Chapter 12

I was tired of clichéd evil.

I hated stereotypical villains.

I believed that even villains should have dignity.

Just as those on the side of justice pursue pure goodness rather than money, fame, or power, I wanted to chase pure evil without being distracted by wealth, honor, or authority.

The soaring flames, the screams of confusion from people, and the maniacal roars of the evildoers who caused such fires were all things I disliked. The outdated acts of villainy felt stale and boring.

Thus, I began to smile cheerfully, unifying all my emotional expressions into laughter regardless of whether my plans succeeded or failed, or if I felt joy or sorrow. This was the beginning of Joker.

But then, as I kept running and running—

The Demon King, who should’ve been leading ahead, had gone astray.

The Duchess of the West, who ran alongside me, is floundering in the river of conscience.

The moronic hero has broken himself and become a hypocrite.

It’s truly a lamentable situation. Though it holds little meaning for me now with only a day left.

“Lord Joker.”

“What is it?”

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“Does it look like I am? Can’t you even see what’s in front of you?”

“The breathing, demeanor, and temperature of living beings reveal much emotion.”

“You’re quite the know-it-all, Saintess.”

The Saintess knelt and crawled toward me on her knees as usual, with a benevolent smile that was worlds apart from mine.

“If I were to give you a gift, would it lift your spirits?”

With that, she rummaged through her robes.

“Another bread? I’m not particularly interested in bread soaked with your scent.”

“Hehe, though that would be fine too.”

Something surprisingly heavy landed on my chest. Lowering my head, I saw its silhouette illuminated by the light emanating from the Saintess.

“It’s a treasure I’ve cherished my whole life.”

“A treasure? What’s this nonsense?”

“Please accept it. It represents my sincerity, faith, and love.”

“How can something so stained and dirty be considered a treasure? Is this how treasures are managed these days?”

“In that case, please clean it for me someday.”

What she handed me was a rosary. The black rosary she always held while praying.

Giving this to a demon, a wicked creation of the Demon God—was she asking me to smash it?

“Are you just handing it over to me because you’re too lazy to wash it now?”

“Do I seem like someone who would do that? I feel a little hurt.”

“Yeah, you do seem like that.”

“Pfft.”

The Saintess covered her mouth and let out a soft laugh.

And so did I. It was hilariously absurd to be exchanging such calm jokes with the Sun Saintess Maria, the strongest and most virtuous person on the continent, just a day before my execution.

“Keeheehee-.”

“Such a clear laugh. It sounds pleasant.”

“This is the first time someone has spoken positively about my laughter.”

“Because it carries your sincerity.”

I didn’t mind this trivial conversation.

To me, who had no family, no friends, and whose only visitor was the Demon King, the Saintess, my classmate from Tartarus, had quickly become deeply important within just seven days.

“Saintess, shall I tell you the story of when I laughed for the first time?”

“I’d like that.”

“It’s not a very moving story. It’s more of a damn comedy. And somewhat perverted too.”

Like a wandering bard recounting a grand heroic tale, I began my narration.

At the mention of the word ‘perverted,’ the Saintess blushed and covered her face with her palms, her ears perking up.

“It happened not long after my parents got married. They were passing through the northern part of the Demon Realm. Of course, I wasn’t born yet at that time.”

“That’s a very old story.”

“Right. Apparently, my mother was quite beautiful. She caught the eye of the Demon Realm police. Naturally, demons, when overwhelmed by desire, can’t control themselves. The police were no exception.”

The Saintess remained silent, sensing that the story I was telling was far from pleasant.

“They arrested my father, accusing him of being a spy sent by the empire. Then they threatened my mother, saying they would execute my father unless she spent a passionate night with them.”

“…”

“There was nothing she could do. My mother loved my father dearly. Eventually, she gave in. But those bastards turned out to be even crueler than expected. Despite promising just one night, they held onto my mother for several days without letting her go.”

“…”

Seeing the Saintess stiffen like a rock, I continued smugly.

“After all that was done, my father was eventually released. It seemed they never intended to kill him. Both my parents maintained silence about that incident. Things went on like that for a few months… until an incident occurred.”

“…”

“Well, my mother’s belly started to swell, didn’t it? Obviously, the child inside wasn’t my father’s.”

“…!”

“It seems it came as quite a shock. My mother, who had endured so much, hanged herself a week before childbirth. My father wept uncontrollably beside her. But then, the stomach of my mother, hanging from the tree, began to split open.”

The pale expression of the Saintess. Growing up in a privileged sect, surrounded by love, how would she react to this terrible and dark story?

I was extremely curious. While it might be called cruel, what can I do? I am, after all, a demon.

“That’s how I was born. According to my father, I was apparently laughing while covered in my mother’s blood. Keekeekee, isn’t that a damn comedy?”

I asked with a flick of my tongue.

Indeed, indeed—how will our noble and innocent Saintess react?

