As if the rumor that the 0th Corps Commander was suffering from a high fever was true, the gatekeepers could not help but stiffen in shock at the intense heat they felt from him as he passed by.
'No matter how you look at it... you should go to your room and rest rather than the library...'
Putting aside the worries of the gatekeepers who couldn't reach him, Deon Hardt entered the library.
The librarian on one side saw him and jumped up, but Deon passed him as if he didn't even see him and stood in front of a familiar bookshelf.
He was able to find the book he was aiming for without difficulty.
[Information about the heroes of the current Empire.]
[Author(s): Idelia, Dvelania]
He had urged Idelia and Dvelania to provide information about Cruel. If they didn't have it, he uncharacteristically forced himself to scrap it together and give it to them. The answer was that it would take a long time due to the vast scope, but even that was forced to shorten the time.
He had no intention of sitting still while the two of them moved to gather information.
Deon reached out and took out a book. He skipped the previous content at random and stop at the part where Cruel's portrait appeared. His eyes met with familiar green eyes.
[(Former) Fourth hero. Cruel Hardt. (Currently deceased. Information to be deleted.)]
[Known to be related by blood to the third hero, Deon Hardt. Although he is known not as a person of the Emperor, but as a person of the Duke who opposes him...]
Yes, he closed the book here in the past.
It took strength in his hands. Deon read the following without even blinking.
[... He acts as if he is suppressing the Duke's orders rather than following him faithfully, such as distorting or offsetting them.]
There was no way the Duke would have entrusted Cruel with handling important information, so even if the orders were given, they would be of the type to kill or bury someone.
So who was the person the Duke mainly wanted to kill?
Although his head was not working well due to the heat from the fever, Deon was able to find an answer even in that situation.
"...Haha."
He just laughed.
"Hahaha... Ahahaha!!"
'I feel like I'm going crazy. I'm really going crazy.'
He never thought he would resent the head that praised Cruel for being so smart when he was young.
If he had read this when Cruel was alive, he would have laughed it off and wondered if that person would be himself. Then, unable to overcome his discomfort, he began to investigate.
The Duke, who gives orders to harm someone, and Cruel, who acted as a filter between them.
And since Cruel died protecting Deon, the suspicion that arose from the first clue was put to rest.
There could be no clearer evidence than this.
Deon laughed maniacally, spitting out the blood that was surging out with tears.
It was him.
He was protecting him.
From the perspective of the head of the aristocratic faction, who would be the most annoying person?
He was known as one of the Emperor's favorite swords and his faithful dog. Unlike other heroes who act openly, he moved secretly, making it difficult to predict where he will land.
Wasn't that Deon Hardt?
"Then why did you do that?"
Habits built up over ten years of trying to ignore the truth that was difficult to handle. When he consciously stopped this, the direction of his thoughts reversed and he chose to blame Cruel.
Because there were still unanswered questions.
"Why did you send me to war?"
If you were going to die like that, then you'd better not abandon me. When did you send me to the battlefield and why are you trying to protect me now?
Did he feel guilty later? Then Deon didn't have to feel guilty. It was probably just an action to alleviate the guilt of an abominable hypocrite.
"Demon."
"... Demon King."
He raised his head, feeling a little dazed.
The Demon King, seeing Deon's face filled with all kinds of indescribable emotions, including anger, frustration, and guilt, slowly lowered his gaze as if assessing the state of his body. The clothes soaked in cold sweat were a sight to behold, but when white feet wearing nothing came into view, he clicked his tongue.
Even though he spoke as if he hadn't seen anything for a while.
"I heard you asked for information about Cruel Hardt."
"..."
"The kids were amazed at the vast scope..."
He looked into the red eyes with deep saturation.
"Did you say that because you really couldn't specify the range you wanted, or was it because you couldn't tell them the range you wanted?"
"..."
"It's the latter."
It may be difficult to think clearly when you're so heated, but it's helpful to know what to say and what not to say.
Seeing Deon with new eyes, the Demon King couldn't just leave the patient he saved for a moment like this, so he smiled softly to reassure the other person.
"Then tell me. It's okay if it's me, right?"
"..."
"I'll help you."
Perhaps because he felt a little relieved, Deon's senses were overtaken by the heat and he staggered closer to the Demon King. He raised his trembling hand and grabbed the Demon King's collar as if he was hanging on, and he stuttered to open his mouth.
Like a child, unfinished sentences came out randomly.
"So, Cruel died instead of me... We obviously had a bad relationship..."
"... Aha."
The Demon King, who had carefully picked up the gibberish words and put them together, realized what was happening and let out a low exclamation.
"Okay. I will investigate."
"Thank you..."
"So let's get some sleep for now."
He didn't touch him directly. He was just grabbed by the collar, but the air touching his skin was hot. How did he walk all the way here in this condition? And barefoot, at that.
He touched Deon's forehead with his fingertips. Only after slowly closing his eyes and lifting him up as he fell did the Demon King remember that his magical power was no longer what it used to be.
'Before, even if I used this level of magic, I didn't feel anything at all.'
Now he could feel his magic power decreasing a little.
Still, he rolled his eyes again and looked at the poor human, thinking that he should restrain himself from using the magic he had already used for Deon Hardt.
