The Villain's Second Time

Chapter 10

"Do not indulge in gluttony, drunkenness, debauchery, dissipation, strife, or jealousy, but clothe yourselves with the Lord. Do not serve the flesh for lust."

The Saint is once again offering her devout prayers today. It's hard to imagine the Sun God would listen to her, yet she remains so fervent.

Truly an incomprehensible woman. A foolish woman.

"The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?"

Unless Kelth opens the door for a visit or a meal, Tartarus is a place where only dim shadows exist, day or night.

That was how it had been until exactly six days ago.

Since the Saint joined as a newcomer, a faint halo of light has always graced Tartarus.

It is the sacred radiance of the sun emanating from the Saint's body, piercing through her nun's habit. As if she herself were a miniature sun.

Even now, the Saint, immersed in prayer, continues to emit light.

"With all my heart, with all my soul, with all my strength, and with all my mind, I love the Lord—."

When I first heard her prayers, I was so repulsed that I had the urge to tear off my ears. But lately, I don't feel that way anymore. It seems I've grown accustomed to this peculiar Saint.

...This must be utterly wrong for a demon, isn't it? I feel a crack forming in the purpose of my existence.

"Please, do not abandon this wretched and sinful world. Even if it costs my humble life, I beg you to let go of your wrath, O Lord."

Wow, listen to the way she speaks.

I swear, none of the clergy I've killed were ever this devout.

People reveal their true selves just before they die. The righteous and noble Holy Knights, the petty and vile priests, the cowardly nuns who begged me to spare their lives at the cost of others... All of them showed their disgraceful sides in their final moments.

But the Saint seems different. Somehow, I have a gut feeling she won't be like them.

Just the day after tomorrow... at the execution, she'll likely smile serenely even with her neck on the guillotine. If she's the Saint I know.

"Saint."

"Yes, Joker."

Even after learning my identity through the Hero's visit, the Saint's attitude toward me hasn't changed. She remains warm and compassionate. The only change is the title she uses for me.

"Saint, aren't you afraid of death?"

"The grace the Lord has bestowed upon me is simply being taken back. Shouldn't I face it with a joyful heart?"

"You're happy about dying? Then why not just kill yourself? Why have you stayed alive until now?"

"Because I must fulfill the duties the Lord has entrusted to me. Although I haven't completed them entirely, since the Lord is calling me, I must go as I should."

As expected, the Saint is a strange human. Different from other humans... no, from any other "living being."

"Are you really not afraid? Can you swear to the Sun God that you don't have even the slightest fear?"

Slightly annoyed by her demeanor, I pressed her persistently.

I don't know why I'm doing this. Whether the Saint is virtuous or trembling in fear of death, it has nothing to do with me.

"Honestly, it would be a lie to say I'm not afraid at all."

"What? So you were lying?"

"But if my death can bear the sins of the world, and if through that, the current world can be forgiven by the Lord—"

The Saint's face was filled with pure hope. Her voice carried nothing but sincerity.

"I can face the coming days with great joy."

"Ha, I can't relate to that at all. I have no words for you."

Suddenly, curiosity about this Saint stirred within me.

What kind of environment could have raised someone with such a bright and hopeful heart? Was she nurtured in a haven completely devoid of hardship?

I found myself a little intrigued.

Clank—.

"...Ouch."

Hearing the sound of chains, I swallowed my bitter pain and fell silent once more.

*****

I was a confidant of the Demon King.

A very loyal confidant.

So loyal that when the Demon King gave orders, I followed only one out of three, and I never missed an opportunity to skip his banquets. Oh, and to this day, outside of formal events, I've never addressed the Demon King with honorifics.

How is that not dog-like loyalty?

Some might question whether I was thoughtless in my actions, but that wasn't the case.

My so-called loyal behavior was only possible because the Demon King was my friend. My childhood friend.

The Demon King and I have known each other since we were about ten years old. He was a direct descendant of the Demon King's lineage, the highest rank in the Demon Realm, while I was an heir to one of the four great northern families.

Of course, no matter how long we've known each other, I never trusted the Demon King completely. Truthfully, I don't trust anyone. Not even a friend I've known for centuries.

Why else would the saying "a rabbit is hunted and its hounds are cooked" exist?

I had secured three of the Demon King's weaknesses for this very reason. In fact, unbeknownst to him, I even inscribed a curse mark on his body.

The problem is, I was dragged here before I could activate that mark.

It was an ordinary day. I was having breakfast, tormented by a seizure induced by Merlin Gregory's magic. That morning, I had rye bread.

Then, out of nowhere, the Demon Realm Police barged in. They accused me of committing the Crime of Disrespect and attempted to arrest me without warning.

Knocking them out would have been easier than breathing, but I allowed myself to be captured. I had nothing to hide, and they were well within my ability to subdue at any time.

I was also curious about who dared frame me, Joker, the Northern Grand Duke.

I was promptly escorted to the courtroom, and the trial began without delay.

To my surprise, the judge was my old friend, the Demon King. The accuser was also the Demon King. The defense attorney? The Demon King again. The prosecutor? Still the Demon King.

