Chapter: 189
Feeling that leaving without a word would lead to disaster, I tucked a letter stating my intent to leave before searching for my physical body into a small drawer beside the Demon King’s Bed.
Thinking she would immediately rummage through the room if I disappeared, I placed it in an obvious drawer… but judging by her demeanor, it seemed she hadn’t found the letter at all.
‘If I had just handed it to her directly, this wouldn’t be happening, but she must have been locked up in this room…’
Every time I casually mentioned leaving, her eyes would chill and harden, indicating she was most likely a prisoner.
The image of the Demon King stacking transparent glass jars suitable for trapping slimes in one corner of the room was still vivid in my mind. Remembering that fear made my body flinch slightly.
Desperately clinging to Lian like a baby not wanting to part from its mother, the Demon King naturally registered every single one of his movements with clarity.
“Don’t… don’t go.”
Mistaking Lian’s slight flinch as an attempt to push her away, the Demon King tightened her grip around him. Her voice, barely above a whisper but trembling with urgency, only heighted the atmosphere.
It was as if she felt that this level of contact wasn’t enough to soothe her, and she began to cling more desperately to him. The sight of the Demon King charging towards Lian in a frantic attempt to bond caused Jess to approach with a growl, trying to separate them.
“Wait… wait a minute, Jess!”
“Meow!”
As Lian raised his hand to signal Jess to stand back for a moment, she reluctantly stepped back, her ears drooping and tears welling up in her eyes.
Jess retreated just out of Lian’s sight, her eyes sharp and filled with an ominous glow as she glanced fiercely at the Demon King. It seemed her sharp fangs were itching to bite into the Demon King’s neck.
A fierce aura brewed within Jess, threatening to spill over, but she kept it restrained—any violent action could spill over and harm Lian.
As Jess’s pupils widened like a beast about to pounce on its prey, Lian desperately soothed the Demon King, who was clinging to him for dear life.
It was as though a person dying of thirst in the desert had found an oasis, and unable to stop the frantic Demon King, Lian had no choice but to allow her to sit on his thigh.
With her long legs wrapping around his waist and her arms embracing his shoulders, their upper bodies intertwined, soaking him in a fluffy and warm sensation.
‘Ellensia is a patient. It hasn’t been long since her father passed, and her emotional wounds haven’t healed yet… she’s a patient. She’s just clinging to her only friend, the Slime…’
If I hadn’t kept rapping in my head, “Ellensia is a patient,” the blood spraying out of the Demon King would have been nothing compared to the nosebleed I would have suffered from that overwhelming blow.
Each time the Demon King inhaled and exhaled, a pressure build-up and release at specific parts of her body followed—a cycle that made Lian rapidly shift his thoughts elsewhere.
‘It doesn’t feel like I’ve done anything amazing. Why is she clinging to me so desperately?’
Lian had some idea—his father’s mysterious death, the overwhelming presence of the Outsiders, their incessant bullying, and so forth.
He understood that the help arriving during her torment was simply a relief. But that was all there was to it.
He hadn’t avenged the previous Demon King’s wrongful death, nor had he resurrected her. He hadn’t even chased the Outsiders away.
All he had done was give a few playful slaps to the heads of the immature Outsiders and become a plushie she could rely on.
‘She doesn’t think I did anything I didn’t actually do, right?’
During the time Lian was giving those head smacks to the Outsiders, the Demon King hadn’t yet acquired her Slime body; she only knew of Lian’s existence—having never actually seen him herself.
If she couldn’t see him, how could she possibly tell where Lian’s help ended and where she had stood alone? Perhaps the Demon King’s blind obsession was a result of misunderstandings.
‘If it weren’t for that, it wouldn’t make sense.’
However, reaching a conclusion was not easy. A small, insignificant act could feel like a monumental help to someone, while what was deemed trivial by the one giving it could greatly differ from that perspective.
‘I don’t know.’
The tangled thoughts spinning in his head ultimately converged on the ‘unknown.’
Why? For what reason? What’s behind this?
The unknown was closely tied to curiosity.
The questions that emerged from deep within my mind grew until they felt as if they would burst out of my throat.
On a typical day, my sensors would be buzzing with the need to comfort the crying beauty in front of me, but today, for some reason, all that flared up was curiosity.
Curiosity didn’t quite fit the drama of the situation. It felt like the cruelty displayed by a pure child acting out of ignorance.
Lian shot another question into his mind.
Why is my curiosity rising in such a situation?
What makes these things so intriguing?
Unlike questions regarding the Demon King, this one was something Lian could answer himself. A clear answer flashed through his mind, breaking the cycle of “why?” that only spun aimlessly.
Because he wanted to know more about the Demon King, about Ellensia.
Understanding and empathy begin with knowledge. Without knowing anything, one cannot understand or empathize. To truly comfort her, he needed to uncover the roots of emotions that had neither source nor depth.
He gently lifted his hand that was patting her back, bringing it carefully toward the Demon King’s face. The moment his hand was close to her neck, she looked up from where her face had been buried in his shoulder.
Her slightly red-rimmed eyes carried a precarious atmosphere.
When their gazes met in the air, the world fell silent. In that moment, it felt like only the two of them existed—everything else became utterly meaningless.
‘Ah…’
The unvoiced gasp echoed hauntingly in the Demon King’s head. Her mind went blank and lost in the emptiness.
It felt as if she had been thrown into a world filled with water instead of oxygen. The pain mixed with a sense of tranquil oblivion made it feel soothing.
In that tranquility, her soul, grown and strengthened by consuming outsiders, peered through the silence. Without needing words, Lian could feel it.
What she liked, what she hated, how devastated she had been by her father’s death, and how ecstatic she had felt at Lian’s presence.
It was as if every emotion was so clear, it merged with a part of her being. The boundary between them blurred; she felt like she had become ‘me.’
Understanding why she had clung to him so desperately came easily. Embracing her emotions completely, Lian instinctively held her tighter, almost to the point of choking.
*
Completely exposed and under scrutinizing gazes that seemed to scour every corner, the Demon King could barely breathe.
Her eyes were calm yet chaotic; they sparkled brilliantly. They felt warm, as if containing tender emotions, but also appeared grotesque—something she should never confront.
Realizing that the unending tranquility was no different from death sent a creeping fear rippling through her. Just as her eyes were about to tremble with panic.
“…!”
Lian pulled her in tightly, almost stifling her with the embrace. The confinements of the hold swiftly calmed the tumultuous heart that had been lurching like a child wrapped in their parent’s arms.
“I’m sorry.”
For some reason, his feelings felt distinctly as if they were hers.
The words Lian spoke were just a brief phrase, but the feelings behind them were doubly profound. The heart of the Demon King, which had been frozen, began to thaw.
She cast her gaze towards Lian’s profile, observing his downcast eyes, the trembling lashes, and the raven-black hair that seemed to consume shadows.
Every bit of her focus had been on this face since the moment they first met, yet it felt strangely foreign, as if seeing it for the first time.
To her, Lian was both her ‘savior’ and the ‘symbol of hope.’ Because she perceived Lian not as an equal entity living in the same world but as a ‘symbol,’ she had never really faced him without being engulfed in despair and obsession.
‘…!’
The soft, flowing black hair turned white, and the dark eyes morphed into a stunning golden hue. The face that had once exuded an aura of decadence transformed instantaneously into one of gentleness, as though it had put on a new mask.
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