Perspective: Kaiser
Date: January 26, 2018
Time: 10:15 AM
Location: Ami & Bibi's Inn — Rented Suite, Market District, Sylvaris
The kettle whistled on the iron stove, and 2 pairs of black, velvety cat ears snapped straight up in unison.
Before the steam could even reach the ceiling of our rented suite, Bibi bolted across the braided rug. Her feet skidded over the wood as she grabbed the brass handle with a folded rag, pouring boiling water into 3 ceramic mugs without spilling a drop. Right behind her, Ami hurried over with a wooden jar, pinching dried mountain herbs into each cup like an alchemist measuring poison.
"3 grams per cup, Bibi! You poured before the leaves settled. We're losing taste!" Ami scolded, her black tail swishing behind her blue dress in sharp, metronome beats.
"Relax, Professor Whiskers, it's hot leaf water," Bibi shot back with a cheeky grin. She balanced all 3 mugs on a wooden tray, spun on her heel, and marched over to the low table where I sat surrounded by district trade maps.
"Here you go, Master. Fresh brew for the 1 sleeping corpse."
I picked up the mug, letting the steam warm my face.
"For the 5th time this morning, I was tired," I blew across the dark rim. "I slept for 7 days cause I was tired. That's the whole story."
"Yeah, right," Bibi planted her hands on the low table, leaning into my face as her emerald skirt swished. Her tail flicked with theatrical disbelief.
"Normal people sleep 10 hours, stretch, and complain their back pain. Normal people don't die for 7 days! We waited everday for you to visit us! I was about to have a full-blown panic attack!"
"Bibi is right, Master," Ami sat down on the cushion across from me, her silver eyes dead serious over her open notebook. "1 week without food and water means an organ rupture, poison, or magical shock. You gave us zero warning. We even went out looking for you!"
"Well, my pulse is steady, my head is still attached, and I'm drinking your tea," I took a sip, letting the bitter herbs wash the lingering sleep from my throat.
"Sleep is over. We have work to do."
Watching the 2 of them bicker over tea leaves and sleeping hours brought a faint, dry smirk to my face.
Only 2 weeks ago, these 2 sisters were shivering in a pitch-black basement beneath the Black Ledger syndicate, bruised, starving, and waiting for someone to kill them. Now, safe inside this rented 2nd-floor suite in the Market District, the color had returned to their skin, their fur had regained its sleek shine, and their natural personalities were running wild. Bibi was loud, nosy, and impossible to quiet down, while Ami treated every daily chore like a high-level exam.
I set my mug down and tapped the thick stack of parchment between us.
"Let's talk about the business model. We aren't here to open a tiny corner stall or flip copper junk. That's a waste of my capital and your brains. We are building an equity network across Sylvaris."
"Equity? You kept muttering that word before you disappeared," Bibi tilted her head, her black ears swiveling sideways. "What does that even mean? Is it like loaning money to guild masters?"
"No. Debt is for amateurs," I answered directly. I pulled a clean sheet of parchment toward her and drew 2 columns with charcoal.
"I'll explain it simply so even a 5-year-old can follow. Suppose a blacksmith in the Lower District wants to buy a water-powered hammer and 500 iron bars to expand his forge. He needs 100 gold coins. If an ordinary merchant lends him that 100 gold, the merchant charges 10% interest. After 1 year, the blacksmith pays back 110 gold. The merchant takes his 10 gold profit, the deal ends, and the merchant walks away with nothing left."
"A fixed return of 10 gold," Ami leaned in, tracking my charcoal lines with sharp focus. "Safe, but small."
"It's stupid," I said.
"Instead of a loan, we give him the 100 gold coins in exchange for a permanent 20% ownership share of his shop. We don't lend to him. We own 1/5th of everything he builds. With our 100 gold, he buys the heavy hammer. His daily output jumps 4 times over. He hires 10 new apprentices to strike steel. His monthly profit goes from 40 gold to 400 gold. And because we own 20% of the shop, we collect 80 gold coins every single month as our share. In 2 months, we have our 100 gold back. In 1 year, we pocket 960 gold. And as long as that forge keeps striking steel, the gold keeps landing in our pockets—without us ever lifting a hammer."
"Wait... 80 gold every month? Forever?" Bibi's dark eyes went wide. "Just for giving him coins upfront?!"
"As long as his doors stay open," I said. "Now multiply that. We don't do this for 1 shop. We do it for 30 shops across Sylvaris—blacksmiths, grain mills, leather tanners, wagon cartels, and potion apothecaries."
"But Master, how does that create jobs for the whole city?" Bibi scratched the base of her ear, frowning. "You said our goal was get rich, not just make 30 shop owners rich."
"By clearing the bottlenecks in the supply chain," I said calmly.
"Right now, Sylvaris has over 2,000 displaced workers sitting in taverns and back alleys with nothing to do. Not because they're lazy, but because workshops don't have the spare cash to buy raw materials or pay weekly wages. When we put our capital into these shops, our contract forces them to expand production immediately. The blacksmith has to hire 10 apprentices. The grain mill hires 20 haulers and 4 cart drivers. The cloth shop hires 15 seamstresses."
I drew a circle connecting the shops on the paper.
"When 1,000 workers suddenly get weekly wages, what do they do with that money? They spend it. They buy cake from the baker. They buy meat from the butcher. They buy shoes from the cobbler. That gives the baker, the butcher, and the cobbler more customers, which forces those shops to hire more workers too. Money moves faster through the streets. The whole city expands. And because we own pieces of businesses everywhere, we collect cash from the entire city's growth."
"If currency circulates twice as fast..." Ami was already scribbling numbers across her ledger, her dip pen scratching against the paper in rapid bursts. "...the ripple effect on local trade will expand Sylvaris's total output by at least 32% in 6 months. It feeds itself."
"Which is why you 2 are working today," I pushed 2 separate dossiers across the wood.
"I'm heading out to scout the streets and find where trade is stuck. While I'm gone, I want profiles on every major business in the Lower and Market Districts. What are their monthly costs? Who supplies their materials? Who do they owe money to? And who actually runs the place? Bring me facts, not rumors."
And while I'm getting rich off this city's circulation, I'm cleaning up Sylvia's mess behind her back.
The thought of the goddess brought a dry, cynical taste to my tongue.
Does Sylvia deserve my charity? Not even a little bit.
She sits up in her high guildhall, playing the holy protector while her city slowly chokes on corrupt trade guilds. But she did buy Celia that top-tier clinic without asking. Saved me weeks of tracking down rare herbs and brewing emergency draughts. If I walked up to her office right now and asked for 1,000 gold, she'd probably hand it over with a smile just to keep me happy.
The catch is the price tag.
You take 1 coin from her, and 6 months later they appear at the foot of your bed with eyes on fire, asking you to assassinate someone, overthrow a government, or slaughter half the continent to balance karma... Owning her a favor is selling myself to slavery.
Nah loans can wait. If I jump-start her city's economy, double her tax revenue, and put 2,000 people to work, I'm handing her a massive favor she never even saw coming. The ledger for Celia's medicine gets wiped clean. I owe her nothing, she owes me nothing, and I keep my hands completely free.
Before I could stand up and grab my coat, a small, warm hand darted across the table and clamped tightly around my right wrist.
I paused, looking down.
Ami had both hands locked over my pulse. Her silver eyes narrowed, her black cat ears swiveled forward, and her nose twitched with intense concentration.
"Master is thinking about his lover," Ami announced in a flat, deadpan voice.
"Master is thinking about what now?" I stared at her, blinking.
Bibi choked on her tea, slamming her cup down so hard the tray rattled.
"I KNEW IT!" Bibi shouted, pointing an accusatory index finger straight between my eyes. "7 days! 7 whole days gone! You weren't sleeping off exhaustion in some corner—you were sneaking off to stay with your secret lover!"
