The Villain's Second Time

Chapter 7

"Would you like to pray together?"

The Saint asked, as she always did, with a subtle, serene smile.

It's truly fascinating. How is it that only her smile shines so brightly in this pitch-dark Tartarus? Judging by her pale complexion, it doesn't seem like she’s brimming with Holy Power either.

"No thanks, I don't believe in God."

"The Lord dwells in your heart, so you may believe in whatever you wish to trust sincerely."

"The only thing I believe in is myself. Are you telling me to pray to myself now?"

"Well, it’s better than not praying at all."

The Saint forcibly placed a Black Rosary into my chained right hand. Then, with her two small hands, she gently clasped my larger one.

The Saint's small lips moved slightly.

"Relax your hand, please."

"I wasn’t gripping it that tightly."

"The Rosary isn't going anywhere. There's no need to clench your fist."

"Heh, you’ve got a point."

I must have been unconsciously tightening my grip. It's a habit formed from years of brawling—clenching my fist whenever the situation gets tense.

"Mr. Demon, may I share something about fists with you?"

"Go ahead. Why wouldn't I let you?"

"When you clench your fist tightly, nothing remains inside it. But if you open your palm, you can hold the entire world."

As if reciting a holy gospel, the Saint spoke with a face flushed with passion.

"That’s true, but there’s something you don’t understand, Saint."

Feeling slightly irritated, I offered my own response—a reply that completely contradicted her ideology.

"Fists exist to knock down those arrogant bastards who clutch onto something as if it’s their own. Didn’t you know that?"

"Is that so?"

"Of course. Money? Wealth? Power? Who cares about that crap? Aren’t those pompous fools flashing around their coins disgusting?"

"That’s an interesting perspective."

The Saint chuckled softly. No matter what I said, she never claimed I was wrong.

"Then go ahead and pray like that."

"Thanks for the consideration."

"Now, follow after me."

The Saint pressed her forehead against my Rosary-clad right hand and began murmuring devoutly. Even as she prayed, she lightly tapped my waist, urging me to join in. Reluctantly, I opened my mouth.

To think that I, of all people, would end up praying in my lifetime. Life truly is full of surprises. Five centuries of existence, and this feels oddly cheap.

"O Lord, who has given me this precious day, this lowly servant humbly offers their gratitude."

"O God of Chaos, Chaos, may your tears flood this damned continent with a great deluge."

"And grant mercy and grace even to this wretched, young lamb."

"Otherwise, I swear I’ll blow up your altar—Saint, why do you keep making me sound like some pitiful fool?"

"Grant me, a foolish being, the wisdom to lead this Demon to repentance, I humbly ask."

Ugh, she’s the foolish and pitiful one, yet here she is preaching repentance to me. How absurd.

Repentance? That’s impossible. I’m Oscar Lucifer, second-in-command of the Demon Army, Northern Duke of the Demon Realm, the flippant Joker who once plunged the continent into apocalyptic chaos. Shouldn’t dreams at least have a sliver of plausibility?

"Saint, there’s a visitation request."

While engaged in this so-called prayer with the Saint, Kelth’s deep voice pierced into my ears.

Kelth’s voice was trembling. He seemed to be suppressing a fury he could barely contain.

...Fury? Why?

Even when the Western Duke of the Demon Realm, Lilith, visited, Kelth only showed a trace of hostility. Yet now, his emotions are laid bare for all to see.

Whoever this visitor is, they must not be an ordinary person.

"Let them in."

"...They have permission to enter."

Upon the Saint’s approval, Kelth spoke while looking beyond the iron bars. Though it was just a single line, his voice conveyed a storm of fierce emotions.

"Understood."

Step, step—

A silhouette of a girl slowly emerged in the shadows of Tartarus.

"M-Maria? Is that you, Maria?"

The visitor, the girl, hesitantly uttered her words.

As always, the Saint had stepped up to the iron bars, but she flinched at the sound of the approaching voice.

Slowly, the girl’s appearance began to come into focus out of the darkness... Wait, what?

