"Did you sleep well, Caesar Barbatos?"
The small girl slowly opened her eyes. Was it the effect of the medicine? Her golden pupils lacked focus. They were still burning incense containing the most potent drug available. It was no wonder her mind felt hazy.
"Excuse me."
I bowed my head slightly and began wiping the girl's bare body with a wet cloth. Dipping the cloth several times into the bucket of moderately hot water, I meticulously cleaned every part. Managing Barbatos fell entirely under my purview, so such menial tasks were also part of my duties.
"You... ugh, ah..."
"If you speak, your head will throb painfully. I mixed anesthetic from the Purple Magic Tower's workshop into the sorbus sap. For someone unaccustomed to the drug, the effect is rather strong."
Barbatos twisted her face in pain.
By now, she must be hypersensitive, as if covered in protruding stones. Even the slightest breeze would trigger maddening pain. The proof was that every time I moved the cloth, Barbatos let out agonized groans.
"The body of a Demon Lord is wondrous. Not a single blemish. It's hard to believe this is the physique of someone who has weathered hundreds, even thousands of years on the battlefield. I'm envious."
I said this as I gently wiped along her collarbone, applying slightly more pressure.
"Haaah...!"
Barbatos's back arched. Her body trembled with a tingling sensation, as if an electric current had jolted through her. I tilted my head slightly with an expressionless face.
"I apologize. My hand slipped and applied too much force. I'll be more careful in the future."
"You bastard... no wonder you're his daughter, your manners are truly appalling..."
Barbatos glared at me, grinding her teeth. Despite her face being contorted with pain, the hostility in her eyes shone clearly.
How should I put this? It was almost cute, like a hedgehog desperately raising its quills. I wondered if this was the aspect of her that had, perhaps, earned even a fraction of Father's affection. There was a certain satisfaction in tormenting her.
"I'm relieved to see you in good health, Barbatos. Caesar holds the position of Regent of the Empire. He possesses a truly precious body."
I lightly touched her throat with my fingertip.
And then, slowly, I traced my finger downward.
"Hut, ungh...!"
"We can't have you getting hurt now, can we?"
Past her chest.
"If Caesar were to appear wounded before Father later, how grieved he would be once again."
"Aagh... ah, ungh, hnngh!"
"Come to think of it, Caesar has been calling herself Father's legal wife. There are quite a few people who believe a legal wife's duty is to keep herself pristine and demurely await her husband. What do you think, Caesar?"
Past her abdomen.
"...!"
Barbatos's body shuddered. She let out short, high-pitched breaths, then let her head droop lifelessly. She hung limp in the chains, dangling in the air.
It looked passable enough. For a beast that doesn't know its place, this posture was just right. I spoke in a noticeably gentler tone.
"But here's what's amusing. Caesar has done nothing but cause Father trouble. And yet you still invoke the title of legal wife — don't you find that a little brazen, even by your own reckoning? Perhaps everyone becomes as shameless as Caesar once they ascend to a position of dominance over others. Power truly is repulsive."
"...eath... ah."
Barbatos murmured. Her voice was so feeble it was inaudible.
I brought my face closer to Barbatos.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't hear you. Please, do say it again."
That was when.
Barbatos raised her head and — ptui — spat. The saliva landed squarely just below my eye. I could vividly feel the thin liquid trickling down my cheek. Barbatos curled the corners of her lips upward.
"Go rot in hell, you worthless bitch."
"......"
I calmly wiped the saliva away with my hand.
A brilliant thought suddenly struck me.
Father cherished Barbatos quite deeply. The proof was obvious — when he had tried to have Barbatos publicly beheaded at the execution grounds, he had shed tears. Father almost never cried. Even I, who had served at his side all this time, had only witnessed it three times.
So.
"How do you think Father would react if I were to claim Caesar?"
Barbatos furrowed her brow, still gasping for breath from the pain that was far too stimulating. She shot back a question.
"...What?"
"Would he be angry? How angry would he be, if I were to reduce Caesar to a mangled wreck — nothing more than a ragged husk? If I ground Caesar's pride into dust, threw him aside, and humiliated him — what emotions would Father truly feel?"
The corner of my mouth twisted faintly.
Wouldn't Father come to hate me even more fiercely? The reason Father cherished Barbatos was none other than her nobility. If I were to use every manner of drug and torture to chip away at even a sliver of that nobility — if I were to smear it with mud — wouldn't he come to despise me with every ounce of grief and hostility in his heart?
It was a fine idea.
The more Father hated me, the more he would become the victim, and I the perpetrator. In short, it would restore Father to his proper position. Barbatos stared at my face and let out a hollow laugh.
"Well, well. Now that I look at it, you're a complete lunatic — a certifiably insane bitch. I can't fathom what was going through Dantalion's head when he adopted a psycho like you as his daughter. Father and daughter, both utterly deranged together. Don't tell me you two even slept together?"
"Caesar, you are so crude."
"You're going to sleep with me just to spite Dantalion? You lunatic. The way you think is just like your dear old daddy. Go ahead and do your worst, you arrogant little thing. I'm almost impressed by how pathetic this is."
Barbatos spat again. Since I had no intention of taking it a second time, I tilted my head slightly to dodge the spit. Barbatos grinned.
"Go let your trash father rape you first before you come at me. A virgin who's never even been laid, daring to look down on me."
A virgin, huh.
I too let out a small laugh.
"Is that so. Excuse me for just a moment, Caesar."
