DKFTI 115

“That is the hierarchy.”

Hierarchy held great importance for the demons.

Except for rare cases like Sibel, who was the master of the Demon King’s castle, there was always a hierarchy among the demons under a demon king.

Some even created childish titles like “legion commander.”

Shanti wasn’t a pure-blooded demon, but for some reason, he wanted to make the hierarchy between Aizen and himself clear.

“That’s interesting.”

“This isn’t something to find interesting! Anyway, judging by the time I’ve served the Demon King, shouldn’t I naturally hold the highest rank?”

Shanti puffed out his chest and lifted his chin.

“Go on.”

“That’s why! From now on, I can’t treat you as a guest anymore!”

“When did you ever treat me like a guest?”

Aizen was genuinely confused.

He couldn’t recall ever being treated as a guest in the Demon King’s castle. If anything, they had treated him like a guard captain ordering them around.

So the more he thought about Shanti’s words, the more unfair it felt.

“You have no conscience.”

“Wait a second, when you dug yourself into a hole here like a depressed patient, who cooked your meals? Who did your laundry? Did those soft blankets fall from the sky? And on top of that, I even treated your injuries, huh?”

Aizen was better at cooking and laundry. And as for treatment, considering the cause of his injuries, Shanti had no right to take credit for that.

“So you want to be treated like a superior?”

“Respect.”

“Hm?”

“I want respect. Ahem.”

He really was shameless.

“Demons are more open-minded than I thought. You easily accepted a being that’s neither human nor demon.”

If it had been the Holy Kingdom, they would never have accepted a demon who possessed holy power.

He was sure of that. In that sense, the beings in this castle were far too accepting of him. He couldn’t tell if they lacked caution or were simply foolishly kind.

“They wouldn’t act this way toward other humans. This is only because it’s you.”

At Shanti’s grumbling words, Aizen felt moved. He realized that his time in the Demon King’s castle hadn’t been a waste after all. It made him feel that demons and humans shared similar emotions.

“You like me.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“You just confessed. Unfortunately, I already have someone.”

Shanti let out a long sigh and glared at Aizen with weary eyes.

“Anyway… I won’t discriminate, so please don’t go back to those vile people of the Holy Kingdom.”

“Even if it’s not a confession, are you saying you’re worried about me?”

“Think whatever you want! Now move your ass!”

Aizen happily stepped aside. But he had to admit the people in this castle were soft-hearted.

“But isn’t the demon hierarchy based on strength, not order of service?”

“Who said that?!”

“That’s how it usually works.”

“Stop picking up strange ideas! My head’s still spinning from that ‘lawful spouse’ talk! Was that an adult book? Did you change the cover?”

When Shanti reached out to check Aizen’s book, Aizen quickly protected it in his hand.

***

His head felt like it was splitting apart from the flood of memories.

It seemed he had been asleep for a long time, yet the throbbing pain in his brain didn’t fade.

His vision was still blurry, and the dim light made him lose track of where he was or why he was there.

“Ugh…”

He barely managed to lift his upper body. Each time his head moved, it felt like mush inside his skull. He steadied his breathing and waited for his body to adjust.

He felt a soft bed beneath him and a subtle fragrance in the air. The calm scent filled his senses and made him lower his guard.

Soft candlelight flickered around the room. The dark furniture and the crystal decorations on the ceiling gave him a strange sense of familiarity.

He knew at least that this place wasn’t dangerous. But as he tried to figure out how long he had been there and looked toward the outside, he heard the sound of a latch turning.

Click.

Sibel turned his gaze. The bright light from beyond the slightly open door made it hard to see who had entered.

When the door closed again, his eyes, adjusted to the darkness, identified the figure who had stepped in.

“You’re awake.”

“…Why am I here?”

Leviathan entered with a basin and a cloth in his hands.

Sibel flinched instinctively at his presence.

“Do you not remember?”

As always, Leviathan’s slow and clear voice reached his ears like an echo.

He remembered. Leviathan’s question instantly brought Sibel back to the state he had been in right before losing consciousness. The shock and exhaustion from that moment returned vividly.

Why had those memories come back now?

He almost wished he could become part of those memories instead. The fragments of his past life hovered in his mind, unabsorbed, like someone else’s recollections.

The control over those memories still remained uncertain. Because of that, Sibel was confused about how he should face Leviathan.

