CHAPTER 13………………………………………………
Leraje, who had been groaning for quite some time, lowered the hand that had been covering his face. Zhenya quickly composed her expression.
“If you think of it that way, I’d be grateful.”
“You should have more confidence in your appearance. You have no idea how beautiful you are—”
Guessing the embarrassing praise that was about to follow, Zhenya laughed lightly.
“But could I compare to Your Majesty? The most beautiful one here is Your Majesty.”
Whenever she said that, as always, she expected him to launch into praise of the Demon King’s beauty. Honestly, hearing the Demon King praised was better than being praised herself.
But the answer she got was different from usual.
“Of course, His Majesty is dignified and beautiful beyond compare, but recently I discovered an overwhelming beauty.”
A flicker of unease crept in—and it turned out she was right to feel that way.
Leraje snapped his fingers as if recalling something, then clapped his hands together.
“It was so beautiful it nearly blinded me. A human like yourself, but as if the sun itself had been given form. It felt almost sacrilegious to even look at him.”
Where had his languid drawl gone? He spoke rapidly, barely pausing to breathe. Leraje’s eyes reddened as he flicked his tongue out to lick his lips.
“Truly fitting of a hero. That radiant blond hair and refined appearance—what a waste that he’s His Majesty’s enemy. Especially his eyes…”
Thump, thump. Zhenya’s heart began pounding violently. Inevitably, the topic had returned to the hero.
Why did he keep talking about the hero? Did he know something?
Her mouth went dry with anxiety when suddenly Leraje’s hand rose and blocked her view.
She’d already guessed from his height, and she’d felt it when he escorted her before, but Leraje’s hands were enormous.
So large, in fact, that his fully spread hand completely covered Zhenya’s face—just like now.
Before she could even react, something splattered heavily against her face.
“Ah.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyelids trembling.
Something hot dripped down her cheek. From the hole pierced clean through Leraje’s hand in front of her, the same substance flowed down onto the floor.
She couldn’t even close her eyes, breathing shallowly, when a gentle voice spoke beside her.
“No matter how beautiful that blue sapphire may be, I can’t allow this bewitching amethyst right before me to be harmed.”
She didn’t understand what had just happened. Had something gone wrong? Or was it Beris?
She was sure she’d seen Beris smiling smugly through the hole in Leraje’s hand.
The hand that had been shielding her fell away, and Leraje caught Zhenya’s chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Thankfully, you’re still beautiful.”
A satisfied smile curved his lips. On his face, she could see small scratch marks—but Leraje paid no attention to his own injuries, instead brushing his thumb across Zhenya’s cheek.
“Though this does need to be wiped off.”
As he wiped his blood from her face, Leraje frowned.
“Ah. I used the wrong hand.”
So he’d grabbed her face with the very hand he’d injured protecting her. The expression she’d seen through that pierced palm flashed back into her mind, and her stalled thoughts began to move again.
Bastard.
Clenching her teeth, Zhenya deliberately exhaled the breath she’d been holding since her chin was seized.
Then, without asking permission, she caught Leraje’s hand as it dropped from her chin and pulled off his glove.
The glove, sticky with blood and flesh, fell to the floor with a wet sound.
The scratches on his face had already vanished, and the gaping wound in his palm had healed halfway before her eyes.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” she asked, staring at the gruesome injury.
Leraje answered with a picture-perfect smile.
“It’s nothing.”
The demon race really was incredible. Unless it was an injury caused by holy power, were they simply numb to pain?
As Zhenya traced her fingers around the rapidly healing wound, she drew up her power.
It didn’t take much effort—after all, it had been healing on its own. A slow white glow spread between their touching palms.
Unlike her usual quick, sparkling healing, the light lingered, fully enveloping Leraje’s palm before dispersing into the air.
After inspecting his now-smooth hand, Zhenya asked,
“Are you going to fight?”
Leraje, gazing at her with dazed eyes, let out a soft exclamation.
