conquer them all before you even get to the appeasement part. Weren’t you planning to use carrots?”

“Whether it’s carrots or sticks, as long as the result is what we want, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

Deon flicked away the carnivorous plant’s vines and leaves that were randomly reaching out, his eyes curving into a smile.

The Demon King chuckled softly at that familiar fox-like grin.

“You have a nasty personality.”

“I learned from the best.”

“You’ve become bolder than before.”

“That too.”

“I messed up with the early education.”

“It’s too late to educate me now.”

After all, the Hero and the Demon King are fundamentally equal beings.

“And honestly, you don’t dislike it, do you?”

“That’s right. I actually prefer you this way. It’s more fun, isn’t it?”

“You have a nasty personality.”

“Of course. Who do you think taught you?”

“……”

Silence returned.

Deon, having gently touched the flower bud of the carnivorous plant that had become docile as if giving up, placed the flowerpot on the makeshift table hastily prepared in front of the sofa. He untied the ribbon from his messy hair, which had become disheveled from leaning against the sofa armrest, and placed it next to the flowerpot before slumping back onto the sofa listlessly.

A hum, half a habit, chased away the silence.

“In a world long ago, Death once said—”

The Demon King, who had been quietly listening while moving his brush, suddenly tilted his head.

Something was off.

“Why are you only singing the first verse?”

“The soul after death is…… Huh?”

“I’ve been listening for a while now, and you keep singing only the first verse.”

“Is there a problem with that…?”

“No, not really.”

A displeased gaze followed, as if asking if he was picking a fight now.

‘Oops, I might unnecessarily incur his displeasure.’ He didn’t care whether the Demon King hated or resented him, but if it stemmed from a misunderstanding, it felt a bit unfair. The Demon King quickly waved his hand.

“It’s just that, I thought you’d prefer the second verse, but you’re only singing the first, which isn’t even that good from your perspective. Is there a reason for it?”

He couldn’t understand why Deon was bothering to sing lyrics that weren’t even to his liking when there was a second verse.

Deon’s gaze softened slightly, as if the misunderstanding had been cleared.

“I only know the first verse. I only recently learned about the existence of the second verse.”

“Really? Well, it’s an old folk song, so it’s not that strange.”

Things that barely manage to be passed down orally often undergo some form of alteration or loss in the process. The older they are, the wider that range becomes.

Rather, it could be said that it’s unusual for things to be passed down completely intact, so it wouldn’t be strange if the entire second verse was lost.

The Demon King nodded inwardly, then suddenly paused as a thought flashed through his mind.

‘Wait, does that mean…’

He had been carrying out this plan without knowing anything? And even while dwelling only on the lyrics of the first verse.

‘Impressive.’

Impressive in a different way. It seemed that to carry out a plan of this scale, one’s capacity had to be different from the start.

Wasn’t he afraid of the repercussions? ……No, perhaps he was anticipating those ‘repercussions.’

He put down his brush. As he met the red eyes that were looking at him, tilted head still resting on the sofa, the Demon King smiled. He spoke with a laugh to the betrayer of humanity, the worst criminal.

“Should I teach you the second verse?”

“……Sure, whatever….”

Despite the reluctant answer that seemed to say he was bothered, the Demon King maintained his smile and immediately delved into his memories.

If the first verse contained a warning against committing sins, the second verse contained advice for situations where one had already committed sin or had no choice but to sin.

That’s why the title was ‘Death’s Advice,’ not ‘Death’s Warning.’

“Then.”

The Demon King opened his lips, and the perfectly restored song flowed out.

The completed song went like this:

In a world long ago, Death once said.

Thou shalt not sin.

The soul after death begins to shatter, crushed by the weight of your sins.

To vanish without paying the price of sin is too easy an escape.

The greater the scale of sin, the faster you proceed to the reincarnation process.

And added:

If you inevitably must sin.

Commit the greatest sin of all.

So that your soul shatters and vanishes immediately upon death, allowing you to evade the price of sin forever.

This is the greatest consideration I can offer.

“……”

Deon was silent. It wasn’t the peaceful silence from a moment ago.

Commit the greatest sin of all—the Demon King playfully sang the specific part again. Deon, glancing at him with eyes that betrayed no thought, calmly organized his thoughts.

‘Does it mean that excessive sin can actually lead to evasion?’

He understood the reason why the second verse was lost.

To remain a famous folk song, they had no choice but to remove it. They couldn’t turn growing children into seeds of crime, so parents must have omitted it for the sake of their children’s future, and it naturally disappeared.

“……Certainly.”

He opened his mouth slowly.

The Demon King’s focus intensified, as if curious about what kind of reaction would come. Deon smiled as if to show him exactly that.

“I like the second verse better. The lyrics are intriguing.”

“……Right?”

The fleeting hint of disappointment vanished in an instant, replaced by a wide smile on the Demon King’s face.

What kind of reaction was he expecting? What a nasty bastard. He swallowed the curse and hardened his face to prevent it from contorting.

“Yes, it fits my current situation perfectly, doesn’t it? Whether it’s actually related to reality or not.”

“I haven’t died myself, so I don’t know the truth, but I do know that it’s a folk song older than I am. Whether it gained value because it’s old, or it was preserved for a long time because it had value, old things have their own worth.”

“……Does that mean the lyrics are actually true?”

