Why, though?
Why would a human, possessing a will potent enough to summon and bind a demon king, willingly court death? No matter how deeply he pondered, only exasperated sighs escaped him.
Having already brought him to the Demon King’s Castle, there was a limit to how long he could avoid this encounter. Indeed, with matters having progressed this far, a meeting was inevitable.
Jeha finally steeled his resolve and rose to his feet.
As he pushed open the door and stepped inside, a figure could be seen reclining against the bed.
Their eyes met. Hereis immediately pushed himself upright, his gaze fixed on Jeha as he walked into the room, before descending from the bed.
Jeha scrutinized him meticulously. His face and hands, visible beyond his garments, bore no trace of the wounds that had once marred them; they had vanished completely. Hereis, approaching slowly with each deliberate step, appeared as pristine and radiant as his initial impression, perhaps even more so. His flawlessly beautiful features and shimmering silver hair lent him the ethereal appearance of a sacred angel, as if plucked from the pages of scripture.
‘What should I do?’
Jeha stood rooted to the spot, struggling to conceal his discomfiture. He had arrived, yet he found himself utterly at a loss for words or action. What, precisely, was a Demon King expected to do upon meeting their contractor? Should Hereis demand to be defiled immediately, in accordance with their pact, Jeha would be in a predicament. He had, after all, yet to devise a method for such an act.
Having drawn directly before him, Hereis proved to be quite tall. While Jeha himself was not short, Hereis seemed to tower over him by a good handspan. His piercing sapphire eyes remained fixed on Jeha without wavering for an instant, as though he feared Jeha might simply disappear.
Hereis, now standing directly before him, held his gaze for a moment before slowly sinking to one knee. He then extended a pristine, slender finger, carefully taking Jeha’s hand, and pressed a light kiss to the back of it.
“Bellarossa. My Demon King, my savior who will corrupt me.”
Hereis’s breath feathered lightly against his hand, and his shimmering silver hair, cascading down, brushed against his fingertips. At this hand-kiss, which felt less holy and more utterly solemn, Jeha inwardly broke into a cold sweat.
‘No, you really don’t have to do things like that….’
The dialogue and gestures were utterly classical, awkward, and frankly, mortifying. Jeha valiantly suppressed the urge to snatch his hand away and instead offer a more modern gesture, like a handshake. Within his mind, he chanted, over and over, ‘I am the Demon King.’
Still cradling Jeha’s hand with reverence, Hereis slowly lifted his head.
His sapphire-blue eyes met Jeha’s. Jeha found his lips parting as he gazed down at the beautiful priest, kneeling before him in a gesture of utmost submission. Though he strove to appear composed, his mind was in utter panic. Yet, beneath that turmoil, a peculiar exhilaration and a frantic pounding of his heart accompanied him. For such a stunning high priest to kneel before a Demon King and kiss their hand… was this not precisely the scenario where a champion of justice is subjugated by a villain, ultimately succumbing to darkness?
“…Hereis.”
What Jeha finally managed to utter, after a slight parting of his lips, was merely the contractor’s name.
Despite having only spoken his name once, Hereis’s eyes sparkled with brilliant luminescence. He behaved as though he had truly encountered the savior destined to redeem him.
“You came to save me. It is an infinite honor that you would personally offer your blood to heal me.”
This strikingly handsome man possessed even a voice of captivating beauty. Jeha inwardly calmed his tumultuous heart, striving to summon every last vestige of his composure.
“First… please, stand up.”
Jeha reached out and took Hereis’s hand, which still reverently clasped his own, and helped him to his feet. Hereis hesitated for a moment, then slowly rose. Yet, he still did not release Jeha’s hand. The prolonged skin-to-skin contact felt utterly awkward and rather mortifying. Jeha subtly withdrew his hand and surveyed the room.
The bedroom, neither excessively large nor small, was adorned with exquisite and opulent furnishings, befitting its place within the Demon King’s Castle. Through the window, the mysterious purple sky was fully visible, stretching into the horizon.
“Would you care to sit for a moment?”
Perhaps finding it awkward to leave him standing, Hereis offered a seat. His demeanor was perfectly composed, as if this were his own private chambers.
Jeha nodded, then gracefully walked over and settled into a chair by the window table. Hereis watched his every movement with an unwavering intensity, as though determined not to miss a single detail. Under that persistent gaze, Jeha found his shoulders tensing, a palpable nervousness settling over him.
