Below the cozy cabin, the first rays of sunlight filtered through the towering forest, casting dappled shadows that danced across the delicate, porcelain-like face of a young girl.
She appeared somewhat melancholic, sitting stiffly on the sofa, her slender hands resting on her knees, legs pressed tightly together.
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she bit her lip gently, a hint of shame flickering in her eyes.
The words she had spoken yesterday echoed in her mind—what did she mean by “going to bed to prove her innocence”?
‘Am I an idiot?’ she thought.
How could I blurt out something like that in the heat of the moment?
She glanced up slightly, her gaze settling on Sig, who had transformed into a wary, golden-haired old man standing in the corner.
His alertness was palpable, his demeanor as if his fur had bristled in defense.
“Um, Sig, you don’t have to stand so far away,” she said softly. “If I did something wrong, just tell me. I can apologize. Please don’t stay silent—can we talk about this…?”
“Ha, ha, ha,” came Sig’s response, a series of huffs rather than coherent words.
It wasn’t that he was petty, but Emilia had gone too far, crossed a line.
They weren’t lovers, not even casual partners—just simple collaborators.
Her actions and words felt off, almost suspicious.
Is she trying to seduce me? he wondered.
Or worse, is she infected with some disease, turned into a bio-host, trying to drag me down with her?
The more he thought along these lines, the more his mind spiraled.
Why would she insist she’s a virgin, that she’s “pure”?
And then say I’d only need to apologize after she “pleased” me?
That’s so contradictory—what’s her motive?
Is she just sexually repressed after a year, or is she genuinely trying to prove her innocence?
But this is too much…
Last night, Sig had sat alone under the stars, racking his brain over why she’d say such things.
Why overthink it?
Just let it go, he told himself. But the words of a beautiful girl like Emilia hit hard, especially for a virgin like him.
Even if he tried to brush it off, his body had other ideas.
Useless thing, he cursed inwardly, you’ve been through enough this past year.
His thoughts burned so fiercely it felt like his brain was steaming, as if he’d traversed the entire galaxy, only to collapse on the sofa, reduced to ashes.
Still, no answers came.
As dawn broke, he wore an expression like Agni, the fire god, his fist clenched over his chest.
Why would she say something as cruel as “live on”?
No, worse—why would she say something so provocative about going to bed, sparking such intense fantasies that kept me up all night?
Emilia, you’re damn infuriating.
If not for the unease in his heart, he might’ve acted on her words right then and there.
Now, he was venting his frustration, partly to mask the embarrassment of his fantasies.
Once he’d let off enough steam, he snapped out of his “Hakimi” state and returned to normal, clearing his throat.
“No more huffing,” he said.
“I’m fine. Don’t overthink it. This has nothing to do with what you said last night. I’m just… on edge in the mornings, you know how it is.”
His words carried a hint of defensiveness, like someone proclaiming their innocence too loudly.
After a pause, he stood, walked over, and lightly patted Emilia’s shoulder, shifting to business.
He glanced around the cabin, a strange sense of attachment washing over him.
For a fleeting moment, he thought a quiet life like this wouldn’t be so bad.
But soon, the haze of hesitation and cowardice in his eyes was replaced by the resolve to return home.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Get ready. I’m burning this place down. We’re leaving, and we might not come back. There’s no turning back for me—only forward. No point keeping this place.”
“…Can we keep it?” Emilia asked softly, her voice tinged with reluctance.
“Maybe we’ll come back someday.”
Sig softened, though his tone remained firm.
“Fine, if you like it, we’ll keep it. But you’d better work hard on building my Demon King’s Castle. We each get what we need, that’s all.”
Whether it was his heart softening or something else, he was reminding himself not to form too deep a bond with Emilia.
Keeping things simple was best for both of them.
Yet, he didn’t notice how his attitude toward her was subtly shifting.
Two lonely hearts in a strange world, even if unwilling or resistant, were inevitably drawn to each other.
With the faint sound of a door locking, the galloping of horses carried away a trace of warmth.
Hooves echoed through the forest once more.
As always, Emilia rode in front, Sig behind, their arrangement seeming intimate but devoid of any real romance.
Men must be men, women must be women—or so it seemed.
Suddenly, a ray of sunlight stung Sig’s eyes, tears streaming down.
Without thinking, he wiped them away, raising his hands high.
He caught a whiff of Emilia’s unique scent in the breeze, then lowered his head to count his “spoils” in his trousers—no, not treasures anyone would want.
The posture was a bit crude, but no matter.
Great men don’t sweat the small stuff.
After some mental math, he calculated the haul—roughly 20,000 gold coins.
Not bad.
It covered startup funds with some room for error.
The advantage is mine, he thought, smirking.
Once I’m ready, I’ll declare war on the seven kingdoms.
But there was still a long road ahead.
His mood lifted, he glanced at Emilia’s graceful silhouette and gave a thumbs-up, a glint of approval in his golden eyes.
If not for her, I wouldn’t have gathered all this.
He might dislike her, but that didn’t mean he’d deny her contributions.
The horses stopped, panting heavily from carrying two people.
They arrived at a dilapidated warehouse in the wilderness.
From the entrance, the presence of many people could be felt.
The place had been patched up enough to keep out wind and rain but wasn’t overly refined.
Sig planned to use it once and abandon it.
Emilia dismounted gracefully, her movements fluid, her white dress a striking contrast to the rugged surroundings.
Her delicate hand brushed a strand of hair from her ear, and she patted the horse’s head with a faint smile, exuding a unique beauty.
Saintess wasn’t just a title—it was the highest praise for her.
After a year of waiting, they’d finally reached this point.
The journey was just beginning, and though greater challenges lay ahead, Emilia felt oddly at peace, even a sense of belonging.
This was different from how she felt with the protagonist, Gerald.
This wasn’t a system-assigned task—it was her own choice.
Sig, on the other hand, dismounted clumsily, like an old man who might break a leg with one misstep.
Standing behind the horse, he brushed off the dust and shook himself out, preparing to enter and deliver a rousing speech to rally the group before departure.
They couldn’t afford slaves escaping or succumbing to despair.
These people were his property, the foundation for rebuilding the Demon King’s Castle, and the first residents of its future.
A grand vision was essential.
As for what to say?
He hadn’t thought it through.
His dreams were promptly shattered by a horse’s kick, knocking out a few teeth and sending him sprawling, his mouth swollen.
It seemed the speech would have to fall to Emilia.
“Emilia, it’s up to you,” he said. “Handle the speech.”
Far off, a different scene unfolded—a new beginning amidst the fall of the old.
“Emilia hasn’t returned to the empire yet,” a voice called out, “but please, everyone, don’t panic.”