Chapter 10 - The Demon and the Witch (1)

Someone he wanted to kill, or someone who deserved to die.

The Demon had told him to choose such a person, but the boy found it difficult to name anyone. He had never wanted to kill anyone before. And choosing someone who deserved death? That would be impossible. He was no head of a house or judge with the authority to order an execution. He was merely a child.

Raguel spoke, flustered.

"Th-there couldn't possibly be anyone like that."

"There's no one you want dead?"

"O-of course not!"

"How strange. I thought you'd have a hit list by now."

"Just what do you take me for...?"

The indignant boy's expression was utterly open and innocent. Having read the original novel, Yohan found this a little puzzling.

Raguel's actions had been far from virtuous. Expelled from his house, the boy gradually fell apart until he finally took the path of a villain. A third-rate villain in the opening chapters. That should have been the extent of his role, yet so far, Yohan could barely find a trace of malice in him.

It must have been a limitation of the original novel. Without any portrayal of his thoughts or circumstances, readers had never had a chance to judge Raguel for themselves.

Yohan said, "I took you for a miserable wretch. I expected you to hold at least some grudge against those who tormented you."

The boy shook his head.

"Go out into the streets. Starving orphans, wandering slash-and-burn farmers, vagrants shivering in the cold. You'll encounter them several times a day."

"Are you trying to say you're happier than they are?"

"Rather than happier, it's simply true that I'm better off. I have a home, food, and..."

The boy trailed off. He cast a sidelong glance at Yohan with his blind eyes, then lowered his head again.

"Never mind. At any rate, I'm not unhappy enough to want anyone dead."

"A pity. I'd hoped to take your revenge for you and put you in my debt."

"You really are a Demon."

"You could say that."

A brief silence fell. Raguel spoke first.

"Why did you ask? It wasn't really to settle my grudges for me. Are you planning to kill someone...?"

"You needn't concern yourself. I'll get back to reading to you."

There was no reason to tell the boy.

"But still!"

"Enough. This conversation is over."

Yohan opened Kazan's biography again. As he read aloud, he lost himself in thought.

He absolutely needed a sacrifice. Who would do? Someone whose disappearance would cause little trouble, and whose death would help move things along.

One person came to mind.

'She'll do nicely.'

He could also use her to establish a connection with Ilea.

* * *

Betra the prostitute dug into her ear with a bright red fingernail. It kept itching, as though someone were talking about her.

"Sheesh, a few days without washing and I'm a complete mess."

Muttering, she brought her finger before her eyes. Yellow crumbs were packed beneath the red nail.

"Ugh."

It was filthy, but she didn't care. There was no one she needed to impress. The Baron was the only person whose opinion concerned her, and lately she hardly ever saw him. She couldn't even join him for meals. Holed up in his room, he summoned only Ilea to sit with him when mealtimes came. Betra had absolutely no reason to dress up or make herself pretty.

She blew the earwax off her finger. The crumbs scattered onto the cold floor. A few clumps also landed on the face of a kneeling girl.

Horrified, Rowen brushed the filth away. It was a quick movement, but Betra spotted it.

"How dare you move!"

She shrieked and rose from her chair. The thirty children being punished alongside Rowen flinched.

"You stupid, useless bitch!"

Betra raised her hand high and began striking Rowen's head.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

After beating her like a madwoman, she grabbed her hair and shook her head from side to side. With every passing moment, her accumulated stress melted away. A whore lived on attention, and the Baron's indifference had made her even more hysterical.

It was all the Baron's fault. No, Ilea's.

"Die! Die!"

Rowen pressed her hands together and pleaded desperately.

"I-I'm sorry! Mother, please forgive me!"

"If you've done wrong, you deserve punishment!"

The prostitute paid no heed to the child's pitiful cries. She beat her indiscriminately. Just as she was about to start kicking her as well, someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

Betra whipped her head around, her face contorted. Who dared!

"Mother, you're going too far."

It was Ilea. She wore a faint smile. That peculiar smile always grated on Betra.

"... What?"

"I said you're being excessive."

The little bitch had taken to openly defying her lately. With the Baron behind her, she acted as though the whole world belonged to her. It was utterly insufferable.

Betra didn't like the looks in the tribute girls' eyes, either. They gazed at Ilea in relief, as though some hero had arrived.

Her fury twisted her guts, but she did her best to compose herself. She couldn't hurt Ilea.

The muscles in her face twitched as she spoke.

"... It's an expression of love."

Ilea looked down at the floor. Rowen was crying, her hair disheveled.

"If you love her, take care of her. No one has any use for broken goods."

Betra gave an incredulous laugh.

"Hah. Goods?"

Ilea nodded.

"We're all the Baron's property, aren't we?"

Then she pointed at Rowen.

"And you've damaged his property, Mother."

Betra's patience was cracking. With so many years between them, how dare this girl play such word games with her? She clenched her fists tightly.

"... Damaged? This is education."

Ilea smiled gently and shook her head.