By the time I was getting impatient waiting for her response,

“Lord Joker, wasn’t it that last time you mentioned your mother was beheaded by dragons?”

An unexpected answer came back.

Ah, you remembered that offhand story?

“What is the truth? Who was your mother really…?”

Sensing confusion in her tone, I felt deflated and teased her playfully.

“Hey, Saintess.”

“Yes.”

“Why so serious?”

“Excuse me?”

“Whether this is the truth or that is the truth, or if there’s a third version of the story that’s true, it’s all in the past, isn’t it?”

The Saintess looked stunned, as if hit on the head with a hammer. Oh, that reaction was kind of fun too.

“Kickkick, just laugh off other people’s pasts. Whether it’s a tragedy or a comedy, it’s none of your business. After all, the world is just a third-rate comedy play.”

I burst into giggles, enjoying having toyed with her.

Then, instead of snapping back, the Saintess moved closer and placed my head in her bosom again.

Haa, the good mood’s gone again. It’s getting tiresome to keep telling her to stop.

“No matter how much it’s a joke, you shouldn’t say things like that.”

“That’s just your opinion.”

“I think the reason Lord Joker can make such lighthearted jokes is because you haven’t received enough love.”

“Completely wrong. I’ve received plenty of love.”

“Nevertheless, never forget this. Even if the world abandons you, even if it shows only cold and harshness—”

Cooock.

“Only I will love you—”

Now familiar warmth enveloped my face. Breathing in, I smelled her scent.

At that moment, I felt an indescribable sense of shame. That I unconsciously thought her scent was pleasant.

As a demon, it was highly embarrassing.

*****

Crack.

“Ouch.”

“Are you in pain? Could you specify which part hurts?”

“My whole body does. Because of what we talked about last time.”

“Oh, sorry. If my love had been a bit more sincere, I could’ve healed you…”

“Enough, anyway, tomorrow it’ll all be over.”

The Saintess gazed at me with bandaged eyes. I wonder if behind them lay fierce pupils or just empty voids.

Suddenly, I became curious.

“To take others’ pain is my role… but I’m useless.”

“Why suddenly putting yourself down?”

“I’m ashamed.”

“Just your presence here helps a lot, so stop blaming yourself.”

“Really?”

“During the past 104 days, while I was stuck with Kelt and his grim self, how lonely was I? Do you know, Saintess?”

“Ah…”

Wait, did I just catch a glimpse of hope flickering and fading in the Saintess’s demeanor? Was it just my imagination?

“Saintess.”

“Yes.”

“Can I speak freely?”

“Haven’t you been doing that already?”

“So, I’m just asking for permission properly.”

“Who knew the great Lord Joker sought permission for such things.”

“Why, actually, I’m a polite villain when you get to know me.”

The Saintess asked back, surprised.

“Is that so?”

“Of course, I stuff shotguns into the mouths of strangers I meet for the first time, sing lullabies kindly before killing them, and show so much consideration. I’m so polite, my dragons nicknamed me ‘Mannerly Demon.'”

“…”

“Kick.”

Ah, teasing the Saintess is always fun. It’s the only time her ever-present smile disappears.

Squeak.

Clank.

“Sister Saintess, it’s mealtime.”

Kelt stepped into Tartarus, pushing open the iron door with a creak.

“Sister Saintess, why don’t you call my name? Are you discriminating against prisoners?”

“…”

Normally, Kelt would respond with a playful “Yeah, I’m discriminating,” knowing I have no right to complain.

“Sorry, here’s your bread.”

But today, Kelt handed me my meal solemnly, without throwing it or dropping it, treating it with unusual respect.

“And here’s milk, soup, and sandwiches I specially requested from the chef. The butter and jam were bought with my own money.”

Thud.

Even the menu was unusually rich compared to usual. All my favorite breads, discovered during our idle chats, were included. There was even rye bread.

“Why didn’t you give this much normally?”

“Sorry.”

“Joke. Ghosts who eat well look prettier, so if breakfast comes like this tomorrow, that’d be nice.”

“There won’t be breakfast tomorrow. They said I might throw up on the guillotine if I’m too nervous… understand?”

“Puha ha ha ha!”

Kelt’s somber words were followed by an unexpectedly vulgar burst of laughter that didn’t match the gloomy atmosphere.

Nervous? Vomit? Who? Me, Joker Oscar Lucifer? Sister Saintess Maria?

“Aha ha.”

Apparently finding it funny too, the Saintess joined in with her clear laughter. Only Kelt remained silent.

“Kelt, why aren’t you laughing?”

“How can you two be so composed facing death…?”

“Isn’t it a happy occasion worth celebrating that two notorious criminals will soon leave this world?”

“Tch.”

“So laugh. You should laugh on happy occasions. If you see us laughing after we die, consider it hypocrisy and curse us with filthy spirits.”

But no matter how much I teased, Kelt wouldn’t budge. He delivered the Saintess’s meal with a heavy face and left Tartarus with the same expression.

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