The Villain's Second Time

Chapter 13

The day before the execution, the visitors were as numerous as a swarm of ants. The news that the Saint had become a death row inmate had spread across the entire Continent. Every one of them was someone who had been blessed by the Saint and wanted to do something for her before she died.

Buzzing-.

"Saint! My name is Bilton! I'm the one whose leg you healed in the small mountain range of the Corinth region in the past...!"

"These are handwritten letters from the children of the Wilhelm Orphanage. It might be too much to read them all one by one, but please accept them out of consideration for the children's sincerity."

Of course, Tartarus had a limited capacity, and the place itself was so impenetrable that most humans couldn't even set foot in it, so not everyone could come inside.

In the early morning, the 'strong ones' came to visit. For example, the 'White Knights Corps' of the Holy Nation.

"Saint, it was an honor to serve you. There will never be another Saint like you, not in the past and not in the future. We will remember you forever."

Or the Elf Queen, the divine archer 'Elaine Astheria,' who bowed to the Saint and sobbed sincerely.

"M-Maria...! I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...! If only I had been a little stronger, you wouldn't have ended up like this...! Hic...!"

Watching the proud and arrogant Elf Queen, who hadn't even cried at birth, breaking down into tears for the first time in her life, was quite amusing.

"Please rise, everyone. How could such esteemed figures kneel before someone as lowly as a condemned criminal like me?"

No matter who she met, the Saint never lost her pure smile. I couldn't help but wonder if her face muscles might freeze like mine.

"There is only one thing I can teach you. Even when faced with harsh storms and trials, do not lose love. Love is the power of the omnipotent and omniscient God."

Just when the commotion of the visits seemed to subside... the 'real' crowd came in the afternoon.

From illiterate children to elderly people nearing the end of their lives, they all flocked to Babel Tower. Not a few of them had crossed the Continent overnight just to see the Saint.

But since ordinary humans couldn't even set foot in Tartarus, both the Saint and the visitors could only stand helplessly, unable to do anything.

Click-.

"Saint, please come out."

It was Kelth, once a White Knight of the Holy Nation and now a jailer in Tartarus, who took action.

He escorted the Saint out of Tartarus and took her to the visiting room. While it was a clear overreach of his authority as a jailer, the surprising thing was that the order had come from Hades, the warden himself, who was several ranks above him.

What kind of being is the Saint, really? What kind of life must she have lived for even the God who governs death to show her such respect and reverence? It's truly a curious thing.

Of course, since I couldn't follow her, I had to endure the lonely hours of solitude by myself.

Spending the last moments of my life as a solitary outcast stung a little, but I had always been alone anyway. I didn't feel like indulging in pathetic regrets now.

Squeak-.

Click-.

After a long while, I heard the sound of the iron door opening.

It could be one of three things: Kelth coming in, the Saint returning, or—

"Thank you for bringing me here, Kelth."

"I was just doing my duty."

"...Kelth, you're always so diligent. It's admirable."

"Thank you."

—the two of them coming in together.

When I turned my head, I saw the Saint, looking pale and gaunt, being carefully supported by Kelth.

Exhausted from a monotonous day of yawning, I greeted them cheerfully.

"Hey, Saint. Did the visits go well?"

The voice that replied was Kelth's.

"Joker, take good care of the Saint."

"What's this? Something happen outside? Her face looks terrible."

"...I'm counting on you."

With those words, Kelth personally walked into Tartarus, sat the Saint down beside me, and then walked out without hesitation.

His steps seemed somehow forlorn, but I made an effort not to stare.

Click-.

Finally, with the sound of the door, Kelth's back disappeared completely from view. Only then did I turn my gaze to the Saint beside me.

"You clearly overdid it."

"What does it matter... Tomorrow, this useless life of mine will end anyway...."

"Weren't you talking about love earlier? Now you don't even bother to dress it up, huh."

Her face was ghostly pale, her body trembling slightly.

Even though she was already frail and short on life, she must have shared that love or whatever it was, giving away more of her lifespan.

Swoosh- Thud.

The Saint, barely sitting upright, collapsed forward again. Fortunately, she fell onto me this time, sparing her face from the scorching heat of the ground.

"Heh."

I was suddenly struck by something. Without realizing it, I had instinctively thought it was 'fortunate' that the Saint was unharmed.

