Chapter 29

In the hearts of all living beings, there lies something base—a desire.

Like when a guy spots a passing beauty and daydreams about how he might bed her. Or when a wealthy man looks down on a beggar, basking in his psychological superiority. Or conversely, when the beggar plots how to steal that wealth for himself.

It’s embarrassing, sure—something we wouldn’t admit to others—but it’s not wrong. Humans, demons, elves, monsters—all are born with these primal urges. Why else would our Lord create life and infuse it with desire? There’s always a deeper meaning.

But as living beings form societies, they learn to suppress these desires. They hide their sticky, unsightly wants deep inside and wear masks instead.

I strip those masks away. More specifically, I gently coax out the base desires lurking beneath. Greed for those who crave greed, lust for those who seek lust, pleasure for those who yearn for pleasure.

Most desires are hard to fulfill, but I’m a magician—a villain of fantasy who turns impossibilities into miracles.

Once people become aware of their desires, they’re consumed by them, unable to escape. And I like that. It’s a kind of trade: they give me joy, and I give them pleasure.

That’s why I long for anarchy. Society blocks natural savagery, and while it may be efficient and moral, it just doesn’t look good.

There was only one person I ever met without any dirty desires. Even the few truly good people I’ve seen—like the ‘Hero’ who eventually succumbed to corruption—still had some darkness. But she… she was unforgettable.

Saintess Maria.

Her basest desire? Simply to kiss me. Not base at all, really—kind of cute, even.

As a living being, I have desires too. Mine is to have fun, playing around while spreading evil across the world. Always chasing something that feels just out of reach, something that could make me whole.

“Phew… That was fun. Feels so refreshing.”

Today, I got my revenge. The finale, “Cross Waltz,” still gets my heart racing. Like dopamine flooding every corner of my brain?

The purified rosary of the saintess has returned to its original state. It’ll come in handy whenever I encounter more evil things.

Lady Retavis’s body has completely vanished. Even her clothes were burned away by divine light.

“Well… Only Leonard remains.”

I disposed of Leonard by pushing him off Endros Cliff. No regrets since he had a good run. Now, I just need to figure out how to avoid the Demon Realm police. Though honestly, I don’t plan to evade anyway.

Still, I’ve prepared for everything. I’m just tired after finishing the show. This lethargy keeps making me sleepy.

But I can’t succumb to mere sleepiness. A great magician always cleans up neatly. Would a veteran like me leave behind loose ends?

Slick.

I took off my mask and tossed it over the edge where Leonard fell.

A perfectly dried white face plummets through the darkness, slicing through the air. The scream of the mask is the wind. Instead of desperation, it carries speed.

Whoosh—Crash.

The sound of the mask’s scream ending reached my ears. I wonder if the mask landed nicely beside Leonard. Can’t wait to see.

I put my pocketknife in my left pocket and the cross in my right. Stretching my back, I looked around.

The night air is cool and peaceful. Except for a few rocks, there’s nothing here on this sheer cliff said to have been carved by Dragon King Endros’s massive breath attack. Above the cliff, lush foliage grows.

And on this cliff, I’ve painted with pigments. Some red splashes here, some black scorch marks there. Very satisfying. Likely, no one before or after will do something like this.

Later, while showering in cold water, I added another item to my self-definition: “Demon who marked Dragon King Endros’s Cliff.” Hah… That’s me.

Turning back, I headed toward my resting place—the Duke’s Manor of the North. I also need to sort things out with Adella and Small Mother.

The moon shines brightly tonight.

My shadow stretches long under the moonlight.

Even though I’m clearly wearing white, my shadow is pitch black. The moon reveals that no matter how pure the shell, my ugly essence remains unchanged.

What an arrogant moon.

I am now God’s Apostle. Who does the moon think it is to define me?

—

The door swings open!

You enter.

“Surprise! Our elder sister and small mother! How have you been?”

The blood-soaked younger brother—and nephew—enters.

“…! Gulp! Eep!”

Upon seeing the bold intruder, Small Mother panics. However, she can’t scream because her mouth is still gagged tightly, and she remains locked in the wardrobe.

