~Chapter 6~
While Bellona was still a step behind, trying to figure out how things had escalated this far, Deminic continued talking without hesitation.
“They tell me not to burn down the temple, not to use dark magic however I want. Since you expect so much from me, letting me stay here for a bit shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
Bellona finally snapped out of her daze and answered.
“I only said things that are perfectly normal! Stop acting like I made weird demands.”
“And I did exactly what you wanted.”
She honestly didn’t think he would listen this well.
Bellona wanted to rip open his skull to see what in the world went on inside his head.
But she gave up quickly.
Instead of trying to throw him out, Bellona decided she’d be better off focusing on making this sudden “hide the black cat” short-term project work.
“…I guess I can say I’m sick and upset because of my engagement, so I’ve locked myself in my room.”
“You’re getting engaged? To who?”
Bellona shot him a sideways glare—he had actually picked up her mumbling and was now demanding details.
“I’m not. And I never will. So don’t worry about it.”
“Is it one of those cliché stories? You already have a fiancée chosen by your family, but you secretly like someone else?”
The way he slowly kept digging was like a predator refusing to let its prey go.
Why was he so obsessed with someone else’s love life? If she actually had one, she’d feel less wronged.
Bellona replied, full of disbelief:
“Sorry to disappoint you, but no.”
A wave of exhaustion washed over her, her head throbbing as she rubbed her temples.
“You don’t need to know these things anyway. Who I marry, who I don’t. Whether I get forced into an engagement or not.”
Deminic’s eyebrow shot up high—clearly annoyed.
The way he rubbed one eyebrow with his finger and sighed triggered a strange feeling of familiarity.
Ah, yes. This wasn’t “comforting familiarity.”
It was the memory of all those lifetimes where he was consistently arrogant, irritating, and impossible.
“Dark magic? I’m the one who captured the dark sorcerer, Count Rozentine. You’ve misunderstood something.”
“Please don’t talk nonsense after bribing the temple with money, Duke Roxellon.”
“If you want my fortune so badly, there is a way—you could become the Duchess of Roxellon.”
Bellona didn’t bother being polite; she shot back sharply:
“Stop talking nonsense and get ready to die.”
“You don’t even use honorifics anymore. How rude for a countess.”
Recently, their conversations had turned into this strange tug-of-war, a constant battle of nerves.
“Don’t you dare mess with Davienne, you lunatic.”
“Ah, now you’re finally looking at me properly. It’s not easy catching the eye of the great Lady Rozentine, is it?”
Countless memories mixed together. She couldn’t even tell which life the memory came from anymore.
As her lives passed, her fear of Deminic and her attachment to life wore thinner and thinner.
Maybe that’s why Deminic—who always noticed unusual things—became interested in her.
“You know an awful lot about me. And I told you plenty about myself. But I have no idea what you’re thinking… I just want to understand you. As much as you understand me.”
His long, slightly frustrated complaint finally reminded Bellona what they had been talking about. She snapped herself out of the haze of old memories and managed to reply:
“My life isn’t special. Aside from what I’ve talked about with you, I’m just… a normal noble lady. No grand background or anything.”
She could talk openly about the few acquaintances she had, but saying Davienne’s name first felt uncomfortable.
Because Deminic’s interest in Davienne—the original heroine and saint—was always consistent.
She knew exactly how he would stare at her when the saint’s mark appeared on Davienne’s forehead.
Pure awe.
Then desire.
Yes. That’s where everything always started going wrong.
But what could Bellona do to stop the Duke of Roxellon from attending the ball and seeing Davienne?
Nothing.
As long as they existed in the same place, it was natural Deminic’s attention would shift to Davienne.
After all, she was absolutely stunning—gentle, kind, elegant, the kind of person anyone would fall for at first sight.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Bellona, chin resting on her hand while lost in thought, blinked when she saw him intensely studying her expression.
“If I marry some guy my father chooses, like any other noble lady—does that really seem that strange to you?”
She genuinely wondered why he kept asking about her future spouse with that disbelieving tone.
“With you? I just don’t see you making such a boring choice.”
He leaned against the window, smiling lazily—a smile she knew too well.
“Instead of a boring choice… why not take my hand instead?”
Why did his words overlap perfectly with something he once said in another life?
That blood-covered hand he once held out to her.
The one she pushed away.
This time, she was the one who offered her hand.
The irony stung.
Bellona tried to sound casual so she wouldn’t get sentimental.
“Anyway, stay if you want. I told you I’d help you, so it’s not like I have much of a choice now.”
His sudden arrival had shocked her, but having him here didn’t really bother her that much.
Seeing the countless scars on his back… how could her heart not soften?
It didn’t excuse his actions in the past, but he wasn’t the same Deminic anymore.
Bellona might have lived twenty lives or a hundred,
but for everyone else—including Deminic—this was their first.
Judging him based on past lives was the fastest way to make a bad decision and jump straight into the next reincarnation.
“Still… I never thought I’d end up letting you into my room.”
Her absentminded mumble made Deminic’s eyes gleam.
And she knew that look now.
Whatever he was thinking, she did not want to hear it.
“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”
She quickly covered his mouth with her hand.
He grabbed her wrist with an amused expression.
Just like the time he checked whether she was a dark sorcerer, his fingers slowly brushed the inside of her wrist.
Bellona suddenly realized his other hand, placed behind her back, was moving in slow circles.
Like he was trying to soothe someone.
She looked up at him with a What are you doing? expression.
He paused and said:
“You seem unnecessarily tense. Don’t worry. I’m not going to eat you.”
Bellona sighed softly and pulled away from his arms.
“I’m going to finish the book I was reading.”
“No one has ever chosen a book over me before.”
He said it like he genuinely believed his face was so handsome that no one could possibly ignore it.
Bellona simply leaned fully onto the bed, picked up her book again, and answered flatly:
“Sorry to disappoint you. There’s a first time for everything.”
She heard him laugh quietly from behind the book, but she didn’t look up.
“So you’re really not going to spare me even a single glance? Really?”
“Really.”
“That hurts, you know.”
His voice was ridiculously smooth—no pride bruised at all—which made her finally lift her head.
And those red eyes were sparkling with amusement.
“Do you really enjoy talking to me that much?”
“Of course. You never lose. Most people, once they know who I am, never talk to me the way you do. You’re… special.”
“I don’t like being special.”
Her true feelings slipped out.
She just wanted a quiet, normal life. To die normally.
Why was that so impossible?
“Fine, then let’s call it unusual.”
Bellona frowned at his determination to continue talking no matter what.
It was going to be a long, long night.
