CHAPTER 09……………………………………….
From the moment he opened his eyes, the woman by his side had been watching him with worried eyes. She always carried a trace of concern when looking at him, but today it was particularly intense.
He could tell she was frustrated by his silence, but he didn’t want to speak.
He thought perhaps if he gave her even a small smile, she might feel reassured—but his mouth wouldn’t obey, stiff as if frozen.
“Well, I’ll be going now.”
After glancing back at him several times, the woman finally left the room to go to work. For the first time since arriving here, the man spent a long period completely alone.
Blinking slowly, he lay back on the bed.
His blue eyes, seeming empty of thought, stared quietly at the ceiling. His gaze flickered in time with the ticking second hand, then closed entirely.
Gradually, the presence that had seemed to draw attention merely by existing—his striking appearance—softened, losing some of its intensity.
[Surely the Child of Prophecy…]
Those in long, luxurious white robes murmured seriously as they looked down at him.
[But something’s wrong. There should have been a curse…]
The man closed and opened his eyes, listening to conversations he could not understand. Then, kneeling at his feet, a group of people appeared, clinging to him.
[Please save us! Don’t abandon us!]
Despite knowing he shouldn’t intervene, he had embarked on dozens of journeys. Magic and weapons collided, and the sticky blood and screams clung at his feet.
[Your defeat must not be known. You must always succeed.]
Eyes like frost, fingers that gripped as if to pierce, voices that pressed down ominously…
[The wounds aren’t visible on the surface, so no one will notice.]
Even though he thought there were people by his side, in the end, everyone was the same.
[I-I don’t know! I don’t know about this stuff!]
So he erased his emotions, simply obeyed commands, and carried them out. Then, the one time he refused a command and opened his eyes, he met eyes the color of the demon world’s sky—purple.
Cold eyes, and a low voice brushing his ear.
“You… your eyes are dead.”
The tone was direct and severe, but the clear violet eyes, which revealed his inner self, were surprisingly gentle.
“I’ll help you as much as I can.”
Confronted with that warm presence, he remembered the moment he had held the hand imbued with gentle life energy that hadn’t pushed him away.
“I’ve waited a very long time for you.”
And then he opened his eyes again.
Thump-thump—
Footsteps approached.
Blinking, he slowly sat up, following the sound growing closer. He pulled out the watch from his chest pocket.
19 seconds, 20 seconds, 21 seconds…
…and 57 seconds.
Knock, knock. A neat knock, followed by a familiar voice:
“It’s Xenia.”
‘My name is Xenia.’
Startled. The voice echoed with a memory of the past, and his hand trembled. For a fleeting moment, the dry blue of his eyes shone with a delicate light.
But when he raised his head, exploring his surroundings, that light disappeared at the sound of the door opening.
“How have you been?”
He said nothing, merely staring at her pale face.
The cold-looking woman with neatly arranged black hair and violet eyes moved through the room with practiced ease.
He followed her movements with his gaze, observing every action.
Her careful hands tidying the room, hair tied back for the meal, lips forming questions for him—he took it all in.
Yet the thing his eyes kept returning to was the violet from the first time they met.
That radiance was gone, but he couldn’t look away.
When their eyes met, she didn’t ask a question, only smiled faintly.
He didn’t dislike this quietness. Between the ticking seconds, she was calm and quiet.
Holding the utensils she gave him and eating fresh salad, he realized that here there were no harsh voices, no piercing glances, no hands gripping him firmly.
All that remained were the clinking of utensils, the ticking of the clock, and the gentle sounds she made.
[You will be the light that shines on the world.]
The voice that had always haunted him when alone, clinging painfully and relentlessly, had faded from his ears.
It was an unstable yet first taste of peace.
And realizing this peace, he thought:
I don’t want this moment to end.
After work, the hero was just as usual. Whether that was good or not, Xenia took solace that at least nothing had worsened.
Exhausted from so many things on her mind, Xenia soon fell asleep. But briefly, she stirred awake at the pain she felt in her wrist.
“…It hurts.”
Waving her hand lazily to avoid opening her eyes, the pain sharpened, and she snapped them open.
“What’s wrong?”
As she sat up, pulling the aching wrist toward her, a sharp grip made her cry out.
Her eyes instinctively followed the source of the pain, and she found a pale hand tightly holding her wrist.
Following the hand upward, it was only natural that the owner was the hero herself.
“Relax your grip a bit…”
The hand she held had gone white from lack of circulation.
Xenia twisted her body, propping herself up on her elbows to approach the hero.
But her hand hovered awkwardly in the air, unable to reach.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Judging by the trembling eyelids and cold sweat, the hero was having a nightmare.
I need to wash the sheets.
It was time to change them anyway…
Xenia reluctantly stopped thinking as the tingling in her own hand intensified. She tried not to dwell on it, trying to ignore it, but the pain forced her to pay attention.
Through her lashes, beads of sweat—or maybe tears—had formed. Clearly not a pleasant dream.
Xenia looked at the hero’s clenched jaw, seemingly enduring something. She made no sound, not a groan or cry.
So she doesn’t make a sound…
When had it started? She hadn’t seen this before when nursing her unconscious self. Perhaps she had been too unconscious to dream then.
Had it always been like this afterward? Or just today?
Sighing softly, Xenia reached out. Bangs damp with sweat fell into his eyes.
She doesn’t seem like she’ll let go…
Since he was having a nightmare, letting her wake up might not be bad.
She brushed the golden hair from his forehead. His partially revealed brow was perfectly shaped.
She now understood why people always said he was handsome. Even having seen many faces in the demon world, this one made her involuntarily admire him.
She swept back the rest of his hair. The strands fell perfectly between her fingers—a reward for daily brushing.
But the hair still poked his eyes. Frowning, she pushed it back again.
“…Should I sweep it to the side instead of back?”
Though short, parting it to the sides instead of the middle would keep it from poking his eyes. It might look a bit funny, but with that expressionless face, it would still suit him.
It was a little venting of frustration toward the mysterious gaze that always made her tense. Xenia admitted she could be somewhat childish.
So what if I’m childish?
Smiling faintly, she gently moved the hair to the side. As she reached to do the other side, without warning—as if by magic—the hero opened her eyes.
Meeting the bright blue eyes that pierced the darkness, Xenia blinked silently.
Seeing the eyes still restless as if in a dream, she pushed back the hair she had moved aside.
“Go back to sleep quickly.”
She let go of her playful intentions, trying to erase the nightmare as well.
Xenia gently stroked his hair like comforting a child, and the blinking hero slowly closed his eyes again. His expression seemed slightly more at ease.
After a few more gentle strokes, Xenia looked at the now more relaxed grip on her wrist, contemplating.
She just fell asleep, but if I release her now, will she wake up?
It was possible. But she couldn’t know when the grip might tighten again. Sleep was precious for someone who had to work tomorrow.
After all, Xenia needed to earn money to provide the hero’s meals and clothes.
She cautiously lifted her head and shivered. When had she opened her eyes again?
Xenia looked at the hero, who stared at her unblinking, and awkwardly waved.
Just as she was about to ask if she could release the hand, the blue eyes that had been searching her face curved into a gentle smile. She had no time to be surprised at the hero’s first-ever smile.
A low voice came with it.
“Xenia.”
She gazed blankly at that childlike, smiling face.
