It was no empty threat. Kill me if you can. I genuinely thought so.
Killing me would not merely end a single individual. It would sever the bridge between the Plains Faction, the Mountain Faction, and the Neutral Faction. It would eliminate the mediator between demons and humankind. It would destroy the one means of controlling an unaffiliated Demon Lord—by murdering Gamigin's lover.
And then there were the lives sacrificed to obtain those positions.
There were the countless lives cut down in Austerlitz, and the lives crumbled to dust in Brno. There was the resolve of two thousand who perished screaming in the Black Mountains. Agares's life, Bael's life—those undoubtedly counted as well.
And on top of all that weighed the tens of thousands who had died without any fault whatsoever. I had committed every massacre with clear intent and full judgment.
I affirm, more than anything, that this is my responsibility. I accept it willingly.
This is the peak of a mountain where no excuse can find foothold, and therefore a barren soil where the grain of harvested justifications could never have sprouted in the first place. It is the epitaph of wraiths where only the dead hold their heads high—a snowfield frozen in sterility, where nothing is born and everything remains barren.
To anyone who would deny this place, a truly magnificent excuse would be required.
You may speak of humanity and nations, as Elizabeth does. It does not matter. The only thing that matters is whether you have resolve, and whether there is not a single shred of hypocrisy in it. Paimon understands this truth well.
"How could I… possibly kill you…."
Paimon wrung the words from her lungs like a wounded beast.
"You understood me… accepted me, forgave me."
Her shell cracks open. The kernel she had buried in her chest and lived with surfaces onto her expression. Her face ceases to be the surface of her emotions and becomes their very depths. Yes. Unlike me, she has a bottom to fall to.
"The first person I ever fell in love with…!"
Paimon wailed.
"How could I possibly kill someone like that!"
She said it. Paimon. She said she could not kill me.
Very well. In this moment, one of the rarest and most beautiful ideals that only a scant few human beings in the entire world could ever possess fell soundlessly to the ground—like the petals of a lily scattering without ceremony.
Paimon was a woman who had silently sacrificed centuries in service of her ideal. Its worth was such that even gathering every gold coin circulating across the continent would not dare rival it. And yet, beneath such fiercely practical and visceral emotions—she does not want to kill, she cannot kill—that ideal was denied.
Then let us make a contract.
I wiped Paimon's tears away with my hand.
"Entrust your convictions to me."
An unbreakable contract. A blood oath.
"Paimon, you ultimately cannot kill even one person. The moment the question is raised whether you would slaughter ten thousand innocent lives for the sake of republicanism, you will be unable to choose anything at all. That is your limit. But I am different."
"Dantalion...?"
Perhaps because she had cried so much, Paimon's eyes had gone unfocused. She murmured my name in a daze, her voice tinged with unease. I knelt down to bring myself to her eye level.
"You already know this. You know that ten thousand lives cannot be sacrificed for the sake of republicanism. That there exists no right anywhere to butcher tens of thousands in the name of conviction, and that no conviction worth its name could ever permit such a thing."
So long as it is good, one must not slaughter people.
Most idealists do not know this. Even when they do, they look away.
In her inability to look away, Paimon harbored the most beautiful form of ideal. Now I would coat that beauty in pale bleach, and enshrine it in the museum of my heart for all eternity.
"But it is possible for ten thousand wicked people to be slaughtered."
Paimon's expression froze in shock.
"Dantalion... what are you saying right now..."
"Did I not say so? That I would carry out your wish on your behalf."
I smiled.
As gently as I could. So gently that she would want to lean on me without thinking.
"What you cannot kill, I will kill. The sacrifices you cannot accept, I will force upon you. You may set down the burden on your shoulders now. From the very beginning, it was never something someone like you should have had to carry."
"That's absurd!"
Paimon cried out.
"I-I don't want something like that... I've never wanted it...!"
"That's a lie. At least once — no, tens of thousands of times — you wished for it."
I looked Paimon straight in her gem-like crimson eyes with absolute conviction.
"One day you open your eyes and find that the world is different from yesterday, where there's no distinction between demons and humans... How wonderful that would be. You must have wished for it with the desperation of a scream. Am I wrong?"
"Ah, ah..."
Her mouth opened and closed two or three times. From the gap in her lips, only sobs that could not form words came spilling out.
"This is a contract. From this moment on, abandon all your ideals. If you can't even kill one person like me, you have no right to even speak of such ideals... Paimon. Devolve into nothing more than an ordinary woman."
Because something is right, you devote your life to desiring it.
But if you kill people for the sake of that something, it is no longer right. This is the paradox that befalls every idealist.
But what if it is an evil person who brings about the slaughter from the very beginning?
A massacre takes place. Countless people die. The perpetrator offers not a single word of excuse. Before you know it, you realize that 'as a result,' republicanism has spread across the continent.
This way, full responsibility for the slaughter can be assigned. At the same time, republicanism is achieved. Since the perpetrator never claims to have carried out the slaughter for the sake of republicanism, republicanism remains untainted by sin — pristine and pure.
In that world, there are no heroes, but there are no victims either.
Only the evil one exists, vividly and unmistakably.
People can gaze upon beauty without a shred of suspicion or doubt.
"But you... what's going to happen to you!"
"Don't take me lightly. I've already killed a hundred thousand people. Adding one more Paimon to that barely makes a difference."
