Chapter 34

The woman blinked, her lips moving without sound.

‘My voice… won’t come out.’

Ah.

Demius began to loosen his grip but quickly tensed his arm again.

The orange-haired woman’s lips parted in surprise. His hand must have pressed harder without him realizing, because her eyes tightened with pain.

Still, Demius spoke coldly.

“Who are you? Did the North send you? Or another faction? Do you know someone named Asellion?”

“You crazy fool!”

Smack!

Stars flashed before Demius’s eyes.

Before he could recover, a shrill voice exploded in his ear.

“You ungrateful wretch! I save your miserable hide, and this is how you repay me? You rotten brat! You filthy creature! I should toss you into the latrine, wrap you up in a rag, and beat you for three days straight!”

Whack. Whack. Whack.

A thick stick, maybe a shovel or staff, struck him again and again.

Normally, it would not have been a problem.

An old man’s strength was nothing to fear. If Demius were in his usual condition, he could have dodged easily or caught the blows without effort.

But not now.

“Cough!”

Blood splattered from his lips as he collapsed to the side.

The old man grew even angrier and lifted the shovel again.

“You dare spit blood in my house, you fool!”

“Father, bring that towel over there!”

“That brat doesn’t deserve to live, Lisa! You hear me? He’s useless! A waste of good air that plants worked hard to make! You’ll regret saving trash like that, I’m telling you!”

“And the water too!”

“No, Lisa! There’s no reason to waste anything on this disrespectful pup. If you keep saving fools like that, someday they’ll—”

“Please, just hold him still.”

“Ah, dear heavens, Lisa. You’re wasting your time on garbage like this.”

The old man never stopped complaining but still did everything the orange-haired woman asked.

‘Lisa.’

Demius repeated the name in his fading thoughts.

‘What a rustic name.’

That was the first day he met Melissa in the Village at the Edge.

It was also the first day he met her father, Millon, the farmer and botanist.

And from that day on, for the entire year he spent in that village, he endured the man’s endless ridicule and scolding.

If that had been the only problem, things might have gone differently. Perhaps, even after choking Melissa and angering Millon, he could have made up for it with time and effort.

But the real issue lay elsewhere.

“Damn it.”

Demius’s temper had never been gentle.

Especially not back then.

According to Natalianne, he had been a hopeless case. Demius himself claimed that title fit his short-tempered little sister better, but either way, the Eisenhart bloodline was notorious for its sharp tempers.

Except for one rare case, the missing brother, Asellion.

Demius had a long list of mistakes.

Too many to count.

‘What kind of village is this?’

That was his first thought after waking from being beaten by Millon.

A remote village surrounded by cliffs.

A place so steep that even a trained knight could barely survive the fall.

Was it really possible for people to live here?

The more he saw, the stranger it became.

‘The Village at the Edge.’

He quietly released his energy and narrowed his eyes.

Hostility surrounded him on all sides.

It was a clear warning.

‘Suspicious.’

Even while lying in bed, he could sense it. The presence of people with power equal to his mother’s or even to Natalianne’s.

No, perhaps even stronger.

He frowned slightly.

‘Maybe stronger.’

The old man who had beaten him with a shovel looked like nothing more than a healthy farmer, but the others were different.

One moved like a trained swordsman. Another looked lazy, half-asleep, yet carried immense magical energy. And another had a calm presence that radiated power.

‘A swordsman, a mage, and the last one… a spirit summoner, maybe.’

Spirit summoners were rare. Most became priests and lived in temples.

But what priest would live in a place like this?

‘The more I see, the stranger it gets.’

What kind of village gathers people like this?

Among them, the most noticeable person was the one who looked the most ordinary.

A woman with orange hair and green eyes.

Pretty, perhaps, but otherwise plain. Or maybe just a little odd.

Still, for such a suspicious place, she seemed almost too normal.

And the old monsters around her treated her like a treasure, protecting her at every turn.

‘Unbelievable.’

Demius decided to ignore her.

But that was harder than he thought.

Every single day, the small, ordinary woman came knocking on his door.

“Good morning!”

At six in the morning, she appeared at his door, cheeks flushed, holding a porcelain bottle.

“Do you have milk for breakfast? I got this from over the mountain yesterday. It’s fresh and delicious!”

“I don’t need it.”

He closed the door immediately.

Who would drink something so suspicious?

Past Demius would later make future Demius groan in regret for thinking that.

At noon, the knocking came again.

“Good afternoon!”

Melissa smiled brightly, holding a large basket. Inside were steamed potatoes and thick slices of rye bread.

“Have you eaten yet? These are potatoes I grew myse—”

“I don’t need them.”

He cut her off and closed the door.

Then, at six in the evening.

“Good evening!”

“Do you have nothing better to do?”

At last, he snapped.

Her eyes widened, cheeks flushed, and she exclaimed,

“Oh my, thank you for your concern! I’m perfectly fine. Are you feeling any better?”

Is she insane?

Past Demius, if his future self could hear him now, would have slapped himself.

He frowned and closed the door again.

But she never stopped coming.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Demius!”

What was wrong with this woman?

What could possibly be so good every hour of the day that she had to keep saying it?

‘Of course.’

He smirked faintly to himself.

‘She must have some hidden motive.’

The world was full of people who smiled on the outside but schemed on the inside.

In the North, people were usually blunt and honest, but there were always exceptions among the nobles.

They praised others to their faces while secretly looking down on them.

And if misfortune struck, they pretended to sympathize while laughing behind their backs.

Learning that kind of double-faced politeness was something Demius had been told was necessary.

He would someday stand beside his brother as the Grand Duke’s aide, protecting their territory.

He would need to master the same skill, the art of false smiles and polite distance.

Even in the Imperial Capital, nobles were far worse.

He had heard from others that even his brother, despite his status as heir, had often faced mockery for being a northerner.

‘Arrogant fools.’

Demius clenched his teeth.

He knew the truth well enough.

No matter the place, people were the same.

Even among commoners, there were those who hid their true nature behind polite words.

That was the nature of humans as he had seen them.

And he doubted this woman was any different.

“Mr. Demius, hello. Isn’t the weather lovely today?”

Lovely, she said.

What was so lovely about this blazing heat?

Under the scorching sun, Demius ignored her cheerful smile and walked past her.

But the next day, the weather changed completely.

Rain poured down in heavy sheets that never seemed to stop.

The wounds that had not yet healed began to ache again.

“…Brother.”

Sitting alone in the dark room, Demius lowered his gaze.

The bandages wrapped around his knee were stained a dark shade, almost black in the shadows.

His lips moved faintly, like the flicker of a still image.

Where are you?