For a while, only one girl had appeared on my canvas.
White hair. So white it looked as though it had just settled upon the earth……
Perhaps because I had recognized her death. At some point, Barbatos had also begun appearing as a phantom, standing there. She always kept her distance from me, simply watching in silence. Sometimes her expression was blank; other times, she seemed vaguely dissatisfied.
Could it be because of Paimon?
I imagined that Barbatos wouldn't come closer because Paimon was glued to my back, and for some reason, that made me laugh. Even as hallucinations, those two really couldn't stand each other. In the end, their discord had dragged me down into the abyss. But now I could joke about it.
My heart still ached, though.
This was a scar I would carry with me going forward.
"You lunatic. Do you realize you've been doing nothing but painting for a whole week?"
The woman spoke. She was crouched at the far end of the studio, occupying the smallest possible volume of space in the room—as if protesting that she didn't truly belong in a place like this. She probably wanted to be a thorough bystander.
"They're just fictional characters. No—fine. I'll agree with your insane claim and say they're real. In that case, you brain-fried moron, shouldn't you be making even more wishes?"
"Careful. You'll end up with another hole in your thigh."
"……I'm asking because I'm genuinely curious. If those children are really that precious to you, wouldn't it be better to bring them back?"
The threat seemed to work—the sharp edge left her voice.
She seemed to be gradually realizing that I was the type who always kept his word. I hummed a tune as I added color to the sketch. Barbatos had such a range of expressions, and that was what I liked about her. An angry face, a sullen face, a smiling face—they were all unmistakably Barbatos.
I was convinced that even if I painted nothing but Barbatos for more than a hundred years, let alone a single week, I would never grow tired of it.
"Even if you bring them back, then what? Does that erase what I did?"
"They're no match for you anyway, aren't they? I bet they'd be overjoyed just to be allowed to stay by your side, thanking you over and over. Hey. Stop this and listen to me. I really won't seek revenge against anyone. Just let me go……"
I stopped my brush.
At the same time, the woman fell silent.
I turned my head to look at the woman, and she swallowed hard. She was worried I might stop painting and go fetch my hunting spear. That was a good sign. A living creature maintaining vigilance and exercising restraint was precisely as it should be.
"Let me make this perfectly clear. I have no intention of seeking their forgiveness."
"……Then why?"
"We seem to have quite a difference of opinion. Why on earth would you apologize for something you had to do to someone else?"
The woman furrowed her fine brow. It was obvious she hadn't understood a word I'd said.
"Think about it. Someone commits murder deliberately. Then later, they go to the victim's family and apologize. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry for killing your precious child……' Don't you think something's off about that?"
"What about it?"
"It sounds as though it were a mistake."
I grinned.
"'I'm sorry for killing you. I regret it. I will never do such a thing again. If I could go back to that time, I would never commit murder.' That's roughly the nuance. In a word, it means it was a mistake."
I had never been able to understand that, for the longest time.
"Could you accept being killed because of someone else's mistake?"
"……"
"You couldn't. And there stands a person. You plunge a knife into that person…… Where exactly is the mistake in that? There is nothing but intention. I do not believe one can apologize for an act as grave as murder."
I took a sip of wine from the bottle on the table.
Incidentally, I had revisited the brewery the very next day after overturning the cart. A single day without alcohol was cruelly long. I was that kind of person. You could call me food waste and I wouldn't argue.
"I did not kill them by accident. Even if I could turn back time and find myself in the same situation, I would act the same way. Once, twice, three times, as many times as it takes. With the same intention and the same purpose, I would repeat it over and over."
That was only natural.
I had never committed murder and slaughter impulsively. I understood the situation. I recognized the danger. And I chose murder and slaughter as the most effective solution. It was a purely, truly purely intentional act.
The premise that "another choice was possible" was unnecessary.
As if I could have killed Paimon by accident. Did they really think I would ever allow the sentence "Paimon was accidentally killed" to exist? Absolutely not.
"You don't seem to understand why I killed Paimon with my own hands."
"……You've been regretting it this whole time."
"Regret remains. It will not fade. But there is no apology."
Every choice I had made so far defined who I was.
I had accepted myself.
To turn back time or reverse my choices now would be nothing more than self-deception. "Dantalion the Penitent." What on earth was that? There was no greater oxymoron in existence.
"I'll tell you this now, but I don't particularly blame you. My life would have ended as a pathetic little citizen regardless. It was only after coming here that I met beautiful people. Honestly, I'm almost grateful."
"Th-then why are you doing this to me?"
"Because I don't quite like you."
Despite having monitored everything I'd ever done, the woman kept spouting nonsense about fiction and simulations. I could only evaluate her character as rotten to the core.
Despite appearances, I was the most ethical man in the world. Every time I saw an unethical, substandard person like this woman, my body itched to discipline them. Yes. You could say I was a teacher who personally took the trouble to educate miscreants. The true pedagogue of this age……
"Wouldn't you scream if I drove a spear into your thigh? If that pain were fake, why would you shriek and beg me to stop?"
