"Let's eat!"
"…Let's eat."
Himmel declares it with his usual cheer before digging into breakfast. I mimic him, lagging a beat, going through the motions. I still don't get it—this ritual, the words, the actions. I asked once, but his explanation clarified nothing. It's like a reflex now, done only because he commands it. Yet somehow, this makes him happy, his face alight with joy. He says eating with someone is more fun, or some nonsense like that.
(I'll never understand… Why do I have to stare at his face even during meals?)
A month has nearly passed since Himmel captured me and confined me to this village. For a long-lived demon, it should feel like a blink. But this has been the longest month of my life. Stripped of freedom, forced to live like humans—it's torture. The worst is this: eating breakfast with him every morning. He's unfazed by my attitude, chomping on bread like it's just another day. Where does his nerve come from?
"You okay? Not eating?" he asks, mouth full.
"…It's nothing. Don't worry about it," I reply, brushing him off as I start eating.
Is it my demonic nature or just adaptation? I'm getting used to this life. Deceiving humans is our forte—no creature surpasses us at it. We act as they desire, blending in. The problem is, that deception, meant for hunting humans, is becoming my purpose. I'm losing my edge.
I shove the thought aside and toss a slice of apple into my mouth. The crunch fills the silence. The texture and taste are nothing like human flesh, yet it satisfies a hunger I didn't feel a month ago.
"Looks like you're doing fine," Himmel says, eyeing me.
"Staring at a woman eating is bad taste," I snap.
"My bad," he chuckles. "But this is a relief. Though, eating only apples might not be ideal."
Of course a hero would notice. He's practically seen through me. The biggest hurdle in this village—living with humans—was not eating them. Demons can survive without human flesh, but the urge is overwhelming. Even with Azeliyuze forbidding it, the craving gnawed at me, fueling irritability and withdrawal-like symptoms. Himmel, misreading it as some feminine issue, offered his absurd "concern." The solution? These apples.
Azeliyuze's magic, repurposed to substitute eating humans with eating apples.
It's like human hypnosis, convincing me apples are prey. The experiment worked better than expected. It doesn't match the real thing, but it curbs the urge effectively. Apples were chosen for convenience and because they're a village specialty. Another rule added to my leash, but the benefit outweighs the cost.
"You've really taken to apples," Himmel says. "By the way, my favorite's Luf omelets."
"Great," I mutter, uninterested.
He prattles about his preferences, assuming I care. I'm not in love with apples, but arguing is pointless—he never listens.
"Speaking of, I'm thinking of getting a new bookshelf. What do you think? We're running out of space."
"Do whatever you want."
"Not so fast. This is your room too. And most of those books are yours."
The topic shifts abruptly, but this one involves me. The floor's littered with books I've read—grimoires and more, all for passing time. I'm not always working; when free, I read whatever's around. Not out of interest, just boredom. I'd rather be doing something else, but daytime makes it tricky. As I ponder—
"Good morning, big sis! Let's play!"
Another peace-disruptor barges in. That straw-hatted human kid, as thoughtless as ever. Since that first day of farmwork, he's clung to me even more, for reasons I can't fathom. And he's not alone.
"G-good morning, big sis, Hero…"
Another kid, a shy girl, creeps in. Not as clingy as Straw Hat, but she's been approaching me too—ever since I took that flower. Was that act significant? I wouldn't have accepted it if I'd known.
"Morning, you two!" Himmel beams. "Here to invite Aura to play?"
"Yeah! Big sis, let's go to the forest! You said you had a bug-catching spell, right?"
"I-I want to see that flower field spell again," the girl stammers. "I found a rare flower yesterday."
"Hey, you two…" I start.
They ignore my protests, barreling ahead with their plans. Their nonsensical nature—different from Himmel's—baffles me. Is this unique to human children? Either way, it's a nuisance.
"Why not play with them?" Himmel suggests. "I'll join after my village patrol."
"Another order?" I sigh.
"Not an order—a request."
The usual exchange. I give up; orders are binding. Farmwork and babysitting? The kids grab my hands, tugging impatiently, dragging me into another long day.
"Well, then."
I murmur to myself after watching Aura get whisked away by the kids' whirlwind. It's becoming routine, yet still feels surreal. Who'd believe the Guillotine Aura is being bossed around by children? A month ago, even I wouldn't have imagined this. The road ahead is rocky, no question. Then—
"Good morning, Hero," the village chief says, appearing at the door. "Sorry about our kids. I've tried to rein them in."
"Morning, Chief. No worries. Aura's just reading all day otherwise—getting out's good for her."
He's concerned about troubling us, but we're the ones imposing. If anything, we owe them.
"That's a relief to hear," he says. "It's strange, though—she doesn't seem like a demon at all."
"Yeah… Aura's case is unique, so it feels that way," I reply.
