#5
“Bishop, your survival is truly a grace from God. I don’t know if you’re aware, but the other priests and holy knights… they all…”
The young acolyte’s eyes welled with tears, unable to finish his sentence.
Hereis knew precisely what the acolyte was unable to voice, even before the words were spoken. After all, he himself was the one who had slaughtered them all. Yet, judging by the acolyte’s expression, it seemed he couldn’t even dream that Hereis had been directly responsible for the tragedy. This reaction, coupled with his current location, made it clear: the temple had not realized that Hereis was the cause of the recent massacre.
Priests and holy knights brutally murdered, and he, the sole survivor.
One might think such a stark reality would be obvious, yet they likely couldn’t fathom that Hereis, the beloved child of God since birth, could commit such an atrocity. Even if suspicion had arisen, the divine power still brimming within Hereis’s body would have surely attested to his innocence. It was truly a ludicrous situation.
Hereis inwardly scoffed at the divine power that so thoroughly filled his body. Even as a sinner who had massacred God’s children, he felt God’s unchanging love and recalled the brief kiss with the Demon King. That short, blood-soaked embrace had been strangely thrilling and dizzying. Corruption, it seemed, was exquisitely stimulating.
“Bishop Hereis?”
The acolyte, who had been observing Hereis absently touching his own lips, cautiously called out to him. Hereis collected his unfocused gaze and raised his head.
“How long have I been unconscious?”
“You were out for a full four days, Bishop. When you didn’t wake after a day or two, everyone began to…”
The acolyte hesitated for a moment before continuing.
“Everyone was worried that ‘he’ might have placed a terrible curse on you, Bishop Hereis, or perhaps even stolen your soul.”
The acolyte used the pronoun ‘he’ instead of uttering the name of the Demon King Bellarossa. He even furrowed his brow, as if merely referring to the Demon King as ‘he’ was dreadful.
“You’re… alright, aren’t you?”
The acolyte asked, his face etched with worry as he scrutinized Hereis’s eyes. Hereis offered a benevolent smile and nodded. Instantly, the acolyte’s face brightened.
“Then I’ll quickly go and tell everyone this joyous news!”
The acolyte turned and rushed out of the room. Hereis watched the departing figure with a wry smile.
He had committed this act with utter disregard for his own well-being. If he could only offer himself to insult and defile God and the temple, he would have gladly accepted being subjected to an inquisition and thrown alive into scorching flames. However, observing how events were unfolding, it seemed things were about to become far more interesting.
Leaning back against the bed, Hereis placed his right hand over his heart. The heart, now emblazoned with the Demon King Bellarossa’s seal, felt strangely endearing. As if to prove the Demon King’s infinite power, it pulsed vigorously, unsuppressed even within a body brimming with divine energy.
Hereis tenderly caressed the area around his strongly beating heart. Never in his life, not even during moments of receiving God’s boundless love and glory, high status, or the endless reverence and adoration of his devotees, had he experienced such an exhilarating thrill.
Hereis narrowed his eyes and let out a long, slow laugh. Since his life had been extended by God’s unchanging love, he would dedicate his remaining days to utterly shattering God and the arrogant temple. He would make everyone realize just how biased God’s supposedly impartial love truly was. He would make people toss God’s laws aside as if they were fit only for dogs. To achieve this, even if it meant sacrificing both his body and soul to the Demon King Bellarossa, he, Hereis, the beloved child of God, would accomplish it with his own hands.
The closed door swung open, and people streamed in. To those who offered words of relief upon seeing him awake, Hereis bestowed a beautiful, benevolent smile, befitting the beloved child of God.
****
Tantarossa. Barbassas. Bellarossa.
Among these three Demon Kings, the one humans were cautioned to fear most was none other than Bellarossa of Sloth and Corruption. Madness, slaughter, arrogance, and greed—all these could be repented and atoned for, allowing one to return to God’s embrace. Such was God’s law. But Bellarossa was deemed the most wicked of all precisely because he allowed no such recourse, instead thoroughly corrupting humans.
“But really,” Jeha grumbled, propping his arm diagonally on the desk, “isn’t sloth just a biological instinct? If you don’t have to worry about immediate survival, isn’t it only natural to lead a lazy life?”
Paimon, who had been lecturing on the true mindset of a Demon King, raised an eyebrow in surprise. Meanwhile, Zephyr, who had been wearing a bored expression in a corner of the room, sprang to his feet and clapped.
“Oh! As expected of the successor personally chosen by the previous Demon King! To possess such a thorough understanding of a Demon King’s disposition, even having only just become one! I, Zephyr, am simply moved.”
