DDP 13

chapter 13

“Here, you’ll be staying in this room! Ring the bell if you need anything.”

The attendants will be waiting outside, after all. With that, Roman winked at Belita.

Sylvester kept glaring at Roman’s back even after he left the room and the attendants closed the door.

Of all the times to visit…

He remembered Roman’s face barging in at the worst possible moment.

Whether it was because he was a rude noble, or simply because he looked down on commoners, he didn’t know.

No summons, no warning—he just flung the door wide open and rushed to Belita, saying he wanted to see her.

How many times has he even seen her face that he dares…

Murderous intent flickered in Sylvester’s eyes.

He replayed Roman’s actions in his head. Because of that oblivious baron, his small, cherished wish had been shattered.

The good mood had vanished in an instant, and worst of all, Belita had pulled her hand away and stood up without a trace of hesitation.

“How long does it take to prepare a carriage?”

“They’re making sure everything is perfect. After all, this carriage is for escorting a lady such as yourself—wouldn’t want you uncomfortable.”

Roman stepped forward and once again kissed the back of Belita’s hand. Sylvester thought to himself: Is killing a baron a capital crime?

He had narrowly avoided murder three times today.

He hadn’t hurled a blade at Roman for ruining his day, nor strangled him for that hand-kiss.

And when he came back with his painting tools, finding Roman holding tightly onto Belita to escort her, he hadn’t jumped at him then either.

For a fleeting moment, he even seriously wondered if murder could be done with just a paintbrush. But in the end, he suppressed the urge—money still had to be made. He climbed into the carriage late.

The only thing he found tolerable was the quiet inside the carriage.

Roman had tried to talk endlessly to Belita, but she brushed him off, saying she had a headache.

Remembering that sight, a satisfied smile spread across Sylvester’s lips.

He was nearly done recalling it when—

“Sylvester. ‘Baron’ is a rank, right?”

Belita suddenly asked.

“How rich is he supposed to be?”

Sylvester blinked, dragged out of his thoughts.

Belita was sunk deep into a luxurious green sofa, in front of a tea table decorated with a flower vase.

“You heard me?”

“Ah… yes. I did.”

Sylvester rubbed the back of his neck.

Truthfully, he hadn’t been happy about coming to Roman’s mansion with Belita.

After all, with Roman so openly displaying his interest, who knew how much he’d pester her.

“I’ve never been called to such a mansion before, so I don’t know much. But…”

Seeing her so comfortably seated on the plush sofa, his annoyance lessened—perhaps Roman hadn’t been so wrong in suggesting she stay here.

Even if it was only for a few days, Belita would surely prefer this to her shabby little home.

“He claims he’s so wealthy, he’s second only to the count’s family.”

“So a count outranks a baron then.”

“Right. Count, then baron beneath them, and then baronets and small landowners. Below that, well…”

Sylvester pointed to himself with mock pride and shrugged.

“What’s the full ranking then? Is there also a king or something?”

Maybe it was seeing the grandeur of the mansion, or maybe she was simply curious about this world—Belita was full of questions.

Sylvester nodded.

“Duke, marquis, count, baron, baronet. That’s the order of nobility. Though I doubt it means much to you. And yes—the king is the highest ruler.”

“So the social hierarchy isn’t much different from before.”

Sylvester silently studied her. Not much different from before?

He leaned back on another sofa near her.

“…What was it like before?” he asked carefully.

Belita tapped the sofa arm with her fingers, then slowly stood.

Her pink-tipped fingers drifted from the armrest to the soft tablecloth. Taking her time, she walked half a circle around the round table.

Her silence felt like she was recalling something from long ago.

Standing across the table, her back now fully to him, her flowing black hair shimmered under the warm lights like rippling water under the summer night sky.

Her voice, when it came, was calm.

“It was just the same. There was a king, nobles, vassals. They ruled their lands as lords. Commoners mostly farmed, and beneath them… there were slaves.”

“So the fundamentals haven’t really changed.”

“Mm.”

Sylvester gazed at her back. Was she asking all this to adjust to this place?

He thought of the hierarchy she described. One difference occurred to him.

“…Ah.”

“What is it?”

“Something just came to mind.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing much. You said the king is the supreme ruler, but… there’s actually another figure of equal authority. The pope.”

“…The pope?”

“There’s a place called the Holy Empire. Its ruler is an emperor, higher than a king, but the leader of their state religion is the pope. In fact, papal authority is even greater there.”

Belita froze.

……

Ah.

She had never heard of such a title before, and yet… somehow, she felt she already knew.

“…I see.”

A face rose unbidden in her mind, and she shook her head sharply.

“…Anyway, isn’t it about time to step outside?”

She turned, changing the subject with a smile.

“It’s gotten quite late already.”

Clasping her hands behind her back, she looked down at Sylvester still on the sofa.

Feels like I’m kicking him out. Sorry.

Sylvester blinked, glanced at the window as though checking the time by the sky, then nodded.

“…I should go. I need to see the mansion grounds and talk with the baron about what kind of painting he wants.”

Maybe she hadn’t noticed he was changing the subject. He didn’t argue.

Instead, he stood with a faint smile.

“But first, just a moment.”

He extended his hand to her.

It was obviously asking her to take it. Belita calmly placed her hand in his.

Sylvester’s golden eyes curved like crescents. Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed them gently against her skin.

…smack.

He pulled away, seemingly satisfied, and murmured softly.

