“Hero, are you sure we came to the right place? What’s with this disgusting stench wafting around…”
Latera, eyeing the distant castle gates with disdain, scrunched up her face in disgust. The place they had arrived at was far from paradise; it was a hell, worse than a sewer in terms of smell.
The journey here was treacherous. They had escaped through canyons and crossed several mountains. They fended off beasts and climbed cliffs. Of course, Shiron took care of it, but the betrayal felt as great as the anticipation, leading Latera to utter words she would normally never dare to speak.
“…Was this supposed to be a safe place?”
Demodras also had a troubled look on his face. Though it was uncertain what scent the half-angel had caught from such a distance, a demonic energy, unlike anything he had ever experienced in his long life, was emanating from before them.
“Please say it isn’t so.”
“Do you dislike it that much?”
Demodras asked Shiron, rubbing his arms, but his worst fears were confirmed. Shiron, with a groan, took the hands of his complaining companions and started making his way through the snow.
“There’s no choice if we don’t want to die, right? We’d even take the devil’s hand if we had to.”
“That beastly woman was already dealt with…”Demodras couldn’t finish his sentence. Upon reflection, he hadn’t been dealt with. It was more accurate to say he was less than dealt with. The man currently leading them to hell was someone who must not die now. Demodras couldn’t help but stop at the thought that perhaps they should have killed him.
“Why do you dislike demons? You were on the same side 500 years ago.”
“…Just because we fought on the same side doesn’t mean we were close. Especially the demons, many were wary because they were completely inscrutable even within the same faction.”
“Really?”
“If we’re talking about ancient history… They didn’t understand the concept of hostages and razed every enemy territory to the ground, turning it to ash. Of course, I’ve burned down a few cities myself, but only when there was strategic gain to be had.”
“Weren’t you the Fervent Dragon?”
“…That’s just a name humans have given me.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yes, it is!”
Demodras nodded vigorously in response to Shiron’s questions.
“Back then, I was among the younger, more belligerent dragons, yet still a true dragon with honor. Like the stories passed down about dragons who polymorphed to help lost travelers. I’ve done good deeds, like lifting humans who fell off cliffs back up to safety.”
“Then why did you side with the demon army?”
“…”
A pointed question. Demodras frowned at Latera’s question.
“I was paid.”
“…Excuse me?”
“It was a mountain of gold large enough to lay the foundations of a home.”
“Aha…”
“The gold was too much to refuse.”
Demodras smiled with satisfaction, thinking his justification was flawless, while Latera responded with a disgusted look.
Shiron suddenly found himself staring at a maid standing in front of the castle gates.
“Master!”
It was Encia. She waved her hand brightly in greeting. Seeing the two people Shiron was dragging along… she tilted her head in confusion. The kid on the left was the angel she had seen in the annex, but the woman on the right was someone she had never seen before.
“…We’ve increased in number?”
“Stop talking nonsense and open the door. It’s cold outside.”
At Shiron’s command, Encia silently pushed open the iron gates. The already strong demonic energy intensified.
[I’ll go inside for a moment.]
Latera, holding her spinning head, released her materialization. The foul odor, close enough to twist her nose, seemed like it would bring up her morning meal if she stayed any longer.
‘The kid can’t stand it.’
Demodras stepped into the castle, facing the oncoming demonic energy head-on. At the same time, he had to confront the gazes pouring in directly.
There were many looking down from above. Demodras knew who they were. They might take on human forms, but their essence was evil.
‘So this is where they all were. I wondered why I hadn’t seen them.’
What kind of luxury they were indulging in, gathering in this tiny castle, was beyond the dragon.
They were inscrutable beings, after all.
Could it be a gathering of strength for a conquest of the continent? While entertaining various thoughts, Demodras carefully observed the space he would be staying in.
A guest at Dawn Castle after 10 years.
The first was Berta, if she recalled correctly, remembering her as a woman living off the nation’s coffers, but the guest Master brought this time had an entirely opposite aura.
It couldn’t be helped.
The one elegantly sipping black tea in the reception room was not human. Yuma, with a deliberately troubled expression, turned her head towards Shiron.
“Master. Who exactly is this person…”
“Aren’t you two acquainted? Should I really need to introduce you?”
“As far as I know, isn’t this the demon that got thrashed by Kyrie and lost her mind? I heard she disappeared somewhere after the great war, but to think she’d be here…”
Demodras crossed his legs and stared at Yuma unnecessarily. Though he held the principle that demons couldn’t be trusted, he did harbor a semblance of sympathy for Yuma, who had lost a horn and became the subject of ridicule.
That complex and delicate emotion weighed on Demodras’s heart. Likewise, Yuma wasn’t in a comfortable position facing Demodras.
