Clay saw visions.

As Selimia carried him outside the temple, as they crossed the border of the snowfield, his sight was filled with scenes and figures.

—Thank you, Hero.

—You saved our lives.

—You have delivered us.

Echoes of the past.

Faces of those who had once praised the countless feats he accomplished in his days as a Hero.

But his gaze was drawn elsewhere—toward the place of his execution.

There he saw himself, standing upon the scaffold just before the end.

Pelted by stones.

Surrounding him were his former party members: Yuru, Nael, Yelena. Only their outlines were vivid against the oppressive darkness.

—Sentence.

At the sound of judgment being delivered, he turned his head.

Tia de Mezelef.

The one he had most wanted to trust. She was the one proclaiming his death.

“No one…”

No one spoke out. No one interfered. His death was sealed. By the very people who once praised him, and even by his comrades.

Clench.

Though his body staggered, his fists tightened, his lips bitten until they bled. He closed his eyes tightly.

—Clay.

A voice called his name. Whether real or illusion didn’t matter. The pain that bound him was inescapable.

“Demon King?”

Selimia’s voice reached him.

“Are you all right?”

He couldn’t answer. His stamina was drained, his spirit nearly consumed. All he could do was endure.

“We’re almost there. Please, just a little longer.”

Perhaps alarmed by his condition, Selimia quickened her pace. The icy blizzard rushed past him even faster.

‘Cold.’

It was like the moment of his death. His consciousness grew dim. What he heard and saw no longer mattered.

Just before his awareness slipped away completely—

Burn.

A scorching heat surged from the back of his hand.

“!”

Clay’s eyes snapped open. He glanced down at the mark—the sun mark glowed crimson.

“Ghhk!”

It seared him with unbearable heat. He pressed his branded hand into the snow.

“D-Demon King, why are you—?”

“Keep going.”

He forced out his words.

“This is how it must be.”

The aftermath of his link with the Sun God was still unfolding. This was his burden to bear.

“Selimia.”

He looked at her.

“Can I trust you?”

A desperate question, almost laughable in its helplessness. But in that moment, she was all he had.

“Don’t worry, Demon King.”

Her voice was gentle.

“I’ll be by your side.”

Shh.

As Clay’s eyes closed, Selimia exhaled softly.

“Believe in me.”

Darkness swallowed his mind.

♧

—Hero Clay.

—How much do you trust others?

“!”

Clay jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. He gasped for breath and turned his head.

A room.

Modest but spacious enough. He lay on a bed.

“…”

A woman slept slumped over the chair beside him. There was no need to ask who—he had expected it.

“Selimia.”

He whispered, but she didn’t stir. Exhaustion had claimed her.

He turned toward the window. Gone was the memory of blizzards. Sunlight now streamed in.

Even in frozen Hanumayer, the sun could rise. Clay lifted his hand.

An ice pack was tied to the back of it—Selimia’s doing.

He untied it slowly. The sigil still glowed faintly red, but the searing pain from the snowfield’s border was gone. It felt more like the lingering ache of a fever that had finally broken.

Rustle.

He pushed the blanket aside and rose unsteadily. Selimia did not wake. He staggered into the hall.

“You’re awake.”

Selvaro stood there.

“…Were you standing guard?”

“Coincidence.” His voice was quiet. “I came to check on you, that’s all.”

“To see if I was dead?”

“Was that a joke?”

His serious expression made Clay sigh.

“Where’s Syltanaro?”

Clay asked, noticing his sword was gone.

“If you mean your sword, it’s resting in another room.”

“…Resting?”

“When bound in sword form alone, it seems her spirit wears down. She needed a reprieve. She appeared unharmed otherwise.”

“I see.”

Selvaro paused, then spoke again.

“But I have something to ask.”

“You want to know what happened at the snowfield’s border.”

“I asked Selimia, but she wouldn’t give me details.”

“That’s what you’re curious about?”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t. But what I want to know more is something else.”

Their eyes met.

“Did you learn anything about Selimia there?”

Clay’s voice dropped.

“And why are you asking that?”

“No particular reason.”

Selvaro shook his head.

“I simply want to understand her better.”

“Understand Selimia?”

“Yes.”

He nodded firmly.

