Vieya faintly rembered a film she had once seen in her past life, The Silence of the Lambs. At first, she had only ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) watched it for its fa. Yet what etched itself in her mory was not the protagonist’s peculiar taste in food, but that the cannibalistic antihero had fallen in love with a righteous, kind police detective.
What makes the darkest soul fall for the purest soul?
Was it the deepening of mutual understanding? The attraction that grew from that understanding? The pity that sprouted in the exchange of mutual aid?
None of these.
Vieya believed both souls in that story were incomplete.
Or perhaps, in this world, every being was incomplete—like the positive and negative poles of magnets, destined to attract when they t.
The pity was that such etings were rare.
She rembered a line from a script:
“For the world’s population, the probability of one person eting another is about one in eighteen billion. That is a probability so miraculous it defies belief. eting is a miracle. Treasure it well.”
Long ago, during the honeymoon period with the Demon King, Vieya had once thought she had won the grand prize. My god, one in eighteen billion! And it had fallen to her, the unluckiest of the unlucky.
Then I had better treasure it!
For the first ti, she had felt a true sense of belonging in this world.
For the first ti, she had wanted to form a deeper connection with it.
And in the end, she lost utterly.
Vieya felt like a clown, toyed with in the palm of this world’s hand.
“Hero, do you hate for deceiving you?”
The golden-haired, golden-eyed girl walked against the light with a tap tap, coming up behind Vieya. Slowly, she crouched down, reaching out to embrace her. The long-desired feeling of contact made Flaviel’s eyes narrow in comfort.
“Back then I worked so hard to make you more lively and cheerful. Why are you now even more silent than before?”
Do you wonder why I do not smile?
Damn Demon King! I truly hate you!
You left in this miserable state, then vanished from my world on your own whim.
This ti, Vieya did not resist the middle-form Demon King’s embrace. She remained silent.
When adventuring with the Hero Squad, Flaviel had told Vieya she ca from a faraway fairy holand, born outside the binding of ti’s threads—a poisonous fruit fallen from the World Tree.
That was why the Demon King appeared to Vieya in different ti stages, even with shifts in personality.
Later she had sumd it up: in the loli stage, the Demon King was the easiest to bully—she could squeeze her and the girl would not even make a sound.
In the half-loli, half-girl stage, she was lively and clingy, always “big brother this, big brother that,” a sweet little sister personality—also easy to handle.
Then there was now, the fully grown maiden-stage Demon King. This was the form Flaviel had first appeared in before Vieya, and in her heart, it was the most perfect stage. The pity was, during this stage, the Demon King reversed heaven and earth—not only toying with her at will, but constantly ddling with her future.
Terrifying!
...And then there was the ultra-gentle large-form Demon King.
Tasty, delicious, desirable.
Just thinking of it made Vieya swallow nonexistent saliva. Maybe being the clown was not so bad?
The hell it wasn’t!
She was the Hero! The one chosen by fate! The one who had descended to save the world! She was not so Tomcat to spin and dance in the Demon King’s palm, kneaded round and flat as she pleased!
“Hero, do you need to teach you how to grow up?”
The gentle voice rang in Vieya’s ear. Then her slender body was tightly embraced by the Demon King. The softness pressed against her back like that of a white rabbit.
“...”
This feeling—so real.
It gave Vieya the illusion of being in her mother’s arms again.
And yet, behind her was the scent of a lover.
If she only turned her head, she could...
Vieya’s slender body trembled, her erald eyes squeezed shut. The past she had buried deep burst out from the dust-covered chest of mory at a single touch.
Too many monts worth rembering. As many as the legendary teor shower that once streaked across the Boton Plateau—millions of teors lighting the night sky. But the ti left to her for reminiscence was too short, too fleeting, leaving her unable even to exchange a few words of consolation at reunion.
When facing her dearest one, her hardened heart always softened to the point of sickly sentintality.
“Vivi... I will not let you catch again.” Vieya whispered, her eyes lowered. “We are finished. Broken up. Divorced. Even if I still miss you, I will not long for you again.”
Divorce requires both parties’ signatures. One side alone does not count.
As if not hearing her, Flaviel’s sunlit golden eyes still overflowed with endless tenderness. Her arms tightened around Vieya. “Cannot live with , yet cannot live without .”
“Is that so?” The Demon King asked the question that left the Hero silent.
“My guess is yes.”
Flaviel chuckled, slipping her hand into Vieya’s clothes, pressing upon the mark of the Hero’s Seal.
“When you knew your Hero’s Seal was dyed in my color, did it excite you?”
“Why?”
Vieya suddenly asked, “I have ended up like this. I no longer even want to hunt down your beloved monster subjects. Yet you still will not leave alone?”
Flaviel answered with a soft smile, “What do you think, my dear Hero?”
“Then just kill ! I will not fight back.” Vieya closed her eyes, her voice hardening.
Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west. In eighteen years, she would rise again!
“How sly.”
Flaviel was pierced by those words. Her heart clenched with anger, but in the end she only sighed in a whisper. “You know well I cannot bear to harm you.”
Vieya curled her lip in dismissal. So what.
Suddenly.
She felt the strength of the arms behind her surge. In a spin, she was pressed beneath Flaviel, her erald eyes snapping wide open.
Perhaps she was shocked by the suddenness. Perhaps deep down she had wanted to see Flaviel again.
And in that mont, in Vieya’s eyes—
The sunlight cast a soft veil of gold over the Demon King’s hair. Flaviel’s beautiful face was as charming as ever, carrying the unique, moving aura of a youthful maiden. Her golden eyes burned brighter and brighter, like molten lava flowing.
Flaviel held her tight. And in the Hero’s startled gaze, she kissed her full on the lips.
“You must live on in my place...”
“...Never again give up on yourself so easily.”
Vieya’s consciousness seed to short-circuit at the touch of their lips, her mind going completely blank.
In an instant, all thought ceased.
And just like that, her first kiss was stolen—transferred from dream to reality, tucked into the box of her mories.
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