Yuma had wished to be an ideal guardian for the Master. The embarrassing memory of being defeated by Kyrie. Did he have to mention it here, and in front of her Master, at that?
Yuma felt a resurgence of malice she had forgotten. Reflecting on it, she realized her disdain for her own personality—the dragon’s inherent arrogance and the tendency to look down on others. In contrast, Yuma found his elder-like manner of speaking, despite their slight age difference, and his seemingly detached jokes, irksome.
Thus, Yuma slapped away Demodras’s hand as it reached for a cookie.
“Getting thrashed by Kyrie was something you experienced as well, wasn’t it?”
“…At least I was up against four. You were one on one.”
“What does that matter? Kyrie had achieved remarkable growth even when you took your eyes off her for just a moment, and the Kyrie I faced bore the grand title of the Divine Sword.”
“So, have you been beaten up by four? Unless you’ve been hit in the head, chest, and stomach evenly, don’t talk.”
“The Kyrie I faced could execute ten punches at the same time.”
“Stop lying. She doesn’t have ten hands. She’s fundamentally human, how could she do that? Did you get hit so hard your brain turned to mush?”
“Master.”
In the midst of the heated exchange, Yuma, her face turning red, gasped for breath.
“May I drive this one out?”
“Why again?”
“This person… is rude. And lacks the dignity befitting a guest invited by the Master.”
“She’s not a guest. She’ll be living here as a lodger for the time being.”
Shiron interjected abruptly, feeling no need to drag out the conversation. However, his straightforward manner seemed to shock Yuma, who opened her eyes wide. Her lips trembled, and she moistened her parched lips with her tongue, as if struggling to believe what she had heard, alternating her gaze between the dragon and Shiron.
“Master, I don’t quite understand…”
“Exactly as I said. I want to entrust this person’s well-being to Dawn Castle.”
Shiron stood up, patting Yuma’s shoulder. Demodras had somewhat guessed upon seeing Dawn Castle, but she hadn’t thought their relationship had reached the point of blushing faces. Regardless, Shiron proceeded with his plan, no matter what Yuma said.
“I’ve already agreed to accept something, so I can’t refuse.”
Shiron spoke firmly and offered Demodras a black dagger.
Despite his reluctance, Demodras, having already decided, sighed and, with a grim expression, extracted his heart. Yuma, observing the pulsating gem in Demodras’s white hand, swallowed hard before turning to Shiron.
“Don’t tell me what the Master is accepting is…”
“This person’s heart.”
“Are you really okay with this?”
The question wasn’t directed at Shiron. Magic was an irreplaceable means for a dragon. Despite this, Demodras readily offered his heart, and even if the recipient was Shiron, Yuma couldn’t help but worry for Demodras.
“Is it okay for you to bow your head to a mere human, calling him ‘Master’?”
Demodras lifted Shiron’s shirt as he spoke.
“I’ve changed, just as you have.”
“…”
“Even a personality that seemed unchangeable feels different after 500 years. What was once unthinkable is now comfortably acceptable. I just want to rest now. That’s all.”
“…I see.”
Yuma watched as Demodras’s heart embedded itself into Shiron’s chest. While she was about any reckless actions, the pulsating gem seemed to merge without issue.
Biting her nails, Yuma’s internal scales tipped more towards what would benefit Shiron than her pride, which amounted to nothing. Realizing she had acted undignified, she continued.
“Understood. If that’s really what the Master wishes. Welcoming one more lodger isn’t beyond us.”
Though it was technically unfeasible… Yuma endured, thinking it was all for Shiron. Demodras, noticing the escaping emotions, eventually felt nauseated.
She was endlessly calling him “Master.”
It might have been an act, but perhaps the lengthy span of 500 years truly had an effect? Observing the outward emotions, Yuma’s feelings towards Shiron seemed to be genuine goodwill without deceit.
“Had I refused after it was already given, I wonder. But fortunately, permission was granted.”
“That would never happen. It may take time for me to be convinced, but I will follow the Master’s decision.”
“…I see.”
Demodras answered succinctly and left the room. Having concluded her business, she needed to find a place in anticipation of the soon-to-be-lifted spell. Her steps suddenly halted.
-By the way, Master, a new scar has appeared on your chest. Come here. I will apply some ointment.
‘Too much change sends shivers down my spine.’
His keen hearing caught the voice beyond the door, sending shivers down his spine.
Demodras once again found Yuma’s actions entirely incomprehensible.
Was she acting the part of a loyal servant or a mother? But the unease Demodras felt was because Yuma was doing something she would never have done in the past.
The realization dawned.
The demon’s feelings for the young man were sticky and substantial.
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