The Scent of Deception

That enigmatic syllable reverberated through the opulent yet sinister confines of the cell, its echoes lingering as if for three days.

Of course, it wasn’t truly for three days, but it certainly plunged the room into a silence that stretched for several agonizing seconds.

Sovenia felt her very blood congeal in her veins, and her head beneath the helmet throbbed with a resonant ‘buzz,’ as though struck by a heavy hammer.

Her toes, seemingly rebelling against the will of this great commander of demons, instinctively curled, digging into the soles of her shoes.

‘What had she just uttered?’

‘Hakimi yo nanbei lüdou?’

‘What manner of incantation was that? Could it possibly summon a meteor from the heavens to pulverize every living being in this room, save for herself, into a bloody pulp?’

Judging by her body’s visceral reaction, it certainly felt like a most ominous ‘spell’.

Her already hazy memories of a past life, resurfacing at the most inopportune moment, felt like a hand reaching from a toilet to deliver a resounding slap, simultaneously brandishing the mortifying reason for it before her eyes.

‘Hakimi was an internet meme.’

She, Jimi the Cruel, the Demon Queen’s foremost Heavenly King, a formidable overlord who had clawed her way from the depths of the mines to the apex of power through sheer cunning and brutal force, had, at this very precipice of life and death, blurted out an utterly meaningless internet meme from a homeland so distant it was almost forgotten.

This was a humiliation far greater than being forced to stand naked before the Demon Queen herself.

Linalia asked, “What are you saying?”

Subsequently, the confusion on her face slowly receded.

“My dear ‘false kin’,” her voice, sweet as honey, purred, “That… is certainly not Elvish. In fact, it is nothing at all.”

Turning to Wawalde, her exquisite face etched with an expression of worry and pure innocence, she declared, “Hero, you see, she has clearly lost her faculties; she is nothing but a false elf.”

Sovenia’s mental paralysis lasted for less than two seconds.

The primal instinct for survival, coupled with the inherent dignity of a true powerhouse, acted like a bucket of ice water, abruptly yanking Sovenia from the abyssal depths of her self-loathing and shame.

While lying was not her forte, combat was her domain of expertise. And in this critical moment, words themselves constituted the battlefield.

Lying was not her strength, but fighting certainly was. Therefore, she resolved to wield words as daggers, seize her opponent’s logic, and mercilessly plunge it into their chest.

Sovenia gazed indifferently at Linalia, then, mimicking her arrogant tone, one that implied she was observing an inferior product, Sovenia slowly began to speak:

“Did you, then, speak Elvish?”

She flung Wawalde’s hand away, advanced a step, and pressed her attack, “You false elf!”

For the first time, Linalia’s smile froze on her face. “You… what did you say?”

“I said, you are a fake,” Sovenia stated succinctly, each word as frigid as if plucked from an ice vault. “What you spoke was not Elvish; mine is the true tongue.”

“Utterly riddled with lies!” Linalia’s voice involuntarily rose a fraction, though she swiftly regained her composed and regal princess-like demeanor. “I am Linalia of the Silvermoon Forest, of noble blood and an unbroken lineage! Yet you, of unknown origins, speaking in utter incoherence, dare to bite back!”

“Utterly riddled with lies,” Sovenia echoed, her voice a chilling mimicry. “I am Sovenia of the Silvermoon Forest, of noble blood and an unbroken lineage! Yet you, adorned in torn black stockings, of unknown origins, speaking in utter incoherence, dare to bite back!”

“Stop mimicking me!”

“Stop mimicking me!”

“Sisters, please, stop squabbling!” Wawalde finally seized an opportunity to interject, spreading his arms wide like an old hen attempting to separate two fighting cocks. “There must be some profound misunderstanding here! We are all victims, and we should be uniting against our common foe!”

Sovenia didn’t even spare him a glance. The simple-minded fool’s thought process was always so straightforward, believing that a few shouted platitudes could resolve every problem.

‘A jest, indeed. Though the elven princess was undeniably beautiful, as long as she remained alive, Sovenia knew she would not know a single night of peaceful sleep.’