"What lover?" I deadpanned. "Who is this imaginary person? Tell me where she lives. I want to meet her too."
"Stop playing dumb!" Bibi's tail whipped wildly behind her. "You're ridiculously strong, you buy us nice clothes, you solve every impossible problem, and you walk around acting all quiet and mysterious! Every single woman in this city with working eyes would jump at the chance!"
"Every woman?" I gave her a flat look. "Bro, what are you talking about? I don't want women. I don't want anyone. I barely want to be awake right now."
"Master is attempting verbal deflection," Ami said without letting go of my wrist, her fingertips pressing deeper into my vein. "His vocal pitch dropped by 2 hertz. Defensive posturing. Statistically, 84% of men who deny having a lover without looking away are concealing a romantic partner."
"Where did you even get that number?" I asked, shooting her a dry look. "Did you invent that right now for dramatic effect?"
"Hmhp! It's beastkin instinct!" Ami replied without blinking.
"It's a rich woman, isn't it?!" Bibi leaned over the table until her nose was 3 inches from mine. "Some crazy rich noble with 4 carriages and silk remote control curtains! You're letting her spoil you, taking gold straight out of her jewelry box, and sneaking out of her bedroom window before dawn!"
"I take equity from merchant guilds, not gold from fake sugar mommas," I said, gently flicking Bibi's forehead with my free hand.
"Stop reading cheap romance junk."
"Ow! Master, that was a valid theory!" Bibi rubbed her forehead with a dramatic pout, but Ami remained completely locked onto my arm.
"You can't fool beastkin senses, Master," Ami said proudly, tapping the side of her nose with a claw. "Our feline skin has sensory nerve clusters. When someone lies, their blood tells us! To a cat beastkin, a lie feels cold and jagged, while the truth flows smooth like warm spring water."
A cute fantasy story, but the biology is basic.
What beastkin call 'blood intuition' is just their sharp senses picking up the human stress response. When people lie, their brain works harder. Adrenaline hits the bloodstream, the heart pumps faster by 4 to 8 beats a minute, blood pressure rises against the vessel walls, and the skin cools down slightly as tiny blood vessels tighten. Even the vocal cords pull tighter, shifting the voice slightly higher.
Cat beastkin hear sounds up to 65,000 hertz and their paw pads pick up tiny micro-vibrations through the skin. They don't read 'blood.' They just feel the body failing to hide stress.
I could fool her in 2 seconds. All it takes is breathing deep into the belly, 4 slow breaths a minute, pressing the chest down to trip the vagus nerve, and locking my heart rate at a flat 58 beats a minute. Her fingers wouldn't feel a ripple, no matter what lie came out of my mouth.
Nah why would I be tryharding against kids. Let the kids play their detective game. It was a good test to see how sharp their senses really were.
"Alright, detectives," I leaned back against the wall, leaving my wrist in Ami's grip. "Since you're so confident in your interrogation skills, ask your questions. Let's see how accurate your blood-and-water theory really is."
"Question 1! Have you been sleeping with a woman during those 7 days?!" Bibi puffed out her chest, looking like an inquisitor ready to hand down a sentence.
"You 2 are 14 and 15 years old," I said dryly. "You are way too young to be interrogating grown adults about who they sleep with."
"We are plenty old enough!" Bibi protested fiercely, crossing her arms.
"In our beastkin village, people get betrothed early because loyalty is the most sacred thing in the world! Our mama and papa loved each other through famine, raids, and sickness and will until their last breath! Real love means standing by someone no matter what happens, through every single hardship!"
"And look at you, Master!" Bibi pointed right at my chest. "You saved our lives, you bought us a future, and you're stronger than anyone we've ever seen! Someone like you is so special that anyone who fell in love with you would love you forever!"
I looked at her fiery expression, then shook my head with a faint smile.
"That's impossible, Bibi. Nobody loves anyone forever. I'm the most flawed person on this continent. The moment someone better comes along, they'll jump to them in a heartbeat."
Bibi opened her mouth to snap an angry retort, but Ami went completely still.
Ami's ears pinned back. Her fingers pressed harder into the skin of my wrist. Her silver eyes widened as she stared down at my pulse.
"Heart rate... 58 beats a minute," Ami whispered, her voice trembling in shock. "No spike. No micro-tremor. The blood is completely steady. He actually believes that. 100%."
"Wait... really?" Bibi's confident posture crumbled. She looked between Ami and me, her ears drooping. "Master... why would you think that?"
I reached out with my left hand and gently patted Ami's soft black hair between her cat ears. She leaned into the touch for 1 second before catching herself.
"Because I've seen it firsthand," I said quietly. "People compare things. When someone shows up who can offer them more safety, more love, or better gifts than you can give, people move on. It's just human nature. Why would anyone stay with someone who offers less? Staying out of pity isn't loyalty—it's just waiting around to leave."
It's a simple truth. There are always people smarter, kinder, and less broken than me. Once people spend enough time around me to see what I really am, it's only a matter of time before they find an upgrade and replace me. And when that day comes, I'll pack my things, cut the ties, and leave their lives forever without saying a single word.
"Then... if everyone leaves you eventually... won't you be lonely and sad?" Bibi looked down at the table, her playful bravado completely gone.
"Being alone doesn't make me sad, Bibi," I answered without hesitation. "Solitude is peaceful. Nobody can disappoint you, nobody can betray you, and nobody can use your weaknesses against you when you don't depend on anyone."
"Question 3, Master," Ami kept her fingers on my wrist, searching my face with an ache she couldn't hide.
"Are you happy right now?"
Hmm.
I drew air deep into my belly, letting my diaphragm expand outward. I held the pressure for 2 seconds, compressing my chest to engage the vagus nerve and slow the cardiac pulse. My heart rate dropped by 3 beats, settling into an unshakeable, rhythmic calm.
"Yes. I'm happy."
Ami closed her eyes, listening to the pulse for 4 full seconds.
"True," Ami exhaled softly, her shoulders dropping. "The pulse is calm, warm, and steady."
Bibi let out a quiet sigh of relief, a small smile returning to her face.
Good. Let them believe it. Peace in the room is worth a small trick of the lungs.
"Last question, Master... Did you ever love someone more than yourself?" Bibi leaned forward, her dark eyes locking onto mine with an earnest curiosity that felt far too heavy for a 15-year-old girl.
My chest tightened on its own.
I didn't use breath control here.
Under Ami's fingertips, my pulse kicked hard against the artery wall—1 violent jump that hammered once and then sank into a heavy, quiet ache. My eyes widened by 1 millimeter, the morning light catching the dark corners of the room.
"Yes."
The word came out quiet, but sharp enough to slice through the air.
Ami's ears twitched once. She stared at my wrist, then slowly looked up into my eyes, completely stunned.
"True," Ami whispered softly. "100% true. Zero doubt."
Neither of them spoke. The playful banter had vanished, replaced by a quiet stillness that hung over the table like morning frost.
I pulled my wrist back from Ami's grip, picked up my tea mug, and swallowed the rest in 1 gulp.
"Alright. Interrogation over," I said, snapping my voice back to its usual crisp, dismissive tone as I stood up from the cushions.
"Get back to those business dossiers. If I come back tonight and find out you spent 4 hours gossiping instead of profiling workshops, I'm cutting your pastry budget for the entire week."
"Hey! That's cruel and unusual punishment, Master!" Bibi shouted, snapping out of the trance and diving for her stack of merchant papers. "Ami, write faster! We need those cream buns on Friday!"
I turned away from their frantic scribbling and pushed open the double wooden doors leading out to the stone balcony.
The morning wind hit my face like a cold slap.
I rested both forearms against the gray stone balustrade, looking out over the roofs of the Market District. Wagons rumbled over cobblestones below, vendors yelled prices, and smoke drifted from bakery chimneys into the crisp winter sky.