Even though he was asleep, he narrowed his eyebrows and was breathing heavily, as if he was suffering from a nightmare.
"Deon Hardt."
He softly whispered his name as if to check that he was asleep.
"Do you know when humans break?"
He lived as a Demon King for a long time, and saw the corruption of countless people.
Or, rather. It would be more correct to say 'broken' rather than 'corrupted'.
"It's when they lose something precious."
Precisely when there was nothing left to lose.
When people are cornered and can't even breathe, they are completely broken and corrupted. There will never be another person as scary as them.
He quietly whispered cruel facts as if he were reading a book.
"You lost the only person who truly cared for you."
It will probably be difficult to find a person like him ever again.
Who would want to give their all for others?
"Poor Deon."
The Demon King laughed quietly.
"You're really alone now."
***
'Bring the information to me first before you bring it to Demon.'
After receiving the information from Idelia and Dvelania and organizing it appropriately, the Demon King went to Deon Hardt with only a single document summarizing everything.
Knowing exactly what information Deon Hardt wanted, he asked everyone in the room to leave and without hesitation placed the document in his hand on Deon's lap.
"The amount of information Dvelania and Idelia sought is so vast that it seems dfficult for you to read it, so I summarized it. Is this the information you wanted?"
"..."
Deon sat on the bed and looked at the Demon King for a moment, then picked up the paper on his lap. His red, bloodshot eyes began to read the letters.
The whites of his eyes, which were fine until he read the first letter, were only a little bloodshot, but as they moved back and forth, veins appeared and the corners of his eyes turned red. Was it because he's sad?
... No, this was anger.
"Ha haha..."
A terrible murderous intent towards oneself.
Originally, Cruel was supposed to participate in the Eight Year War. The documents were changed in the middle and he had to go.
"I..."
The cause was the Duke. He forged the papers and sent him away instead of Cruel.
The family he killed with his own hands sent several documents to the Imperial palace requesting corrections in the early stages of the war to bring him back, but they all remained silent, so there was nothing they could do.
Of course, the person who cut off communication between them was also the Duke.
"What have I done?"
He wanted to kill himself.
He wanted to die. He wanted to send this useless body to death in the most cruel way right now, but he couldn't easily end the life that Cruel had saved by sacrificing himself.
Deon Hardt, who closed his eyes to drown out his emotions, was unable to hold on and threw the first thing he could get his hands on to the floor, forgetting that he was in front of the Demon King.
Shatter!
A flower pot thrown into the air shattered and shards flew out. Deon looked at a large piece of debris that had ended up on top of his blanket, then stretched out his hand.
The attempt to grab it failed due to the Demon King's actions, which stopped him by grabbing his wrist. Thanks to this, Deon seemed to have come to his senses a little and looked up to follow the hand holding his wrist and made eye contact with the Demon King. The red eyes were overflowing with suppressed murderous intent and anger.
"... Did the Emperor know this?"
Hmm. The Demon King let go of his hand, crossed his arms, and tilted his head to one side.
He intentionally left out the information about 'why the Duke did what he did', but he really didn't ask. Well, he probably didn't have time to think about that right now.
Well, it didn't matter because it's good for him.
"He even worked as a businessman, so there's no way he wouldn't know."
"Haha."
Deon slowly wiped his face.
'I think I know why Cruel said that.'
If he hadn't knocked down the 'wall' in advance, when he got the current information, the wall that had reached its limit would have collapsed and he would have been even more stressed than he was now.
"Cough."
It's a truth and stress that even he, who had already knocked down the wall and managed to compose himself slightly, couldn't handle, but what would it have been like if it had been combined with what was pushed in by the wall collapsing?
'You protect me even in death.'
The more he knew, the more murderous intent he had towards himself, so what should he do?
He couldn't easily throw away the life Cruel saved.
As his anger reached its peak, he become calmer. Instead of throwing things or screaming again, Deon quietly raised his head and looked into space.
'Hyung.'
Sorry.
He knew that he didn't have the right to apologize and that there's nothing he could do by just saying he's sorry, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.
'I shouldn't think like this anymore.'
Really.
'I want to die.'
As if the suppressed emotions had been replaced by blood, a metallic liquid gushed down his throat. After hearing the Demon King click his tongue and say, "Oh my..." at the unexpectedly large amount, Deon surrendered himself obediently to the darkness encroaching on his consciousness.
***
The world made up of misunderstandings and illusions was shattered.
***
As soon as Deon Hardt regained consciousness, he started looking for the Demon King.
The Demon King quietly looked up at Deon, who was standing in front of his office desk as solemnly as when he submitted his resignation letter, and picked up a nearby communication stone. A few signals went through and someone received the communication.
"Ben, come to my office door right away."
"Yes? Where are you hurt?!"
"No. And don't be confused as it is not the office but 'in front of the office door.' Wait there until you're called."
A sense of puzzlement at the incomprehensible command was clearly conveyed through the communication stone, but since he was not the person he should be concerned about, the Demon King ignored it and hung up.
After putting down the communication stone, he raised his head again and looked at Deon. Their eyes met and his dark eyes hid under his eyelids, which were curved like crescent moons.
"Then I'll ask you now."
"...."
"What brought you here?"
Even though he's not feeling well.