"Washing a filthy rag won't make it fit to use as a towel. You're proof enough of that, Mother. So don't soil them in the first place."

Once a whore, always a whore. Betra had settled here after her wandering days, but she still lived a prostitute's life.

"Do you understand?"

It struck a nerve.

Her face twisted. Veins bulged across her forehead. She could bear no more.

"Y-you ill-bred bitch!"

She raised her hand. Just as she was about to bring it down, Ilea's eyes turned pitch-black. Their blue centers were gone, shrouded in a deep darkness.

Betra froze.

The shadow she had just seen was already gone, but it remained vivid in her mind. Those weren't human eyes. A Demon she had seen in the royal capital long ago had had eyes like that. They had been so chilling that she had frozen stiff.

Now was no different.

Ilea tilted her head.

"Mother, are you feeling unwell?"

Her innocent expression made the contrast horrifying. Betra backed away.

"Y-you..."

"Oh dear, you look terribly pale. You should get some rest."

With that, Ilea turned to the children.

"Now, shall we all get up? Mother isn't feeling well, so that's all for today's lesson. Everyone, return to your quarters."

The children glanced between Ilea and Betra, then rose one by one. They lined up in a straight row as usual.

— Mother's grace has reached heaven. Great Saint Marziel.

They bowed at the waist and filed out of the study. Betra couldn't stop them. What she had seen still lingered. Ilea bowed to her as she stood there frozen.

"Then I wish you a restful night."

She, too, left the enclosed room.

* * *

Ilea was headed somewhere different from the tribute girls. She crossed the courtyard and made her way underground.

Her expression subdued, she murmured, "I believe I told you not to come out without permission."

A snicker immediately followed.

"My apologies. I was too excited. Don't you feel the same? That demonic energy smelled positively delicious."

Someone had released demonic energy a short while ago. It had been faint, but more than enough for a witch and a Demon to sense.

The shrill voice added with a cackle, "Rich, but unrefined. In other words, an imp of excellent blood. Such a delectable morsel has this old woman's mouth watering already."

Every Demon went through infancy. However formidable its bloodline, an imp was nothing more than prey for other Demons. The crone spirit couldn't help being excited.

"If I capture and devour it, you too will gain demonic energy of the finest quality, Mistress. A blessing dropped right into our laps."

A blessing? Ilea thought a little differently.

The imp probably hadn't left a trace by accident. It was clearly luring her in. She could infer that from the nature of its demonic energy.

When demonic energy served as a medium for possessing someone or forming a contract, it invariably contained impurities, like an exhaled breath.

This was different.

The demonic energy from earlier had been remarkably pure. There was no trace of it having been used. It had simply been scattered into the air to no purpose.

Who would do such a thing? Had a newborn imp been experimenting with its demonic energy, Ilea could have understood to some extent.

But she doubted this one had done that.

With two contractors already in tow, it was a Demon well versed in handling demonic energy. It wouldn't make such a foolish mistake.

That made its intentions clear.

I'm here. Come.

"... Hmm."

Did it intend to enter her service? Ilea weighed the crone spirit against the imp.

A fully grown petty spirit and an imp with a bright future. They weren't even worth comparing. The scales had already tipped all the way to one side before she put either on them.

Ilea made up her mind.

She would feed the crone spirit to the imp.

Of course, she might be getting ahead of herself. It was all conjecture. The imp's exact intentions were difficult to discern.

Whether or not she knew what her mistress was thinking, the crone spirit was beside herself with excitement. She even began to sing. Fortunately, the sound didn't escape into the outside world, but it echoed inside Ilea's head.

It was a revolting melody. The witch found it irritating.

"I hope the imp wants me."

She wanted a replacement.

Only then did the crone spirit catch on to her mood and fall silent.

"... My apologies."

"It's all right. Some people are stupid."

With that, Ilea came to an abrupt halt before the spiral staircase. She had visited this place several times.

"The imp chose this place too."

The crone spirit answered meekly.

"... Well, this is the only place the forbidden library could be."

"True. Though we couldn't find it."

"Th-that was entirely due to my own inadequacy."

"Well then, shall we see how capable the imp is?"

Ilea stepped forward. She descended lightly, one step at a time. The deeper she went, the more her surroundings sank into darkness. The torch at the entrance couldn't reach these underground depths. No one ever used this passage. There would be no reason to keep it lit.

When she reached complete darkness, her footsteps stopped. All around her was silence. The smell of mold stung her nose.

"Let's have a look."

FWOOSH.

A small flame blossomed in the darkness. It flickered like an oil lamp. One by one, the lights multiplied, studding the dark.

The interior slowly brightened. Cobwebs glistened in the reflected light. Hazy dust drifted through the air. A cylindrical space encircled by bookshelves. The vast underground library revealed itself.

Ilea stared straight ahead. A pair of glowing red eyes looked back at her.

The Demon seated on the round table spoke.

"Ah, witch. You've come."

He pointed to a chair.

"Sit here."