Love, huh?
I don't need that in my life.
Love doesn't keep me alive. It doesn't win wars, and it sure as hell doesn't keep you happy. It does the exact opposite—it clouds your judgment, slows your actions, and weakens you until you're too soft to survive.
I looked down at the palm of my right hand resting against the cold stone.
The stone faded. The noise of Sylvaris vanished, replaced by the warm, golden sunlight of an academy courtyard years ago.
"Hug me right now, Kaiser! I want a hug, a headpat, and strawberry cake!" A girl with pink hair and stubborn pink eyes was tugging furiously at my black coat sleeve, her cheeks puffed out into an oversized pout.
"Elfie, we are already 10 minutes late for class," I shifted. "Instructor Aisha will lock the lecture hall doors."
"Hug! Cake! Headpat! Hug, cake, headpat! I'm not moving 1 step until I get all 3! If we're late, we're late together!" She dug her leather shoes into the grass, refusing to budge an inch. Her chin tilted up in pure defiance.
I stared at her for 3 seconds, letting out a helpless sigh. I shifted the books to my left arm and opened my right arm toward her.
"Fine. Come here."
She threw herself forward, wrapping both arms around my neck, burying her face into my coat with an impact that nearly knocked me off balance. I brought my hand up to her head, patting her pink hair twice.
"We'll stop by the bakery on the way," I muttered.
"Yayyyy!!" She pulled back, beaming up at me with a brilliant, blinding smile that made the entire world seem wonderful.
Back then, a faint, real smile had actually touched my lips. Back then, that warmth felt eternal.
I blinked.
The golden sunlight shattered. The courtyard dissolved into gray stone, winter wind, and the dull roar of Sylvaris below.
My face went cold as ice.
That past is dead.
I lost her because I let emotions get in the way of my goals. I let sentimentality slow me down when I needed to be ruthless. Back then, my entire concept of happiness was tied to her. And when she was gone, everything broke.
Never again.
From that day on, the only happiness I care about is winning. Pure victory. I will never allow myself to be owned by someone else's outcome. I'd rather be completely empty inside than be owned by anyone.
Losing Elfie burned 1 hard lesson into my soul: never treat another person's feelings as an obligation. Affection is not a bond. Trust is not safety. Vulnerability is not a gift. Loyalty is an operational cost, never a virtue.
Boundaries don't exist for me. Manufacturing trust to control an asset, using someone's trauma, weaponizing their insecurity and loneliness, playing the role of a loyal friend, a heroic savior, or a gentle lover—I'll do all of it without flinching. Gaslighting, isolating, breaking them down, and dumping them the exact instant their utility ends—betraying anyone for an advantage—none of it matters. Emotional, social, romantic, or ethical—it's all meaningless.
As long as I finish the story with the outcome I chose, that is all that counts.
I will never prioritize someone else's emotional baggage just to hold myself back.
Because I did that once for Elfie. And it cost me everything.
Happiness comes secondary to victory.
*
Perspective: Celia
Date: January 26, 2018
Time: 10:00 AM
Location: Whispering Crags — Northern Frontier, Sylvaris Border
"Level 42, Celia. Witness the unseen aura of a Supreme Sorcerer!"
Lucas held up a skewer of roasted boar like a holy relic, striking a dramatic pose against the rocks. The cold mountain wind caught his white coat as he puffed out his chest, narrowing his eyes in what he clearly thought was an intimidating glare.
"Wow you're so intimidating that while bush camping you tripped and fell," I said without looking up.
"That was a scripted story sequence!" Lucas barked, biting off a chunk of meat and talking through a full mouth. "Besides, bush camping requires bush research."
"You're such a camper."
"Hey! I call it strategy!" Lucas tossed the empty wooden stick into the fire pit.
"What about the 4th quest? We cleared the 3 dens before sunrise, but the boar leader is still up on the western ridge. If you keep posing, we're going to miss the noon turn-in." I said, tapping my foot.
"Relax, Jenny, I have everything figured out," Lucas grinned, wiping his hands on a clean cloth.
"I'm traveling with an idiot."
Still, breathing the crisp mountain air without pain was a quiet relief. 7 days ago, my lungs were burning from necrotic ash and my body was shutting down. Thanks to Kai's medicine and a week of dungeon hunting, my mana flowed smooth and clear again. My physical strength was completely back.
Slow clapping echoed from behind the crags.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
My spine locked.
The heat in the camp died instantly. A heavy, freezing pressure crushed the clearing, turning the campfire flames blood-red until they flattened into the ash.
From the shadow of the tall rock, a towering figure stepped into the morning sun.
195 centimeters tall. Thick white hair swept back from a pale face. A tailored black coat lined with crimson silk, gold royal insignias on his collar, and deep red eyes locked straight onto me.
Demon Lord Lucifer.
"A nice morning for a picnic," Lucifer said, his low voice rolling through the clearing like smooth thunder. "Though running errands for low-rank bounties feels a bit beneath you, Celia."
I stood up from the rock, flipping my scythe into a reverse grip as dark mana stirred beneath my skin.
"What are you, a stalker?" I asked, my voice cold.
"Maybe I am," Lucifer smiled easily, resting a gloved hand on the black hilt of Nocturne. "I like keeping you in mind. We haven't spent much time together."
"I don't want to spend time with you," I answered. "Turn around and leave."
Lucifer took 2 slow steps forward, unbothered.
"You're too good to waste your life in the dirt, Celia. You belong beside an equal. Someone who understands real power. Come with me, and I'll treat you better. I'll give you provinces, break your curses, and help you understand who you truly are—far better than that Kaiser ever could."
Lucas stepped straight between us.
"Yo, tall guy," Lucas called out, completely unfazed by the crushing pressure. "Back off. My bro is way too pro for you to be sliding into his girl's lane. Take the white hair and the dramatic entrances, and go kill yourse—"
Lucifer raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.
Snap.
A pitch-black nether portal opened directly under Lucas's boots.
"—waaaaait, you cheater—"
Whoosh.
Lucas dropped straight through like a stone falling down a well. The rift snapped shut, leaving empty grass.
"Now that that distraction is gone..." Lucifer brushed a speck of dust from his lapel, his red eyes returning to me.
FLASH.
A burst of blinding light cracked right above his head.
"YEAH, YOU'RE NOT GETTING RID OF ME THAT EASILY!"
Lucas dropped from the sky out of thin air, holding a glowing light-mirror in both hands. He angled the beam downward and slammed a blast of white solar fire right into Lucifer's left eye!
BOOM!
White light washed over the clearing, scorching the weeds.
The smoke cleared in 1 instant.
Lucifer hadn't budged. His eye was completely fine, wrapped in a faint white flame that swallowed the blast. His brow furrowed with mild annoyance.
"Persistent insect," Lucifer muttered.
He raised his hand and spoke a quiet spell.
"Spatial Severance: Sovereign Teleportation."
Purple gravity wrapped around Lucas, locking him in place mid-air.
"Hey! Not the long-distance spell! That's cheap—"
CRACK.
Space snapped like a dry twig, hurling Lucas across the sky.
*
40 kilometers south, in the Central District of Sylvaris, the air cracked with a sonic boom.
Lucas tumbled out of a rift 3 meters up, spun twice, and slammed flat onto the cobblestones outside the guild.
He lay there in the dust for 2 seconds.
"Ouch," Lucas groaned into the stone.
*
Back at the crags, the clearing was dead quiet.
Lucifer lowered his hand and walked toward me.
"Now, where were we?" he asked softly.
"Not this again," I spat, anger tightening my jaw. "I don't want to deal with you. And now that I have my strength back, I don't want to see your face."
I kicked off the ground with dark mana, launched into the air, and threw a full-power right hook straight at his jaw!