It was a testament to just how extraordinary her charisma was. Or perhaps, in this case, it wasn't charisma toward humans but rather toward demons like me.

"Saint."

"Yes...."

"You still have the energy to talk, huh."

The Saint, resting her face against my chest, was breathing heavily. She looked utterly drained.

Her labored breaths echoed in my ears, stirring an unfamiliar tickling sensation in my heart.

This feeling... it's new to me.

"What happened in the visiting room?"

"I met... many people...."

"Who came?"

"The sisters from my order, some elder Dwarves, and even mages from the Tower came."

After the war, the sisters became slaves to monsters. The Dwarves were forced to work as mining slaves for the Demon Army, and the mages ended up as test subjects for dark sorcerers.

Every one of them was broken in some way, like screws coming loose. Just like the Saint, who didn't have any eyes.

"Birds of a feather flock together, huh."

"...."

"Was there anything else? No one came to mock you, like the Hero or Lilith?"

"There were such visitors."

"No surprise there. Must've been those troublemaking Devils."

Even with the Saint lying on top of me, her face buried in my chest while she rubbed the crown of her head against my chin, I found myself utterly incapable of moving.

Clink-.

"Cough."

Except for when I endure the pain of this accursed seizure.

Ha, even the one thing that moves without my will seems to act contrary to it. What kind of pathetic situation is this?

...No, that's not right. Even this seizure was intentionally caused by Merlin Gregory. In truth, my body is no different from that of a vegetative Demon.

"Joker."

"What."

"Joker, have you been satisfied with your life?"

The Saint, panting heavily as if she were on the verge of death, asked me this out of nowhere.

"Why are you suddenly asking something like that?"

"I just felt like asking. Is that not allowed?"

"Maybe you're clinging to life because you're about to die?"

"...Honestly, perhaps a little. I believed, as the Lord's apostle, that I should accept death without regret, but it seems I am just as human as anyone else."

"What do you regret?"

"It feels like I'm leaving too early, and that saddens me."

"Saint, how old are you this year?"

"I turn twenty-eight."

"You're about the age of my great-great-great-great-grandchild."

My life has lasted longer than most empires... And yet, among Demons, I’m considered young. In the Southern Demon Realm, there are true elderly relics like the 'King,' who has lived for over a million years.

"Joker."

"What now."

"Have you ever been in love?"

What kind of childish question is that?

"More than a hundred times. Do you know how many Demon females have screamed my name thanks to my unparalleled technique?"

"Love isn't solely about physical pleasure."

"Then what kind of love are you talking about?"

"I thought I had lived a life full of love... But lying here, reflecting on it, I realize there was no love in my life."

"...?"

"Isn't it tragic? A Saint, who should have spread love more faithfully than anyone else, never truly loved even once."

"I can't understand what you're saying."

"I’m not referring to the love of Saint Maria, but the love of the woman Maria. The emotion commonly called passion or desire."

Perhaps having overexerted her lifespan, the Saint couldn't even lift a finger, her lips barely moving.

Unconsciously, I found myself wanting to see her face, but all that was within my view was the back of her head, covered by her nun's habit.

"What a pitiful thing to say."

"Is that so."

"At twenty-eight, you're no maiden. Women like you are usually called spinsters."

"You’re the first person to ever call me a spinster."

The Saint let out a faint chuckle—soft, like a gentle breeze. For some reason, that laughter felt soothing.

"Joker."

"What now."

"Have you ever truly loved someone?"

"No, never. I don't trust anyone."

"I believe I have. I just realized it now."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

The Saint, struggling, lifted her head. Her snow-white face, dirtied and pressed with grime, stared straight at me.

"But it seems I realized it far too late."

"...."

An eyepatch, layered with dried blood, tightly wrapped around her eye.

A nose slightly upturned with delicate sharpness.

Lips so small and parched that they looked like they might crack.

Since her visit to the visiting room earlier today, her skin had somehow lost its radiance.

All that remained was a faded face.

"Joker."

"Why do you keep calling me?"

"Am I... beautiful?"

"...."

The Saint bit her lower lip lightly, as if filled with anticipation.

Seriously, what kind of twenty-eight-year-old woman asks something so childish?

Adorable.

"No, you're not beautiful."

"I see."

"Why ask something so obvious?"

