"Boring…"
I mutter to myself, raw honesty. No one's here to respond. I rock the chair I'm sitting on, then stop. Waste of time. My eyes wander. A shabby, lifeless room surrounds me. Of course—it's a derelict house.
A month's nearly passed since Himmel freed me. The first two weeks, I wandered aimlessly. Can't be helped—I had no destination. Suddenly cut loose with no warning, no purpose.
I stumbled upon this abandoned house in the remote northern mountains two weeks ago. It's my shelter now. Not uncommon for demons—I once claimed an old human castle. This is a far cry from that, but better than sleeping rough.
Then I realized: this is the north, my old domain. Strange coincidence. I doubt demons have a homing instinct. Nothing's changed in fifty years. Or maybe I've changed.
What am I doing…?
I sigh for the umpteenth time, propping my cheek on my hand. No motivation. Slothful. But what can I do? I never thought beyond freedom. That was my only wish, yet I didn't plan what came next. Lately, I just ponder what I wanted from freedom. Nothing comes to mind. So I recall my life before submission.
It wasn't much different. Training magic, building my undead army, occasionally wiping out villages on the Demon King's orders, or killing humans on a whim. Living as I pleased. That was freedom, I suppose. Only now do I realize I was bored even then. Laughable—I can't mock humans anymore.
I feel out of place now. Human society was so hectic, so dense with time. Has a month already passed, or only a month? I've been warped by it, a heretic among demons.
I haven't seen a human since. Avoided towns. Getting spotted would bring trouble—human hunting parties, warriors, mages. I wouldn't lose, but carelessness is risky. Better to stay hidden.
Worse, being treated as the Scale is a hassle. This is the north, not the center, but some might know me. Their faith, worse than loyalty, would drag me back to submission's cage. Then I realized—I'm free. No need to fear humans or their exploitation. I can dominate them, destroy them if I wish. Natural order. How could I forget? Breaking those habits from submission might take a century.
"…Submission Magic: Azeliese."
I conjure a scale with magic—not the false one, but the true Scale of Submission. I haven't used it since freedom. No need. Not for me, not now.
Rebuild my undead army.
The old me would've done it. The heroes are weakened—I know that better than anyone. Now's the perfect chance. But I know better. I've seen human strength, their terror. That elf would come for me. Zerie wouldn't stay quiet either. The Continental Magic Association, nations—the human collective that tamed Zoltraak, growing stronger every moment. A predator and prey to demons. I can't face them alone. Not now. And—
"You wouldn't. I know you."
That infuriating fool's words still echo. Damn him.
What's he doing now…?
I catch myself wondering. Still in the village? No, he's probably back in the capital. Maybe visiting Eisen. The Half-Century Elara Meteor's in six months—his fifty-year dream. He wouldn't miss it. Probably fussing over his nonexistent hair. Pointless.
Guillotine and Scale…
I stare at the scale. My two titles. It's empty, balanced, powerless. Like me now—neither one nor the other.
Under submission, I was the Scale. Now, it wavers. As a mage, a demon, I could tip either way. I'm hesitating. I know how to tip it.
To be the Guillotine again, I'd wield power freely, as before. No fear needed. I've mastered submission magic, taught by humans. I'd never falter again. I could dominate, become the next Demon King, as foretold.
But to stay the Scale? I don't know how. I did it for fifty years, yet the method eludes me, unlike the Guillotine.
No, that's a lie. I know. I know what's needed. Himmel said it—I need a new chain. But I hesitate. Because—
"Sorry for the wait, Lady Aura! Dinner's ready!"
My servant bounds in, cheerful as ever, carrying the weight of that chain—
"Let's eat!"
"…Let's eat."
Linie's voice pulls me in, and she digs in. Unchanged, even after my freedom. No, I'm the only one free—she's still bound to me. She doesn't care, though. It's obvious.
Her cooking's improved vastly. Traveling with Himmel wasn't a waste. But her love for apples? Unchanged. She's chomping one now, ruining her cooking's finesse. Says biting them whole is best. I can't relate. I pop a slice she cut for me into my mouth, chew, swallow. Just checking.
Still no good… Food fills the stomach, but not the root problem.
The hunger to devour humans persists. It's dulled when sated, but never gone. This lethargy, this malaise—it's the cause. Of course. I'm no longer bound.
"Don't eat humans."
"Don't harm humans."
"Don't stray too far from the Hero."
Himmel's three chains. The last is gone—not temporary, but permanent. I can go anywhere. But the other two remain. Breaking them would make me truly free as a demon. Yet I shy away. That's why I hide in these mountains, why I left the village so fast.
My situation's like when I feared the Hero. I'm free now, yet it's ironic—maybe worse. Idling here, tended by Linie, my servant. Like—
Am I… like him back then?
Clinging to the Hero's glory, jobless.
"? Something wrong, Lady Aura? Was it bad?"
"…No, it's fine. As usual."
"Really?! Awesome!"
I brush off Linie's worry over the meal. I'm not like him. She's my servant—her duty's to serve. Nothing's wrong. Work's a human concept, tainting me. Tomorrow, I'll move a bit. Keep my body sharp. That's all. No ulterior motive.
Then I notice the food. Nothing's wrong with it, but something's off. Too lost in thought to see it at first.
"…Linie, where'd you get these ingredients?"
"…"
The variety's richer. Good, but problematic. Some ingredients—vegetables, not wild plants or game—require cultivation. I'd know; I grew them once. Yet Linie stays silent, eyes averted, still.
"Let me rephrase. Where've you been going lately?"
"…Playing."
"Doing what?"
"…"
She clams up again. So obvious. She can't lie, so she says nothing. A recent bad habit. Her silence is a lie itself, but I won't say it.
"Clamming up when it suits you… Fine, I'm not mad. Speak."
"…Really not mad?"
No point in a staring contest. I compromise. She asks timidly. Am I that scary when angry? Himmel and the others shrug off my temper, but it's different for her. Maybe because we're demons. Instinct, perhaps.
"I'm not lying. No point lying to you."
I state the truth, not mimicking her. No need to lie to her, my fellow demon, bound to me since her birth.
"! Okay, I love you, Lady Aura!"
"Yeah. Great."
Relieved, her eyes sparkle as usual. So simple. I end up stuck listening to her confessions—unprompted—late into the night—
Alone, I tread a beast trail, following Linie's story from last night. I could fly, but that risks being seen. I climb a slope, cross a river. This must be her playground—traces of her are clear.
Beyond, a maintained road appears. A human path. A village is near. Typical Linie—caught up and wandering this far.
Further along, past the trees, a clearing. On a flat rock sits a human.
A boy, maybe Linie's age or younger. Staring blankly at the sky, doing nothing. No magic, just a human child. Except—
"…Is someone there?"
He can't see me—or even the sky he's gazing at.
That was the fated meeting of Aura and the blind boy, Vir—