Chapter 77: Do You Think It's Possible?

Who was it that said those who curse others will never have enough graves?

She smiled quietly, as if she had grasped my intention through a mere glance.

In this darkness, her presence was distinct, though faint, like her two eyes that held a yellowish hue.

Contrasting with her blue skin, her pale white top was designed to cover most of her flesh, save for half-revealing her nape and the area around her collarbones.

Her bottoms extended below her knees, but with slits along the sides, her leg lines were blatantly exposed as she sat with her legs crossed.

The mere difference in skin color evoked a very strange impression.

“…….”

With a calm face, Kariel stepped away from the candlelight and leaned back into the wooden chair.

He did not question her, nor did he condemn her.

Even more so, he did not deny her or express any discomfort.

“You might be a bit bewildered by remarks that seem to negate someone with whom you’ve already established a friendship, but this, too, is pure goodwill on my part.”

“…….”

Look at that.

Even without saying a word, she provides the desired answer on her own.

Setting aside the content, the way it flowed without hesitation was almost refreshing.

Returning to the content, however, things became gloomy again.

Still, in the end, he had no choice but to ask.

I looked directly at her and asked.

“It might be rude to ask this, but may I inquire as to the reason you are showing such goodwill?”

“I cherish connections.”

It was a slightly off-target answer, but in a way, it was appropriate.

“They say the secret to gaining trust and results in farming or business is to give first rather than expect to receive, and then reap the rewards later, right? That is why.”

“…….”

“Our guest here doesn’t seem like the type to build intimacy through physical means. Though that is the greatest pleasure where both parties can be satisfied… I had a feeling the moment I saw you.”

She smiles in the darkness.

Despite her sharp features, the reason her impression melts into softness likely lies in that smile, her friendly demeanor, and her voice.

However, if one were to set that aside and observe her with prejudice.

Even her fresh expression and kind, smiling eyes would transform into an impression that seemed to contain sharp contempt.

Adding the prejudice regarding skin color and the horns on her head.

Even without a specific fear or hatred of the Demon Race, one couldn’t help but recoil.

Nevertheless, if one did not feel such prejudice regarding her impression, it must be because she had put painstaking effort into not appearing that way.

From the way she guided one’s gaze and consciousness toward her attitude and voluptuous body with a smile the moment they met.

To the way she continuously displayed words and attitudes showing sincere praise and friendliness to instill a familiar impression… that was a social skill Kariel himself did not possess.

The art of conduct—the method of not being hated, the forced knowledge of how to avoid being disregarded and despised.

This, which was more skillful and superior than Kariel’s own concept of such things, would also be a form of social maneuvering.

I have no intention of making excuses by saying she has an advantage because she is a woman.

At a glance, she was popular even among women who would likely harbor resentment toward her.

This wouldn’t be a result achieved in a short time.

Since resentment can be turned into familiarity over the years.

She.

Even if only to dispel the hostility and violence of others as a weakling.

She had to desperately win favor.

She must have strived to acquire a talent specialized in this area.

Therefore.

She likely quickly understood my temperament and tendencies, as I had attempted similar things.

“Even though you are at an age where passion should be boiling, I can see that even when lust flares up while looking at me, it quickly cools down. That’s something that cannot be achieved simply through conviction or resolve. It’s like a primal instinct.”

She speaks.

Therefore, if one could suppress even such a primordial instinct.

“…I guessed you must have a deep wound. That’s why I decided not to use physical temptation. So, what should I do to win your heart?”

“…….”

It is not difficult.

Consistently spend time appealing for friendliness to build a bond.

Provide small benefits to make oneself recognized as a necessary person.

Then, make one’s existence familiar.

…Theoretically, Kariel knew this well.

It was just that none of those three things were appropriate for him.

Back when he was in the capital, he often sensed those who approached him hypocritically based on such theories.

It wasn’t that there were no people trying to cling to him for his status and backing.

Though eventually, even those were wiped out.

Ruslan.

She continued her explanation.

“You must show as much sincerity as possible and demonstrate a corresponding level of devotion. Something that is needed immediately.”

