Time flowed on endlessly.
When a person stayed indoors all the time, their sense of time grew strange. Some days felt like four days, while a week could pass in what felt like half a day. That must be why people keep pets.
"Today is cheese sandwiches, though."
"……."
When you kept a pet, you had to feed it and give it water on a regular basis. A regular schedule emerged. A sense of responsibility arose. One day became one day, and three days became three days. Wasn't that a curious dynamic? On the surface, it looked like the person was caring for the pet, but in truth, the pet was caring for the person.
"Won't you eat? It's quite tasty."
"Tch."
The woman spat on the dish I'd made after so long. I shrugged.
The woman seemed to be attempting suicide by refusing food or drink. Should I call it wisdom? Should I praise her stubborn tenacity? It would be a problem if she just up and died on me like that.
So I decided to brand her with the Slave Brand.
"No! Please, ah, anything but that……I won't resist! I'll be quiet……!"
"I've had a firm philosophy for a long time now."
I converted a table into a makeshift operating table and strapped the woman down.
To make sure she didn't die from shock, I even brought out expensive magical artifacts. I temporarily allowed only healing and regeneration spells within my anti-magic field, then activated a powerful recovery magic circle on the operating table. With a huge stockpile of potions on top of that, the chances of the woman dying during surgery were slim.
Now even a beginner can safely brand a heart with a mark—.
Ultra-powerful recovery magic circle, only three hundred gold coins. We serve you for only three hundred gold coins. Note: virtually ineffective against diseases—.
I hummed it like a home shopping advertisement.
"Anyone who treats food carelessly is worse than a beast. This wheat bread, you see, holds the heart of a farmer who toiled for months to harvest the wheat, infused with the care of grinding it into fine flour and baking it into bread."
"I'll kill you! I'll really kill you, you son of a bitch!"
"Still lacking in character, I see."
I clicked my tongue.
"Well, don't worry. For what it's worth, I'm not a complete novice at branding surgery."
I'd watched Jeremy perform surgery from the side a few times. Well, once. Once could count as "a few times," so maybe that made it plural rather than singular? So what? If I said it was a few times, then it was a few times.
Come to think of it, I'd also rewatched the scene of Daisy operating on Luke quite often. In practice, I was no different from a professional when it came to surgery. Objectively speaking, that was the case. There was nothing the woman needed to worry about.
"Hmm. Should I cut here?"
I cut into the woman's skin with a surgical blade heated over fire. The flesh parted surprisingly naturally. Maybe I really did have a talent for this. Being too talented at everything could make the world boring, which was a problem.
"……!"
The woman's scream, which had become familiar by now.
Despite being strapped firmly to the operating table, the woman's shoulders heaved. Tendons stood out on her neck from screaming. She really did seem to be in pain.
"Ah."
I'd forgotten to use the anesthetic.
Making such a mistake as a professional.
Something had felt off—it was because I'd had no anesthetic incense or anesthetic on hand. I felt embarrassed, like a student who'd submitted a test without writing their name.
"Sorry. I forgot to anesthetize you."
"Ugh, hgh……guuu……."
"Wait here for a moment."
I left the woman alone and rummaged through the house. I lit anesthetic incense in a lamp. Soon the studio filled with the acrid scent of the incense. I also administered a suitable dose of anesthetic to the woman. I looked down at her with satisfaction.
"Perfect."
I shuddered at my own meticulous preparedness.
The anesthetic wasn't potent enough to completely eliminate pain. But surely it would at least reduce it to a mild sting. The fact that I still possessed this much human consideration nearly brought this old man to tears.
With a pleased smile, I tore into the woman's living flesh.
"Kgh……aaagh!"
Hmm.
Despite having slathered on the anesthetic, she still seemed to be in considerable pain. Could it be that she was naturally resistant to anesthetic? What a shame. I'd gone out of my way to be considerate, and it had all been for nothing.
Of course, an individual's tragedy couldn't stand in the way of history's dialectic. That was just how the world worked. And so, with the resolve of a revolutionary fighter, I slowly and painstakingly stirred the woman's insides.
"……This doesn't look like a heart. Could it be a lung?"
"Ugh, gh……."
I'd made a very minor mistake.
"This is some internal organ I can't even identify……it probably isn't important, so it shouldn't matter if it's gone, right? There's also that old saying about it being better to keep your weight on the lighter side."
"……."
It was fine.
No human could be perfect.
After numerous trials and errors, the surgery was finally complete. For a first experience, it was an exceedingly satisfying result. The Slave Brand had been firmly engraved on the woman's heart. The woman's body was covered in a mess of blood and potions, but since the outcome was good, everything was A-OK.
From that day on, I didn't bother chaining the woman up. There was no need to worry, since I'd established a strict command hierarchy to prevent her from killing herself. My earlier decision to brand her had truly been excellent. The woman occasionally showed me intense hostility, but after her thighs and calves had been pierced roughly forty-four times, that hostility turned to fear.
My routine was exceedingly simple.
First, I drink.