Lucifer didn't dodge.
His gloved hand snapped up.
SMACK.
He caught my fist mid-strike. The shockwave blew the grass flat and kicked up dust, but his arm didn't move 1 millimeter. He took the whole hit without shifting his feet.
I gritted my teeth, shoving forward with every ounce of cursed mana in my veins.
Nothing. He was a stone wall.
[Crownless: My Queen... this nga is pissing me off! Let's all rally up and gangbang him!]
Shut up, Crownless.
I tried to pull my hand back, but his grip held firm. Slowly, calmly, his fingers uncurled my fist 1 finger at a time, opening my hand until my palm rested flat against his.
I glared into his red eyes with pure fury.
"You can't tell me what to do!" I snarled.
"I'm not trying to command you, Celia," Lucifer answered, his voice quiet and gentle. His thumb lightly rested on my wrist, feeling my pulse. "I just wonder what gets you so angry all the time."
"You. Your arrogance. Everything you say."
"I'm not upset," he said, meeting my glare without a trace of mockery. "I knew I wouldn't find you before I loved you. But now that you're here, I just want to spend some time together. Is that so bad?"
I pulled hard against his hand, but his grip was locked.
"What would I gain from that?" I scoffed. "You're an enemy Demon Lord. Every word out of your mouth is an attempt to drag me away from the only person who actually matters."
"A person who treats you like a 2nd thought," Lucifer replied softly. "I can take us somewhere peaceful, Celia. Somewhere quiet and lovely. Just 1 hour. Let me show you who I am."
"I have nowhere to go with you," I spat. "Let go of my hand before I summon my thorns."
Lucifer looked at my red eyes, a faint, sad smile touching his lips.
"Nowhere to go?" he murmured.
He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low whisper that hit me like a slap.
"How about we go back to your village? Aloria."
My heart stopped.
The blood drained from my face in 1 rush.
Aloria.
Sea salt. Cinnamon bark. The oak tree. The ropes around my neck. The villagers cheering as I choked.
My breath caught. My pupils shrank into needles.
"How do you know that name—"
Lucifer didn't answer.
He snapped his free hand.
Snap.
Black and crimson runes flared beneath our feet. Nether fire swallowed the sky, pulling us both through the tear in space.
The world tore apart in a flash of black and red light, and the roar of an ocean storm slammed straight into my ears.
Freezing rain hit me right in the face. The wind off the cliffs was brutal, spraying salt water everywhere. In less than 1 second, my hair was stuck to my cheeks and my black dress was soaked through, clinging cold against my ribs.
This arrogant bastard. He drags me across Celestine without even asking!
Before I could yank my wrist back and summon a bunch of thorns to tear his throat open, a low hum buzzed above us. A clean red dome of nether mana flared 2 inches over our heads.
The downpour slammed into the barrier and hissed into steam, sliding down the sides and into the mud.
Lucifer stood next to me, completely dry. Not 1 drop of rain touched his white hair, and his coat looked like he just stepped out of a palace.
"What is wrong with you?!" I wiped the water from my eyes with the back of my hand, glaring at him. "Who told you that you could just grab me and drag me across the continent?! Who gave you permission?!"
"Nobody," Lucifer said, his voice maddeningly calm over the wind. "I brought you here because I wanted to understand."
"Understand what?"
"Why you bite my head off every time we meet," he said, looking down at me. "I haven't attacked you. I haven't touched your friends. But every word you say to me sounds like you want me dead."
"I don't owe you anything," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest and backing away toward the edge of his barrier. "You're an enemy Demon Lord. Send me back to Sylvaris right now. Lucas is probably worried sick looking for me."
"Maybe I will," he said, glancing past my shoulder toward the cliffs. "Though I doubt he could find his way out here anyway. But you should stay for a minute. Look down there, Celia. Look at what's changed."
I bit my lip. I wanted to tell him to go to hell and turn my back, just so he wouldn't get the satisfaction.
But the sea wind blew the smell up from below—wet cedar, peat smoke, and ocean salt.
My feet moved on their own.
I stepped to the edge of the dirt ridge and looked down through the rain.
The air caught in my throat.
It was Aloria.
The rotten wooden pier where the fishing boats used to tie up was gone. In its place stood a thick stone seawall built out of grey rock. The old thatch huts from my childhood—the ones that leaked smoke through the roof every winter—were gone too, replaced by sturdy stone cottages with dark slate roofs. Clean cobblestone paths wound between timber sheds and market stalls. The black burn marks from the fire 6 years ago had been completely covered up with fresh plaster, mortar, and green gardens.
It was Aloria. But it wasn't the ruin from my nightmares. The ash was gone.
Lucifer looked up at the heavy black clouds rolling over the ocean.
"The wind is blowing cold," he said, his hands tucked into his pockets. "If this front keeps heading west, it'll hit Sylvaris in 3 or 4 hours. A messy coastal storm."
He pulled his right hand out.
With 3 quick flicks of his fingers, he sketched glowing white runes right in the air.
Hmph. Pure silent incantation.
A bright pulse of light gathered at his fingertips, then shot straight up into the middle of the storm.
CRACK!
The sky ripped right down the middle and the storm clouds rolled backwards, shoved miles out to sea in 1 clean wave.
The wind dropped to a light sea breeze, and warm afternoon sun poured down through the gap, lighting up the wet slate roofs of Aloria and turning the surf into shimmering gold.
The storm was just gone. Cleared right off the coast.
I stared up at the blue sky, my chest tight.
To push an entire storm away with a flick of his hand...
His strength was irritating. Ridiculous, effortless, and terrifyingly casual.
"Want to walk down?" Lucifer asked, pointing toward the dirt path that led into the village.
I swatted his hand aside. "Get lost."
I took the path myself.
Every step down the hill felt heavier than the last, like the mud was clinging to my heels. The smell of pine needles and wet salt dug into my lungs, and the grey fog in my mind started peeling away.
Aloria.
Most of what happened here was a blur of fear. I couldn't remember what the streets were called or what games we played by the creek. But the ugly memories were still razor sharp.
I remembered being dragged through the dirt by men holding torches. I remembered the big oak tree in the square. I remembered the rough hemp rope cutting into my neck, the neighbors cheering when they kicked the wooden crate out from under my feet, and the horrible panic as I choked.
And Lyla.
My throat tightened. Lyla had screamed for me that day. She had fought the guards with her bare hands, begging them to let me go while everyone else called me a monster. And when the fire broke out and the black chains ripped out of my chest... she was gone. I never saw Lyla again.
Not once in years.
Lucifer walked half a step behind me, matching my slow pace. The silence stretched until he broke it quietly.
"My mother died when I was 7," he said.
I kept my eyes on the path. "I didn't ask."
"I know," he said, his voice surprisingly normal, without that usual smug royal tone. "After she died, my father married woman after woman. Wives, consorts, daughters from other demon clans. He had dozens of kids. I watched him give gifts and praise to half-brothers who never worked for anything, while he only looked at me when he wanted to test my magic or see how many enemies I'd put down."
The small stones crunched under his shoes.
"For years, I kept asking myself why. Why couldn't he just see me as his son? Why couldn't he care about me, instead of finding replacements? I spent a lot of nights wondering how my life would've turned out if I wasn't born with the Nether Crown. If I was just an ordinary kid with no throne to inherit."
I stopped where the path met the cobblestones. "Why are you telling me this?"
Lucifer stepped up next to me. His red eyes were quiet and steady.
"Because staying angry at the past just robs you of who you are right now," he said.
"You can't undo what happened here, Celia. You can't undo the actions of the villagers, or the nightmare that followed, or the people who turned on you. But if you only look at this place through the eyes of the terrified kid who was hurt, you'll stay trapped here forever. Look at it for what it actually is: a bad memory that failed to kill you. You survived. You grew up. You don't have to answer to these people anymore."