Even though my answer must have been the opposite of what she hoped for, the Saint showed no signs of displeasure. Instead, a faint smile graced her lips.

"Does hearing that I’m ugly make me happy?"

"Joker, you’re incredibly skilled at lying."

"What?"

"Had I not spent the past week by your side, I might’ve fallen for that performance just now."

"Are you saying I just lied?"

Even when asked in a slightly harsh manner, the Saint's serene and peaceful expression did not change. It was like a smile on a well-built, sturdy castle.

"Joker, do you know this?"

"What now."

"You were the first creature to ever tell me I am not beautiful."

"Really?"

"Elves, Dwarves, and Dragons who have seen me at least once have always praised my appearance. In the past, the Goddess of Beauty even gave me an excessive compliment, calling it 'a beauty that will never be seen again in this world'."

"Seems like everyone's eyes are off."

"Ahaha."

A clear laugh bloomed between us.

How can such a refreshing laugh come from a voice that's been worn out? It's truly puzzling.

"Joker."

"What is it this time."

"May I be a little rude?"

As she spoke, the Saint slowly leaned her upper body towards my face.

Naturally, her face was getting closer to mine.

I was not unaware of what that meant.

"...Do as you please."

As she reached out her face towards me, the Saint awkwardly pursed her lips.

That awkwardness, and that innocence.

To my eyes, which have toyed with countless succubi, it was more alluring than any female.

It's truly a strange thing.

There's no allure, no red lipstick on her lips.

Her lips are plain, faded.

She's a woman who stands in opposition to me, a demon.

Not a figure that would inspire any primal sexual desire.

Srrr-.

Gulp-.

I couldn't understand why such a vile desire to ravage those lips right away was wriggling deep in my heart.

Even as I continued to think, the Saint was getting closer to me. The distance between the Saint and me reduced to about a centimeter. Her faint breath settled on my lips.

Pook-.

At that moment, the Saint collapsed weakly. Right in front of my face, which I had tried to hold up, her lips, which should have touched mine, ended up kissing my neck unintentionally.

"What a letdown, what are you doing."

"Ahaha...."

"Did you set the mood for this?"

"I apologize. My body... it doesn't move as I want it to...."

The Saint's breathing was a bit heavy. I was a little worried that she might die before even reaching the guillotine.

With her forehead pressed against my chin, the Saint closed her eyes right there. Heavy darkness enveloped us.

Through the dim darkness, I could see the Saint's back. Her back, which was sobbing pitifully.

"I wanted to commit a light transgression like a kiss, unable to violate the virtue of chastity...."

"That's a modest transgression."

"It seems that even that was not permitted for me, a servant of God...."

"Pathetic."

All living beings have desire. The vile desire hidden at the bottom of their hearts.

I have never seen anyone without it. Even angels, creations of gods, have shameful desires deep within them.

"The Saint seems to have no such vulgar desires."

"I am human too.... How could I have no desires...."

"Lust, pleasure, indulgence, sloth, greed... everyone wants these, but I can't figure out which of these the Saint holds. Can you pick one? Which desire is the Saint closest to?"

"If I had to pick, it would be pleasure...."

Pleasure?

The Saint I know?

"Just now, didn't I presumptuously try to kiss you.... That was the most vulgar desire in my life...."

"...."

Ah, damn, I wondered what she was talking about. That's what it was.

"Saint, that's not vulgar, it's cute. You innocent woman."

"Is that so...? Ha ha...."

"Your voice is trailing off. Are you sleepy even though you're to be executed tomorrow?"

"It's a vulgar desire for sleep... I am such a slothful person...."

With those words, the Saint lost consciousness. I didn't bother to wake her, as she was clearly exhausted.

The Saint quietly mumbled in her sleep.

"Mother...."

In her half-asleep mumbling, there were genuine emotions that didn't fit.

"I miss you...."

The Saint's body, lying on top of me, trembled slightly.

It was an endlessly small and delicate body. Bending her knees a bit, and curling up, she fit completely on top of me.

The noble and great Saint of the Sun, leader of countless holy knights, the only hope of the continent.......

Such a strong woman, yet just a girl yearning for this fresh love... a mere spinster.

Fate is truly cruel. At the end of that cruel fate, Saint Maria is walking through dreams by my side.