“…Have you not considered that this could conversely become a great danger?”

Whether it be business or otherwise.

This is a world where one can die or be killed simply for knowing someone.

Making an acquaintance sometimes entails great risk.

“But there is nothing in this world that isn’t dangerous, is there?”

And.

“Opportunities are originally found in dangerous places. Just as one can acquire value that others cannot because others do not go there.”

“…….”

The meaning behind those eyes was simple.

Ambition.

Aspiration.

Generally, it was that sort of thing.

If one were to pick the most fundamental trait that makes a demon a demon.

The one thing that both demons and those who oppose them agree upon.

Desire.

Do the races of the Middle Realm lack desire?

No, it is the same.

However, the attitude toward desire.

Can they affirm, uphold, and worship it?

Can they trample upon the thing they worshipped so much without blinking an eye?

Loyalty, humanity, justice, benevolence.

Whether they can regard such things as vices, hate them, and reject them.

Whether they can prioritize desire and greed above all else.

“If your usefulness fades even slightly… those vampires will use you up and discard you without a second thought.”

Just as one would drain all the blood from livestock or prey and then toss the hide and flesh aside.

“Though Philbar, the Second Prince, might be an exception. But just because he doesn’t wish for it doesn’t mean he won’t betray you. And they are people who are reasonably accustomed to unfair treatment that practically strips away individual will.”

“…Does that mean the Vampire Clan cannot defy the will of the Clan Head, the master and leader of the organization?”

“I’m glad you know. That’s right. I’m not blaming Philbar… I wanted to tell you that their Clan Head, the Head of Household’s will is something they can never betray as individuals. That’s why it’s even more malicious. Even if the person approaching you has goodwill, even if they have overcome the urge to suck blood, what if their master instructs them from afar? They carry a fate that cannot be refused, no matter what.”

Even if Philbar himself were willing to risk his life to keep his friendship and loyalty to Kariel.

If the Clan Head decided, he could tear out Kariel’s heart and bite into his neck with his own hands.

“And you shouldn’t try to understand them with the mindset of a Short-lived Race. Because they live for a long time… they have a habit of looking at the distant future rather than what is right in front of them, unlike us. In the first place, they are people who live in a world of dreams, so they don’t have much attachment to reality.”

They sow seeds everywhere but do not obsess over them.

As those who live through long ages, they are not heavily swayed by instinctive or impulsive emotions like humans.

“If you treat him while understanding that temperament, you will be able to build a more useful friendship.”

For example, do not blindly expect or rely on him only to be betrayed, and if you are betrayed, do not feel wronged.

That was essentially the meaning.

“…Thank you for the advice.”

Kariel expressed his gratitude honestly.

“Yes. Then let’s end it here for today. If we had a bit more time, we might have been able to exchange our bodies, hearts, and even our inner secrets candidly.”

“…….”

She does not demand anything immediately.

As she stated earlier, she voluntarily bestows a favor first.

As she left the room, the Demon King, who had been watching, smoothly licked his tongue.

-Did he notice?

“Yes.”

Those last words were not a simple greeting.

If we had a bit more time.

Was there a need to repeat and emphasize that?

Or was it just Ruslan’s way of speaking or a habit?

Regardless, those words could be a simple wish or expression of intent.

But interpreted differently.

“…….”

Could it not be an implicit meaning that there will not be enough time for that?

Of course, it could be an overinterpretation or a mere guess.

…But there’s no harm in keeping it in mind.

‘Providing a favor. At the same time, it could be a test.’

One’s value and usefulness are things one creates for oneself.

As if the peace he had felt until now was a lie, he suddenly felt as if malice was tightening around him from all directions.

He felt his heart shrink instinctively, but he forced himself to shake it off.

In the end, this too is a fear and anxiety I created.

…Even if an invisible blade were to fly from somewhere and kill me.

That cannot be a reason to tremble in fear and anxiety right now.

====

Wandering between light sleep and deep slumber.

By the time I woke up, the sun had not yet risen, and it was still pitch black outside.