Linalia, meanwhile, tugged gently on Wawalde’s arm. “Hero, you witnessed it yourself. It is not I who am being aggressive; rather, she… she is utterly incapable of proving her identity and can only resort to baseless accusations to deflect attention.”

“Prove?” Sovenia seized upon the word. “Very well, then let us prove it.”

Her icy gaze swept over Linalia, then briefly flickered to Wawalde. “You should be capable of producing holy water, should you not?”

Wawalde nodded.

“Use the holy water,” Sovenia instructed. “Whether one is demon or elf, a single test will reveal the truth.”

The proposal struck Wawalde as entirely reasonable, and he immediately voiced his agreement.

Linalia, however, subtly furrowed her brow. She gently gathered the strip of fabric from her gown that had slipped from her shoulder. “Ordinary holy water, I fear, can only detect lesser demonic creatures. I have heard tell that some powerful demons, particularly those adept at illusion and disguise, can easily circumvent its detection with their potent magic.”

“Then let us use no ordinary holy water,” she stated, her tone flat and devoid of emotion, as if relaying a simple fact. “Add salt to the holy water, then intone the Invocation of the Four Gods. It is said that even the most cunning disguise will crumble before such power.”

This particular method was scarcely known among demonkind, and Sovenia happened to be one of the rare few privy to its existence.

It was whispered that the power of the Four Gods, clashing with the inherent energy of the holy water, would unleash an incredibly unstable and destructive reaction, potent enough to tear through almost any disguise woven from demonic energy.

Having already found herself ensnared within the body of an elven female, she harbored no belief that holy water could possibly detect her soul, that of the notorious Jimi the Cruel.

“The Invocation of the Four Gods?” Wawalde’s expression shifted drastically. “Those are prayers to wicked deities; reciting them is said to invite terrible misfortunes.”

“Hero,” Linalia’s tone grew serious, “what is truly ‘bad’ is the enemy lurking right in our midst.” She fixed Sovenia with a gaze sharp as a blade. “If this is the sole method to unveil the truth, then I am prepared to undertake it.”

“As am I,” Sovenia concurred, her voice chillingly detached.

The dilemma, like a scorching iron ball, was promptly kicked back into Wawalde’s lap by the two seemingly delicate elven maidens. Trapped between their equally piercing gazes, he felt a cold sweat begin to bead on his back.

Wawalde gritted his teeth. “Very well! We shall proceed as you suggest!”

Wawalde, as instructed, prepared the salted holy water. Subsequently, Sovenia began to intone the Invocation of the Four Gods; the moment those blasphemous words left her lips, the very air seemed to twist with an unsettling disquiet.

Upon completion, she was the first to extend her hand, the back of it facing upwards.

Linalia, not to be outdone, followed suit.

Wawalde dipped a finger into the seemingly innocuous liquid, then applied it to the backs of both elven women’s hands.

The abrasive sensation of salt grains was palpable.

One second passed.

Then two.

Then three.

Nothing occurred. There was no searing burn, no ominous black smoke, no agonizing scream.

Sovenia’s hand remained as unblemished as before, and Linalia’s hand, too, was flawlessly fair.

“Excellent!” Wawalde exhaled a long sigh of relief, a smile of profound relief spreading across his face. “This was merely a misunderstanding; no demons are masquerading among us.”

Linalia paused for a moment in silence. Then, a smile more radiant and genuine than any before bloomed on her face. Her golden eyes, which had recently brimmed with tears, now sparkled with unadulterated joy.

“I am truly sorry…” She offered Sovenia a slight bow. “Please forgive my earlier impudence. I was simply overwhelmed by fear, which led me to harbor suspicions toward my own kin.”

She took a step forward, opening her arms wide. Her tattered gown and taut black stockings lent her posture a paradoxical beauty, a captivating blend of sanctity and temptation.

“Can we… reconcile? My… sister.”

Sovenia watched her, remaining motionless.