‘I suppose I should try to act a bit more like a Demon King.’
Jeha muttered to himself, then deliberately draped both arms over the chair’s armrests, crossed his legs, and sank deeply into the backrest, adopting an air of arrogant nonchalance.
“So, why did you summon me?”
Despite his outwardly arrogant posture, his words emerged with an unexpected politeness. This was a lingering habit, deeply ingrained by the Confucian ethos of his homeland. Yet, was Jeha not the Demon King? Whether a Demon King spoke formally, informally, or even in some utterly bizarre tongue, no one would dare take issue. He was, after all, the Demon King!
One might have expected a flicker of surprise at the abrupt inquiry, yet Hereis merely offered a faint smile, utterly devoid of any fluster.
“Would you care for some tea?”
It was Jeha, surprisingly, who found himself flustered by the tranquil query. Without a moment for deliberation, he nodded.
Hereis moved to a corner of the room and began to boil water for tea. Jeha couldn’t fathom why a kettle and water bottle were present, nor when Hereis might have even noticed them. Regardless, Hereis prepared the tea with an air of serene composure, as if this were his own familiar domain. Before long, a fragrant aroma of tea wafted through the room.
A teacup was then carefully placed before Jeha.
Only a single teacup rested on the table, seemingly prepared solely for Jeha. After setting it down, Hereis remained standing a few paces away, silently observing Jeha. Feeling increasingly burdened by that unwavering gaze, Jeha gestured towards the opposite chair.
“Sit.”
At his words, Hereis blinked once, as if in momentary contemplation, then with a quiet, graceful movement, settled into the chair opposite him.
Seated against the backdrop of the mysterious purple sky outside the window, his figure evoked the image of a beautiful, sacred angel from a classical painting. It was not merely his striking appearance; the very aura he exuded was divine.
To mask his lingering awkwardness, Jeha lifted the teacup to his lips. As he carefully took a sip, a clean yet fragrant essence filled his mouth.
“Does it suit your taste?”
Hereis inquired. Jeha merely nodded silently, then set the teacup back down.
Clink.
A faint clink of porcelain echoed softly. The profound stillness of the surroundings amplified even that slight sound.
“Lord Bellarossa….”
Hereis, who had softly uttered the Demon King’s name as if savoring it on his tongue, then offered a harmless smile as he posed his question.
“May I address you as Lord Bellarossa?”
Bellarossa. Even though he now understood it to be the very essence of his being, Jeha’s entire body would twist with discomfort whenever he heard that grand, resonant name.
“Jeha. Call me Jeha.”
Jeha uttered the words casually, then added.
“It would be better to call me by that name.”
“Jeha…. Then, from now on, I shall address you as Lord Jeha.”
Hereis nodded, utterly devoid of any doubt.
“So, why did you summon me? Surely not to watch you die.”
Jeha’s brow furrowed slightly as he recalled Hereis’s utterly ravaged state from earlier.
Had it not been for the blood-drenched silver hair or the divine power still clinging to him, one would never have recognized the mutilated mass of flesh as Hereis. He had endured such agonizing torment, yet, until the very last, he had refrained from using his divine power.
“I wished to see you.”
“…”
“I wished to meet you and converse.”
“Are you saying you allowed yourself to reach that state just to see me?”
“That is correct.”
Hereis affirmed this without a flicker of hesitation. Jeha found himself momentarily speechless. This man, it seemed, possessed a disconcerting habit of resolving matters with extreme measures. First, summoning a Demon King, and then, when the Demon King failed to appear, pushing himself to the very brink of death…
“…So, why did you keep calling me? It doesn’t seem like you want me to defile you immediately.”
Though he had inadvertently become a novice Demon King, utterly clueless, Jeha was no fool. The Hereis he had observed through the mirror did not appear to desire world conquest through the Demon King’s power, nor random destruction. Nor was it likely that he merely wished for a simple human fall from grace. If such were his desire, he could have corrupted himself, rather than summoning a being as formidable as a Demon King, for countless paths exist for human corruption.
“Oh, Demon King. No, Lord Jeha. Please, help me drag this corrupted temple, and the name of God, down to the very bottom of the gutter, and thoroughly defile them.”