In his memory, he had loved Leviathan. That affection was clear and vivid. Every time he thought of that name, a tingling feeling ran through him that he had never felt before.

So Leviathan was a strange being who felt both too close and too distant to his present self.

This was driving him mad.

But Sibel realized that the person he was now didn’t have the mental capacity to accept and handle this reality.

If the memories had returned, shouldn’t his personality and wisdom have returned too?

Why had only the memories been thrown back at him while his state of mind remained the same?

While Sibel dwelled on his confusion, Leviathan touched the scented candle burning in the room.

A rattling sound followed, and the soft fragrance that had filled the air deepened.

“I burned sandalwood and cedar. You used to like them.”

Did I like that? The thought passed, and countless memories related to him flashed through Sibel’s mind.

Leviathan turned his body. He wet the towel in the basin he had brought and approached Sibel.

He sat on the bed, and the bed creaked as it tilted.

“Did you have a nightmare? You’re still sweating coldly.”

His hand brushed across Sibel’s forehead and temples. Every movement flowed naturally, as if practiced countless times.

“I’ll do it.”

Sibel grabbed Leviathan’s wrist and stopped him.

Leviathan looked into his eyes for a moment, then obediently handed him the towel.

Sibel couldn’t tell if he realized that his actions were only making Sibel sweat more.

While Sibel wiped his cheeks and the back of his neck, Leviathan’s gaze remained on his hands.

“Are you calmer now?”

He had his usual gentle smile, yet it no longer felt comforting.

The man in his memories had been warm, but the presence before him felt cold. Was it because those hands had once stabbed a blade into him?

That must be why he was alert. The more he thought, the more complicated his mind became.

He couldn’t tell how to start the conversation. He wanted to ask why Leviathan had killed him, but strangely, Sibel didn’t feel hatred.

He couldn’t even feel anger. Was it because it hadn’t happened in the present?

Or was it because, as Leviathan said, the being called Silvaren had been too saintly to hate anyone?

“You seem to still have many questions even after regaining your memory.”

Leviathan spoke as if he had read Sibel’s thoughts.

“…Why did you do it?”

“Do you mean, why did I kill you?”

Leviathan looked pleased. He didn’t seem like someone being accused.

“Did I not tell you? Watching you vanish would’ve been worse. Committing the sin of defying heaven was the better choice. Even if I went back, I’d make the same choice again.”

“….”

His voice was soft, but his eyes were unwavering.

It wasn’t like the final image in Sibel’s memory—when his expression had looked confused, afraid, or maybe even angry.

Across countless ages, this being must have replayed that moment thousands, tens of thousands of times. Sibel couldn’t fathom how deep those thoughts had gone.

Had Leviathan really been satisfied with that choice after enduring such long torment?

Even if the one before him was now a completely different being from the god he had once known?

His head started to ache again. It felt like someone kneaded his brain with their hands.

His breath quickened and the towel in Sibel’s hand grew cold. Then Leviathan’s hand covered his.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not the one you’ve been waiting for.”

At last, Sibel forced down the surge of emotions and said what he had to say. Even if Leviathan was disappointed, it couldn’t be helped. It would be frightening if he got angry, but that was Sibel’s conclusion.

Even if their souls were the same, the self he had become through new experiences and memories could no longer be that person from his previous life.

If he tried to carry all of Silvaren’s memories, the weight would crush him.

So he had to separate them. It was avoidance, or maybe escape. Leviathan quietly looked at Sibel, then spoke.

“Do you like the bedding?”

The sudden irrelevant question made Sibel nod blankly.

“How about the scent?”

“It’s good…”

“I assume the room’s cool temperature suits you as well.”

His nod slowed.

“What about the warm milk with saffron and honey?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed the saliva that filled his mouth.

“Your taste hasn’t changed.”

Leviathan smiled.

Sibel, flustered, opened his mouth.

“Anyone would like that… and I don’t even have a proper taste yet!”

He tried to defend himself, realizing he had fallen into Leviathan’s pace, but Leviathan only laughed softly, amused.

“Don’t worry. I remember everything about your preferences, from the first to the last.”

Leviathan’s gaze seemed to pierce through his skin and lay bare everything inside him.

His lips felt dry.

Yet even then, the image of warm milk with saffron and honey flickered in his mind, and that was… creepy.