‘Her reason, or perhaps Jimi’s deeply ingrained paranoia of victimhood, was screaming frantic warnings at her: ‘Do not embrace unless absolutely necessary.”

‘Yet… she was truly breathtakingly beautiful.’

‘So beautiful, in fact, that to die within her embrace would feel like the most exquisite pleasure imaginable.’

Furthermore, in the presence of that simple-minded fool, to reject such a seemingly sincere apology and embrace would only make her appear petty and suspicious.

Ultimately, her appreciation for beauty eclipsed her innate wariness of danger.

Sovenia stepped forward, meeting Linalia’s sweet smile, and embraced her with unreserved force.

The other’s body was remarkably soft, possessing the distinct warmth of a young maiden. A subtle, elegant orchid fragrance wafted over, proving quite pleasant.

Yet, in that fleeting moment of contact, Sovenia’s nose detected a faint, almost imperceptible, anomalous scent subtly hidden beneath the delicate orchid fragrance.

‘It was a fragrance of orchid… mingled with musk.’

‘Incredibly familiar.’

‘Where had she encountered that scent before…?’

Before she could fully process the answer, Linalia had already released her, a pure and flawless smile gracing her features.

Sovenia subtly retreated a step, meticulously burying that flicker of doubt deep within her heart.

With the immediate identity crisis seemingly averted, it was time to refocus on their primary objective.

She turned, heading in the opposite direction from their arrival, which also led deeper into the Demon Queen’s hall.

“We should go; I will lead the way.”

As she spoke, her gaze fell upon Linalia’s face.

This was her absolute bottom line.

Regardless of all else, she absolutely had to continue moving in the direction of her own head. She glanced back at Linalia, curious to see if she would voice an objection.

Unexpectedly, Linalia offered no opposition whatsoever.

“I only understand a small portion of the Demon Queen’s hall structure; most areas are unfamiliar to me,” she said, walking to the wall and picking up a gem-encrusted, albeit slightly crooked, staff from a pile of debris, gripping it firmly. “The task of leading the way will have to fall to you, Sovenia. My royal guard magic should be able to provide some support for us.”

She smiled, adopting a remarkably humble posture, appearing perfectly docile and ready to follow orders.

Wawalde sighed with relief. “Let us depart. We will emerge from the Demon Queen’s hall; I guarantee it.”

‘Would he make such a promise to every ‘princess’?’ Sovenia mused. ‘Regardless, he only had another day and a half to live, so there was no need to dwell on it.’

Sovenia strode forward with her long legs, keenly aware of the peculiar composition of their trio.

One was an imposter, brimming with schemes and desperate to reclaim her head.

Another was a simple-minded, virginal hero, his brain crammed with chivalry, utterly captivated by any beautiful woman.

And finally, there was a truly pitiable princess.

Ascending the steps, they re-entered the corridor.

Sovenia recalled the faint, unusual scent she had detected on the ‘true princess’ earlier, finally remembering where she had smelled it decades ago.

At that time, she had kissed the Succubus Heavenly King; their proximity had allowed her to distinctly catch the Heavenly King’s scent, etching it into her memory.

‘But was it her?’

Sovenia turned her head, casting a glance behind her. Linalia was holding the simple-minded fool’s arm, chattering incessantly.

The latter immediately caught Sovenia’s gaze, offering a slight, triumphant smile.

‘It must be her, the Succubus Heavenly King.’

Sovenia remained expressionless, turning her head back forward.

Yet, an inexplicable surge of anger flared within her. ‘A fool is a fool,’ she thought, ‘his soul easily swayed by a few words from a mere Succubus Heavenly King, casting aside even basic vigilance.’

As this nameless anger simmered, Sovenia began to ponder how to eliminate her old colleague.

With her mind returning to the familiar domain of slaughter, Sovenia felt her thoughts clarify considerably.

As she entertained this notion, the next time Sovenia looked at Linalia, golden question mark cards and the phantom image of a treasure chest appeared above her head.

A Golden Card Enemy and a Relic Enemy — killing her offered the same reward as backstabbing the fool.