Chapter 20: Whose True Heart

After leaving Ina behind, Céline’s gaze gradually sharpened, like needles pricking against Loki’s skin.

She was still smiling, but it felt like a gray veil had fallen over her face. With the shadows cast by the streetlights, part of her expression was always hidden, making Loki’s chest tighten with unease whenever he looked her way.

“I’d heard rumors… while I was locked in that cell, you were out being a highway bandit. But I didn’t think—even little girls weren’t spared?”

Her voice broke the silence after a few steps along the street. The moment she realized Loki was sneaking glances at her expression, the shadow across her face vanished, replaced by a deliberately casual smile.

“No, wait. It’s because she’s a pretty little girl, isn’t it? That’s why you went after her. Just like when you took me away back then.”

“…Don’t twist things like that. And I definitely didn’t capture you because you were pretty.”

Loki quickly denied the charge.

He didn’t mind being feared as a villain, but to be mistaken for “a creep who preys on little girls”? That was a line he refused to cross.

If he was going to be notorious, he wanted it to be for something people could at least understand.

But as soon as the words left his mouth, the sly curve of the saintess’s lips told him he’d walked into a trap.

Women—truly devious creatures.

“Oh my, thank you for the compliment~ So, you and that witch—Ina, was it?—you’ve known each other a long time?”

“Something like that. I only brought you into the organization after I’d already started seizing artifacts.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Nothing much. I infiltrated the witches’ coming-of-age rite all alone, in full view of the crowd, snatched the artifact, and then ran while the entire coven was on my heels.”

“And how did you escape?”

“I took down the fastest ones chasing me, then fled. I was already a Soulless back then—fighting them wasn’t difficult.”

Looking back, his younger self had been outrageously reckless, so unlike his previous life. He had treated life and death with equal arrogance, as though neither truly mattered.

But even with that strength, why had he still been under the Hand of Truth’s thumb?

Because at that time, he hadn’t yet realized he was a Soulless. The brand they had etched into him—their power over his life and death—kept him in a constant, gnawing unease.

Only later, after reading the records of the Hand’s First Seat, did he uncover the truth of himself. That was when he abandoned the plan to sacrifice Céline, and instead offered up his own body. A far more shocking display.

“And only just now did I realize Ina was the witch I’d robbed back then.”

“Oh? What a coincidence. That would mean she’s no ordinary witch, then?”

“Right. Among them, only the Matriarch and her successor can wield an artifact. The inheritance rite takes place when a witch comes of age.”

That intel had come from a renegade witch who had defected to the Hand—though her story ended miserably, her body shredded into pulp when her ritual failed.

Loki felt nothing for his former colleagues. They had been nothing but deranged beasts. If he regretted anything, it was that he hadn’t been the one to send them to hell.

Now, when he remembered those days, only disgust welled up.

All that talk about the “pursuit of truth,” about “elevating mankind,” about “worship of wisdom” and “unlocking the Sea of Souls”…

In the end, it was just a circus of clowns, dancing their foolish little act to entertain the so-called “gods” watching from above.

Truth belonged to the divine. Wisdom was a gift from the divine. Their bodies were already hollowed out by fanaticism, their souls riddled with holes. Nothing human remained in them at all.

From the very beginning, Loki had seen through it. That was why he played the role of a tamed lion—only to sink his fangs into the beast-tamer’s throat the moment the chance arose.

And he had won his freedom.

But freedom only meant more work ahead.

“Hehe, strange. You did something so unforgivable, yet she doesn’t seem to hate you at all.”

Hate him? Ina’s gaze had been practically dripping with longing. She nearly melted just from hearing him call her name.

Céline scoffed inwardly.

Such a shameless woman—what disaster would befall Loki if he let her close? Aside from that stiff knight, now there was another one to guard against.

Still, thinking back on it… how had Loki managed to stay unattached to any woman all those years she was gone? It was nothing short of a miracle.

No, not a miracle. It had to be fate—divine intervention—clearing the board so that she, and she alone, could claim the prize.

Which meant only one thing: she was destined to be the victor.

“…Who can say? It’s been years. That artifact I stole from her is nothing but a trinket now. And as the future Matriarch, she probably has the magnanimity to let bygones be bygones.”

Loki’s excuse was flimsy even to his own ears.

“Pfft. You’re giving her too much credit. More likely, she’s just testing you. And if you’re not the hero you once were, she’ll strike you down while you’re weak.”

Céline stuck her tongue out at him.

Forgive you? Hah. That whole “keep one ring, wear the other on her right-hand finger” ploy—wasn’t her intent as obvious as daylight?

It was just that Loki hadn’t noticed yet. But the moment he did, Ina would be lodged firmly in his thoughts.

And yet…

So what?

Just look at her—skittish, restrained, nearly fainting from the barest contact. A girl who couldn’t even hold his arm without trembling.

Then look at herself—proactive, relentless, slowly weaving herself into Loki’s habits until Céline became the only answer. Offering warmth, laughter, and comfort—how could anything rival that?

“Is that so? I didn’t get that impression from her.”

“Don’t blame me when you get burned, then.”

“Sounds to me like that’s just your bias talking… You don’t seem to like her very much.”

“My likes—and my love—are limited. I only give them to the one I find most important. Everyone else has to step aside.”

The silver-haired girl said this without breaking her gaze.

Her violet eyes shone like an endless night sky—yet in that vast expanse, only one star burned bright.

So bright, Loki had to turn away.

For the man who had once sneered at death itself, meeting those eyes took more courage than he could summon.