His words landed hard.
Not because they were comforting, but because they were true.
For years, the thought of Aloria had kept me small—the weak 10-year-old girl choking at the end of a rope, wishing someone would help her.
A cold, steady resolve settled in my chest.
He's right. I'm not that scared kid anymore.
I looked down at the ground. Between 2 mossy stones, a puddle of clear rainwater caught the sun.
In the water, my reflection stared right back.
White hair, tied back with Kai's red ribbon. Sharp red eyes. A jaw that didn't shake anymore.
I wasn't little Stella crying in dirty rags while the village threw stones. I was Celia.
The Queen of Curses. An S-rank calamity who answered to nobody.
I took a deep breath of the salt air and stood up straight.
We walked past the 1st row of houses. But as we stepped into the open street, I noticed Lucifer staring at me. Not just glancing—he was looking right at my chest with his jaw locked tight.
My irritation flared right back up. "What? What are you staring at?"
Lucifer cleared his throat with an awkward cough. A faint blush crept across his pale cheeks, reaching his ears. He looked away, scratched the back of his neck, and then looked back.
"You know..." he muttered, his voice dropping. "You should probably wear thicker clothes."
I frowned. "What?"
I looked down at myself.
My stomach dropped straight into my boots.
Are you kidding me?!
Those few seconds in the storm before he put up his barrier had soaked my silk dress completely. The wet black fabric was clinging to my skin like greasepaint, showing every single curve of my waist and practically outlining my chest under the bright sun.
My face went completely hot.
"Pervert!" I hissed.
I pulsed my cursed mana through my skin in a quick, dry burst. In less than 1 second, a hiss of warm steam rolled off the fabric, drying the silk until it fell loose and normal over my shoulders again.
Then I looked at him.
His white shirt, his dark trousers, his coat—bone dry. Every single thread. He had dried his own clothes the instant we landed on the ridge!
"You dried yourself already?!" I pointed a finger right at his nose, furious. "You let me walk all the way down the hill like that on purpose!"
Lucifer gave an unrepentant chuckle and held his hands up. "Can you blame me? I'm not going to pass up a chance to see my future queen looking like that."
[Crownless: My Queen! Say the word and I will rip his degenerate throat out right now! Actually nvm, not ME, WE! GANGBANG!]
Shut up, Crownless!
"Say 1 more word and I'll put a thorn through your jaw," I growled, crossing my arms and marching ahead of him into the square.
We turned the corner near the village well.
Beside a whitewashed stone cottage, a woman was hurriedly pulling wet bedsheets off a clothesline, looking around in confusion at the sudden sunshine. She had light brown hair tied in a loose braid, and her sleeves were rolled up.
My boots stopped dead on the stones.
My breath locked.
Elise.
By the stone well 10 steps away, another woman set down a heavy wooden bucket, wiping sweat from her forehead with her forearm. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark auburn hair cut short at her jaw.
Fiona.
A memory hit me like a punch to the ribs.
7 years ago. A hot summer afternoon by the river. Fiona challenging me to race through the shallows, splashing water all over my shirt and laughing so loud the birds flew out of the willows. Elise sitting in the grass, weaving white flowers into a crown to put on my dark hair, teasing Toby about his messy hair while Ronan showed off with a wooden sword, talking about how we'd all become famous adventurers together.
We were friends.
They were my 1st friends.
And on that day... Elise looked away. Fiona said I was cursed. They stood in the crowd and watched them put the rope around my neck.
I stared at them from across the street.
They were grown women now. About 19 or 20 years old. Elise had the soft, rounded shape of an adult village woman; Fiona had the broad shoulders and strong build of a dock worker.
And then there was me.
Because the curses broke my body, I had barely grown past a young teenager. My body was frozen in time while they grew up.
A dull, hollow ache hit my chest. I looked down at my own small, modest frame, feeling the quiet sting of lost years.
Lucifer leaned down next to my ear, looking at me with total, deadpan seriousness.
"It's okay, Celia," he whispered, sounding completely sincere. "You still have plenty of time to grow. You've got potential. You'll be as big and strong as anyone."
I froze.
I slowly turned my head to look at him.
His red eyes were wide, encouraging, and totally serious.
Did he...
I looked down at my chest. Then back up at his supportive face.
This brainless idiot thinks I'm sad because my breasts are smaller than theirs?!
A vein nearly snapped in my forehead.
"You absolute moron!"
I dropped my weight and jumped 2 meters into the air, throwing a vicious roundhouse kick straight at his head!
Clang!
Lucifer brought his left forearm up, catching the heel of my foot against the metal bracer under his sleeve. Dust flew across the cobblestones from the impact, but his 195 cm frame didn't move 1 inch.
"Hey, relax!" he laughed, holding his arm steady against my foot. "I was trying to cheer you up!"
"Cheer me up?!" I yelled, hanging in the air with black thorns bristling around my legs. "Who asked you to cheer me up about that, you blind creep?!"
"I was giving you a compliment!" he argued, a grin breaking across his face. "That's called positive reinforcement!"
"I'll reinforce your face my fists! Let go of my feet!"
"Only if you promise not to kick my head off!"
"I'm kicking your throat next!"
Lucifer chuckled and lowered his arm, letting my boots drop back to the ground.
The smirk left his face, replaced by that quiet, observant look that always threw me off.
"There," he said softly. "Now you look like yourself again. Better than carrying around that miserable ghost."
I took a sharp breath, my face hot with annoyance. But the heavy, suffocating dread in my stomach was gone. He had picked a stupid fight on purpose just to snap me out of it.
Manipulative bastard.
The noise from our shouting had echoed across the square.
Front doors were opening along the street. A few older villagers stepped out onto their porches, staring in shock at the 195 cm white-haired demon lord in black military clothes and the girl standing beside him.
They won't recognize me, I told myself, gripping my skirts. It's been 7 years. I was 10. They think I died in the fire.
By the well, Fiona turned around.
Her brown eyes locked onto me.
Her breath caught so hard I could hear the gasp from across the lane. The wooden bucket slipped right out of her hands, hitting the stones with a heavy crash. Water rushed across the cobblestones, splashing over her boots.
Beside the cottage, Elise let the wet sheet drop straight into the dirt.
They weren't looking at Lucifer.
They were staring right at my snow-white hair and my glowing red eyes.
They know.
In the whole history of Aloria, only 1 girl had ever had white hair and blood-red eyes.
Fiona took 1 shaking step forward. Then another. Her boots splashed through the spilled water as she crossed the square, her face losing every bit of color.
"Stella...?" she whispered, her voice cracking in her throat. "Is that... is that really you?"
The old name felt like cold iron in my chest.
I stood straight, keeping my chin up, refusing to look weak.
"That's not my name anymore," I said, keeping my voice cold and steady. "It's Celia."
Fiona stopped 3 steps away, her shoulders shaking under her shirt. "Celia..."
Elise came running up behind her, her hand pressed against her mouth, tears already spilling down her face.
"You came back," Fiona choked out.
My heart was hammering against my ribs. Every survival instinct I had told me to jump into the shadows, pull out my scythe, and run before someone grabbed another rope. But Lucifer's words stuck in my head.
Look at what it actually is.
I forced myself to look right into their eyes.
Fiona was crying. Real, heavy tears running through the dust on her cheeks.
Elise dropped to her knees right in the dirt, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. "We're so sorry... God, Celia, we're so sorry! We missed you so much!"
My breath stopped.
Missed me?
Before I could back away, Fiona reached out. Her rough, work-calloused hands grabbed mine, holding onto my fingers with desperate, trembling strength.
"I'm so sorry for leaving you!" Fiona wept, bowing her head right over my hands as her tears dripped onto my knuckles. "I'm so sorry we didn't trust you that night... when the chief brought the rope... please, Celia, please..."
