1.
The battle was in full swing.
Peter, having regained his original self, was more wary of Ria’s appearance than of Sylas.
The reason was simple.
‘She’s the woman who changed me.’
Though he was born with evil in his nature, she made it possible for him to get along with others.
‘It’s probably because of the seal.’
He couldn’t remember exactly when it happened.
That day he lost Ria—aside from a few fragments, Peter had lost all memory.
But that wasn’t what mattered.
No.
Rather, even if it were there, it would only get in the way.
Because emotions only dull and rust the strength one possesses.
After losing her, he was consumed by revenge, and the only reason he’d been able to interact with the members until now was because the evil of his essence had been sealed away.
Maybe the seal had mattered back then—but now that it was broken, following his instincts was what mattered most.
“Get lost.”
Having reclaimed the evil of his essence, Peter could cast Ria aside without hesitation.
No, he thought he could.
Ria, hearing Peter’s words, calmly stepped forward and grabbed his hand.
“[I knew it.]”
“…What?”
“[I knew you’d say that.]”
Even though he tried to shake her off, she wouldn’t let go—a situation that defied understanding.
‘A kind of illusion magic that leaves a will behind. Even if you kill her, she won’t disappear.’
In that case…
‘I ignore her and kill the enemy first.’
Realizing he couldn’t kill her, Peter opted for the next best thing and turned to Sylas.
‘Arm injury recovered. Range of attack limited due to embedded stake. Not enough mana for Dirge… so I need to lure him in.’
Demon.
Born without emotion, beings like Peter always pursued the optimal solution. Facing the halted Sylas, Peter opened his mouth.
“You called this a bad fate, right? Do you hold a grudge against demons?”
“You’re not… someone who needs to know.”
Without emotion, he could see it clearly.
The furrowed brow.
The eyes weighed down by regret.
The pendant in his tightly gripped hand, containing a photo of his family.
The current Sylas, like Peter before his seal broke, was driven by a dream of revenge.
“Did demons kill your family?”
“I told you… to shut up.”
“So I was right.”
Peter, having roughly grasped the situation, chose his next words carefully.
“Demons have no emotions. Your family was probably killed either as a means of satisfying curiosity or as a method of survival. If it was just for survival, they would’ve died quickly. But if it was for curiosity… they may have been dissected for days, screaming the whole time.”
This was a plain truth.
“So you went around hunting demons? Because you couldn’t admit that your own indifference and incompetence got your family torn apart?”
This too, in some way, was a truth.
“…I’ll kill you.”
Losing his reason, Sylas charged at Peter recklessly.
This was exactly what Peter had aimed for.
‘I’ll crush his throat in one blow.’
Just as Sylas came within striking distance, Peter lunged forward to pierce his heart with his hand—
Thud.
A stake was driven into Peter’s abdomen.
‘Why…?’
Peter looked up at the unexpected outcome, and the halted Sylas spoke.
“I’ve killed… thousands of demons. I know every one of your tricks.”
“You pretended to waver. I guess I’ve gotten rusty after so long in my true form.”
Peter accepted this without resistance.
Crunch.
Sylas pulled out the stake that had been embedded in the shadows and raised it.
“Any last words?”
Out of mana from his fight with the Captain, his body weakened by a stake of extreme counter-nature, and a miscalculation born from a wrong decision—
Peter shook his head.
“There’s no way out. It’s all rather empty, in the end.”
“I heard that.”
Thud!
Without the slightest hesitation, the stake was driven into his heart.
Ria, who had reappeared at some point, calmly asked Sylas.
“[Feeling better now?]”
“Shut up… demon.”
…What?
‘Wasn’t she only visible to me?’
Whatever the case, it was already over, and with that, the battle ended.
Peter quietly closed his eyes.
And then…
.
.
.
“What do you think would happen if you told an animal, one who grew up with people and just like people, that it wasn’t a person but merely an animal?”
He awoke again to that familiar question.
“They’d fight! Like an animal!”
“I think they’d insist they’re human?”
“If it were me… I’d be really sad…”
Among the excited children’s answers, eager for praise, came a familiar voice.
“Maybe that friend already knew, didn’t they? Ah, I must be different… or something like that.”
It was Ria, the free nun.
No matter how devoid of emotion one might be, being suddenly thrown back into the past was enough to cause disorientation.
“…A life flashback?”
Peter muttered as he looked down at hands now as small as he remembered, and Ria, who had approached at some point, gently took them and whispered.