"I……"
"Everyone here is the same. When pierced, they feel pain. When they lose something, they grieve. When things are reversed, they regret. When looked upon, they smile. I call that truth. Obsession with external reality is a dogma shackled by prejudice."
I clicked my tongue.
"And yet you denounce it as fake. Your lack of consideration is staggering. I suggest you think of this as a retreat for self-cultivation and take things slowly."
"……You'll regret this. My subordinates are watching you like hawks. Your days of spouting nonsense so confidently are numbered."
I drew a dagger from my waist and threw it.
The dagger clattered to the floor, and the woman flinched. I gazed at her quietly.
"What—what is this?"
"You get to choose one of two things. Either you cut off one of your own fingers with this dagger, or you take a spear thrust from me. I'll be generous and give you a full minute."
The woman stared at me blankly.
She no longer protested with talk of how this was all nonsense. The woman knew full well that I was a man who always lived earnestly and sincerely. She simply groaned and stared down at the dagger.
I smiled sweetly.
"Thirty seconds left."
"……"
The woman picked up the dagger with trembling hands. She had lifted the blade, but couldn't bring herself to bring it down.
"Ten seconds."
After calling out ten seconds, I kindly continued the countdown: nine, eight, seven…… The woman finally brought the dagger down with four seconds to spare. A faint sound of flesh being severed reached my ears.
"Ngk……!"
To my surprise, the woman held back her scream. Pain was never something one could grow accustomed to—she had overcome it through sheer willpower, unwilling to give me the satisfaction of hearing her cry out. I applauded.
"That was impressive. I couldn't help but admire that."
"Ha, haa…… hck……"
A single tear rolled down the woman's cheek. She had suppressed the scream but couldn't hold back the tears born of agony. The finish was a little anticlimactic. I stopped clapping and walked toward the corner of the studio—to the wall where the hunting spear hung.
"Wh-why…… why are you doing that……?"
The woman cradled her left hand and looked at me.
"What? What's wrong? I cut it. I cut it off! Look—look, I'm showing you……!"
The woman held up her left hand, sobbing. Sure enough, her little finger had been severed. Dark blood trickled down in a steady stream. When I showed no reaction, she shuddered and thrust the severed finger toward me.
I picked up the hunting spear and shrugged.
"A minute has passed."
"What?"
"The minute we agreed on has expired. I'm afraid that since you failed to keep your bargain, you'll have to pay the price."
"What are you talking about! I cut it with four—at least three—seconds to spare! I definitely made it!"
I smiled.
"That was a lie."
The woman's expression froze.
"Actually, I was counting ten seconds slow. By the time I called out 'ten seconds,' the full minute had already elapsed. I suppose you could call it a little joke."
"A lie……"
"This was a matter involving your precious finger—you should have counted the time yourself. Tsk tsk. Don't you know how foolish it is to trust someone else in a situation like this? You've lived your life in vain. Utterly in vain."
I leveled the spear with a sharp glint in my eye.
The woman scooted backward across the floor, dragging herself with her hips.
"St-stop…… please stop……"
"What a shame. If only you had decided just five seconds sooner, none of this would have happened."
"Please……"
The woman's back hit the wall. There was nowhere left to retreat. When her face had turned deathly pale, the spearhead sliced through the air. Once again, high-pitched screams echoed through my studio.
About four days passed.
Someone knocked on the studio door. I opened it, thinking the old man from the art shop had sent his granddaughter. Instead, there stood a young man I had never seen before, dressed impeccably in a suit. The blond young man bowed politely the moment he saw me.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
He held his bow at a perfect right angle without moving a muscle.
I couldn't recall receiving such a formal greeting at any time other than when I was Demon Lord.
"Who are you? Raise your head, at least."
"I am here on behalf of the subordinates of the person confined on these premises."
The young man smiled apologetically.
Once I had figured out who he was, I changed my tone.
"Ah. I had heard that someone like you would be coming."
"Yes. My apologies for the delay. I'm afraid my authority isn't high enough to come and go freely, so it took some time to obtain permission from my superiors."
"You seem to have your own share of headaches."
The young man gave a wry smile.
"That's how the world is. Forgive me, but may I come in?"
"Of course. Come right in."
"Thank you."
The young man bowed once more with perfect courtesy and stepped inside the studio.
The woman had been lying on the floor with half-lidded eyes, dozing lightly. The moment she saw the young man's face, she shot upright. Her expression was instantly lit up with elation.
"Finally……! Finally!"
The woman looked ready to leap for joy. She turned toward me with eyes gleaming with malice.
"You're done for! How dare you kidnap and torture the Administrator! A wish—what wish, you damn lunatic! May you live for eternity, suffering the torments of hell!"
"Quiet."
At my command, the woman pressed her lips shut. She couldn't resist the Slave Brand. But her expression remained thoroughly triumphant—as if to say, "Let's see how long you can keep giving orders, you piece of trash."
"Have a seat."
"Yes. Thank you."
The young man ignored the woman as well and took a seat. I offered him milk or alcohol, but he politely declined. The young man spoke with a serious gaze.
"First and foremost, we owe you a sincere apology."