“…I just realized, I never greeted you properly.”

Then, I’ll be off. Sylvester whispered, and left with a few painting tools.

I never greeted you properly—no details needed; Belita understood the meaning.

For a moment she stared at the hand he had kissed.

That boy… he knows how to sneak in little gestures. A sly one.

She remembered his eyes from just now.

When his soft lips touched her skin, beneath his otherwise simple demeanor, she’d glimpsed emotions deep and sticky as honey.

So he got jealous over Roman’s hand-kiss…

Belita chuckled.

It was amusing to see him pretending. Half admirable, half cheeky.

Settling back into the sofa, she thought—thank goodness she hadn’t let the conversation with him go any further.

Because even with just that brief mention, she felt she understood the origins of things like the pope and the Holy Empire.

“…Or perhaps I already know.”

It was… a kind of defense mechanism.

Belita had escaped from that portrait of darkness, but she hoped her memories had not escaped with her.

Nightmares did not grant freedom—they only sharpened one’s nerves. She wanted to keep her past submerged in darkness, blurred and indistinct.

But fragments she thought she’d buried resurfaced vividly through conversation with others.

…She hadn’t shown it outwardly, but it was terrifying.

She raised her hand.

All her followers had forgotten her, and many had died. Weakened, she was little better than a being with an expiration date.

Once every human who remembered her was gone, her very name—and with it her power—would vanish, erasing her existence as a demon.

And the one who had wanted that fall… had been none other than the one she loved.

…No. There had been an even greater culprit.

“…That bastard.”

The god who created this world—Rastaban.

Belita dragged her hands across her face.

“It’s because of you.”

Not any other demon, but the creator god himself.

“Ah… Belita…”

The most exalted, omnipotent being in the universe had desired her ruin.

“Because of you, I can never be perfect.”

How could she, a being who survived only in human memory, ever stand against the one who had created the universe?

“…Yes. I’ll just live like this.”

Forget Kesis, lost to time. Forget Rastaban, who incited her sealing.

Live quietly, like an ordinary woman, in this countryside town.

“I just need to forget.”

Hide from everyone’s eyes, discard the glorious past when she was a feared demon, and chase only a peace she’d never known before.

Her hand slipped down her face.

Light leaked between her fingers. She clenched her fist, trapping the ray of light.

“….”

Then she crushed it hard and opened her palm.

Of course, there was nothing there.

Knock, knock.

A voice came from outside the door.

“…Who is it?”

“Excuse me, Lady Belita. This is maid Ellie. The master has asked me to give you a tour of the mansion.”

Belita hesitated. She clenched and unclenched her empty fist a few times before rising from the sofa.

“….”

Actually, that was good. She needed a distraction.

“Should I come out now?”

“Yes, it’s fine.”

She had nothing else to prepare. After all, the only clothing she owned was the white dress she had worn from the distant past.

“I can help you get ready—”

“No need.”

Before Ellie could finish, Belita yanked the door open.

“Milady!”

Roman leapt forward.

“What the—?”

“I didn’t think you’d come out so quickly.”

“What are you…?”

“I just happened to be passing by, and thought, why not offer to show you around the mansion? I was only going to suggest it.”

Didn’t they say the guest rooms were on their own wing? What’s he doing ‘passing by’…

Belita looked at Roman, already waiting at her door, without expression.

“So then… it means you have time right now to guide me?”

“What business could a rich baron have? Since you’ll be here for a few days, I thought you might be bored staying indoors.”

Even in broad daylight, Roman’s pale green eyes sparkled like stars. Belita stared at his eager face.

If only he’d keep his mouth shut, he’d be tolerable.

“…Fine. Where to?”

“This way, please! There’s so much I want to tell you.”

Roman took the lead, and Belita followed, walking through halls in a style very different from the architecture she remembered of old.

“This mansion was inherited from the former baron. Did you know, my lady? Our estate has a long and noble history. Why, the architect who designed it centuries ago once worked for the royal family itself…”

Her eardrums began to ache.

Belita realized that, no matter how much she needed a change of pace, choosing to listen to Roman’s speech had been a mistake.

His countless words poured in one ear and out the other.

Foolish choice…

Roman went on: his father had died recently, and he wanted a painting of the mansion filled with memories of him. Since it was so vast and beautiful, he wished to show it to her.

Through his bright smile, there was an oddly wistful expression…

“…Hm.”

Yes, it was worth seeing.

Even I, a demon, can’t tell someone to shut up when they’re talking about their dead father.

So Belita endured, spending over an hour listening to the mansion’s long history.

By the time they were done, the sky was glowing with the golden hues of late afternoon.

Turning from the sunlit windows, she gave Roman a small nod.

“It wasn’t a bad way to spend time.”

“Haha, I’ll take that as praise. I’d love to show you more, but…”

Regret flickered on his face. Belita quickly shook her head.

He’d already held her ears hostage for over an hour on the very day she arrived. And now he wanted more? She grabbed the doorknob.

“I’ll rest now. You’ve wasted enough time on me—go do your work.”

She pushed the door open without hesitation.

“Belita.”

Suddenly, thud.

Roman planted his hand on the door.

A blue-tinged shadow swept over her in an instant. The large frame of a grown man loomed like a wave.

Shrouded in Roman’s shadow, Belita stared at the pale hand in front of her face.

Behind her came the sharp scent of cologne.

“…Wouldn’t one lover be enough for you?”