Chapter 13
Ollentia frowned sharply at him, and Dimidius continued speaking.
“I sensed holy power. The lady may not realize it, but she was clearly born with it. Since I’m half-human, half-demon… I can unmistakably feel whether someone possesses holy power or not.”
“That—that can’t be true. I’m just an ordinary person.”
Ollentia looked down at her hands, tilting her head. No matter how she thought about it, holy power and herself didn’t seem like a fitting match. The only suspicious thing was becoming Pieta’s contractor—nothing else.
Seeing her fluster, Dimidius spoke in a low, settled voice.
“If you insist that it isn’t so, then let’s go. It’s late.”
Turns out he had torn off the hem of his cloak and tied it to a branch when he entered the forest. Ollentia, without thinking, had simply followed the faint white glow inside.
Afraid she might get lost, she quickly trailed behind him like a little duckling.
“Ah! Wait for me!”
But her foot twisted, catching on a stone, and her body lurched forward. With the darkness around her, she could only flail her arms helplessly.
She was falling—downward, still further downward. At this rate, she would smash her face straight into the ground. Her beautiful face she had tended for 23 years would be ruined.
Just then—
A large hand wrapped around Ollentia’s waist, lifting her up. His strength was as firm as a fisherman hauling up a shark.
Suddenly pulled into Dimidius’s arms, Ollentia let out a shallow gasp.
Brilliant moonlight poured down over them.
A bitter scent of trees.
The familiar fragrance of his cologne.
His broad, steady chest.
This was already the third time. The third time she had ended up absurdly caught in a man’s arms. She worried she seemed like someone far too careless.
Mortified, Ollentia couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.
Still half-cradled, her hand on Dimidius’s chest twitched nervously. For some reason her heart felt like it might burst.
Dimidius brushed back her tangled hair as he said,
“I can’t possibly carry such a careless lady around in my pocket.”
Only then did he feel like the Dimidius she always knew.
Why is my heart racing? And what was that? Carry me… in his pocket? Who—me?
Ollentia was so dumbfounded she couldn’t even stop him from brushing back her hair. She simply stared up at him blankly. With her hand still on his chest and her head tilted back, the position felt far too strange.
This looks exactly like… someone waiting for a kiss.
She had no experience, but she had seen illustrations like this in romance novels.
Realizing this too late, she jolted in shock and shoved his shoulder hard.
“G-Get away!”
Dimidius, who had only rescued her from stumbling over a stone, grumbled.
“That’s harsh for someone who just saved you. Your most. pre.cious. face was moments away from being scraped across the ground.”
Ollentia rubbed her arms, goosebumps rising.
“This won’t happen again.”
“…What do you mean? That you won’t fall?”
“Yes! I won’t be tripping around like an idiot anymore. I’ll take care of myself!”
Her voice, tense from embarrassment, trembled with emotion. Her chest rose and fell sharply as she fumed.
She hated relying on Dimidius. If Socor had seen her like this, he would have treated her as someone who always needed protection. She despised that thought.
“Maybe it’s better to just let me fall. At least then I’d learn my lesson! Don’t you think so?”
Maybe if she got hurt, healed, and kept facing similar situations over and over again, she would eventually grow strong enough to face Socor.
Ollentia wanted to become a capable adult—someone strong.
But she had no reason to be angry at Dimidius. He had done nothing wrong. He had simply helped her.
Once again, she had done something foolish.
Ah, why did I do that…? I just got overwhelmed and snapped.
As she bit her lips in embarrassment, Dimidius—who fit the quiet forest perfectly—said,
“If I leave you alone or let you drop your guard, you’ll get hurt like before.”
Before? When?
Following his gaze, Ollentia touched her neck and let out a hollow laugh.
“Ah, that… It’s fine. It’s not a big wound, so I didn’t even call Odor County’s physician. My uncle doesn’t even know. Whether I have a wound on my neck or not. Honestly, he’s too much—having no idea what happened to his only niece on the train.”
Thankfully, she had only been lightly pricked. Even if the mark lingered, it probably wouldn’t scar.