For two straight days, day and night without pause.
I tortured her without a single moment's rest.
Screams and moans never ceased in the room. Barbatos lost consciousness dozens of times within a single hour, collapsing lifelessly each time. Whenever she blacked out, I doused her with water or pressed a heated iron skewer against her thigh. Then Barbatos would rise again, shrieking as her flesh was torn apart.
It was something Barbatos had brought upon herself.
You were the one who foolishly tried to have Paimon assassinated, and that was how things had spiraled to this point. The root culprit was Laura de Farnese, the Secretary of Military Affairs, but your share of the blame was no less significant. I mobilized every bit of alchemy and torture technique I had learned and ground Barbatos down to nothing.
"Phew."
I let out a sigh. Clang—the iron skewer clattered to the floor.
A small pool of dark red liquid had formed on the ground. It was filth made of blood. The iron skewer lay half-submerged in it. I wiped my forehead lightly with the back of my hand.
"……, ……"
Before me lay a writhing mass of flesh that could not even produce a sound.
The once beautiful white hair was matted and fouled beyond recognition. The snow-white skin had been grotesquely slashed and carved. Barbatos's regenerative ability hadn't vanished entirely, so her wounds were healing in real time, but at a painfully slow pace. It was because an artifact that suppressed mana had been fitted onto her entire body.
"Caesar. This is my final warning. I am not someone who gives the same warning twice, so please bear that in mind."
I seized Barbatos's hair and yanked her head toward me. Like a puppet with its strings cut in one direction and pulled in another, her head was lifted in whatever direction I dragged.
"Do not dare insult my father so freely. You have no right to do so."
"……."
Barbatos no longer had anything resembling consciousness left. She had endured over forty hours of continuous torture from me, so it was only natural. And yet, even now, a faint trace of mockery lingered in her clouded pupils.
Was it because she was a Demon Lord unlike Valefor?
I let go of her hair. Then I opened the door and stepped out.
"Oh, Daisy…."
Luke was crouching just outside the door.
I had used the room as a torture chamber for two days straight. As a result, Luke had lost his sleeping quarters and had been forced to endure the hallway with nothing but a single blanket for cover. Luke looked up at me with a haggard face.
Luke's expression hardened.
"You… that's… what on earth…"
It seemed he was shaken by the sight of me drenched in blood.
Wondering if I really looked that bad, I pinched the hem of my skirt and brought it to my nose. There wasn't a foul smell at all. The Demon Lord's blood and viscera, unlike those of other living creatures, carried no stench. That was actually a rather nice perk.
"What? Something wrong?"
"……."
"I'll go ask the intelligence department to send someone to clean the room. Sorry, but don't go in just yet. Well, you *could* go in, but it might be a bit much for you to see, brother."
I left Luke behind and walked down the corridor.
As I made my way along the single hallway, five large men appeared. Every one of them was a Sword Lord—a practitioner who had ascended to the realm of the Sword Lord. They were guards sent by Consul Elizabeth to keep me under surveillance. They regarded me with cold eyes.
"As you may have noticed, the room got a little dirty."
I caught the corners of my skirt and bowed politely at the waist.
All manner of surveillance equipment had been installed in the room. The sight of me torturing Barbatos had certainly leaked in real time. These guards had most likely witnessed it as well.
"If you have any cleaning supplies, I'd handle it myself, but I can't seem to find any in the room no matter how hard I look. Would you mind sending someone to clean it up, even if it's a bit of a hassle?"
"What a crazy bitch."
One of the Sword Lords spat icily.
"I never thought I'd live to see the day I'd feel pity for a Demon Lord. They said the cursed Bruno's nightmare had taken in a stepdaughter, and I wondered what kind of human she could be—and sure enough, she's a monster."
"……."
"Don't look this way. It's so disgusting I can barely breathe. If it weren't for Consul Elizabeth's orders, I'd have already cut your throat long ago and then some."
One of the Sword Lords spat a wad of phlegm onto the hallway floor.
It didn't stop there. The other four all glared at me as though I were garbage and spat on the ground as well. Every time I saw people spitting right in front of me like this, I couldn't help but marvel at just how theatrical human beings could be.
"I still haven't received an answer to my question."
"I'll get you a rag. You can figure out what to do with it yourself."
"I'll also need seven buckets filled with water."
"Get lost. Now."
I gave a small bow and turned to leave. Behind me, I heard the sound of phlegm being spat onto the floor once again. Just how rotten must their lungs be for them to store phlegm in their bodies like a reservoir? I found it somewhat fascinating.
With this, the Republic's intelligence division would trust my innocence even more.
That I despise Barbatos — however repulsive it may be — was a fact. Daisy von Custo's betrayal was believable. That was how they would judge it. The two days of torture had been aimed at precisely that.
The day before yesterday, I'd heard that Father had begun marching his army southward. That the supreme commander was Duchess Laura de Farnese...
What was Father thinking right now? Was he still hating me? Was the military minister Laura de Farnese, with that cunning, seductive face, comforting him? "It's all right, my lord. I will be by your side forever."
Thump.
"..."
Imagining that scene made my chest tighten. I groped inside my coat and pulled out my cigarette holder. With just a touch of urgency, I lit the tobacco and drew deeply. Slowly, my mind settled.
It's fine.
I can see this through to the end.
Until the very last moment, I can deceive Father properly.
So it's fine.
Let there be no regrets — all the way to the end.
All the way to the end.