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Chapter 26
There was the scent of lilies. An overwhelmingly heavy scent.
Ten days before the typhoon arrived.
Ian Brighton had been repeatedly plagued by the same vicious nightmare lately.
A human staring at him with short white hair and lake-blue eyes.
A templar knight clad in armor, wielding a consecrated spear, piercing his heart and crushing his head beneath her foot.
By my name, Cecilia, I will execute you here,
Ian hurled every curse he could at her.
No—was it really me who hurled them?
As the knight’s spear rushing toward him filled his vision, and darkness fell at the very end, Ian would wake from his sleep.
Slowly lifting his sweat-soaked body, he swallowed the realization that crept in bit by bit.
This was the memory of a demon.
He and the demon were gradually becoming assimilated as time passed.
All the more so because three years had already gone by.
Perhaps dawn had broken—dim light seeped in through the sky beyond the window.
After staring blankly at the sight, Ian rang the bell.
A moment later, Cissy, dressed in her nightclothes, arrived in his room.
Judging by her half-awake face, it seemed she had rushed straight to him the moment she woke.
Just seeing that was enough to give Ian a sense of satisfaction.
Lying sprawled on the bed, he tapped the edge of it lightly.
“Come here.”
“What is it, young master? Are you unwell? Did something happen? Should I call a physician?!”
“Stop making a fuss and come sit here.”
“Oh my goodness. Your complexion is pale. Are you really all right?”
Obediently sitting at the head of the bed at his command, Cissy peered at Ian’s face with concern.
Ian placed the back of his hand on his own forehead and slowly rolled his eyes, observing her.
Every time this child looked at him with that expression, it felt like his insides were being scratched.
Some unbearable emotion would abruptly assert its presence.
And it was more than enough to wipe away the nightmare he’d had just moments ago.
“Sing that lousy lullaby of yours.”
“I can sing it as much as you want. But you really are okay, right?”
“I had a nightmare.”
For a moment, Cissy’s expression turned strange.
“Young master… had a nightmare…….”
“Why that look? What do you take me for?”
“Oh, n-no. Is your nightmare perhaps something like enjoying tea time with doll friends at a cheerful tea party?”
Ian finally let out a snort of laughter.
“Exactly. You finally understand me properly.”
“R-really?!”
“Do you think so? Stop talking nonsense and sing the lullaby.”
“Yes.”
Her thin voice began to hum a song.
When mother goes to gather oysters, beyond the shadow of the island…
The lyrics were impossible to relate to, and the melody was utterly unfamiliar, but he didn’t care.
Ian quietly closed his eyes.
Nightmares no longer mattered at all.
“I dreamed that I died.”
The words slipped out through Ian’s parted lips against his will.
Cissy’s lullaby stopped.
“You dreamed that you died, young master?”
“Yes.”
“How horrible…….”
“Someone crushed my head under their foot and pierced my heart with a spear.”
Gentle fingertips touched his forehead.
Ian let Cissy stroke his brow without resistance.
Despite his body faintly burning with heat, the sensation was cool.
“Did you dislike it?”
Cissy asked softly.
Ian suddenly asked himself the same question. Did he dislike it?
“Well.”
He answered vaguely.
“Rather than dislike… I think I hated it with a vengeance.”
Cissy fell silent.
At that quiet, Ian unconsciously grabbed the hand that had been stroking his forehead.
“I’ll let it slide if you crush my head.”
The words also escaped him without thought.
“Pardon?”
A flustered reply came back—she sounded genuinely startled.
Ian chuckled softly.
“Why that reaction? I went to the trouble of giving you special treatment.”
“I would never crush your head…! Anyway, that would never happen! How could you say something so terrifying?!”
“Ah, I’m half serious. If you were to pierce my heart with a spear, then even so…….”
The other half was a joke.
But the more he spoke, the more Ian realized he was speaking from the heart.
“I don’t think I could bring myself to hate you…….”
Amid the overpowering scent of lilies, Ian was once again seized by that sensation of his insides being scratched.
But this was clearly different from the feeling he usually had.
If the usual sensation was an unbearable inner itch, this one provoked an urge to destroy something.
“Perhaps this is the moment when ‘Cissy pierces your heart with a spear,’ Ian.”
The shadow whispered to him.
A possessive desire, an urge to monopolize, and the intense rage born from them all tangled together, clogging Ian’s thoughts.
The emotions had reached such an extreme that his vision nearly went black.
Of course, there was no way Ian Brighton could properly discern the fine classifications of such emotions.
