The Villain's Second Time

Chapter 14

"Mmm...."

A groan escapes, unable to fully detach from the dream.

The grip of the dream clutches at the nape of my neck, whispering, "Why not sleep a little longer? It's your last sleep in life, after all."

It must be because I was having an incredibly happy dream just moments ago.

Though, I can't quite recall what that dream was.

"...."

Lowering my gaze under the crushing pressure on my chest, I see a Saint exhaling softly in the darkness. Her pale, pursed lips also catch my eye.

Ah, right.

I almost kissed her yesterday.

'...!'

The memory of last night's events floods back, bringing with it an overwhelming wave of shame. My face burns as if engulfed in flames.

I was so embarrassed I couldn't even lift my head to face her.

I'm not usually such a timid Demon, but spending time with the Saint seems to have rubbed off on me.

"Haa... You're so carefree."

The Saint was breathing softly, her delicate breaths audible.

Without thinking, I found myself wanting to move my hand to stroke the hair covered by her Nun's Habit.

Clink-.

"...."

But I couldn't, interrupted once more by the rattling of chains as another spasm overtook me, shattering the moment.

Damn it, how much more will this cursed clinking torment me? I shouldn't have let that old man Merlin die so easily.

"Mmm... Joker?"

The Saint muttered groggily, her lips parting as she woke. It seemed my body's spasms had shaken her awake.

"Are you fully awake?"

"It seems so. My mind feels as clear as if it was washed clean with water."

"Must be nice. Not that it matters—your head will be rolling on the ground soon enough."

"It's all thanks to your chest pillow, Joker."

As if to prove her point, the Saint rubbed her face against my chest, like a newborn exploring its mother's bosom.

"Why the unfitting display of affection? It's unsightly."

"Please indulge me. As you said, my remaining time is short."

"Whatever, spinster."

"Precisely because I'm a spinster, I want to lean on you all the more. You're the first man I've ever depended on, Joker."

"Is that something to brag about?"

I retorted curtly, as if scolding her. The Saint merely smiled benignly and accepted it all.

This was how our conversations went. It had always been like this, and perhaps it always would be... Oh, right, there's no "always" left.

"Saint."

"What is it?"

"Actually, I left a sandwich earlier that I didn't finish eating."

"I see."

"Do you want it?"

Like a puppy, the Saint nodded without a word.

"It should be where I left the tray earlier."

I verbally directed her to where the sandwich should be.

The Saint crawled over with some effort to the spot I'd indicated.

"...It's not here."

Her words were unexpected.

"Not there? Nothing at all?"

"Yes, the tray is sitting there empty, but there's nothing else."

"That can't be... Did you eat it while I was sleeping, Saint?"

When I threw her a suspicious glare, the Saint, sensing my doubt, frantically waved her hands in denial.

"I am not the kind of shameless creature who would steal someone else's food."

"Then what, does that make me shameless for always eating your rations, Saint?"

"There is a difference between yielding and taking."

"...You're not wrong."

Judging by her reaction, it seemed the Saint truly hadn't eaten the sandwich.

Then where did the sandwich go? In this locked room, Tartarus, where no one else could enter.

"Just confess already. I was going to give it to you anyway."

"Actually."

Just as I was about to rack my brain for answers, the Saint opened her mouth.

"You ate it, Joker."

"What kind of nonsense is that?"

"While you were asleep, it seemed like you wanted to eat something. So, I placed the sandwich in your mouth."

"What? Did I really eat it?"

The Saint reached toward my face, her hand brushing over my eyes, nose, and cheeks before finally tracing my lips.

Then, she wiped something from the corner of my mouth with her fingers and held it up for me to see.

"See for yourself."

Even in the darkness, I could clearly make out the crumbs of bread.

It seemed I really had eaten it. With the evidence in front of me, I couldn't argue.

"You ate so well. Just hearing it was enough to make me feel happy."

"What does my eating well have to do with you, Saint?"

"Well, we did almost kiss, didn't we?"

"Bullshit. By that logic, what about all the female demons I've been screwing every damn day?"

"...Purity is a sin, you know."

The Saint's smile shifted from moment to moment.

A kind smile, a generous smile, a bright smile, a hopeful smile, a happy smile...

Among those countless smiles, not a single one carried any trace of negative emotion. As if she were someone born in a field of flowers and had rolled through that field her entire life, the Saint possessed a mind as pure as white.

When she faced the Demon King, she would sometimes adopt a cold and stern expression, but that was only to deliver a sharp reprimand when necessary.

Even now, the Saint wore a smile. A beautiful smile.

"Is talking about me rolling around with other women fun for you? Why are you smiling?"

"Haha."

"Don't tell me you have some perverted taste like that? If that's really the case, I’d be a bit disappointed. I don't have a thing for being stolen from."

