The Villain's Second Time

Chapter 5

Clang-.

Ah, another seizure is coming. I was in the middle of a good dream, and now the mood is ruined.

This seizure was caused by some insignificant magician. An old geezer called Merlin Gregory, who surpasses the Tower Master and is considered the greatest magician on the Continent.

Most magic disappears without a trace as soon as it touches my body, yet this truly pathetic human managed to affect me.

He was so pathetic that he implanted an infinite bomb that never depletes inside my body. Damn old geezer.

"Hey, Saint."

"Mr. Demon? Do you have something to say?"

"Stop the meaningless prayers and heal the curse on my body, will you?"

"A curse, you say? Let me take a look."

The Saint staggered toward me. The black rosary in her hand glistened like a black pearl, jingling softly.

The Saint skillfully placed me over her lap and pressed her hands near my solar plexus. Her two small, dry palms transmitted their touch through my abdomen.

To think she fought against a hundred thousand monsters with such frail hands—it’s even harder to believe after spending three days with her in Tartarus.

Hummm—.

A white glow emanated from the Saint's hands. The darkness that had settled dimly began to recede slightly.

The Saint's face, which never loses its radiance even when stained, came into view.

Her face was clouded with worry. Why? Did she see something she shouldn’t have?

"This is... not a curse but magic."

"That's not the point. Can you fix it or not?"

"My life is yours to take, as you have granted it to me. However, this seems beyond my abilities."

"It's that serious?"

The Saint, who even restored the Holy Emperor's severed arm, came to such a conclusion.

Ah, Merlin Gregory. That damn old geezer. What kind of magic did you cast on me? If you’re going to die, at least do it peacefully.

"This energy cannot be extinguished by human power. Whoever cast this spell must be an extraordinary magician."

"Heh, I’m the one who killed that magician."

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing."

As I let slip mocking words with a smile, the iron door of Tartarus creaked open. I had already received my meal earlier, so was it another visitor?

"Saint, you have a visitor."

My guess was right. Two days in a row with visitors—how peculiar.

How meddlesome must the Saint have been when she was outside?

... Honestly, I’m just a teensy bit jealous. How could a friendless being like me not feel bitter?

"Let them in."

"But... the visitor..."

At Kelth's hesitant tone, the Saint tilted her blindfolded head in curiosity.

"Is there a problem?"

"It’s someone who might make you uncomfortable. If you wish, you can refuse the visit."

Kelth’s deep voice carried a hint of surprise, hostility, and tension. Just who could this visitor be to provoke such a reaction?

Someone the Saint has a difficult relationship with... No one comes to mind. She isn’t the type to hold grudges or antagonize anyone.

Even I, her sworn enemy, am treated with such warmth despite my unknown identity.

"No, they came all this way because of me, so of course, I should meet them."

"Hmm... Understood. You there, come in."

Kelth turned around and spoke.

"Huh? You’re letting me in? Saint, you’ve got some nerve, don’t you?"

The voice that echoed was a melodious and seductive woman’s voice—one I knew all too well.

Why is she here?

"You are...?"

"Hey, it’s me, Saint. Surely you haven’t forgotten me already? That’d make me a little sad."

A woman entered through the door guarded by Kelth.

Boldly dressed, revealing her voluptuous cleavage and one bare thigh, she had black hair and red eyes like mine.

"What brings the Western Grand Duke of the Demon Army here?"

A woman who wasn’t of my blood but of the same race as me.

And a woman who, like me, was one of the Four Great Dukes of the Demon Realm.

Alongside the King of the South and the Jack of the East, she was known as the Succubus Queen.

Lilith Clanaein, the Western Grand Duke.

She was the third visitor.

*****

Lilith approached Tartarus with her arms arrogantly crossed. As before, the Saint stood near the iron bars. She didn’t seem to notice me, hidden in the shadows.

"What a sight, Saint."

"Yes, I’m doing well in my own way."

"What a pathetic pushover."

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

Lilith mocked the Saint in her lofty voice. But the Saint simply kept her gentle smile.

A pure smile, neither cold nor sharp. Only the Saint could maintain such an expression no matter who she faced—it was her signature ability.

"You’re still smiling after everything you’ve endured."

"Haha."

"Haha? Do you want to get beaten again?"

"How could I not know that your words lack sincerity?"

Why did Lilith even bother coming here if she was going to say such things?

After spending a few days with the Saint, I had almost forgotten, but the workings of that demon’s mind are truly baffling.

I already knew about the relationship between the Saint and Lilith from what Kelth had told me.

During the war between the Demon Realm and the Continent, Lilith was defeated and captured by the Saint. Along with a severe injury that risked her life.

At that time, the Saint treated Lilith using her Holy Power and then sent her back to the Demon Army. It was considered an act of grace.

However, not long ago, the Saint was defeated in a coordinated attack by the Four Great Dukes of the Demon Realm, including Lilith. It could be said that Lilith repaid grace with resentment.

To be honest, releasing an enemy leader unharmed was a foolish act.

In war, one must fight with the resolve to kill or be killed. It's no wonder Lilith calls the Saint a foolish pushover.

"Why do you think that way? I came here today just to tease you."

"Because your trembling voice, the wavering tone laden with emotion, and the cadence of your words tell me so."

"As always, you’re still spouting nonsense. Such lofty words for a fool."

"It’s a positive thing."