All he could recognize were the broad categories of rage and jealousy.
But that was enough.
Even just that was more than sufficient for the shadow spreading at his feet to fill the entire study.
The scent of lilies.
“It’s his smell.”
“It’s his trace.”
“It’s his holy sign.”
“It’s his blessing.”
From within the shadow, dozens—hundreds—of voices burst forth.
“Why does Cissy have his?”
“Did she meet him?”
“Did they meet and make contact?”
“Did he give that to Cissy himself?”
“Why?”
Why?
“Why?”
For what reason?
What possible reason could there be?
He had heard the news that the reincarnation of Saint Cecilia had appeared.
A saint who would protect the Empire, the return of a hero who would safeguard the nation. Mother God Creatos had once again raised a barrier for the Empire.
The day he was exposed to all the ridiculous rumors floating around—
Yes, the nightmares started from that day.
Saint Cecilia. The only demon slayer in history.
‘That reincarnation came here?’
But there was something more important.
‘And that person met this girl.’
Ian’s lips slowly parted.
“Why?”
At the question that finally escaped him, Cissy lifted her face—painted with bewilderment—and met his gaze.
The demon wondered: why had the saint who killed me met her?
But Ian wondered something else.
‘Why did that bastard meet Cissy alone?’
The edges of his vision darkened.
A violent crash of thunder echoed amid the rain pouring down outside the window.
The study was now filled with countless whispers born of shadow and pitch-black darkness.
“Why did you meet him?”
You said you’d stay with me forever.
“You said you liked me.”
That time spent with me was precious and good, that was why you liked me.
“You said you’d choose me even if you went back.”
And yet…….
This disgusting scent of lilies that shakes heaven and earth.
Even the lingering trace of clean grass drifting at its end.
Ah.
The children of god who bear the epithet “pure white” really are unbearably troublesome.
At that moment, Ian sensed the rage of the demon dwelling within him.
But…….
Did that matter?
“Saint knight or whatever.”
The demon whispered.
“What if Cissy tries to kill us?”
No, no.
“What if she tries to betray us?”
That’s not what matters.
“‘Ian’?”
Betrayal, death—those are utterly meaningless concerns.
“If betrayal and death aren’t the issue, then why are you angry?”
Finally, the demon spoke in a puzzled voice at Ian, who continued to defy his will.
Because—
“Because you came back carrying another man’s scent of lilies…….”
For the first time since Ian Brighton’s birth, the demon fell silent, if only for a moment.
At the same time, the rampaging shadows suddenly organized themselves and began to spread outward in unison, centered on Ian.
It was Ian’s will.
Excluding the demon dwelling within him, the environment began to change through Ian’s own inherent will.
Not with the deep hatred toward his archenemy from a thousand years ago, but with messy, pathetic jealousy, he firmly seized the reins of the demon he had tolerated until now.
The first to notice this was none other than the girl who claimed to be his.
Cissy’s face turned pale.
In desperation, she reached out toward Ian.
“Nothing about that has changed! Really! I didn’t meet the priest with any purpose! We just happened to run into each other! I wasn’t trying to abandon you…….”
She couldn’t reach him. Ian Brighton was already trapped within his own world.
“Ah, seriously! Young master! Please listen when someone talks to you! Young master!”
Kicking away the shadows clinging to her ankles, Cissy managed to take a step toward Ian.
“Ian Brighton!!”
Even shouting at the top of her lungs, she still couldn’t reach him.
Darkness completely swallowed Ian’s body.
At the same time, every light in the mansion went out.
Lightning struck the cliff.
The mansion, devoured by darkness, fell silent in an instant.
A truly artificial silence.
Someone might calmly think, Did something happen because of the lightning?—but……
Cecil, who had reached the entrance of the villa mansion holding the handkerchief the girl had dropped at the temple, was different.
“…….”
Lifting her head, Cecil gazed steadily at a point on the upper floor of the mansion, then slipped the handkerchief into her pocket and turned to the coachman.
“Do not wait. Return to the temple first.”
“Pardon? Will you be all right?”
“I will be fine. However, if I do not return by dawn, please tell the captain to send someone to the Brighton ducal family’s villa.”
“Ah, yes. If you say so…….”
The coachman scratched his cheek with a puzzled expression, then grasped the reins and voiced a sudden concern.
“Still, the weather is terrible. I’m worried about your return. It seems the villa may have suffered damage from the lightning.”
Cecil offered him a faint smile.
“Well, who knows—was it really because of the lightning…….”