Why is she here? With what face? What nerve?

"You are..."

The Saint’s voice quivered faintly, laden with sorrow, regret, anguish, and longing.

I knew the reason behind her emotions.

"Hero?"

"It’s been a while, Maria."

"Yes, it has been some time."

"How have you been?"

The girl glanced at the Saint as she spoke, her eyes briefly catching on the reddish bandages covering the Saint’s eyes. Her voice sank with gloom.

"Judging by your condition, it doesn’t seem like you’ve been well..."

"This is not something for you to feel sorry about, Hero."

"But... it’s all my fault in the end..."

"It’s alright."

The Saint’s voice quickly steadied, but within it, a peculiar emotion lay deeply hidden.

"It’s all in the past."

I had an idea of what that peculiar emotion was.

Resentment.

No matter how kind-hearted the Saint may be, and no matter how much sorrow and pity she feels for the Hero.

The betrayal of the comrade she trusted most is not something easily forgotten. It's not even on the same level as Lilith's backstabbing.

"Um... that... Maria. The reason I came here today is...."

The Hero's voice quivers as if sobbing. With great difficulty, the Hero manages to say something she seems to have prepared beforehand.

"I'm sorry... I really wanted to say this...."

"Is that so."

"W-When I defeated the Legion Commander, I thought there was hope! But... you saw it too! The Demon King!"

"The Demon King, you say."

"Those crimson horns rising as if to pierce the clouds, the mist emanating from his dark eyes engulfing the skies, that overwhelming majesty! You saw it too, didn’t you!"

"I did."

"Ugh...! I-I'm sorry! This isn't even what I came to say... but I keep making excuses...."

Frey de Siegfried.

The eldest daughter of the Siegfried Ducal House, a founding family of the Empire, and a genius who graduated second only to the Saint from 'Eden Academy,' the Empire's top institution.

A prodigy forged from innate talent, exceptional teachers, and the finest education since childhood, raised to be a Hero.

...But in the end, she is nothing more than a loser.

Frey de Siegfried, the 'Indomitable Hero' who led the 'Hero Party,' including the Saint, through countless adversities.

In the final war, she prostrated herself on the ground in fear of the Demon King, surrendering and becoming the 'Cowardly Hero.'

The Continental Alliance Army, having lost its focal point, fell apart and was ultimately conquered one by one by the Demon Army.

The Holy Nation resisted fiercely until the very end, but even that crumbled when the Holy Emperor, Julius, cut off his own arm and surrendered.

Saint Maria, cornered to the brink, fought desperately alone against the Demon Army for twenty days before finally being captured by one of the Four Great Dukes of the Demon Realm.

And now, she shares the same fate as me—a condemned prisoner.

Within this chain of grim events.

The Saint, who never abandoned the continent until she was utterly spent, and the Hero, who cowered at the sight of the Demon King.

How could they possibly have a pleasant reunion?

"I'm sorry... I'm really sorry...."

"Hero."

Of course, if we examine the causal relationships one by one, I'm the biggest villain here. After all, it was none other than me who tormented the two of them the most.

Dividing the Continental Alliance Army through stratagems was also my doing. The people of the continent attribute it to a tactician named 'Virus,' but.

That 'Virus' is simply one of the many masks I wear.

But well... it doesn’t really matter since no one knows that I’m the Joker. Results are all that matter in the end.

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"H-huh?"

"What truly matters is reflecting on your errors and repenting for them."

"But I... because of my poor choices, so many people died!"

"With the intention of apologizing to them, set things right even now. That is the greatest atonement you can offer, Hero."

Wow, that Saint really doesn’t hold back, even showing mercy to the Hero.

What? Set things right? What an utterly ridiculous notion.

It’s already too late. The Demon King has conquered the continent, and the Hero Party is either dead or, like the Saint, left crippled. What could possibly be undone now?

Perhaps aware of this, the Hero responds in a trembling voice.

"B-but... Maria...."

However, her words.

"I... I'm just so scared...?"

Were vastly different from the plea the Saint had so desperately wished for.