Waiting endlessly for the execution tomorrow.

"......."

"Huu... I need blood...."

How beautiful is the sight of someone calmly advancing, knowing when they will die.

With a youthful, lingering attachment to life.

With a touch of desolate loneliness.

With a bundle of mournful sorrow.

All these emotions blend together, making me feel a mix of complex feelings. Even though the Saint herself is peacefully wandering in dreams.

*****

I am afraid.

The future, less than twenty-four hours away, terrifies me to madness.

This time, which feels like an eternity, seems like an irresistible, overwhelming flow, and it frightens me.

Lord.

I have not yet fully shared the grace you bestowed upon me.

Because I received love beyond my share, I wanted to share at least half of it.

Yet, why, and for what reason, do you.

Intend to take your apostle, who has not yet fulfilled her noble mission.

Lord.

For what have I lived.

For what have I fought against the vast Demon Army that covers the heavens and the earth.

And for what am I destined to fade away as dew on the guillotine, so futilely.

I am afraid.

Of what world I will face after the process of death.

Whether I will be granted eternal annihilation and rest, or go to heaven where angels blow trumpets and the Holy Spirit blesses.

Whether I will be able to reunite with my mother and father, or stand at the hot judgment seat awaiting punishment.

You, who do not even whisper a hint, are truly a cruel master.

....

Lord.

Please, grant this humble servant the holiest of words in that world.

What world does my death herald.

Why is my death rejected even in rejection.

Am I Maria.

Or am I your faithful and devout apostle, the Saint.

Answer me.

What are you, that you have brought this pitiful world to such a state.

What are you, that you have led me, the foolish one, to this state.

By what right do you give me, the fearful one, such an ending.

....

Are you truly a merciful being.

If you are so merciful, why do you withhold that overflowing mercy from me alone.

I am blind, foolish, and stubborn. I am a sheep in need of your help.

To me, you do not even grant a speck of mercy.

Are you truly an omnipotent being.

If you are so omnipotent, why do you merely watch as that vile Demon King flaunts his power.

If you are so omniscient, why do you abandon this current world like a forsaken child.

What grand future are you envisioning in your majestic mind.

What great future are you trying to achieve.

I, this weak mortal, cannot even fathom the depths of your profound mind.

I am so afraid.

....

Even as I beg, you ultimately do not grant me an answer.

I have lived according to your teachings, shunning the seven evils and seeking the seven virtues.

Once this night passes, my long and insignificant life will face its futile end.

By my side now, there is only the man who drove me and the continent to despair.

A great demon who plunged half the world into the flames of evil, yet possessed a heart more innocent than the rumors suggest.

In the hellish Tartarus, even as my whole body was torn with pain, he showed me a merciful kindness that the world did not know.

I was betrayed by my comrades. I could not save my dying fellow soldiers. I was so pathetic that I shuddered with self-reproach.

Yet, the man by my side calmly accepts the impending apocalypse. I struggle not to burden him, trying my best to hide my fear.

Lord, perhaps you are trying to teach me a lesson.

That even in the worst situations, even as my body nears death, love can bloom. That you are trying to convey to me, the dull one, the great truth that remains unchanged through the ages.

It seems to be proven by the fact that I felt the emotion of love, which I had never experienced in my life, from a demon who I have known for only seven days and nights.

I lean against his chest to sleep. To shake off even a little of my vain thoughts, to dream a happy dream on my last night of life. Just for that.

I enjoyed helping others. Yet, I could not even adequately provide that meager help.

So much regret remains, thinking of the lonely souls left in this pitiful world, my heart keeps aching.

I want to believe that you have a purpose. To comfort and soothe my heart in this way, to shake off the worries and the wavering heart as I head towards tomorrow.

But the Demon King and his Demon Army, grown too powerful and vast... they blur my faith like muddied water.

What does my death signify.

Who are you, by what right, to do this to me.

....

.......

I will die.

Embracing this fear with a heavy heart.

Turning my impious doubts into faithful belief.

With the pitiful demon by my side, as a steadfast companion.

I will gladly die.

I will die according to your will.

Bowing my insignificant head under the sharp blade.

As the red flowers of blood bloom like full blossoms.

Under the sky that gradually darkens into dusk.

I will flutter down like a torrential rain.

According to the will of the great and omnipotent you.

Lord-.