I laughed cheerfully. My wounds hadn't healed yet, so my limbs creaked with every movement. Still, I couldn't help but laugh.
Goodness is incompetent, and evil is competent. For whatever reason, that's just how the world is. If you have a sense of humor, you should laugh at that.
"I appreciate your concern for me, but honestly, know your place. If you're harboring some thought in your head about saving me, throw it straight into the trash can. I don't want something like that."
"I wouldn't burden you with my problems either!"
I gave a bright smile.
"Sorry, but that's no longer important."
Still don't get it? I don't ask for the other party's consent. The moment you ask for consent, you become accomplices. A true powerhouse has no need for accomplices.
The moment you said you can't kill me, everything was already over.
All that's needed now is a single lie. Add that, and I can strip the soul of the woman weeping uncontrollably right in front of me.
I'll show you that right now.
"I love you, Paimon."
"Ah...?"
Before Paimon could answer, I stepped forward half a pace and kissed her.
Paimon's pupils dilated. There was a slight resistance. She struggled, trying to push my body away.
I took full advantage of the fact that I was a patient. When Paimon moved, I furrowed my brow slightly as if my body hurt. Paimon gasped in alarm and stopped resisting. She must have remembered I was severely wounded.
I exploited that opening.
Since Paimon had pulled back, I pressed the kiss more forcefully. She gently touched my body as though trying to push me away, but that playful resistance only entangled our two bodies together. The intensity of her movements gradually faded.
In the end, all that remained was the two of us gently holding each other.
"......, ..., ......"
Paimon slowly closed her eyes.
The tears that had pooled at the corners of her eyes slid down her cheeks in a beautiful arc.
At the same time, the system sound—now sounding downright melancholic—rang out.
"Deep Affection! The other party is sincerely relying on you. Due to this affection, a new title has been created for the other party."
Affinity 50. The first wall of Affinity has been broken.
Was the first condition for conquering Paimon nothing other than making her give up on her ideals? It was a truly twisted joke. But by now, there was a part of me that fully understood.
An Affinity of 50 was probably not just a simple number. It had meaning. It represented the point where a heroine could maintain her own identity while also loving her partner. It indicated a delicate balance.
If the Affinity was below 50, she would choose her convictions over her lover when both were placed before her. If the Affinity was above 50, she would prioritize her lover. 50 pointed to the exact state of being unable to choose either one.
In that sense, "conquering" never meant anything good.
Before she met me, Paimon was complete as a person unto herself. She didn't need anyone else. But after meeting me, something with weight equal to her convictions had taken root within her.
Convictions are what define a person's identity. Therefore, conquering was the act of destroying the other party's identity from its very foundations.
Raora had been made to abandon her own worldview and choose to stay by my side. Gamigin had become a woman consumed by obsessive love. As for Ivar, she lost the identity she had built over thousands of years and fell into ruin as my handmaiden.
Yes. Ruin. I don't know what others might think, but I call it ruin.
"Mm, nn… hhn."
I kiss Paimon even more softly.
Now there wasn't even a fragment of resistance left in her. She could only accept me as I was. Paimon had fallen.
The only regrettable thing was the fact that my body was truly in pain at this moment.
If I were healthy, I would have dragged Paimon straight to bed and wrecked her senseless. A kiss alone felt slightly insufficient. Then again, when you've got no teeth, you've got no choice but to make do with your gums.
I was thinking about this while pressing my lips against the woman who had said she loved me. I really was an unbelievable guy. Though I suppose this wasn't exactly a shocking revelation…
From now on, Paimon would move according to my will. There might still be remnants of her ideals that drove her to act on her own, but if I demanded compliance, she would be unable to refuse. That was the fate of a heroine whose conquest had progressed.
At last, the entire Demon Lord's army was under my complete control.
Barbatos moved according to my counsel, Paimon and Gamigin had been conquered by me, and Marbas had no intention of drawing attention to herself. A splendid outcome.
If I told Lapis about all this, I would undoubtedly get an earful. But oh well.
At the very least, I was aware that even by my standards, it was rude to be thinking about other women while kissing someone. When it came down to it, I was a man made entirely of manners. It was no exaggeration to say that I was manners personified.
Therefore, I focused on the sensation I felt on Paimon's lips.
As I felt the night grow quiet.
============================ Author's Afterword ============================
There was a long argument in the comments section yesterday.
Let me take this opportunity to say it again. I do not interfere with the comments section at all!
However, I ask that you refrain from (1) comments that insult other works or other authors, and (2) comments that insult other readers. All other comments are permitted.
If the word "insult" is ambiguous, let me give you some examples.
"Oh, you are truly so foolish that I find myself somewhat surprised. Just as we are sometimes amazed to witness a miracle casually created by nature, your stupidity fills me with a certain sense of awe." → Permitted
"You f**king st**pid piece of s**t, how are you even breathing with that dumbass brain rattling around in your skull? It's like witnessing nature's f**king miracle, I'm literally about to s**t myself." → Not permitted
In short, I believe a minimum amount of wrapping is necessary. That wrapping can be formal polite language, or it can be witty humor.
By the way, insults directed at the author are exceptionally permitted. Please rest assured. I am a safe masochist.
Just as the novel's main text is the author's space, I personally believe that the novel's comments section is the readers' space. Please feel free to use the space given to you!