"The Demon King is too strong... Even the Tower Master and Master couldn’t stand against him. What could I possibly do on my own...?"

"Hero. Succumbing to fear will only make the impossible even more so."

"But even Maria lost! In the end!"

"...."

"T-that strong Maria also lost... Maria, who wields the power of the Sun God, ended up like this... How could a weak Hero like me possibly do anything...."

The Saint’s brow furrowed. The Hero's voice was steeped in despair and defeat.

"What could someone like me possibly do!!"

Suddenly, the Hero shouted. Her thundering cry echoed through Tartarus, as though it might shatter eardrums.

Perhaps letting it all out cleared her mind, as the Hero spoke again, her tone slightly more composed.

"Ah...! I-I'm sorry! M-Maria was holding out alone until the very end...! I know I have no right to say this...! But still, I can’t help but loathe myself...."

Like a lost child without direction, the Hero’s voice scattered chaotically. Her tone was unsteady, as though she had completely lost her way.

The Hero's voice carried a mix of complex emotions.

"I-I know I shouldn’t be like this...! I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! Please forgive me!"

The Hero bowed her head to the ground in front of the iron bars where the Saint stood. Though the Saint could not see, the sound of her voice and the vibrations from the ground seemed to convey enough for her to grasp the situation.

"Hero."

"Maria... I’m sorry...."

The Hero’s voice trembled with heartfelt sobbing.

"The Lord has given you a trial far too harsh."

"Ugh... Maria...."

"No matter how the world heralds you as a Hero... you are still but a tender-hearted child at heart."

The Hero’s voice shook violently, as if attempting to portray herself as pitiable.

Toward the Hero, the Saint reached out an unseen hand, as though to console her.

"Maria... I’m sorry...."

"Do not worry. I shall bless you...."

"You son of a b*tch."

"...?"

"Mr. Demon?"

"Stop that ridiculous behavior immediately."

"W-What, what?"

"Mr. Demon? What do you mean by that?"

"You should know when to stop. Enough is enough."

She wavered, grew gloomy, made excuses.

She whimpered, despaired, trembled, and sobbed.

The Hero conveyed all those emotions 'through her voice alone.'

With a twisted smirk hooked at her lips, wearing a sinister grin that rivaled my trademark Joker smile.

She's putting on a ridiculous show.

Revealing her emotions solely 'through her voice.'

The Hero, instead of apologizing, is putting on an act.

The gaze that once looked at the Saint, who had sincerely tried to offer her blessings, with a mocking glint as if she were trash.

"You say you're sorry, but why do you keep smirking like that?"

It's bothersome. Extremely, unbearably so.

The Hero's hypocrisy?

"You have an inferiority complex toward the Saint, don't you? Still bitter about graduating second to her at Eden Academy? Is that why you're doing this?"

No.

It's the fact that the Saint is being mocked.

It's the fact that the Saint is being belittled.

It's the infuriating fact that the Saint is being toyed with by someone.

It irritates me. A lot. Tremendously. Disgustingly so.

"W-Who are you! What gives you the right to spew such nonsense...!"

"Me?"

Why am I stepping in for the Saint?

Why do I despise seeing her being mocked?

"Open those damned eyes wide and take a good look at who I am."

Why do I involve myself even though it's obvious the Saint will discover my identity?

It's not like the Saint and I have any special connection.

...Special connection?

Of course we do. The Saint and I are 'prison comrades.' Not just any prison, but Tartarus. A bond like no other in this world.

"You don't have face blindness or something, do you? That would be disappointing."

Yes, the Saint and I share a special relationship. It's only natural for me to step up for her. We're incredibly, undeniably close.

"Who the hell are you... You, you are!!"

For the first time since entering Tartarus, the Hero reveals genuine emotion.

The Hero's face is etched with deep shock.

Yes, that's real. Unlike the deceitful smirks she's been wearing while pretending to cry using only her voice because the Saint couldn't see, her true feelings are now plainly visible.

"Joker!! Why is the Northern Duke of the Demon Realm in Tartarus!!"