Everything visible was new. No one stared at Argen like she was a monkey in a zoo. Argen felt her heart ease simply from the fact that she belonged within the category of ordinary.
She had intended to stay only briefly. Regardless of how this place brought her peace of mind, Argen had a place to return to. But at some point, her mind began to cloud.
Truthfully, her memories of the day she ventured beyond the borderline still weren’t intact. Trying to recall it brought a pain like a bird’s sharp beak pecking at her brain. Was it because the atmosphere of the human world wasn’t like the demon realm? The only clear sensation was a persistent mental haze, as if she’d been conquered by some new disease.
The streets remained bleak and cold, lingering effects of the heavy snowfall that had blanketed the human realm for days. Patches of ice, melted at noon only to freeze again by dawn, dotted the streets here and there.
Argen was barefoot. The skin exposed by long walks had frozen solid. The tip of her nose, bright red as if frostbitten, had lost all sense of smell. Several people brushed past Argen, and it seemed they exchanged brief words. Some looked startled, others smiled.
The strong sunlight beat down on her eyes, which had been hazy the entire time. In an instant, her mind, which had been blurred like smoke, took shape, and a fierce hunger surged through her.
The thoughts that had burrowed into her unconscious scattered and evaporated in an instant. The weight she’d carried along his path—the qualities of a king, the responsibility, the horns, the regret of fleeing the demon realm, the self-loathing—all fell away. Standing in the sunlight, only one desire remained.
“…I’m hungry.”
A fire raged, threatening to consume her entire chest. Her chest felt tight, and her breath came in gasps.
Argen closed her eyes tightly, then opened them.
This time, tiny lamps swayed back and forth before her eyes in the pitch-black darkness. She watched them silently. Whoosh. A bone-chillingly cold wind swept past, engulfing Argen, and one by one, the lamp lights faded into the distance.It was strange. As the light vanished, the world instead drew sharp, clear outlines. The thing crouched inside Argen’s stomach slowly rose. Sparks flew like flint striking, and the gasping breaths grew rougher. The sound was coming from her.There was no time to notice what was strange. Only a hunger that felt like her insides were being squeezed dominated her mind, making her want to shove anything into her stomach.
Bang!
Someone dropped a lamp. With that small crack, Argen’s memory snapped.
She thought it was a cold street, but looking around carefully, she realised she was lying on an altar. The brick-built altar was cool, and countless candles filled the floor. From the intricate statues scattered about and the pages of books written in an unknown language, she faintly sensed someone’s dedication.
A terrible hunger gnawed at Argen’s mind. Torture-like starvation sharpened every nerve, and her body sizzled with rage beyond the breaking point.Someone handed Argen ingredients, though she’d never cooked in her life. She tried chewing one with its skin on, but it tasted awful, so she spat it out.Still, she didn’t give up. Desperate to quell her hunger, she tried preparing it her own way. She peeled off layers and tore pieces here and there, but nothing was edible. In the end, she couldn’t eat a single bite and left it sprawled on the floor.
The stench of rotting food ingredients filled the air everywhere. Even as the stench stung her nose, her hunger didn’t lessen. Just as she wondered if she’d starve to death like this, the door creaked open and light poured in. More food supplies had arrived.
Unlike the others who darted around, this one paused briefly before walking straight toward Argen.
‘This hunt will be easy.’
With that thought, she swung her arm wide.
But the nimble creature dodged her attacks left and right, gradually growing more adept as time passed. At first, the blade only grazed Argen’s skin, but later they landed some fairly lethal blows. Had she been any other race besides a demon, her life would have ended instantly.
‘What am I doing?’
Getting a meal was proving far too difficult. Just as irritation began to simmer, cold steel pierced clean through her solar plexus in one swift thrust.
“Gah…”
A gush of thin, bloody foam erupted from her mouth. Simultaneously, the blur before her eyes sharpened. Blue eyes staring straight at Argen pierced her more sharply than the blade embedded in her solar plexus. The fog obscuring her consciousness cleared instantly, and her frozen nerves snapped back into place.
What the hell was I doing just now?
The boy yanked the sword he’d plunged into Argen’s solar plexus out in one swift motion. The recoil sent Argen staggering, her foot colliding with the skull of the dead man. The hard wall pressed against her slumped back. Argen slid down, slumping to the ground.
Her hands were misshapen and lumpy, and her once brilliant silver hair had turned a dull gray. Not a single visible part of her body was now her own.
Why, why like this… What is this?
A tremendous shock slammed into her head. It was the moment she first truly understood fear, having previously known only its dictionary definition.The area was filled with mutilated corpses. Facing this horrific scene, Argen couldn’t close her eyes or look away; she froze completely. Her parted lips were parched and dry, and her dehydrated body couldn’t even produce tears.
Her hands were trembling violently.
Then, a pair of rough boots stood at Argen’s feet. It was the one who had thrust a sword into her own body. Though a young boy, the depths of his eyes, darker than any abyss, revealed the scars of a harsh life. His body was as battered as Argen’s. He was gasping for breath, unable to stand straight, staggering.The wound on his right palm was particularly severe. It was deeply gouged, exposing white bone—clearly no ordinary injury.
“I’m… sorry…”
Argen managed to force the words out of her parched throat. The boy grimaced as if he’d heard something he shouldn’t have.
“That must hurt.”
There was no reply from the boy. It didn’t matter. She hadn’t expected an answer anyway. Whatever life the boy before her had lived, the fact he was a young human remained unchanged. Even in this state, she could have easily finished him off if she’d wanted to.
But Argen couldn’t even bring herself to think that way. She was simply numb. She was trapped in endless apathy. If the boy swung his blade, she would have taken a hundred blows, a thousand blows, and just stood there.
The boy raised his arm. His lightless reddened eyes stared blankly into the void. Yet what he drew forth was not a bloodied blade, but a tattered water bottle.He drank the water roughly, then flung the remainder at Argen’s feet. Then, grabbing a handful of her hair, he cut it off without hesitation with his knife.
Argen stared at the water bottle at her feet with eyes full of question. She felt her entire mouth was as dry as a desert, yet no desire to drink arose. But as the boy’s face, drinking coolly just moments ago, flashed before her, her hand moved toward the bottle without her realising it.
While she drank, the boy gathered the limbs scattered on the floor and hacked at them. He scattered Argen’s hair around the area.
“Forget it.”
The boy said curtly, his back turned to Argen. It was unmistakably the boy’s voice, but the short, spat-out words carried an oppressive weight. Argen climbed through the window the boy had opened for her. Only the voice telling her to forget filled her mind.
She ran frantically, arriving at the border just in time for her form to return to normal. The skeletons shrank with a grotesque sound, and the wildly chopped hair turned silver and became thick and full. She lost consciousness after catching sight of the three Elders running toward her from afar.
Finn faced the brightening morning sunlight head-on. Valen lay beside him, eyes still closed.
After finishing her story, Argen didn’t linger long and returned to her office. She had only intended to briefly check on Valen’s condition and leave, and a mountain of unfinished work awaited her.
Listening to the story Argen had kept buried alone, the jealousy that had blinded his mind slowly returned to its proper place.