“Huh?”
She recalled Beris’s foul grin. Whether it had been intentional or an accident didn’t matter—what mattered was that something had happened.
And Leraje, who despised Beris, wouldn’t let this slide.
“If you’re going to fight,” Zhenya continued, “may I step out and rest for a bit?”
To be honest, she wanted them to fight this time. If Leraje hadn’t stepped in, it wouldn’t have been his hand pierced—but her face.
Leraje blinked rapidly. Her use of holy power must have made an impression.
A quick glance showed Beris and Vine wearing similar expressions. Even if they’d known about her abilities, this was the first time all three had seen her use them directly.
Was it because her innate power was small? No. It was because Eligos had declared that Zhenya’s power belonged to the Demon King.
“That power must be reserved for His Majesty at all times.”
Unless the Demon King permitted it, no one could use or demand Zhenya’s power.
Normally, she wouldn’t have healed Leraje.
But she had—and it was a kind of insurance.
She’d only been by the three demons’ side for a few hours, and she’d already faced mortal danger. It was obvious how often such threats would repeat over the next three days.
So she needed something that would move Leraje beyond the Demon King’s orders—something to raise her value. For example, showing the holy power that only she possessed.
Holy power is beautiful.
She had clearly seen the greed in Leraje’s eyes the moment he witnessed it.
Feeling the faint remnants of the power she’d deliberately let linger, Zhenya curved her lips upward. It wasn’t much power, which meant she could control it cleanly.
Still, for the sake of beauty, she closed her power very slowly.
It felt wasteful to scatter what little strength she had just for appearances—but to firmly capture Leraje’s heart, it couldn’t be helped.
Leraje, who’d been staring at her blankly, cleared his throat and muttered while looking down at his palm.
“…Right. I’ve heard that using power like that makes one very tired.”
Zhenya tried her best to form the most beautiful smile she could manage.
“Will you allow it?”
Living as a human in the Demon Realm was no different from living with death at one’s side.
Like the incident just now, no matter how careful you were, things could happen in the blink of an eye.
Something she’d waited ten years for was about to unfold. To die from bad luck at a time like this would be so unfair she might die all over again from resentment.
“All right, Zhenya. Go rest for a bit.”
The heat in Leraje’s gaze was incomparable to just minutes earlier. Pretending not to notice, Zhenya bowed deeply.
“I’ll return right after lunch.”
She hurried out of the warehouse. The moment she emerged from underground, a massive explosion boomed behind her—but she didn’t turn back.
She wanted to see the hero.
She forgot to knock and flung the door open. Perhaps because she’d nearly died, she could feel how agitated she was. Still, she wanted to see the hero with her own eyes as soon as possible.
As soon as she opened the door, Zhenya looked toward the bed.
“Huh?”
But contrary to her expectations, the hero wasn’t there. She was briefly flustered, but soon noticed signs of movement elsewhere.
She could hear water running in the bathroom. Approaching, she called out,
“Are you in there?”
Something clattered inside, followed by a series of hurried crashes.
Frowning in concern, she watched as the bathroom door opened and the hero appeared, his face wet with water. It looked like he’d rushed out without even properly drying his face or hair.
Why is he dressed like—
Desperately averting her eyes from the white towel wrapped around his waist, Zhenya met his gaze.
Normally, she would’ve brought him clothes right away. But right now, she needed to be sure he was safe—really here in her room.
She took a deep breath and looked at him. Just as she reached out, he stepped forward first.
Then, with his large hand, he cupped her face.
“…Zhenya.”
He called her name again. Before she could react, she felt his hands trembling.
Without his usual smile, the hero didn’t look emotionless—he looked angry.
What? Caught off guard, Zhenya stared at him blankly, unable to understand the situation.
As if holding something back, he let out a quiet breath and rubbed her face.
“Ah.”
Half-dried blood smeared onto his hand.
Only then did Zhenya understand his reaction.
Her face was still covered in Leraje’s blood.