It was only because the sound of roosters crowing echoed from various places that I subconsciously realized it was time to wake up and opened my eyes.

As I stepped into the hallway, I occasionally saw humans and non-human races scurrying back and forth even in the darkness.

Those I encountered exchanged characteristic greetings in moderate voices, as if it were a requirement.

Leaving the branch building, I climbed the hills and stairs for a long while until I reached the Fourth Layer of the village, which was essentially the peak.

Surprisingly, people had already gathered.

The line wasn’t as long as yesterday’s.

“…….”

Most of the stalls and street vendors seemed empty, perhaps because they hadn’t started business yet.

I stood in line for a while, savoring the refreshing breeze.

Though the sun was slowly rising, this area—with high temperatures and low humidity—tended to have significant temperature fluctuations depending on the presence of the sun.

In other words, unlike yesterday, it was quite pleasant now.

Soon, I faced the sword thrust in diagonally.

And just like yesterday, as I gripped the hilt.

A world that was no different from a wilderness unfolded.

The first scenery, where the sword had been left thrust into the ground.

Many people came and went, struggling to grip and pull out the sword.

But it would not be drawn.

Before the village was formed, this area consisted of hills, forests, and mountainous terrain.

As it was gradually worn down by sand and dust winds, losing its luster and even developing cracks in parts of the blade as if rusting.

Even those who coveted it gave up on obtaining it.

Nevertheless, in that place.

One boy, with obsessive persistence, continued to visit that sword.

His thick navy hair, nearly black, was as messy as an untamed beast’s mane.

His attire was wretched, but the boy seemed so wronged and resentful that he always struggled with a deathly expression to somehow pull out that sword.

His amber eyes glittered with venom, silently spitting out malice and indignation.

But the sword, through several, dozens, and perhaps countless distant reunions.

Did not budge.

It did not move an inch.

Still, the boy did not give up.

Even as he grew.

Even when his shabby clothes improved to the point of actually resembling garments.

Even as muscles and small scars formed all over his body.

He did not give up and clung to the sword obsessively.

As if to see who would win in the end.

At some point, crowds began to gather.

The village was built, and the peddlers scattered around assembled wood and tools to set up stalls.

Those who found even that tedious spread their bundles on the street to sell goods.

Before long, people began to flock there incessantly.

Because of this, the boy who visited every day would only face the sword, as he always did, right after the sun set and deep darkness descended.

Still, the sword did not even respond to him.

One might think that with this level of sincerity and devotion, there should be at least some reaction.

But that was a truly meaningless expectation.

More than expecting rain to fall or snow to drop simply by appealing with emotion.

A truly meaningless expectation.

Then, must even this wait for the right time?

Then when is the time for this to be drawn? When is that moment?

Suddenly, a man with white hair spoke to the young man holding the sword.

“Venus. I’ve told you repeatedly, that is not yours.”

Of course, the young man didn’t even pretend to listen.

His obsessively closed lips and narrowed eyes were focused solely on the reaction of the embedded sword.

“There is a separate owner.”

But perhaps those words were simply unbearable.

The young man, teeth clenched, glared at the man who had offended him.

“Then I’ll just kill that bastard. Then it’ll obediently become mine, right?”

“…….”

“Answer me. Rupert. Am I right or wrong?”

Pale, washed-out eyes.

The man, whose eyes were reminiscent of a snake’s, gave no answer.

He simply.

Gazed at him with eyes that were pitiful yet somehow empty.

And.

Watching the young man who tried to draw the sword as usual.

And watching the many and diverse crowds besides the young man.

There was a girl.

At some point, having set up a small stall among several flower shops.

Leaning on a cane. Limping.

As if she never grew bored, she silently kept her place like a waiting stone.

A girl with hair the color of the sky.

Eyes that were sorrowful, yet seemed immersed in some kind of melancholy.

However, with her heart tightening every time from an inherent anxiety, she watched the many people continuing their meaningless attempts at the sword, as if a monk were praying.

Luiness.

Her eyes were constantly speaking.

Please, let it not be drawn.

Please, let it not be drawn.

She had been praying for that, and only that, with all her heart.