I stood frozen in the middle of the road, unable to move.
Why do they care now?
After throwing me away? After calling me a monster? After watching them put the rope around my neck?
Is this a trick? Are they trying to play me? Are they just crying because they see a Demon Lord standing behind me?
The shaking in Fiona's hands, the heat of her tears on my skin, the raw, ugly grief in Elise's sobs—none of it was fake. There was no mana hidden in their hands. No weapons. No poison.
These tears were real.
These were my friends.
My 1st friends.
Fiona didn't let go of my hands.
The heat of her tears dripped against my skin, soaking into my knuckles. Beside her, Elise stayed on her knees in the dirt, her shoulders shaking as she pressed a trembling hand against her mouth.
I looked down at them, my mind completely stalled.
For 7 years, I had pictured this village as a den of wolves. I had rehearsed what I would do if I ever returned: summon my black scythe, level the square to ash, and look down at them with cold, sovereign disgust.
I hadn't prepared for them to fall at my feet and cry.
"Get up," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "Both of you. Get off the ground."
Fiona sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve, but she stood up. She pulled Elise to her feet with her, smoothing the dirt from her friend's damp apron.
That was when my eyes caught Fiona's collar.
Her linen tunic was pulled slightly to the side, exposing the hollow of her throat. A thick, jagged pale scar wrapped halfway around the right side of her neck, disappearing beneath her collarbone.
It wasn't an accidental cut from a fishing hook or a scrape from woodchopping. It was a puncture scar. Someone had driven a blade into her throat with pure killing intent, and by some miracle, missed the main artery by 2 millimeters.
My eyes narrowed. "Who gave you that?"
Fiona blinked, her hand instinctively rising to cover her throat. "What? Oh... this?" She offered a faint, self-deprecating smile. "It's an old wound. Years back... It doesn't matter now..."
My chest bristled with sharp, uninvited protectiveness. "Who did it? Did your husband do that to you?"
Fiona stared at me in total shock, then burst into a wet, startled laugh, waving both hands frantically. "What?! No! Gods, Celia, no! Tomas is the gentlest man on this coast! He's a boatbuilder. He wouldn't raise a hand against a stray dog, let alone me!"
"You're married to this Tomas?" I asked, the word feeling strange on my tongue.
"Going on 3 years now," Fiona said softly, a genuine warmth easing through her red eyes. "He's good to me. Really good."
A low, familiar voice rumbled from the shadow beneath my heels.
[Ronan: Tomas... wait. That scrawny kid who used to aspire building the Dawvian Titantic at the boat docks? He actually married Fiona?!]
My pulse jumped.
Ronan.
Normally, my shadow familiar spoke with the cold, clipped discipline of an executioner... He sounded like the loud, cocky boy who used to run through the Aloria woods with me.
Shut up, Ronan.
[Ronan: I'm serious, Celia. Look at the road behind the bakery. Toby used to trip over that same broken sewer grate every single Tuesday without fail.]
I glanced toward the narrow alley. The stone grate was still there, worn smooth by decades of boots.
Do you remember this place? I asked him silently.
[Ronan: Of course I remember. It looks smaller than it did when we were kids. Or maybe we just got bigger. Well... you know what I mean.]
A bitter ache tightened behind my ribs.
Did you know anything about this? After the fire... did you stay here?
[Ronan: No. The moment the ashes cooled, I left. I only cared about finding power. You know how obsessed I was. I spent 4 years tracking you down, letting Velkaris eat away my soul just to put a sword through your heart. I didn't care about what was left of Aloria.]
And now you're bound to be my servant.
[Ronan: Yeah. Funny how things turn out. At least here I don't have to watch the village rot.]
Then who rebuilt all this?
[Ronan: Probably Kiel. He stayed behind the longest before he ran off to find you. He might know what happened to everyone.]
A sneer cut across my face.
Fuck Kiel. I don't give a shit about him.
A low, amused voice spoke from right behind my shoulder.
"Are you thinking about another man while I'm standing right here?" Lucifer murmured, leaning down with an arched eyebrow.
I snapped my head toward him. "Shut up, Lucifer."
Fiona's eyes drifted past me, finally taking in the towering 195 cm demon lord standing at my back. Her jaw dropped slack. His snow-white hair, his tailored black uniform, and the crimson irises glowing with effortless authority made him look like a conqueror straight out of a bedtime myth.
"Celia..." Fiona whispered, her voice trembling in awe. "Who is he? You have such a... is he your husband?"
Lucifer's lips instantly curled into a wide, smug grin.
My face ignited in an instant blaze of humiliation.
"No!" I stammered, stepping between them. "Absolutely not! It's nothing like that! Don't encourage him!"
Lucifer didn't wipe the smirk off his face, but he didn't push it either.
Fiona looked back at me, her expression turning somber again.
"We thought you hated us," Elise whispered, her fingers nervously pleating her apron. "We thought you'd never come back. If Lyla hadn't returned..."
My heart gave a hard thump. "Lyla? What does Lyla have to do with this?!"
"Everything," Fiona said, stepping closer. "After that night... when the chains erupted and the fire took the square, you went rogue. You were terrified, hurting everyone who tried to corner you, and then you vanished into the deep forest. Lyla searched for you for months. She nearly died in the northern bogs looking for tracks."
Fiona swallowed hard, her voice tightening with remembered shame.
"When she finally came back to Aloria, she gathered the entire village in the square. She screamed at the elders. She told us the truth about what happened to you."
"The truth?" I scoffed, crossing my arms defensively. "The truth is that you called me a demon and put a rope around my neck."
"We were terrified, Celia," Fiona pleaded, her eyes begging me to understand.
"Lyla made us see it. It wasn't you we were running from. It was the curse. When your power awakened on your 10th birthday, your presence was suffocating. It felt like standing next to a beast that was going to eat us alive. We didn't know how to react to that kind of fear except with violence. We thought you were gone and only a monster was left."
"That's a lie," I snapped, my voice rising with 7 years of buried venom. "Don't make excuses! You hated me! You threw stones at me! You wanted me dead!"
"She isn't lying, Celia."
Lucifer's calm, measured baritone cut through my shouting.
He took 1 slow step forward, resting a gloved hand lightly against my shoulder.
"High-ranking calamity mana carries an instinctive terror field," Lucifer explained, his tone completely steady.
"To an ordinary human, an unsealed sovereign aura feels like an existential predator. The human body reacts with pure adrenaline—either flee or crush the threat before it wakes up. It's a biological reflex."
He glanced toward Fiona and Elise, who were listening with wide, nervous eyes.
"The only reason these 2 can stand 3 paces from me right now without their hearts bursting from sheer panic is because I spend 20% of my mana constantly suppressing my aura," Lucifer added.
"You were 10 years old, Celia. You had no control. You were radiating pure calamity. To their primitive senses, you were a nightmare."
His explanation hit me like a splash of freezing water.
I looked at Fiona. Then at Elise.
There was no deceit in their posture. Only the lingering, ugly guilt of people who knew their cowardice had driven away a child.
A sharp, sudden ache hollowed out my chest.
"Where is my father?" I asked quietly.
Both Fiona and Elise went completely still.
The color drained from Elise's face. She looked down at the cobblestones, her lower lip trembling.
"Come with us," Fiona said softly, gesturing toward the western lane. "We'll take you home."
They walked ahead of us, guiding us through the quiet streets.
Every house we passed dragged up another ghost. Near the docks, an overturned rowboat lay beside the sand, its rotting ribs bleached by the sun. Seeing it made my throat tighten. My father used to work those same skiffs. Even when the villagers turned cold, he had never hit me. He had never screamed at me like my mother did. My mother was the 1 who locked me in the dark, beating on the door and cursing the day I was born. She had died in the catastrophe, incinerated when my chains tore through our cottage—a death I had caused, and 1 I still carried like lead in my stomach. But my father had just been quiet. Weak, broken, and paralyzed by fear.