Adella stands in the center of the room, staring blankly into space like a hypnotized cat. She doesn’t look at me.

My illusion spell worked perfectly. The effect of using almost all of Horus’s eye is paying off.

“Gurk! Eep…”

Small Mother struggles nearby. I approached her first. She was shocked twice: once by the blood on my clothes, then by the smell wafting from it.

“Haha, judging by your expression, you haven’t been doing too well. I should’ve paid closer attention to you; my apologies.”

“…”

“I’ll untie you first, but please listen to me. I don’t want to kill even Small Mother.”

“…”

By saying “even Small Mother,” the implication is clear.

“…Uh…”

The longer she scrutinizes me, the more fear creeps into her eyes. She must have guessed what I did based on the smell alone.

Still, survival is the basic instinct of life. Small Mother nodded slightly in agreement.

Slither—Clunk.

I removed the gag and untied her bonds. Of course, even if she regains freedom, as long as I’m here, Small Mother can do nothing.

She’s already been defeated by me once. Psychologically broken, all she can do is tremble. Besides, with my magician’s hat making me appear taller, Small Mother, frightened even after being freed, doesn’t dare leave the wardrobe.

“Come out, let me escort you like a gentleman.”

“…!”

“Why so startled? Where else will you find such a kind demon? Don’t tell me you believe opportunities like this will come again?”

Facing her, I placed one hand behind my back, palm down, and extended the other. Small Mother didn’t take my hand but slowly stepped out of the wardrobe.

It’s disappointing to have my goodwill rejected, but what can I do? Once goodwill turns into coercion, it becomes blackmail. And while I love blackmail, today I’m Joker the Gentleman.

“Our Senorita seems to lack manners, huh? Heehee.”

“Ah, w-well…”

“Then allow me to be direct and polite? I don’t want to waste Small Mother’s precious time, after all.”

—

I’m nine years old. Good children should have proper manners—that’s the social norm.

Small Mother grips one elbow with the other hand. She doesn’t seem physically shaken from being tied up for so long. Probably trying to calm her restless mind. Let me help her with that.

“First off, as you might guess, both Leonard and Retavis are dead! I just killed them moments ago! Your adorable son!”

“…!”

Hearing it directly hits harder than expected. Her unfocused eyes dart around wildly.

Thud.

Her legs gave out, and Small Mother collapsed onto the floor. Soon, tears like chicken droppings began falling from her lost eyes.

As a stepchild, I shouldn’t distress Small Mother. Kneeling in front of her, I rested my elbows on my knees in a casual pose.

“Do you feel sad?”

“Hiccup… Waaah… Le-Leonard…”

“What makes you so sad?”

“O-Our son… Leonard is dead…”

“Aha, losing your son hurts, doesn’t it? You’re overwhelmed with grief, aren’t you? His face probably hovers in your blurred vision, right?”

Nodding endlessly, Small Mother wept bitterly. There’s not a trace of false emotion.

She genuinely mourns, though the real reason requires careful thought. I knew immediately.

“You’re not grieving because your investment is gone, are you? Our Small Mother is actually very affectionate?”

“What…?”

“Hmm? Strange… When did demons start having feelings like attachment? Isn’t that supposed to be exclusive to humans and elves?”

“…!”

“Hahaha, your acting was impressive, but that’s all it was. You should’ve focused more on your motives. Without a valid reason to grieve, how effective is even the best performance?”

Startled by my piercing words, Small Mother looked up. Her tear-streaked face met mine.

“Don’t say that… Leonard is dead… How could you…”

Ah, yes. Your sobbing was genuine. Just not for the reasons you claimed. My mistake.

“How could you say such things!”

“Demonkind is inherently evil. Maternal instincts exist only for reproduction and disappear entirely after five years. Leonard is ten, so there’s no way Small Mother still harbors maternal affection.”

Demons are half-human, half-monster—a mix of ugliness and corruption. Sentimental emotions like love have no place here.

Then what about Adella loving me and her family? Oh, Adella is an idiot. Idiots naturally see beauty in everything.

“Let go of the surface layer. Open your true eyes. Then you’ll see a new world.”

