The Weight of a Past Life

The surroundings were sparsely populated, with a few crows perched on the rooftops, observing them. Sovenia mused that if she ever needed to commit murder and dispose of a body, this spot would be ideal.

Clutching Wawalde’s hand, Sovenia inquired, “Why do you think that?”

Wawalde’s inner thoughts surged into her mind, a chaotic jumble like book pages scattered by the wind. She struggled to sift through the fragments for an answer.

“Your hand touched his sword hilt,” Wawalde stated, his voice calm. “Not once, but twice. And the look in his eyes…”

He paused.

“It was like he was looking at a slab of meat.”

Sovenia’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t Wawalde’s vivid metaphor that startled her, but rather the sudden clarity of his inner thoughts, as if murky water had abruptly settled.

‘Beneath the chaotic flow of thoughts, something clear emerged: I’ve seen that look before, in the Demon King’s hall, in the audience chamber. I faced it with my comrades, on the face of Jimi the Cruel…’

Sovenia’s fingers tightened imperceptibly.

He had seen Jimi the Cruel.

She knew, of course, that he had. They had clashed in the Demon King’s hall, back when she possessed a formidable male body, when she was the First Heavenly King, Jimi the Cruel.

She had believed this elven maiden’s physique would conceal all traces of her past. Yet, some things, like the look in one’s eyes, could not be hidden.

Wawalde continued to speak, but Sovenia no longer registered his words. Her mind was a whirlwind of possibilities, scattering like startled cats.

‘Has he recognized me?’

‘No, impossible. If he had, he wouldn’t be standing here so calmly. He would draw his sword—well, he doesn’t have a sword—he would probably twist my head off.’

‘But what if he’s grown suspicious?’

‘What if he starts connecting the details?’

‘My familiarity with the demon realm, my combat instincts, my indifference to killing. And now, those eyes staring at him like a piece of meat… This stupid dog’s perception is always a step sharper than I anticipate.’

Sovenia’s pointed ears involuntarily flattened against her scalp.

‘What should I do?’

‘I need an explanation, a plausible one. A lie that Wawalde would believe.’

Yet, she could think of nothing. ‘Perhaps I could say, “Child, I hugged you once, just a few days ago.”‘

‘No, forget it. It was just a hug; it means nothing.’

Wawalde’s thoughts continued to pour in, like a pot of boiling porridge. She searched through the din for clues, for anything she could use.

Then, she caught a thought:

‘She must be terrified. She must have survived for a long time in the demon realm, where the strong prey on the weak. Because of Jimi the Cruel’s wicked sense of humor, she wasn’t corrupted, but to survive, she must have been forced… to become indifferent without realizing it. That’s why she looks so much like…’

‘So you think…’

Sovenia froze.

Wawalde’s thoughts contained no suspicion. No pity.

‘Was I overthinking it?’

He was making excuses for her. He was using his utterly foolish human kindness to find an innocent explanation for her actions.

Sovenia suddenly felt a mix of amusement and a desire to curse.

‘Stupid dog, truly so foolish. But this very foolishness is the perfect material for my lie.’

She decided to speak in a way that aligned with Wawalde’s expectations; even the most brilliant lie could be no more effective.

Sovenia lowered her voice. “When I… when I was in the demon realm, if I didn’t look at people that way, if I wasn’t so wary, I would have been eaten.”

Sovenia paused. Wawalde’s thoughts were far swifter than his speech. She had to quickly process his expectations and translate them into common tongue before speaking them aloud:

“I know this is the human realm, but sometimes… I can’t control it. The human realm is too unfamiliar; I know nothing here. Only by holding your hand, by feeling your warmth, do I feel safe.”

The words had barely left her lips when Sovenia regretted them. Goosebumps erupted all over her skin, seemingly falling to the ground.

‘What kind of nonsense was that?’

‘She, Jimi the Cruel, the First Heavenly King, the Butcher of Wives, the Elven Nightmare, the Demon’s Blade, actually said to a stupid dog, “Only by feeling your warmth do I feel safe”?’

If she still possessed her male body, she would be roaring with laughter, brandishing her greatsword to silence anyone who heard such words. Everyone present, even the crows on the roof, would die.

Yet, the First Heavenly King was now trapped within a maiden’s body, and this elven form seemed to seize every opportunity to corrupt her.

Sovenia felt her earlobes flush, the heat spreading across her cheeks.

‘Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!’

Wawalde’s thoughts, however, softened.

‘She trusts me, like a cat. She needs me; I must protect her.’

Sovenia rolled her eyes inwardly.

‘Stupid dog.’

But mercifully, his doubts had vanished. Wawalde’s expression relaxed, and he let out a soft sigh.

“Alright,” he said. “To be honest, I didn’t like him much either.”

Sovenia’s ears perked up slightly.

“Sir Gernon?”

“Mm.” Wawalde nodded. “But how should I put it? He’s a veteran, after all, having escaped from Ironfort Pass.”

‘Ironfort Pass.’

“Where?”

“A fortress park in the north, overrun by demons decades ago.” Sovenia searched her memories for the name. It was a northern human realm fortress. She had participated in the brutal battle for it, a conflict so fierce even she, a veteran of countless wars, had vivid recollections.