Well, from my perspective, it doesn’t seem all that positive.

"Idiot. Fool. Moron. Worm."

"......."

"Blockhead. Dunce. Dimwit. Simpleton."

Lilith hurled insults at the Saint. Her words, laced with ridicule, pierced the Saint repeatedly.

Despite being insulted, for some reason, the Saint only wore an innocent smile. At this point, it’s reasonable to wonder if she’s actually a masochist.

"Are you finished?"

At a brief pause, the Saint inquired. Lilith, after catching her breath, curtly replied.

"No? I’m not done yet."

"...Please, continue."

"I was going to anyway, you worm of a Saint."

Once again, Lilith launched a verbal assault on the Saint. A torrent of insults was unleashed upon her.

The Saint, with a brazen smile, silently listened to it all.

But something feels off.

'Was the Duke of the West always such a mild Demon?'

Each insult Lilith uttered was unlike her usual self.

Thinking back to Lilith's typically crude and venomous remarks...

'I’ll tear you limb from limb and feed you to Cerberus before spreading its dung in the fields.'

'Your brain, which wouldn’t even make decent broth, is better off being stomped into mush and discarded.'

'You vile and insignificant piece of trash, even the fleas on the street would avoid you.'

But now... what? Idiot, fool, moron, pushover?

While not inaccurate, compared to her usual self, it’s shockingly tame. No, it’s downright childish.

"Ugh...! Why are you just sitting there, doing nothing?"

"......."

Lilith yelled in frustration. The Saint did not reply.

Why is this Demon, who claimed to have come to tease her, the one getting angry instead?

"I betrayed you! You trusted me and released me, yet I led the charge against you! Why aren't you angry?"

Lately, it feels like there’s an overflow of things I can’t understand. The Saint, myself, and now even Lilith.

Though Lilith has always had a peculiar way of thinking.

Unlike her gleeful demeanor when she first entered this prison, Lilith’s face was now flushed with frustration.

It’s not as if the Saint said anything particularly offensive. Is something weighing on her mind?

Could it be that she feels guilty about betraying the Saint, who once showed her kindness?

If that’s truly the case, I’d like to berate her thoroughly. She’s unworthy of being a Demon.

A Demon should take pride in betrayal. Especially someone like the Four Great Dukes of the Demon Realm. Feeling species-betraying emotions is unacceptable.

"I betrayed you! You let me go, and I stabbed you in the back! So why aren’t you saying anything? I even came here to mock you!"

"...."

"You should be cursing me! I acted like a complete bastard, yet you just sit there smiling!"

"Because."

The Saint, who had been silently listening, finally spoke.

Lilith’s exposed shoulder flinched.

"You’re not truly insulting me."

"W-What?"

"You feel uncomfortable, don’t you? As if something is weighing on you... thoughts of past choices you once believed were right keep coming back to you..."

"D-Don’t spout nonsense! Who feels that way?"

Though she denies it, Lilith, who always carried herself with confidence, is visibly flustered—proof that the Saint hit a nerve.

"That’s why you came to see me, didn’t you? Using the excuse that you just wanted to tease me."

"Say one more word, and I’ll make sure you learn that being inside these iron bars doesn’t make you safe."

Lilith growled threateningly. Unfortunately, she seemed to think the Saint feared death.

Naturally, the Saint paid no heed and continued speaking.

"That feeling is called 'guilt.'"

"...!"

Despite her bold words, Lilith did not lash out at the Saint. The Saint calmly moved her lips.

"Don’t be ashamed of it. Don’t try to run from it. Feeling guilt means that within you, there exists a conscience. It’s not something to deny but rather something to be proud of."

"T-That’s not true...! What are you even saying...!"

"I’m glad. To realize that even within the most corrupted of God’s creations, goodness can bloom again. Don’t you agree, Demon?"

"...?"

The Saint turned her gaze toward me and posed the question. What’s this? Why is she suddenly looking at me?

"Demon? Is someone there?"

Lilith asked in a commanding tone. Not wanting my identity revealed to the Saint, I replied in the Demon Tongue.

[It’s been a while, Succubus Queen.]

I don’t believe the Saint would kill me. I just didn’t want her to know.

I don't want the Saint to find out that I'm an evil and corrupt Demon. There's no specific reason—it's just how I feel.

[J-Joker! Why are you here?]

[Haven't rumors spread about me being trapped in the Babel Tower? I've been locked up for a hundred days!]

[I heard the news that you disappeared without a trace one day... So you were in Tartarus. But why? Who could possibly have the power to imprison you here?]

[That's none of your concern. Just pretend you don't know me for now. Play along, will you?]

Between me and Lilith, who were conversing in the Demon Tongue, the Saint tilted her head in confusion. Fortunately, it seemed she didn’t understand the Demon Tongue.

[I don't really mind, but... what can you even do for me?]

[Do for you? I'm just a Demon about to die.]

[...What?]

[Oh, come on, can't you grant the last request of a dying Demon? The Demon Realm's hospitality has really gone downhill while I was away.]

[No, no, that's not it. What did you just say? Dying?]

[Only those sentenced to death can enter Tartarus. Didn't you know that?]

[...What?]

Lilith's eyes and voice trembled as if struck by lightning. Demon Tongue leaked out from her quivering lips.

[Then... th-the Saint is going to die too? The S-S-S-S-Saint is a death row inmate too?]

I answered calmly.

[Of course.]