Now that Ollentia was finally smiling again, Dimidius resumed walking. She followed after him, when suddenly something heavy fell over her shoulders.
His torn cloak.
Engulfed in the massive cloak, Ollentia stared at him in disbelief.
“I’m not cold, you know?”
Dimidius rolled his shoulders as if something bothered him.
“The cloak is uncomfortable. I’m discarding it. Giving it to you.”
He always says things like this!
Clearly he wasn’t discarding it because it was uncomfortable. He must have been concerned about her thin clothes. After all, this was a protected zone where no one else could enter. Her outfit was rather light.
Unsure what else to do, Ollentia wrapped the enormous cloak tightly around herself and marched forward. With Dimidius’s cloak draped over her, she looked like a snowman—from Belial territory, the only place in the Bonus Empire where it snowed.
Once she emerged from the deep forest, her hair whipped fiercely in the spring wind. Inside the woods and outside felt like different worlds.
Grateful for the black cloak, Ollentia said,
“The villa I’m staying at is right up ahead. I’ll go now.”
A sudden strong gust nearly flipped her thin dress. She absolutely couldn’t allow that to happen in front of Dimidius.
Hearing her words, Dimidius frowned.
“The villa right in front of the daisy field? With the inside completely visible?”
“Oh. Yes, that’s the one. The living room is mostly glass.”
Dimidius, as if bewitched, moved closer to the villa. Ollentia followed him with a puzzled look.
“You don’t need to walk me there, really.”
But at her bright, innocent insistence, Dimidius turned, sighed sharply, and said,
“…I thought it sounded unpleasant when I first heard it. Why are you staying in a place like that? Aren’t you the niece of Count Odor?”
Heard what? What news?
He put his hand on his waist, looking thoroughly displeased. She couldn’t see his expression beneath the mask, but she was sure he was frowning.
With a sullen look, Ollentia replied,
“Well, a more important guest arrived at the Count’s estate before me.”
“…”
“And the entire forest and the daisy field are protected areas. No one can enter freely. You’re the unusual one, Your Grace.”
No doubt he had used his demonic abilities—just like when he projected his voice into her mind, or when he subdued the masked man.
Thinking this way made meeting Dimidius at night feel even stranger. Honestly, goosebumps prickled her arms.
With her fingertips growing cold, Ollentia said just before entering the villa,
“I won’t tell Uncle anything. So please don’t tell him that I can see the light of the Illusion Grass.”
In a grove where straight stalks swayed gently, Ollentia stood like a single pure blossom. Her long hair fell to her waist, her slender body wrapped in a white dress, brown slippers made of young goat leather.
Bathed in moonlight, she seemed to radiate.
If she had seen light from the Illusion Grass, Dimidius felt he had seen light from her.
Even after returning to the manor, the image lingered in his mind for a long time.
But there was a more important reason he kept thinking of Ollentia—her ability.
Dimidius stroked the inside of his mask along his jaw as he muttered,
“If the white light from the Illusion Grass is a sign of strong holy power… and she can even see that?”
That meant she possessed holy power—enough to perceive and handle it. Truly fitting for someone of the apricot-tree family, the Armeniaca.
Dimidius recalled the time five years ago, when he first unlocked his demonic powers and holy relics could no longer stop his demonization.
At the time, fearing he might fully turn into a demon, he had roared like a beast.
Bring it. Bring me something that actually works!
The whites of his eyes had turned entirely red. His body swelled as if ready to burst. Something behind him writhed, about to sprout demonic wings. His monstrous aura had grown so overwhelming that even the trained knights of Belial couldn’t approach him.
Wracked with pain, he snarled like a wild animal.
Whenever he felt the demon’s power and heard its whispers, he felt as if he became someone else entirely.
Even using holy relics—the opposite force of the demonic power—could not calm his demonization. He had used his demonic power during the recent Grand Duchy attack, making the side effects even worse.
Dimidius had felt the black desire welling inside him, insisting he should accept the power.
It was tempting—dangerously tempting. He felt his sanity slipping.
Should I just become a demon? I would become stronger that way…
Such thoughts.