“Didn’t I say? I haven’t died, so I don’t know. Still, it’s worth paying attention to, isn’t it?”

Well…….

It was indeed a strange feeling how the lyrics perfectly aligned with his situation—where he was rampaging about, vowing to make them regret choosing him to screw over the world—but that was all.

He didn’t care whether he would pay the price for his sins after death or not. For him, living only for today, the most important thing was the present. He was already struggling just to forcibly hold onto the breath he had almost lost countless times between the immediate reality and the suffocating past. Did they expect him to have the capacity to think about the future?

If he had cared about the weight of sin or karma in the first place, he wouldn’t have started something like this.

“I see.”

He answered indifferently and turned his body around.

Ignoring the Demon King’s silence, he lay down facing the sofa back… but then shifted again because it was more uncomfortable than he thought.

“Come to think of it, are you sleeping well these days without nightmares?”

“Huh?”

And he fell off the narrow sofa.

“?!!”

His initial shock was brief; thankfully, he didn’t fall onto the cold floor.

The Demon King, who he hadn’t noticed approaching, had extended an arm to catch him.

Deon blinked and stared blankly at the Demon King before slightly furrowing his brow as if belatedly realizing the situation.

“……The sofa is narrow.”

It’s definitely not because I stupidly made a mistake and fell.

“Well, it’s a sofa, after all.”

“Considering the Demon King’s dignity, it would be better to replace it with a slightly larger one.”

“It’s the first time a Hero has worried about my dignity. I’m touched.”

“……”

Deon contorted his face in annoyance and straightened his upper body, which the Demon King was supporting.

“I’m fine now, so please remove your arm. It’s too low, and anyway, being a Hero, I would have been fine even if I just fell. More importantly, you were supporting me quite well with just one arm….”

“Eeeek!”

“……It wasn’t one arm, was it? Yes, thank you.”

No wonder he was balancing and supporting him so well; there was another one.

He belatedly realized the vine supporting his legs and awkwardly expressed his gratitude. The carnivorous plant, whose vine had been extended from the table, curled its leaves upwards.

It was like giving a thumbs up… Deon’s face contorted with an unreadable emotion at the familiar action. The Demon King, pretending not to notice, repeated the question from before.

“So, about the nightmares?”

“……”

Deon buried himself into the sofa without a word.

Nightmares returned as if they had been waiting for the flower to wither. Nights where he couldn’t sleep properly had begun again, but he didn’t miss the flower’s presence. Rather, Deon genuinely welcomed this situation.

Because it meant Cruel had truly gone to rest.

“Well… okay.”

The Demon King lightly shrugged at the silence that refused an answer.

“Whether you sleep well or not, as long as it doesn’t interfere with work.”

“……”

“Anyway, the painting is finished. Do you want to see it?”

He walked towards where the canvas was. Deon stared at his back for a moment before getting up and taking a step.

On the canvas, Deon Hart, identical to the real one, was there.

Red eyes, white hair, even the eyelashes and skin texture were meticulously depicted. If the background wasn’t a canvas, and if Deon looking at it wasn’t moving, he might have mistaken it for looking in a mirror.

“You’re probably familiar with it. Until recently, before the war broke out, this was the preferred painting style for portraits in the Human Realm.”

“……I know. All the portraits I’ve seen were in this style.”

“How about it? Wouldn’t you feel proud if you could create a painting like this with your own hands?”

“Not at all…….”

Because he had no interest in painting.

Still, he understood that the Demon King was good at painting. Instruments too, and now painting… Was there anything he couldn’t do?

This question ended up escaping his lips as the Demon King continued.

“If you’re not interested in painting… shall we try deciphering ancient languages next?”

“……What is it that you can’t do? Is there anything?”

“Hmm? Ah—.”

The Demon King answered casually, as if he was being asked an obvious question.

“At least everything you can think of right now, I can probably do.”

“……”

“Oh, except for granting your wishes.”

Deon’s shoulders stiffened.

His pupils trembled for a moment, then a slightly hurried voice followed, as if trying to cover up the cause of his agitation with something else.

“It’s still hard to believe. No matter how long you’ve lived, it’s impossible to do all those things….”

“Deon.”

The result turned out as he intended.

The Demon King, focusing more on the remark that just came out than on Deon’s attitude, smiled as if amused.

“As you said, I have lived for a long time. If I had lived a moderately long time, your common sense might have applied. The variable is that the length of my life is longer than you think.”

“……”

“I had more than enough time to learn something and see the end of that field. Arts like painting, sculpture, composition, poetry, of course, and martial arts like swordsmanship, spearmanship, shieldmanship, archery, and even fields that ordinary beings don’t even recognize, like ancient language interpretation, artifact excavation, and ore processing, everything.”

“……”

“Currently, there is only one thing I haven’t learned in this world. And that’s something I can only learn from a Hero.”

“……”

“So….”

He reached out his hand.

A touch without killing intent slowly approached his neck, as if saying he could avoid it if he wanted to. Deon obediently offered his neck, glancing down at the hand that was more like resting than gripping or strangling, then looked up again to stare blankly at the other.

As if the mask he wore daily had been peeled away, a distorted expression of emptiness and weariness mixed together against a backdrop of dryness was there.

“……I hope you grow up quickly and become my teacher.”

It bore a shape that faintly resembled anguish.