Chapter 55
The demon with a slightly severed ear fiddled with the torn piece for a while before murmuring in a resigned voice.
"I heard from the elders…
This way, your kind will lower our value as merchandise…"
It felt like watching a child who had just joined a cult, awkwardly reciting a script without understanding it.
Even their tone was unnatural, as if they were merely repeating something they had been taught.
"Hmm. You’re not merchandise at all."
I could sell them if I wanted to, but was there any reason to?
With the large buildings being constructed and demons being disposed of en masse, funds were dwindling, but selling this one wouldn’t make a dent.
Old records mentioned that demons had been kept as slaves, but officially, slavery no longer existed in this country.
And those who did practice it had long gone into hiding.
If money ran short, I could always carve open the bellies of weak nobles and take what was inside.
"I think you might be mistaken about why you were brought here.
Can you tell me why you think that is?"
I humored the absurd lie, pulling the scissors from their thigh as I asked.
A wet, squelching sound followed as the blade withdrew.
"…Weren’t we taken to be made slaves like before?
Men castrated and sent to the palace, women taken as concubines?"
They were trying to put on an authoritative expression, but with that face, who would take them seriously?
Unless there were armed soldiers backing them up, that is.
Cowering in a corner, staring at a severed ear piece—laughable.
If they wanted to sound commanding while lying, they should at least hold their expression steady and not let their lips tremble.
"You really don’t know what’s been happening above for the past month, do you?"
They nodded, as if ashamed.
What exactly were they ashamed of?
If hiding underground like mold embarrassed them, they shouldn’t have hidden in the first place.
"Your kind set the city on fire in the night.
Countless people died.
So I made a decision—to get rid of all demons."
"…Dispose of?"
I nodded.
At first, they didn’t seem to grasp the meaning of the word.
But as the silence stretched on, their once-expressionless face twisted in horror and despair.
This was likely the first time they had heard the full truth.
They may have known the city burned, but not what followed.
"Dispose of… you mean, kill all of us?"
"‘Kill’ sounds a bit harsh."
These creatures seemed far removed from violence.
Had they been like the back-alley demons, our men would have suffered losses capturing them.
Instead, they had surrendered without resistance.
"We did nothing!
We’re not like those demons you speak of!
We never left our village, we just lived peacefully—"
I punched them.
Blood trickled from their nose, an odd contrast to their otherwise delicate features.
They tried to feign innocence, but they couldn’t be unaware of what had happened aboveground.
"Shh. The room echoes.
Show some decorum when speaking."
Their earlier arrogance about living two hundred years had long disappeared.
Now, all that remained was a trembling, doll-like figure.
"W-We just wanted to live in peace…"
It was my first time seeing a long-lived species in person.
Not that it changed anything.
They were still demons.
Horns, tails, animal ears—it made no difference.
"Shut up."
I struck them with the handle of my gun before kicking them in the stomach.
They whimpered but stopped crying when I fired a shot at the ceiling.
Finally, they were ready to talk.
Demons always acted arrogantly until they were put in their place.
I was being far too kind, resolving things with words instead of simply executing them.
When told to be silent, they should obey.
Or they should die.
Then again, what was the point of living so long if they never left their tiny hole?
If all demons looked like this, perhaps there wouldn’t be so many wars.
Beauty had a way of quelling anger.
"If you lived so peacefully, why the hell did those demons flee to your village?"
They were caught while chasing escapees—if they were truly innocent, why were fugitives running in their direction?
Even when cornered, demons always tried to deceive humans.
They acted submissive when weak, but the moment they gained an advantage, they bared their fangs, eating mothers in front of their children like savages.
Even this so-called long-lived species was no different.
I pressed my boot down on the wound on their thigh, twisting it slightly.
I didn’t want to hear them scream.
I didn’t enjoy violence much, after all.
Really.
Sometimes, I liked watching others fight while eating snacks.
But committing violence myself? Exhausting.
Not satisfying in the least.
Perhaps I should comfort them.
They might reveal useful information about hidden demon settlements.
Julian had trusted me with this task for a reason—because there was something to uncover.
"I’m sorry for raising my voice. I have a bit of a temper.
I may look young and delicate, but don’t think you can fool me with such a ridiculous excuse."
"…A-Ah…"
I stroked their hair as I spoke, but their eyes trembled in sheer panic.
Hyperventilating, unable to even take a breath.
The quickest way to solve this would be to break their ribs until they coughed up blood, then heal them with a potion before they died.
"I take it you’ve never been hit before."
"P-Please, stop…"
Though their body was intact, their dead eyes and limp posture made them seem lifeless. I grabbed their hair, dragging them to the bed and tossing them onto it.
Then, I took a jar filled with ground pepper and poured it into their nostrils.
As they coughed and sputtered, I pressed their forehead against the mattress to steady them, then dumped a pitcher of water over their face.
"From now on, you’ll only speak the truth.
And by ‘truth,’ I mean what I want to hear."
"E-Ek! Ack—Achoo! Agh—"
"Disgusting."
When their coughing wouldn’t stop, I struck their chin with the gun handle.
Guns truly were magical tools.
Pointing one at someone turned even the most unruly into obedient lambs, curing all sorts of ailments along the way.
"Let’s hope our next conversation is a bit more productive."
I’d leave them be for now.
A daily ration of water and a few fingers from their fellow demons would be enough.
In a few days, they’d be begging to talk.
After leaving the room, I took a quick shower and returned to find Marco sitting in a chair, his clothes drenched in blood, smoking a cigarette.
"Miss, did you get anything useful?"
"They tried dodging the truth, so I had to be a little more persuasive.
What about the demons you handled?"
"…Apparently, they had never been hit in their entire lives."
That made sense.
They acted as though they were experiencing pain for the first time.
"And yours?
They were supposedly some kind of elder among their kind—a leader, perhaps."
A leader?
Didn’t seem like much.
They had spent centuries entangled among themselves, stagnating without any real progress.
"They created their own little paradise underground.
Probably never even paid taxes."
Marco wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve before sharing something interesting.
"Some demons apparently visited them seeking wisdom."
"Wisdom?"
"The usual nonsense—‘they’re old, so they must be wise.’"
"I doubt they had anything worthwhile to teach."
"Depends on how you spin it."
After all, some hear ‘live happily’ and conclude that they must steal from others to achieve happiness.
"For the next week, their meals will be water and their fellow demons’ fingers."
"Cooked?"
Hadn’t thought of that.
"Too much hassle. They won’t eat it anyway. Raw is fine."
Marco nodded and rose to resume his work.
As I opened the door, I heard desperate apologies from within, followed by a piercing scream before it shut.
Routine.
This was life, now and until the demons were gone.
Still, a full week without work felt suffocating.
Doing nothing made me feel like a leech.
Handling Ethel’s matter would be a good way to pass the time.
It felt like an eternity had passed.
Like I was stuck in a cycle, repeating the same thing over and over.
When reality felt too much like a game, that eerie dissonance always sent me to Alicia, where I would hold her in silence until the feeling passed.
Now, when the unease crept in, my only solace was punishing myself.
I traced a small cut onto my arm but stopped, wrapping it in a fresh white bandage instead.
It was just a scratch—nothing serious.
Alicia wasn’t coming back, anyway.