Night was never peaceful. The air was filled with the cries and wails of a woman, rising and falling endlessly.
Sig, who specialized in boxing, found endless amusement in this. Grinning widely, he swung his fists again and again.
Belly strike, belly strike, belly strike—the sound of Liéve pleading for mercy buzzed relentlessly in his ears.
Her delicate face was streaked with tears like falling pear blossoms, yet she bore no visible wounds. The pain was sharp and piercing, but it was internal.
While attacking, he also healed her. The whole thing was just torment. Yet despite this, Liéve’s hostility toward Sig only grew stronger. Not a single genuine plea for mercy passed her lips.
Every word was an act. “Amazing, amazing,” he couldn’t help but praise.
She was probably scheming inwardly, thinking of ways to deal with me. What a clever one… Truly worthy of the name Liéve. I, Sig, hereby dub you the strongest.
If she weren’t putting on a show, Sig would have stopped long ago. He had no sadistic pleasure in torture, but when it came to enemies, he showed no mercy or kindness.
This treatment was mild compared to before. After all, she once harbored the intention to kill him—back when she first arrived at the Demon King’s Castle. But since she hadn’t acted on it, she didn’t meet the threshold for death.
For now, this was just to pass the time, to see if there was any chance to recruit her, or to test my patience.
Naturally, he had no intention of letting her go. Why would he? Why increase his own exposure and risk by releasing a potential enemy?
Was he crazy? The Demon King’s Castle was already in a tight spot, especially with Gerard possibly returning at any time, bringing utter disaster. So any risk that could be avoided must be avoided.
Sig yawned, growing bored as he spoke.
“Tired, tired, tired. I’m bored of playing today. Liéve, I’ll put you down now. Remember to keep up the good work tomorrow and make new achievements.”
He casually sprayed some mist, sensing something was off. The lesson from Gerard’s earlier reprimand was still fresh in his mind.
From his crotch, he pulled out an exceptionally thick chain and, with a swift motion, locked it around the green-haired girl’s neck. The other end was secured to a pillar.
Satisfied, he nodded approvingly, then turned to Emilia beside him, proudly showing off his handiwork.
“Emilia, what do you think? Not bad, right? My masterpiece. Even a god could be bound with this. It’s a shame it’s just theoretical—no actual combat tests yet… Still, having her restrained feels safer. After all, I’m someone who lacks a sense of security. Time to sleep.”
He gently patted the girl’s fragrant shoulder with a soft, tender touch, a smile on his face. His tone was gentle and kind—a stark contrast to how he treated Liéve.
Liéve was stunned into silence, no longer even pretending. Bound like a dog on the ground, her limbs shackled yet still trapped firmly by the chains, she had assumed this man was cruel and unkind, with a harsh personality. She never expected this other side.
How could he be so gentle with Emilia? She thought they were just partners.
“Looks like those two have a special relationship.”
Wait—that meant all the previous attempts to seduce each other had been useless. After all, Liéve had some self-awareness. Looking down at the steel plate on her chest, her charm still fell short compared to Emilia’s.
But she refused to swallow her pride. She cautiously kept an eye on Sig out of the corner of her eye and swore bitterly in her heart that she would take revenge sooner or later.
“Just wait for me. If I don’t get revenge, I’m not Liéve.”
As if sensing something, she stared at the cold, hard ground, lightly touching its unyielding texture.
Even she couldn’t sleep like this.
Then, with a hesitant tone, she spoke.
“Um, can I have a blanket?”
#
“You called, but the user doesn’t want to talk to you. Emilia, please transfer the call.”
Sig didn’t respond. Instead, he flopped onto the soft bed, pulling the blanket over his head, muttering something abstract and unbelievable.
“I got it.”
Emilia, the silver-haired girl used to this behavior, brushed her snow-white forehead with slender fingers. Without saying more, she agreed.
Out of kindness, she decided to help this pitiful girl, spending some time to find a fairly clean blanket. Just as she was about to hand it over, Sig appeared out of nowhere to stop her.
With a satisfied smile, he took it, then pulled out a doghouse from his crotch.
“I’ll take this too. It’s for you, Liéve.”
“Thank you,” said the woman, living under another’s roof, holding back tears, enduring humiliation as she crawled on the ground. When she looked up, her gaze was filled with murderous intent—an anger impossible to conceal.
Maybe she wanted to hide it, but under extreme fury, expressions and emotions could not be controlled.
“Just as I thought. You can’t keep up the act for long. Liéve, your current expression suits you much better than that fake, hypocritical face you wear. I hate people who pretend one thing to my face and another behind my back. If you hate me, just show it—I don’t mind. You’ve already become a qualified punching bag.”
Yet Sig wasn’t angry. Instead, he laughed, casually tossing the blanket toward her and the doghouse as well, then yawned and went back to sleep.
As the tent’s light went out, Emilia lay quietly on the bed, recalling the scene just now.
She gently rubbed the blanket with her delicate hand, her blood-red eyes staring at the ceiling. Then, she glanced at the peacefully sleeping Sig beside her.
Only then did she realize why he acted as he did just now… It seemed she was too young, seeing only the surface without understanding the depths of a person’s heart.
Perhaps that was why she had fallen to this state.
“Sig, are you asleep?”
After a moment, he replied groggily and softly.
“What’s up, Emilia? The moon isn’t sleeping, and neither are you? Want to be a little bald baby? Don’t think you can act recklessly just because you’re young. When you get old, you’ll have it rough. Besides, not sleeping makes you lose hair. I’m still young—only a hundred and some years old—don’t want to end up with a bald spot.”
As he spoke, she instinctively reached out to stroke his smooth head, feeling the thickness of his hair—no sign of balding. It felt nice.
This careless gesture snapped him fully awake, and he hurriedly pushed her hand away.
“Don’t get handsy. If you have something to say, say it. If not, close your eyes.”
“I do. Are you sure you want to keep this so-called Liéve, the ticking time bomb, by your side? She clearly hates you and seems ready to strike the moment she gets a chance. Why not just eliminate her now? Leave it all to me—I won’t trouble you.”
It was clear Emilia valued Sig above all else. She would never allow anything to threaten him, hence her merciless proposal to kill Liéve.
She was even willing to dirty her own hands.
But Sig remained indifferent, shaking his head lightly, refusing her suggestion and quietly explaining his reasoning into her ear.
“No need. I know she’s looking for an opportunity to get revenge, but it doesn’t matter. Taming wild beasts is risky; taming people is even more so. As long as the Demon King’s Castle can develop, what are these things in the grand scheme of things? They’re just a little hardship. I need their strength, their cooperation. So I must accept the risk—it’s only natural. After all, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”