“What are you talking about…”

“Face your true self. Look into the abyss within you. If you gaze long enough, the abyss will gaze back.”

“True self…?”

“Yes, your true self. All those emotions wrapped up in love and maternal affection—your real inner thoughts. Aren’t you curious? If you’re confused, let me give you a hint?”

Mixing honorifics with casual speech confuses hierarchy. Within chaos lies enlightenment. Amidst confusion comes revelation.

“When a successor is chosen among adult offspring, the two eliminated demons are dealt with to prevent betrayal. Makes sense, right? No guarantee their heads won’t get smashed. So, here’s a question: What happens to those related to the eliminated siblings?”

“That’s…”

“The answer is: they all die! For the same reason! Why keep potential threats alive?”

“Ugh…”

“Because of this cultural norm in most Demon Realm families, a tacit trend has emerged. Family members support the most competitive candidate during succession battles to ensure survival! You too! Don’t tell me you helped Leonard out of love? Stop bullshitting! You helped him because you didn’t want to die! If Leonard failed in the succession race, your life would’ve been forfeit!”

Ripples spread. Painful ripples that pierce someone’s heart. Acknowledging one’s dirty inner truths is difficult.

Conscience. That’s what Saintess Maria extracted and stimulated from Western Duchess Lilith Clanaein in a past life.

Everyone has messy hearts. Conscience makes us ashamed and reluctant to admit them. That’s why I shatter consciences. The truth and authenticity hidden beneath are obscured by conscience.

“You must’ve realized it. Calling it by a false name means you originally understood but chose to cover it up and forget. Your sorrow stems from the collapse of your carefully cultivated investment tower and the severing of your lifeline. Heehee.”

“…”

“Do you understand now? The difference between the two? You shouldn’t confuse this. At first glance, it might seem trivial, but that single motive makes all the difference.”

Silence follows my straightforward revelations. Calm silence allowing Small Mother to process my whispered truths.

After a long pause, Small Mother speaks.

“Exactly.”

“Hmm?”

“What do you want from me…?”

Finally, the awaited question.

“What do I want?”

“Yes, why are you saying such cruel things…”

“There’s nothing I want. I merely wish for you to acknowledge your true self.”

“Wha…?”

“Really! I’m not some scheming demon, am I? Haha. Well, our business here is done, then? Please leave?”

Click.

With that, I walked to the door and grabbed the handle. To ensure Small Mother leaves smoothly—or rather, to psychologically pressure her—I set a trap.

“…Wait.”

Bingo.

Hooked.

Thump!

A similar but different sound echoes. Turning with a cheerful smile…

“Why?”

And there she is—Small Mother kneeling before me.

“S-spare me!”

“Huh? Why would I kill Small Mother?”

“You’re right. My sadness stemmed solely from concern for myself, not for Leonard.”

“That’s what I said earlier, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to die like this! I’ll help you! I mean to become your second guardian! Oscar, you know… If things stay this way, even if you don’t kill me, I’ll end up dead eventually!”

“Ahhahaha!”

Oh dear, I can’t stop laughing. No intention to hide it either.

“My relationship with Mom isn’t great. Are you sure this is okay?”

“Of course! If you just spare my life… I’ll serve you faithfully!”

“Are you asking me to trust the loyalty of someone who already betrayed their child?”

“T-that’s…”

“Hahaha, forget it. Instead of loyalty, I’ll trust your ugliness. Throwing away maternal love and attachment, calculating only gains and losses—your cunning ugliness inspires trust in me. I’m a gambler who bets only when certain.”

“Ugliness…?”

Anyway, Leonard and Retavis are both dead. I’m the only heir. And Small Mother’s only chance at survival lies with me.

I am the breeze to the kite whose string has snapped. The sole savior extending a hand to the pitiful demon. A perfect and ideal apostle of the Lord.

I extend my hand again, this time imbued with deeper meaning as it faces Small Mother.

“Come, take my hand. As a commemoration of our partnership, we must shake hands.”

After swallowing hard, Small Mother extends her hand and clasps mine.

“Alright then. Looking forward to working with you, Senorita.”

—

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