"Please don't misunderstand. No matter how many women you've embraced, I simply find it amusing that, in the end, it's me who remains by your side."

"...."

I'm speechless.

Just yesterday, she confessed that she loved me.

And now she's talking about how there were countless other women around the one she loves, but she’s consoling herself by saying she's the one left in the end.

No, it might not even be self-consolation. If it's the Saint, whose mind is filled with flowers, she might genuinely believe that.

"Ugh, I should just keep my mouth shut."

"Joker, may I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"What kind of dream were you having to eat so ravenously even in your sleep?"

"I don't know. I don't remember. You know how dreams vanish the moment you wake up."

"I see."

The Saint once again leaned her head against my chest. She also slyly draped her slender leg over my lower abdomen.

That action triggered a faint memory in my mind.

The last scene of the dream I had just before waking up.

It was—

"Ah, right. That was it."

"You remembered it?"

"Yeah, so what it was is..."

In a scenic field of flowers where a gentle breeze blew.

I was sitting on the cleanly cut stump of a tree.

And on my lap, the Saint was sitting with her legs curled up.

As we cheerfully broke a loaf of bread and shared it.

Then, then, we kissed each other, confirmed each other's feelings, and sweat drenched us as we explored each other's bodies with lips, hands, and desires... What the hell kind of dream was that?!

There's no way I can say this out loud. My lower half, damp for the first time in centuries, screams at me, warning that if I dare reveal the dream's content, I'll die of shame before I even make it to the guillotine.

"Haha."

"Why, why are you suddenly laughing?!"

"Seeing your expression, the dream's content naturally paints itself in my mind."

"...!"

Why is it that today, of all days, the Saint's smile looks as sly as a thousand-year-old snake?

Just a while ago, this same Saint used to tremble at the mere mention of nighttime activities—unbelievable.

"Still, it feels good."

Why is it that my face is burning so hot right now?

The roles between the Saint and me have completely reversed.

Truly, it's ridiculous.

*****

Clang—.

The heavy iron bars of Tartarus creaked open.

With meals and visits prohibited today, there could only be one reason for the door's opening.

It's time to go.

"Escort them."

Five people entered through the open door.

Among them was Kelth. He was on the receiving end of the orders.

Step, step—.

The one who gave the solemn command remained at the back, while Kelth and three other guards approached us. Two guards each attached themselves to the Saint and me.

"Unchain them."

Clink—clack—.

Kelth pulled a golden key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock of the chains that had bound my limbs for 111 days.

After a brief metallic sound, the restraint on my arm was gone.

As I swung my arm loosely, something thin flashed before my eyes. Damn, how malnourished have I been for my limbs to look this skeletal?

"Can you walk?"

The head guard asked quietly. His voice was devoid of any emotion.

As a human, he must hold either goodwill or malice toward the Saint or me, but he truly carried himself like a professional head guard.

"The Saint seems too weak to manage, but... I think I can walk, more or less. I haven’t moved for so long that I’m not entirely sure, though."

"Stand up."

I obediently planted my feet on the ground and straightened my knees. The stability I felt through my soles was so delightful that my spine shivered.

"Ahh... Yes, this is the feeling."

"Move your feet. You can run or even jump if you'd like."

Tap-tap, thud-thud—!

As I stomped my feet, faint tremors rippled through Tartarus. Though my prolonged confinement had diminished my strength from its prime, I was relieved to find that at least a fraction of my former power remained.

At that moment, I briefly considered knocking them down and escaping with the Saint, but I quickly folded that thought away. Taking them down with this pitiful strength of mine would be like striking a rock with an egg.

The guards of Babel Tower were all former bigshots, one by one. Just look at Kelth—wasn't he a former White Knight, counted among the top-ranking powerhouses of the Holy Nation?

Even if, by some miracle, I managed to subdue the guards, it was clear I couldn't possibly defeat the warden standing before me now.

Fist Star Theseus. His former title was none other than "Godslayer."

In the past, he had entered the so-called greatest academy of the Empire, Eden Academy, as a commoner scholarship student. However, after being ostracized there and growing to despise humanity, he became one of the "Absolute Powerhouses" of the Continent, yet was one of the few humans who didn't oppose the Demon Army.

That didn't mean he supported the Demon Army either. If anything, Theseus despised everyone equally. His brutal murder of Pluto, the "God of Wealth and Power," was likely a result of childhood trauma.

Being appointed as the warden of Tartarus after the war was probably because, in this place, everyone became equal as prisoners.

"No problem. Kelth and Bella, grab the arms of Prisoner 379. Derio and Luca, carry Prisoner 386."

Look at that—calling us not by titles or names but by prisoner numbers.

