Chapter 56………..
Why would the Holy Pope crave powers beyond divine power?
He isn’t even a Demon King.
At those words, Jude’s eyes glimmered sharply.
“Lord Mephisto. This 4th Holy Pope, Gregorian, is revered even within Graham as an exceptionally powerful wielder of divine power.”
“That’s right. So why would a Pope with such overwhelming holy power covet other forces as well?”
Even if desire has no limits, something about this feels wrong.
“Shall I investigate?”
“That would be best, Jude. And as it happens, an opportunity has come for me to directly witness this Pope—who rarely leaves Graham—using divine power…”
When Mephisto straightened, adjusting his attire and rising to his feet, Naer swiftly moved to drape the prepared cloak over his shoulders.
Jewels gleamed with dignity over the entirely black uniform, giving Mephisto an appearance that was unmistakably noble and beautiful at first glance.
Who would ever imagine that the ruler of the Demon Realm could be so breathtaking?
“With my own eyes, I’ll confirm it.”
Whether god or otherwise, any knot left unresolved inevitably resurfaces with time. It is an inescapable law of the universe.
“It seems it is my destiny, Jude, to accomplish the will that the former Demon King could not. I will depart with Naer.”
Humans called such things “fate.”
“I shall await your command, Your Highness.”
Leaving Jude bowing deeply behind him, Mephisto strode out with his black cape billowing.
Roziana let out a hot breath and collapsed onto her bed.
Her body, freshly washed from the bath, felt languid and heavy.
“Ah, I’m exhausted.”
“You’ve worked hard, Your Highness,” said Mari, who began massaging Roziana’s legs through her nightgown.
Between imperial councils, noble assemblies, regular biweekly meetings, and the knights’ commanders’ meetings, her schedule had been overwhelming. Today, in particular, had been especially draining.
“Dealing with those old Senate geezers just sucks the life right out of me.”
After back-to-back meetings, she and Emperor Leodian had also conducted the proceedings and explained the rules of the betrothal contest. By the time they finished, the day was nearly gone.
Even after soaking thoroughly in warm water, the fatigue clung to her, leaving her mana circle nearly drained. She could barely twitch her fingers without furrowing her brow from the effort.
“Still, I can’t skip training. Mari, did you summon As?”
She was still nearly two stages away from completing her circle.
The “Contract of Atonement” she had struck had to be fulfilled.
“Yes, I delivered Your Highness’s order for him to arrive at the appointed time.”
When told to atone in this way for his past wrongs against her, Asterios had silently agreed without complaint. Remembering that expression made her blood heat.
‘It would’ve annoyed me if he refused, but for him to accept so easily—it almost feels insulting.’
It proved that he knew full well it was wrong, yet still chose to leave her alone back then.
Roziana and Asterios had agreed to meet every three days after their duties. For the past two months, it had only involved holding hands for a set period of time.
This was a consensual arrangement, allowing Roziana to receive mana from him.
Though his body still needed recovery, since their days together in the Demon Realm’s cage as master and prey, Roziana had never stopped drawing power from him.
Through trial, she had learned that drawing moderate mana once every three days caused him little lasting harm.
The amount transferred depended on the time and intensity of their contact, and that decision rested entirely with Roziana.
And so, every three nights, late at night, they touched.
“Your face is red, Your Highness. Are you alright?” Mari asked as she massaged Roziana’s waist and shoulders.
A few glasses of white wine at the banquet following the evening meeting had lifted her spirits, and drinking a little more afterward—before bathing—had tipped her into mild drunkenness, adding to her exhaustion.
“This much is fine. I’ll just do my circle training and then sleep, so don’t worry. You go rest now, Mari.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
After bowing politely and leaving, not long after—knock, knock.
Asterios’s voice followed from beyond the door.
“Your Highness. It is Asterios.”
The appointed time. The appointed visitor.
“…Come in.”
And the appointed act.
At her reply, the princess’s chamber door opened. Asterios entered, neatly but simply dressed.
“As…”
Roziana, sprawled on her bed, turned her head slightly toward the door.