We reached the cottage at the end of the dirt lane.
My old home.
The low stone walls had been repaired with clean white mortar. The rotten wooden window shutters had been replaced with fresh pine. A small herb garden of mint and lavender grew beneath the front sill.
I stopped at the garden gate.
Memories slammed into me in a crushing wave.
Sitting in the dark corner of the attic, crying into my knees until my throat was raw. Looking in the cracked mirror and seeing my black hair turn stark white, my brown eyes bleeding into crimson. Hearing the villagers outside whispering about the cursed girl.
The misery of that house was so heavy I could taste the dust.
A sudden memory pulled me away from the dirt lane—back to a different room, years ago, in Levinton.
Levinton.
I had been sitting by the window of our rented room, staring down at the crowded market square. I watched mothers holding their daughters' hands, fathers carrying boys on their shoulders, people laughing without fear. A hollow ache had settled in my chest, making me feel small and abandoned.
Then, warm fingers had gently touched my hair.
Kai had walked up behind me, thick white bandages wrapped around his chest and arms. With quiet care, he slipped a small yellow wildflower behind my right ear.
"Kaiser, what are you doing? You're hurt. You need to rest!"
"I couldn't just lie there while you sat by the window being sad."
"I'm not sad," I had muttered, looking away.
Kai had taken my hand in his rough, scarred palm, his blue eyes calm and unbreakable.
"Celia. Stop looking back at the past. Forget who betrayed you. Forget your parents. Forget anyone who belongs to the life you left behind. I might not know every single cut you suffered, but I know this: they are completely irrelevant now. You shouldn't care about them, because they didn't care about you."
Standing at the gate of my childhood home, those words echoed in my head.
They didn't care about you.
Kai had told me that with absolute certainty. And because I loved him more than my own life, I had carved his words into my heart. I had buried Aloria. I had buried my friends. I had even convinced myself that Lyla was dead, refusing to let myself hope or search for her, because Kai said the past was useless.
I loved him so deeply that I took his words as truth...
He told me they didn't care.
So why are they crying?
Why did Lyla spend months starving in the swamps looking for me?
Did Kai tell me that just to protect me... or was he wrong?
A terrible confusion tangled in my chest.
I stepped through the gate. "Where is my father, Elise? Tell me."
Elise stopped by the front door, tears finally spilling down her cheeks.
"He's gone, Celia," Elise choked out, her voice breaking. "He passed away years ago."
The ground felt unsteady beneath my boots. "What? How?"
Elise couldn't answer. She covered her face, weeping softly against the wooden doorframe.
Lucifer stepped up behind me, his crimson eyes scanning the house with sharp authority. "There must be a reason. What happened to him?"
Fiona pushed the front door open, her expression grim. "Don't ask about him out here. Come inside."
She led us through the small living room, past the hearth and the clean wooden dining table, straight toward the back hallway.
Toward my old bedroom.
Fiona gently pushed the bedroom door open.
I stepped over the threshold, and the breath was violently torn from my lungs.
There, resting beneath a clean linen blanket on the narrow bed, lay a woman with pale skin and tangled brown hair.
Her chest rose and fell in slow, faint, agonizingly shallow breaths.
Lyla.
My vision blurred. My legs moved before my brain could give the command.
I rushed across the room, dropping to my knees beside the bed.
"Lyla?!"
I grabbed her shoulders, shaking her with frantic, trembling hands.
"Lyla, it's me! Look at me! Lyla, wake up!"
Nothing.
Her eyelids didn't flutter. Her pale lips remained parted in a silent, unbroken slumber.
Fiona and Elise stepped slowly into the quiet bedroom, their boots scuffing against the wooden floorboards.
I didn't let go of Lyla's cold hand. I leaned over the mattress, pulling her limp fingers against my cheek.
Her skin was pale, as cold as river stone. Faint, rhythmic breaths lifted her chest, but her eyes never moved beneath their lids.
"Lyla... Lyla, wake up..." My voice broke into a jagged whisper, my fingers tightening over hers. "I-It's me... I'm here. Lyla, please..."
Nothing.
"She can't hear you, Celia," Elise said softly, her voice thick with unshed tears. "She hasn't opened her eyes in 3 years."
My head snapped up. "What happened to her?! Why is she like this?!"
Fiona leaned against the doorframe, her knuckles white as she gripped the wood.
"She came back to Aloria 3 years ago," Fiona said, her voice shaking. "She was coughing blood, burning up with fever. She had spent months scouring the northern swamps and border towns searching for any rumor of you. Her body was breaking down, but the moment she walked into this village, she refused to rest."
Fiona swallowed hard, looking toward the bed.
"She went straight to your father. She told him you weren't evil—that your awakening was an ancient curse that drove you into panic. Your father... he collapsed on the floor. He wept like a broken man, begging for a way to fix what he had done."
The air in my throat turned to glass.
"M-My... papa...?"
"He sold his fishing skiff," Elise whispered, stepping up beside me. "He sold the nets, the lumber, every copper piece he had saved. He worked day and night with Lyla. They hired traveling ward-masters and 4 seasoned elemental mages to set up protective barriers around the valley. They were turning this house into a protected area so they could bring you home and hide you from the Imperial hunters."
A sharp, dizzying vertigo spun through my head.
W-Wait... 3 years ago?
T-That doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense!
I remember being completely alone for years before Kai found me... wandering through dark ruins, starving, hunted by monsters. But if Lyla was still searching for me 3 years ago... if my father was preparing a home for me... why didn't I know?Why did I believe they had abandoned me forever?
W-Were my memories lying to me? Was my mind... manipulated?
A soft, serpentine voice whispered from the depths of my shadow.
[Mirage: My Queen... your suspicion is entirely natural. Mental seals, deep hypnotic locks, memory suppression... a high-ranking individual can shave away the edges of a person's recollections so seamlessly that the mind fills in the gaps with false despair. If someone wanted you to forget her, it is possible.]
A cold tremor rippled down my spine.
S-Someone made me forget...?
Beside me, Lucifer stood watching the comatose girl on the bed. His crimson eyes were quiet, stripped of their usual mockery.
"A father's love," Lucifer murmured, his low baritone filling the small room. "In a father's eyes, a daughter is always his princess. No 1 in this world cheers louder for your success than a father—especially when no 1 else is clapping."
The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
And then, like a door being kicked open in my mind, a memory surfaced.
A memory from before the curse. Before my hair turned white and my eyes turned red.
I was 8 years old, with tangled brown braids and dirt on my knees. I was sitting on the edge of the sun-warmed wooden pier, kicking my bare feet in the ocean surf while my papa baited our wooden fishing rods. When my line tugged hard, I pulled with all my little might, screaming that I had hooked a sea dragon.
Up came an old, dripping, seaweed-covered leather boot.
I had thrown the rod down, crossing my arms and pouting with puffed cheeks, on the verge of crying from embarrassment. But my papa had scooped me up in his strong, salt-calloused arms, laughing until his belly shook. He patted my head, clapped his hands loud enough for the whole harbor to hear, and told the other fishermen that his Stella had caught the most stubborn prize in the bay.
Tears spilled over my eyelashes, hot and burning.
"B-But... why?" My voice cracked into a desperate sob. "Why would he do that for me...? Why would he go that far after I destroyed everything?!"
"Because a parent's love knows no distance, Celia," Lucifer said softly, looking down at me. "It can be blind, stubborn, and twisted by guilt, but it does not easily die."
"Y-You're lying..." I choked out, clutching Lyla's limp fingers against my chest. "He really... he really wanted me back that much...?"
"He did," Fiona cried, tears streaming freely down her face. "He talked about you every single day, Celia. Every single day!"