Truly a rigid, iron-willed man. Theseus.

Prisoner 379 was me, and Prisoner 386 was the Saint. The guards called Derio and Luca approached the Saint.

They grabbed the Saint, who was too weak to even stand. Their hands groped her arms and legs.

Squeeze—.

"Ugh...."

Their touch was unexpectedly rough, and for a moment, my mind went cold. Their crude hands showed no consideration for the Saint's frail condition, devoid of any trace of compassion.

It was all the more infuriating because I saw the deep furrow of her brows caused by their actions.

"Let go."

Unconsciously, I growled. My voice was steeped in murderous intent.

"She's not someone you can handle so carelessly."

The atmosphere grew icy. Though I knew this wasn't the way, the words flowed out of me.

"I'll carry the Saint. You can hold on to me instead."

"Joker...?"

"What did you just say, you bastard...!"

The Saint stared at me with a flustered expression. The guards, too, were visibly taken aback by my sudden actions.

"Don't like it? Want to have a go here and now? Should I yank off one of your arms each?"

I had always used honorifics with the guards, but now, I expressed my anger as if I'd never done so. After all, they were still gripping the Saint's delicate wrists with their coarse hands.

Receiving my threatening suggestion, Theseus pondered for a moment before giving a brief nod.

"Permission granted."

"Warden, according to regulations, death row prisoners must be escorted by guards...."

"Isn't it the same if Prisoner 379 is restrained? He's offering to help; there's no reason to refuse."

"B-but...."

"Do you want to brawl with him here? I won't stop you, but we might be late to our destination."

"Ah."

As soon as permission was granted, I roughly swatted away the guards' hands that were gripping the Saint. They looked reluctant, but with Theseus's approval, there was nothing they could do.

I carefully hoisted the Saint and gently placed her onto my back. She leaned against me weakly, like a puppy drenched in water. My palms lightly supported her small frame.

Beneath the thick nun's habit, her backside was practically just skin and bones. It made my heart ache for no reason.

It wasn't that the Saint's pelvis was small. She simply lacked any flesh whatsoever.

Resting her chin on my shoulder, the Saint whispered in a worried voice near my ear.

"I'm causing unnecessary trouble...."

"What are you talking about? This is something I want to do."

"Thank you...."

"Enough with that. No need to thank me for something so trivial."

I carried the Saint, while the guards hooked their arms around mine. Theseus led us forward.

"Walk."

Step—.

The sound of my footsteps, which I hadn't heard in so long, filled the space. Though I usually walked with a careless, crude gait, carrying the fragile Saint now made me tread more cautiously than anyone else in the world.

Step—.

Emerging from Tartarus, a long stone staircase appeared before us. Designed in a spiraling, circular fashion, the staircase bore countless traces of fierce battles.

Step—.

The Saint's breathing, brushing against the nape of my neck, grew fainter. Her energy, already depleted since yesterday, was now on the verge of vanishing completely.

Each time that happened, I would pinch the flesh of her thighs with my index finger, as if scolding her.

Startled, the Saint would momentarily regain her senses, only to nod off again shortly after.

I kept having the ominous feeling that if she fell asleep now, it would be like someone dozing off in a polar region, never to wake again.

"Saint, stay awake. Are you planning to die so miserably in a place like this?"

"Mmm...."

"Hold on to your consciousness. I'll get you safely to the guillotine. You have to live as long as you can."

"Truly... I am indebted to you beyond words."

"This is nothing. You're the one who burned through your life to reduce my suffering."

Step—.

The staircase was long.

Naturally, it connected from the lowest level of Babel Tower, which extended underground, to the highest level above ground.

As we ascended, the prisoners on various floors came into view through the bars.

The Fire Spirit King, Intermediate God, Princess of the Empire, Elder of the Elf Tribe, Infamous Serial Killer, and so on... The higher we climbed, the greater the number of prisoners.

This was because the upper floors housed prisoners with lesser crimes.

Step—.

They murmured in confusion as they saw us. No floor was an exception.

To them, the combination of the Saint, one of the most renowned figures on the Continent, and me, the man responsible for imprisoning most of them in Babel Tower, must have been quite a spectacle.

Step—.

"Saint! Saint! Where are you going?"

"Joker! You filthy devil! It seems your time to die has finally come!"

"S-Stop! You fools! Where are you taking the Daughter of the Sun God?"

"Heh, watching both the Saint and the Joker march to their deaths is quite the sight."

Occasionally, the sounds of wailing, shouting, grief, and mockery could be heard. The Saint and I ignored them and silently ascended.

Toward the bright and radiant world that awaited at the end of this long staircase.

And toward the guillotine in the square, which would sever our necks in one swift stroke.

Solemnly, endlessly, we walked.

Step—.

Step—.

Step.......