“Right? Peter.”
The horrific nightmare of having his heart pierced just moments ago instantly scattered like mist.
Peter nodded slightly, still wearing his usual blank expression.
“You’re hungry, right? How about we go eat now?”
This was the paradise of the abandoned.
“Yeah.”
Peter took her outstretched hand.
Everything was just as it had been.
“I’m eating first!!”
“Hey! It’s one per person!!”
“You’re a pig, so you don’t count as a person!”
A table that was neither too much nor too little, and children whose faces were round and full.
“Sister Ria!! He called me a pig!!”
“Oh dear, no matter how chubby someone is, you shouldn’t say things like that to your friends.”
“Eek?”
“Ah? That’s not what I meant?”
“Sister Ria is the biggest dummy!!!”
Taking care of them was Ria, the free nun, the young guardian of the orphanage.
And—
“See, Peter? That’s how you do it.”
“…Doesn’t seem right.”
“W-Well, this is my way…! I’m definitely not a dummy, it’s just how I talk! Then why don’t you try doing it your way?”
Even someone who looked a little different but was quietly blending in—his unfamiliar self.
‘…What is this, really?’
Though he couldn’t shake the sense of déjà vu, Peter went on living diligently.
He didn’t know how or why it had all happened, but—
“Try smiling like me, Peter!”
“…”
“Eek! T-That’s way too scary!”
“…So what do you want me to do.”
“Here, look! Just a faint smile like this…”
Being understood and accepted by someone—it was nicer than he had expected.
.
.
.
“[You’re so mean, old man! You stabbed the world way too hard, you know that?]”
“Shut up… just keep the promise.”
“[Hmph. Acting all tough. If Peter had been at full power, you would’ve gone down in one hit, you know? Anyway, this is the end of our deal. No more holding grudges, got it?]”
The two faced each other.
“[So just one last thing. Why don’t you leave that place already, old man? Of the three Saviors, that one seems the weirdest.]”
“…I’m going.”
“[Tsk, look at him, still acting like that even when I’m worried.]”
With that, the farewell finally came.
Ria gently stroked Peter’s slowly healing wound and whispered softly.
“[That took a long time. Still, I’m really glad. That at least you, Peter, were able to escape.]”
A faint smile slowly spread across her face.
“[Well then, shall we go wrap things up?]”
Though her expression seemed somewhat artificial as she said it, there was no one present who could point that out.
Holding Peter in her arms, Ria quietly followed him inward, flowing into his inner world.
2.
How many days had passed?
“Say hi, Peter! This is Gaegullian, I found him yesterday while it was raining!”
“Thanks for the meal.”
“Gyaah!! Don’t eat him!!”
Peter spent his days quietly, blending in with children who, like him, had been abandoned—yet were fundamentally different.
And so he wondered.
‘Am I happy right now?’
Meals that were neither lacking nor excessive.
Children laughing and chattering beside him.
Ria, who would occasionally visit and hug him.
‘…Before the seal was lifted, I think I used to reminisce longingly over these memories.’
…Wait.
‘Seal?’
What had he even been thinking?
A growing sense of déjà vu as time passed.
“Peter! Say hi to Gaegullian!”
“I’m good. Move.”
Now that he thought about it…
‘…When was the last time I went outside?’
Just as Peter finally opened the orphanage door and tried to step outside, having realized something—
Thud, thump.
Thud.
The children of paradise, who had only moments ago been laughing and playing with him, now grabbed his ankles—covered in blood and battered with injuries.
“Peter, it hurts.”
“Are you leaving us behind again?”
“Why are you the only one who’s fine?”
The crumbling orphanage.
The outer walls beginning to burn.
The children crying in sorrow.
Peter paused briefly and glanced down at the burst Gaegullian next to one of the children.
He answered.
“Because that’s how I was born.”
A final mercy, perhaps.
Peter carefully pulled his foot free, picked up the dead Gaegullian, and gently placed it into the child’s empty hand.
“Sleep well.”
To say nothing more than “sleep well” to a friend he’d grown up with for years—
It confirmed it.
I really am twisted, aren’t I.
As Peter, still expressionless, opened the door and stepped out—
There stood Ria, drenched in blood just like the dead children, smiling faintly as she embraced him and whispered.
“Sleep well, huh. That’s awfully sweet of you, Peter. Now I regret it. I should’ve said that too.”
As she whispered, she held in her hand the kitchen knife she had always cherished.