My heart tore in 2.
"Then where is he?!" I screamed, turning toward Fiona with wild, desperate eyes. "If he wanted me back so badly, why isn't he here?! Why did he leave you?! Why did he leave Lyla like this?!"
Fiona flinched as if I had struck her. Her face drained of all color, collapsing into raw agony.
"He didn't leave, Celia!" Fiona sobbed, her hands shaking violently. "He didn't leave! Someone killed him!"
The world stopped.
K-Killed...?
"W-What...?" My voice was barely a breath. "Who... who killed him?"
"A monster," Fiona wept, clutching her collar. "3 years ago... right when the mages finished the protective wards... he came."
Her fingers dug into the pale puncture scar on her throat.
"We had 4 A-rank battle mages and a squad of seasoned ward-masters guarding the village perimeter. But that person walked right through the barrier. He slaughtered all of them. He drove his dagger through their throats, severed their limbs, and decapitated them in seconds."
Fiona's chest hitched in a terrified, ragged gasp.
"I was in the square when he broke through. I saw him cutting down the mages... I froze... I was so terrified I couldn't even scream. He stepped up to me... and drove his dagger straight into my neck."
My breath hitched in horror.
"He stabbed me with cold, ruthless killing intent," Fiona cried, tears washing over her trembling chin. "He left me to bleed out in the dirt. Elise ran out from the cellar and poured every drop of her healing mana into my neck to close the wound... but she ran out of mana. She couldn't save the others."
Elise fell to her knees beside me, burying her face in her hands, her sobs echoing off the stone walls.
"Lyla fought him," Fiona continued, her voice trembling with horror. "She tried to protect the house. But he struck her down, shattering her and putting her into this eternal slumber. And your father..."
Fiona choked on her own breath, unable to speak for 2 agonizing seconds.
"That monster dragged your father into the dirt. He demanded to know where you were. Your father didn't know your exact location, but he had the letters, the maps, the scout reports... and he refused to give them up. He refused to give that monster your trail."
A horrific pit opened in my stomach.
"So that beast tortured him," Fiona whispered in broken anguish. "He broke his arms and legs 1 by 1 in front of our burning cottages. And when your father still refused to speak... he slit his throat and burned the bodies in a massive pyre."
My knees gave out completely.
I hit the floorboards with a dull thud, clutching my head as my vision fractured into blinding static.
N-No... no, no, no...
Papa... tortured...? Murdered because he was trying to protect me...?
"Why...?!" I screamed into the empty room, tears dripping off my chin like rain. "Why would someone do that?! A-A monster... who could be that cruel?!"
"Yes," Fiona wept. "A monster. A heartless demon."
Lucifer stepped forward, his eyes narrowing to razor-sharp crimson slits. The air around him dropped 10 degrees.
"How did he look?" Lucifer demanded, his voice cutting through our cries. "What kind of magic did he use?"
Fiona shook her head violently.
"He didn't use magic." She whispered.
Lucifer's brow furrowed. "What?"
"He didn't use a single drop of mana," Fiona said, her voice shaking with bone-deep terror. "No spells. No elements. He only carried 1 small dagger. He butchered high-ranking mages using pure physical speed and overwhelming brute strength. He moved like an executioner who had rehearsed killing thousands of times."
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
P-Pure physical strength...? 1 dagger...? No magic...?
"How old was he?" Lucifer asked, his tone darkening.
"Young," Fiona choked out. "He looked younger than me. Maybe 14 or 15 at the time. A boy."
A cold, suffocating dread closed around my throat like an iron vise.
14 or 15...?
N-No...
"And his eyes," Fiona whispered, shuddering as she hugged her arms. "I will never forget his eyes as long as I live. The village was burning around him, bodies were stacked in the square, and he just stood there with a completely blank face. Like none of us were human beings. Like we were just trash he was cleaning off the road."
She looked up at the ceiling, her tears falling fast.
"Those cold, piercing blue eyes. They still haunt my nightmares. Cold blue eyes."
My hands began to shake violently.
The blood drained from my face so fast my lips went completely numb.
C-Cold blue eyes...
N-No magic... physical speed... 1 dagger... 3 years ago...
"Celia. Stop looking back at the past. Forget who betrayed you. Forget your parents. They are completely irrelevant now. You shouldn't care about them, because they didn't care about you..."
The memory of Kai's voice echoed in my skull like thunder.
N-No...
P-Please... no...
"N-No..." I stammered, my teeth chattering as I backed away from the bed, my fingernails digging into the floorboards. "N-No... h-he wouldn't... Kai wouldn't do that... h-he's gentle... h-he loves and cares about me... h-he protected me..."
Lucifer slowly turned his head to look down at me. His crimson eyes widened slightly, realizing the horrifying connection forming in my mind.
Fiona didn't notice my breakdown. She wiped her cheeks, continuing in a raspy, exhausted voice:
"When Kiel returned to the village months later, I tried to draw the killer's face from memory. Kiel took the sketch to every nearby guild. But the guilds laughed at him. They said the only person in their registry who matched that description was a nobody. An E-rank adventurer registered in the eastern province."
Fiona let out a bitter, weeping laugh.
"An E-rank! How could an E-rank butcher 4 battle mages and burn a village with a single knife? Kiel said it was impossible. He said the sketch had to be wrong."
My entire chest seized.
I couldn't breathe. My throat was closing up.
I grabbed Fiona's sleeve with trembling, desperate fingers, pulling myself up until my tear-stained face was inches from hers.
"W-What was his name...?" I begged, my voice trembling so hard the words barely held together. "F-Fiona, please... please tell me what name was on that paper..."
Please don't say it.
Please... kill me right now, but don't say that name.
Fiona blinked through her tears, struggling to remember the old guild report.
"I... I don't remember the full registry," Fiona whispered.
"Kiel only said it once. It was... something like Kaiser."
Kaiser.
The word struck my soul like a falling mountain.
My vision exploded into static.
My hands slipped from Fiona's sleeve, falling limp against my lap. My breath caught in my throat in a silent, suffocating gasp.
Kaiser.
He didn't just tell me they didn't care.
He made sure they couldn't.
He tracked down the people who were trying to bring me home... he slaughtered the mages... he put Lyla into an eternal coma... and he broke my papa's bones in the dirt before slitting his throat.
All so I would have no one left in this world... except him.
...
Just so... he can use me... like he does now?
My hands shook uncontrollably against my knees. Tears poured silently down my cheeks, soaking the silk of my dress.
My lips parted, but all that escaped my chest was a broken, shattered whisper:
"Why...?"
*
Miles away, across the kingdom in the capital city of Sylvaris.
The late afternoon sun was swallowed by heavy, dark clouds rolling in from the western sea.
Kaiser walked down the crowded cobblestone boulevard, his hands resting easily in the pockets of his dark coat. The city noise washed over him—merchants shouting prices, carriages clattering against stone, children laughing as they ran home before the storm.
He stopped near the corner of an alleyway, tilting his head up toward the grey sky.
A brisk, cold wind ruffled his dark hair.
Looks like it'll start storming soon.
He resumed his steady pace, his expression completely calm, neutral, and unbothered by the gathering winds.
In this world, people spent too much time demanding explanations. They wanted reasons. They wanted apologies, justifications, and pretty words to soften the blows of reality.
None of it mattered.
The only thing that ever mattered was results—clean, absolute results that secured what belonged to you, and eliminated every threat that could ever tear it away.
A cold droplet of rain fell from the sky, landing softly on Kaiser's cheek.
I wonder... how Celia and Lucas were holding up.
Knowing Celia... she probably was thinking about me... Obsessed little girl.
At least she's enjoying herself... I am glad.
He didn't wipe it away.
A faint, quiet smile touched the corner of his lips.
I like the rain...