Zephyr, a demon with blood-red hair, clapped continuously, lavishing praise. Paimon grimaced, as if finding the display unbearable, but Zephyr paid him no mind, busy showering Jeha with compliments.
“Sloth is the fundamental instinct of all living creatures! Shouldn’t such a noble thought from our master be widely propagated, not just throughout the Demon Realm, but among humans as well?”
Jeha shook his head at Zephyr’s theatrics. Then, stretching out on the desk, he let out a sigh. At this, both Paimon and Zephyr recoiled with expressions of horror.
“Are you perhaps very bored, Master? Are you already finding everything bothersome—even living itself—and wishing to simply cease to exist?”
Zephyr asked, his face looking uncharacteristically on the verge of tears for a demon. Jeha waved his hand dismissively, as if annoyed. Zephyr’s expression grew even more serious.
It had been several months since Jeha became the Demon King Bellarossa.
During that time, which felt both short and long, he had heard pleas to “please live a long life” so often that they might as well have been hammered into his ears. If he so much as let out a short sigh, they would panic, asking if he already wished to die. Even a slight expression of annoyance would unleash a torrent of fervent pleas for him to live just a little longer. It was said that among the three Demon Kings, Bellarossa of Sloth and Corruption was the most frequently replaced, and his subordinates were utterly hysterical over their kings constantly disappearing because they found even living too bothersome.
Such sloth, to find even existence tiresome…
Until recently—no, even after inheriting Bellarossa’s name and power—Jeha hadn’t understood the previous Bellarossas. But now, several months later, he found himself beginning to grasp it, if only a little.
Bellarossa’s energy didn’t just fill his body; it overflowed, yet he found himself utterly disinclined to do anything. With this power, he could descend upon the human world and engage in epic battles between good and evil, like those found in fantasy novels, or kidnap princesses, or even amass all the wealth in the world. Despite possessing such immense power, Jeha found eating bothersome, playing bothersome, listening bothersome, and speaking bothersome. He even found breathing bothersome.
Perhaps it was fortunate that his body, formed from the Demon God’s power, didn’t require him to eat, excrete, or even breathe. Such was the formidable nature of sloth. Or perhaps, it was precisely because he didn’t need to fulfill those basic bodily urges that he grew even more indolent.
“Master, perhaps I could show you something entertaining?”
“When even breathing is bothersome, what could possibly be entertaining?”
“Or how about some delicious food? I could immediately procure some freshly hunted meat, still dripping with blood.”
“If I have no appetite, why would I want blood-dripping meat?”
“Should I abduct a few handsome humans and put on a torture display?”
“No interest.”
‘Torturing humans in front of a Demon King who was once human himself—as if he would want to see that…’
With none of his suggestions landing, Paimon shot Zephyr a glare, signaling him to perform his role properly.
Paimon, with his short, neatly combed blue hair, possessed a remarkably aristocratic appearance, save for the pointy ears and black claws characteristic of demons. He served, in the best sense, as Demon King Bellarossa’s aide, and in the worst, as the new Demon King’s nanny. And Zephyr, the red-haired chatterbox, was the so-called ‘entertainment squad,’ tasked with keeping the Demon King from boredom.
It was regrettable that two powerful individuals, high-ranking even within the Demon Realm, were reduced to acting as nanny and entertainment for a Demon King prone to extreme sloth. However, as close retainers of Bellarossa, who was both a fragment of the Demon God’s power and their king, they took considerable pride and responsibility in personally attending to the Demon King.
“Hmm… to be so slothful already, Master, you are clearly destined to become the most powerful Demon King among all your predecessors.”
Zephyr, who had just spouted such an absurd flattery, fell into thought, twisting the ends of his long red hair between his fingers. Regardless of his pondering, Jeha remained sprawled on the desk, one cheek pressed against the surface, gazing out the window.
The sky of the Demon Realm was entirely a pale violet, as if a purple sunset perpetually painted the heavens. Though purple, it didn’t feel gloomy; rather, it was mystical and beautiful. Yet, Jeha still yearned for a blue sky. He missed the days when he would pull his hair out all night writing reports, buried under mountains of assignments. Back then, it had been bothersome and headache-inducing, but at least he’d had the will to live, dreams, and hope.
“Master, don’t you have a contract to uphold?”
Paimon, who had been silently observing, suddenly spoke. At his words, a hazy fog that seemed to cloud Jeha’s mind was instantly pierced by the vivid image of a person, flashing like lightning. Recalling those sapphire eyes, as blue as the human world’s sky, his mind cleared with a sharp jolt.
“Ah, that’s right. The contract!”
Jeha exclaimed softly, abruptly lifting his face from where it had been resting on the desk.
‘That’s right, I have a contractor! And a human one at that!’