I wake up and paint.
Then I drink.
I maintain my social skills by having a "conversation" with the woman in moderation. Social skills are a person's character. Conversation is nearly essential for maintaining a stable personality.
And then I drink.
It felt like yesterday when I'd bought a cartload of whiskey, but it was already gone. I had no choice but to drive my cart into downtown Novgorod. I stopped by five distilleries and swept up every bottle of fine liquor.
On the way through the city streets.
As always, the clamor of men chatting reached my ears.
"Good heavens. I heard the Demon Lord Barbatos was executed."
"Thanks to you telling me, I've now heard the exact same thing four times."
"Even the immortal Demon Lord has a day of death. What a remarkable era."
"……."
I took out a whiskey bottle from the cart.
I blew into the bottle with one hand while pulling the cart with the other. The farther I got from the main streets, the rougher the road became. Naturally, the cart being pulled by one hand shook violently. But I didn't stop blowing into the bottle.
─ From now on, I'll call you Lord Barbatos. ─ Just use casual speech, you little brat. Are you looking down on me because I'm older? You can stuff your age-related respect up your ass.
At least.
─ Fine, Barbatos. I'm Dantalion. ─ Fine. My name is Barbatos. Call me whatever you want, brat.
At least, I wanted to kill her with my own hands.
The cart lost its balance and tipped over. Barrels and bottles spilled onto the ground with a crash. A full half of the bottles shattered. Clear and yellow liquid flowed down the dirt road. It was a painful sight.
"……."
I bent my knees to pick up a bottle.
With slightly trembling hands, I picked up the glass bottle. I was trying to move it to the cart when I dropped the bottle mid-way. It fell and shattered again. I stared at the ground blankly. What a waste.
Liquor was expensive.
Once a bottle shattered, it couldn't be undone.
So.
So, I should have picked it up properly.
I couldn't do it.
"……."
I picked up a bottle.
Dropped it again.
Picked up another bottle.
Dropped.
Dropped.
Dropped—.
"……."
Before I knew it, the area was covered in broken glass shards.
Why was that?
Why did expensive things shatter so easily?
The more precious something was, the sturdier it should be.
For me, it was the opposite—the more precious something was, the more easily it broke.
"Ah……."
My heart constricted.
My breathing became painfully labored. It was hard to breathe. With every conscious exhale, my heart ached as though pierced by wire. I clutched my chest with my right hand. Before I knew it, my back had curled forward on its own.
"……."
I heaved.
My breathing made me retch.
"……Barbatos."
A terribly unsteady voice leaked from my lips.
It was something I had to vomit out. Her laughter. Her footsteps. The way she smiled as if she couldn't help it. Her angry face. All her breaths, which had been endlessly playful and therefore endlessly earnest.
"……Barba, tos……."
I had to get it out.
I couldn't control it.
Pathetically, something hot spilled from the corners of my eyes.
"Barbatos……."
If she had seen this, she would have mocked me to her heart's content.
Now there was no one left to mock me.
"……."
Eventually, my whole body collapsed to the ground.
Even just once would have been enough.
Just once more, I wanted to hear Barbatos's laugh. She made everything light with her laughter. The current me was far too heavy—like a ship that couldn't bear its own weight and sank.
I needed Barbatos.
─ Rather than that, run away with me……!
─ To somewhere in the Demon Realm……somewhere no human or monster ever sets foot……spend hundreds of years, a thousand years, and everything will be okay.
I had been foolish.
I should have been a little more foolish and fallen for Barbatos's offer. I should have let myself be deceived. It was simply impossible.
Utterly impossible.
"……."
How much time had passed?
I raised my head weakly and found everything dark.
Sitting all alone on a deserted dirt road. Even hoping for death had its limits. It was sheer luck that no wild beasts had appeared to tear me apart. Not that the body Ivar had made for me would have gone down easily.
I left the cart where it was and shuffled away.
In the distance, my estate came into view.
Perhaps Barbatos was inside. There was no doubt that my choices could have led to that outcome. If I walked through the front door drunk—there might have been a woman furious with me, demanding to know why I'd gone off drinking alone without her.
"……."
I didn't enter the estate.
Instead, I leaned my back against the front door and buried my face in my knees.
I felt nothing inside.
Truly nothing at all.
Had something inside me died? It was surprising. There had still been something left that needed to die. Late autumn insects were crying quietly somewhere.
I fell asleep at the entrance.
"……."
Morning.
I woke to the harsh sunlight.
I found myself sprawled on the ground and recalled how I'd ended up here. The memory came back immediately. And my heart grew cold once more. I would carry this forever. The fact that I could keep carrying it was, at the very least, some comfort.
I do not forget.
I will never forget.
That was the only thing I could do.
When I opened the door and went inside, the woman looked over at me in surprise. I ignored her gaze and sat down in a chair. I briefly considered pulling a bottle of liquor from the ceiling, then remembered what I'd done yesterday.
"……."
Time was passing.
Like the silence when music stops mid-performance.
Slowly.
Gently.