“It may sound absurd, but since I’ve chosen to accept her as my sister, I want to understand in what state she truly exists.”

“I understand what you mean.”

Though their relationship was strained, Clay had benefited from Selvaro before. He had no intention of dismissing him outright.

“To be clear, I don’t know Selimia’s true nature either. Even at the snowfield’s border, I didn’t uncover anything definitive.”

“I see…”

“But if what you want to protect is your bond as siblings, then there is one way.”

“And that is?”

Selvaro’s interest sharpened. Clay answered without hesitation.

“Follow me.”

“!”

Selvaro’s eyes widened, caught off guard.

“Follow you? Me?”

“Yes. That’s the simplest way.”

Clay spoke plainly.

“I don’t mean it to offend you. It’s simply the method that would resonate most with Selimia.”

“That makes no sense.”

Selvaro dragged his hand across his face.

“I am a king. You are the Demon King. And you would have me follow you?”

“As I said, I know it’s absurd. But you asked me for an effective way—and that is the most effective one.”

Selvaro fell silent for a long moment, then replied.

“I cannot follow you.”

“I understand.”

“But I can help you, as I do now.”

He reached into his cloak and withdrew a pendant.

“This bears the crest of Hanumayer’s royal family. With it, you can pass freely through our borders and access our supplies.”

“You mean to give this to me?”

“Yes. There are many Hanumayer stockpiles near the Krata border. It could serve you well.”

“That’s no different from siding with me in the coming war against Krata.”

No—this wasn’t like siding with him. It was siding with him.

“You risk destroying everything you’ve upheld until now.”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Demon King.” Selvaro met Clay’s gaze firmly, “I have lived only by duty. But the only thing that ever freed me from that duty… was family.”

For him, Selimia was the reason to live.

“The Selimia who changed may be the same Selimia who once lived. Past and present alike—she is Selimia. And you acknowledged that, didn’t you?”

“…Perhaps I did.”

“I only wish to protect what I cherish. So you must help me protect it.”

This time Selvaro made a demand of him.

“Help Selimia see me as her family.”

“You want her to think of you as a brother?”

“Yes.”

“Then this is a transaction.”

A bargain, struck because both sides had something they wanted.

“Very well, Selvaro.”

For Clay, it wasn’t difficult.

“If you give me a reason, I’ll repay you in kind.”

If through this bargain Hanumayer stood by his side, it would be invaluable.

‘Hanumayer’s proximity to Krata has always been a risk…’

Now that he knew Selvaro’s true intentions, he no longer had to worry. With the pendant, he could even send scouts across Hanumayer to observe freely.

“If we’re satisfied with this talk, I should go.”

Clay turned back toward his room.

“Wake Selimia for me, and prepare what I’ll need.”

“Understood.”

Selvaro nodded.

“I’ll summon you when all is ready.”

As Clay walked away, Selvaro left him with one final line.

“Don’t forget the repayment you promised.”

Clay glanced back briefly in acknowledgment, then continued on.

♧

‘Good.’

Sitting back on the bed, Clay let out a small sigh.

‘Selvaro was as expected.’

It was possible Selvaro might have refused to acknowledge Selimia as his sister. If the current Selimia had only consumed the original, then calling her a monster wouldn’t have been wrong.

But Clay had guessed this outcome thanks to what Selimia herself had revealed.

—My brother must have already known something was wrong.

Before the old royal retainer died, he had told Selimia a story. Selvaro once thought she had died.

News had come that she was caught in an avalanche and her body recovered. But by the time Selvaro reached the site, the guards and her body had vanished.

He nearly went mad with grief. Yet within a day, Selimia appeared again—this Selimia. Selvaro hadn’t cared how. He had only rejoiced at her return.

The retainer had said he had never seen Selvaro’s expression change so drastically before, and had asked Selimia to care for him in the future.

—But I don’t even know how I came back. My brother must have thought it strange, but he never asked.

Which meant Selvaro had seen the abnormality firsthand… and chosen to ignore it.

From that, Clay understood the kind of resolve Selvaro held.

“Selimia.”

He brushed his hand gently across her sleeping hair.

“There is still much in this world I don’t know.”

But the sleeping girl gave no reply.

(End of Chapter)

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