Whether from the faint haze of drink or drowsiness, his figure appeared hazy yet dreamlike.
Perhaps surprised to see her welcoming him from bed instead of as usual, Asterios’s golden eyes widened.
Even so, Roziana found herself irritated at being distracted by his handsome face.
That face was still her taste. It had been, for centuries.
‘Tch.’
Her emotions surged more honestly than usual.
Perhaps she had been waiting for this moment.
Perhaps she had always wanted to reveal her feelings in front of him like this.
“To think you’ve bewitched me twice with that face.”
“…Your Highness?”
His face was full of confusion.
“…Are you alright?”
The delicate, beautiful princess draped on the bed gave no answer—just gazed at him with a flushed face.
Her blatant stare made even him feel heat rise. He lowered his eyes calmly.
“If you are weary, I shall return later—”
“As if I’d let you.”
Hmph. Roziana cut him off curtly.
Why did just seeing his face make her so cross?
Why did his composure before her feel so unbearable?
“Why do you seem perfectly fine before me?”
“!”
Why are you so unshaken—when I’m the one hurting alone?
‘…It’s only me who feels this way.’
That’s what stung.
She had already received his apology. But it wasn’t enough.
It had felt like empty words.
“Tonight I might be rougher than usual, As. Be ready.”
She wanted, on purpose, to push him into discomfort and suffering.
“…Understood.”
“‘Understood?’”
That resolute face—as if nothing could sway him—needled her even more.
“My apologies.”
Sensing her displeasure, he quickly bowed his head.
But that wasn’t what Roziana wanted to hear.
“Do you think ‘sorry’ is enough?”
At her sudden provocation, Asterios—no, Tenebres—froze.
“…Your Highness.”
His voice, rough and low, carried her name while his eyes remained cast down.
Roziana loathed that guilty expression, that look of a sinner.
Yet she hated herself more—for being unable to despise that face or those eyes.
The man who had dared appear before her with the same face while hiding his true identity.
‘But as much as I hate you, I don’t want to let you go.’
Through the existence of the “Demon King’s Prey,” she had begun to understand—dimly—why Asterios and her sisters had made their choices back then.
And just like crumbling earth washed away by rain, the wall she had built around her heart had started to collapse.
It had already burst, spilling uncontrollably within her.
‘Ah… I still… As…’
Again, and still—
It was the moment she confirmed that she loved him.
“I’m holding a contest to choose my fiancé. Does that not trouble you?”
At her words, his golden eyes turned back to her, filled with unplaceable sorrow and confusion.
“Are you upset with me?”
His gaze was moist yet calm, as though unaffected by her outburst.
“I say I’ll choose a husband, that I’ll take hundreds of candidates, and you feel nothing?”
“…It sounds as though you wish me to be shaken.”
Exactly. She wanted him restless, jealous—pained by her, regretting.
“Yes. I wanted to torment you. Of course, there were other reasons for the contest. But really, I wanted to see you jealous.”
“Then, Your Highness, you are succeeding.”
Because I worry for you so much, I feel as though I’m dying a little every day. Yet still, it is better than when you were gone from the world.
So I can endure it.
These words never left his lips, but churned inside him.
“Tenebres.”
She called him coldly by his former name.
Yes. Asterios was Tenebres.
Whether his old name or his new one, to her he was simply the man she loved.
And to him, she was the same—whether past Erica or present Roziana.
The difference was that Roziana was free to express her heart, but Asterios could not claim his feelings boldly.
It was a trap of his own making, a foolish regret, a stubborn choice.
Even after centuries of anguish, regret, and yearning, he could not save himself. He could not bind her again.
For he lacked the courage to endure her hatred any further.
Thus he was wholly her slave, her prey.
And Roziana knew it.
“…”
And so, she resolved to sever the past he could not cut away.
“Listen carefully now, Asterios Tenebres.”
A blade honed sharp hung not in her hands, but on her tongue.
“If, in this contest, you become my fiancé…”
Her white hand pulled open his shirt.
“!”