‘Many starved to death on the roads,’ Wawalde’s thoughts continued. ‘In such treacherous circumstances, kindness is useless. Only those who understand baseness and opportunism survive. So, even kindness had to learn baseness.’

Sovenia remained silent. She recalled Sir Gernon’s silver prosthetic, and how he had said it was a wound left by the Blood Skull Legion.

‘So that’s how it was.’

“I admit it,” Sovenia said. “I wanted to kill him.”

Wawalde flinched, then chuckled.

“Actually, I wanted to punch him in the face myself,” he confessed.

Sovenia looked at him.

“Then why did you accept that quest?”

Wawalde shrugged.

“You can’t always just kill anyone you dislike for gold, can you?”

Sovenia silently retorted in her mind: ‘I truly do think that. And I could even remove the words “anyone you dislike” and replace them with “anyone with gold.”‘

“Before we leave this obscure little town,” Wawalde said, “I want to teach you how to survive in the human realm. You seem to have been in the demon realm for too long.”

Sovenia’s pointed ears twitched.

‘Teach her?’

‘She, Jimi the Cruel, a Heavenly King who had lived for nearly a century, needed a human boy in his twenties to teach her?’

However, she remembered her current predicament: this frail elven body, this utterly powerless shell, and the Demon King-level entity disguised as a human right before her.

As a weakling, she should act like one.

“Alright,” she nodded, then, aligning with the expectation in Wawalde’s thoughts, added, “…I can only follow you anyway.”

Upon hearing her words, Wawalde felt his earlobes flush again.

‘Why does it always sound like sweet talk whenever I speak according to this stupid dog’s wishes?’

Sure enough, Wawalde’s thoughts once again became that soft, sickeningly sweet sort that made goosebumps crawl on her skin.

‘She truly trusts me; I must not let her down.’

Sovenia sighed internally.

‘Why do all men have such a strong desire to ‘guide’ beautiful women? It’s truly infuriating.’

“I think with our abilities, we can complete this mission successfully,” Wawalde said. “But before that, we missed something. Do you know what it is?”

Listening to his thoughts, Sovenia replied, “The three previous waves of adventurers were sent to their deaths as cannon fodder. They should have left behind some intelligence.”

Wawalde nodded. “Precisely. But the Grayweak Adventurers’ Guild didn’t report that information to us. So now, we should go back and demand it. It’s our rightful entitlement.”

Having said this, the two turned and retraced their steps along the path they had come. The streets gradually grew busier. Sovenia’s pointed ears caught whispers from nearby.

“Oh, a couple on a date?”

“That man is so shabbily dressed, and he has a girlfriend?”

“Is she an elf?”

Sovenia jolted as if struck by lightning, abruptly releasing Wawalde’s hand. Her ears flattened backward; her face remained expressionless, but the tips of her ears flushed a faint pink.

‘Couple on a date… girlfriend.’

She cursed under her breath.

‘If only mind-reading didn’t require physical contact.’

‘People always misunderstand. If only it were like before, I would simply lead my army of beheaders, chop off all their heads, pile them up, and offer them to the Four Gods.’

Before long, Sovenia saw the Gray Crow Adventurers’ Guild door again, its lacquer peeling, the wood grain grayed. Sovenia stepped over the threshold. The interior light remained dim, and the gray crow stone carving still squatted in the center of the hall, its brass eyes polished to a gleam from countless touches.

But something was different. Sir Gernon, who should have departed, was still there. He stood before the counter, his back to the door, speaking to the clumsy female clerk. His voice was kept very low, but for Sovenia’s ears, that distance was nothing at all.

“Is the other Silver Master here?” Sir Gernon asked.

“No… he’s not,” the female clerk’s voice trembled.

“Not here? Damn it, did he flee this small town?” Sir Gernon cursed. “Never mind that. Hurry up and get that bounty.”

“Wh-what bounty?”

“The Demon Queen’s bounty. I want to stamp it as completed.”

The female clerk was clearly terrified; her voice rose several octaves. “The Demon Queen?! Who—”

Before she could finish, Sir Gernon’s hand clamped over her mouth. “Keep being so clumsy and yelling,” his voice hissed through gritted teeth. “And I’ll use this staff to smash your mouth. Understand?”

The female clerk’s eyes widened, and she nodded frantically.

The few adventurers drinking ale in the corner noticed the commotion. Someone stood up, seemingly wanting to help, but was immediately pulled back by a companion.

“That’s a Silver Master,” the companion whispered. “Do you still want to make a living in this guild?”

The standing adventurer hesitated, then sat back down.

Sovenia watched the scene unfold, suddenly recalling something from long ago. When she was on Earth, she had consumed many works of fiction. In those stories, adventurer guilds were fair and just tools for distributing quests.

Now, she stood in a real adventurer guild, watching a Silver Master threaten an apprentice with a staff, watching other adventurers forced to stand by idly. This world was too cruel.

‘Then again, as Jimi the Cruel, calling others cruel is quite humorous.’

Wawalde leaned close to her ear, his voice barely a whisper: “What did they say?”

Wawalde’s whispered words tickled Sovenia’s ear. She turned her long ear away from his breath, then briefly recounted the situation in a low voice.