Stunned into silence by the absurdity of it all, I quickly regained my composure as the trial progressed at an unbelievable speed. Yet, there was nothing I could do.

It felt as though someone had deliberately targeted me.

By the end of the trial, I realized that "someone" was the Demon King.

[To the Northern Grand Duke Joker Oscar Lucifer, I hereby sentence 111 days in Tartarus and capital punishment by guillotine.]

The trial concluded exactly 9 minutes and 37 seconds after it began. Naturally, I protested, and the Demon King attempted to subdue me with force.

I unleashed all my power and clashed with the Demon King. The courtroom was consumed by pure demonic energy, and an unprecedented, grand explosion engulfed us. When it was over, the Demon King remained standing.

Exactly 1 hour and 26 minutes after the trial ended, I was transported to Babel Tower, the world's most infamous prison. Accompanying me was my shattered body, battered from the 1 hour and 25 minutes I had spent fighting the Demon King.

Ultimately, I was imprisoned in Tartarus.

Bound by adamantium chains—a metal impossible to break with a body as irreparably damaged as mine.

It was an absurd situation, yet there was no one to blame. No one to whom I could express my grievances.

The world is not a soft place. Even the second-in-command of the Demon Army, who once rode the crest of success, can fall to ruin under the betrayal of its leader.

The mighty Demon King's solemn command dictated that procedures could be entirely ignored. In the Demon Realm, where power reigns supreme, the Demon King, who even surpasses the Demon God, was absolute authority itself, and more.

I still don't know why the Demon King did this to me. It’s not like he had a bad relationship with me, nor did I ever stand in his way.

Assuming it was due to a lust for power doesn't fit the Demon King I know. He is obsessed only with duels against those stronger than himself. Having observed him longer than anyone else, I can say this with certainty.

"Saint, do you have any idea? Why the Demon King imprisoned me here?"

"...."

"Saint? Why aren’t you answering? Did you fall asleep or something?"

"...That is."

When I asked the question, the Saint finally opened her tightly shut lips. A stark contrast to how she would usually answer all my questions, no matter how trivial, with diligence.

"I may know, but I cannot tell you."

"What?"

"Please understand."

"Tsk, if you don’t know, just admit it. You’re pretending to know just to sound impressive, huh."

"Haha."

Though my words were curt, I knew. The Saint wasn’t the type to say nonsense.

A reason she couldn’t tell me... Could there really be something between the Saint and the Demon King that I don’t know about?

As long as the only person involved, the Saint, kept her mouth shut, there was no way for me to find out.

Clang—.

While I was being petty and pressing the back of my head against her thigh in frustration, I heard the sound of the iron door opening.

It’s not mealtime, so it must be another visitor. Seriously, the Saint sure has a lot of connections. Even in Tartarus, where most wouldn’t last a second, people come to visit her every single day.

Meanwhile, no one has come to see me even once in 110 days—.

"You have a visitor."

As expected, the door opened for a visitor.

Wait, but why is Kelth speaking informally? He would never speak like that to the Saint.

"Joker, it’s your visitor. Just stay where you are."

...Huh?

"W-What?"

"You don’t have the right to refuse. Just accept it quietly."

"A visitor? For me? Finally?"

"Yes, you finally have a visitor. So greet them warmly. And don’t spout any nonsense that’ll get your head chopped off."

Wait a second. Who in the world is my first visitor that would warrant talk about heads rolling?

Damn it, typical Demon behavior. My connections in life sure were garbage.

The Saint’s visitors, the ones who lived lives completely opposite to mine... Thinking of Lilith or the Hero, it doesn’t seem to be related to them, but anyway.

"Congratulations, Joker."

"For what?"

"For your first visit. The one you’ve been longing for so much."

"Ahem! Who said anything about longing for it?"

"Didn’t you always look envious whenever Sir Kelth mentioned a visitor coming to see me? I definitely got that impression."

The Saint tilted her bandage-covered eyes in curiosity. Ah, so I got caught.

Alright, fine, I admit it. I am looking forward to it. Especially since it’s my first visitor. Could it be Baal, who was the most loyal to me? Or Dantalion, who led 36 demon legions? Whoever it is, it doesn’t matter.

Holding onto my thumping heart, I stared endlessly at the door the visitor would come through.

Creeeak—.

Step, step—.

The visitor I had been waiting for finally entered, and the figure that filled my vision was that of a man I firmly believed would never come.

A long, sleek black coat, a tall and slender figure, dark sunglasses, crimson horns adorning his long hair, and the red demonic energy swirling around those horns.

There are countless ways to describe him, far too many to list them all, but let me sum them up with a few key phrases.

The legendary Demon who single-handedly conquered the seven nations of the Continent and three tribes, relying solely on unparalleled strength that defies the laws of nature.

A noble Demon who has transcended the Demon God, the ruler of all Demons, standing somewhere even higher, with seventy-two Archdemons at his feet.

The sky and Emperor of all Demons, destined to plunge the world into the abyss of evil.

The Demon King, Kanos.

He was the fifth visitor to Tartarus, and for me, he was my first visitor.