His words remind me of demons' terror. Aura's only here because of Azeliyuze's leash—and maybe because I'm the Hero. The irony is, her rule against harming humans makes this temporary coexistence possible.
"By the way, how's Aura's reputation in the village?" I ask. "People might not be honest with a hero like me."
"Well…" the chief hesitates. "Most are still against her. It's understandable. This village suffered under Qual's tyranny for years. Fear of demons runs deep. It'll take time, but they'll warm to her."
"Fear of demons…" I nod.
He's right. This region, especially this village, was ravaged by Qual, the Wise Elder. Their terror is unimaginable. I'm grateful they even accepted my absurd proposal to keep Aura here—they could've banished us.
"…To be honest, Hero, I have regrets," the chief says gravely. "I worry our plea caused you trouble."
"You mean about Aura?"
"Yes. I still believe Stroh's words were right. But I feel guilty for burdening you with that weight."
His concern is for the moment he and Stroh begged for Aura's life. But there's no need for guilt. Their plea may have sparked it, but I made the choice.
"No worries," I say, puffing out my chest. "I'm a Hero. The bigger the challenge, the better."
It's a tough path, but it's just begun. I recall our old journey—Frieren, emotionally distant like Aura, grew over time. Aura's adapting too. It'll work out.
"…Hero, do you truly understand that she's a demon?" the chief asks, his voice heavy with concern.
I catch my breath. His worry for me is palpable.
"Chief…?"
"I've interacted with her this past month," he says slowly. "She borrows books from me often now. I've felt it—not because she eats humans, but because she's a demon, not human."
His words sink in, but I don't fully grasp them yet.
"So, Hero, please don't bear this alone. This is our problem too."
He's worried for me, not Aura—and about what her being a demon truly means.
In the quiet night, two shadows linger at the village's edge. One is Qual, sealed like a silent statue. The other, Aura, robed, stands motionless, eyes closed, as if sealed herself. But she's not. A mage—or demon—would see the torrent of mana radiating from her, illuminating the night brighter than the moonlight.
(That should do it…)
She exhales deeply, opening her eyes and reining in her mana. It's routine training, something any mage does. Mana grows with years of practice, and she's never skipped it. For her, mana is everything—especially for Azeliyuze, where power determines all.
(It might be pointless now… No, I haven't given up!)
Azeliyuze is unusable, forbidden by Himmel's rules. Understandably—it's too dangerous for humans. Instead, she trains Zoltraak, a demon-crafted spell of artistic perfection. It doesn't outshine Azeliyuze, but its mastery is undeniable.
(And yet, we lost… This is the result.)
She—we—were defeated. Her life's purpose, her sacred magic, banned. Enslaved by her own spell, she's reduced to sneaking out at night to train, a pathetic sight. She's tested her leash—Himmel's image of "not straying too far" covers the village and its surrounding forest.
Her gaze drifts to Qual, sealed beside her. Forbidden from breaking his seal, she doesn't care. Their fates mirror each other—enslaved while alive, or sealed while alive. Which is worse? Lost in bitter self-mockery—
"Found you, Aura."
The last person she wants to see appears. Infuriating. Is he doing this on purpose?
"Any problem?" she snaps. "I'm following the rules. Or are you ordering me not to go out at night now?"
"No way," he says. "You're not a kid. What were you doing out here?"
"Just a walk."
Her barbs don't faze him. He scans the area, likely guessing what she was up to. His knowing look, seen too often this month, confirms it.
"So, it's been a month since you came here," he says. "Getting used to village life?"
"Thanks to you, I'm having the experience of a lifetime," she retorts dryly.
"Glad to hear it," he replies, unfazed.
He asks about her life and the villagers, as if it's casual chat. She answers flatly, no different from a month ago. Nothing's changed—yet he seems amused. What's so fun about this?
"…Aura, do you like magic?" he asks suddenly.
"What…?"
The question is so absurd, it overshadows his prior ones.
"You were training magic, right? I'm no mage, but I can tell. Frieren did it all the time."
His expression, nostalgic, explains the question. Which makes it even more baffling.
"Like or dislike magic?" she scoffs. "Do you like or dislike breathing?"
Magic is intrinsic to demons, as natural as walking or breathing. The question doesn't even make sense. Yet—
"No, I bet you love it," he declares confidently. "People don't pour themselves into something they don't care about."
His gaze pierces her, like before. Then it hits her—or rather, it doesn't.
"What do you know about me?" she demands. "You, a human?"
She can't understand him—his words, his existence. This past month, she's observed him, trying to decipher his thoughts. She couldn't. Not because he's human, but because no one—demon or otherwise—could truly know her. Demons are solitary, complete in themselves.
"Aura…"
He starts to say something, calling her name. She doesn't get it. But one thing she's noticed, through her demonic observation, is a recurring unease, an irritation. Its source—
"I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm not Frieren."
He's projecting that elf onto her. Their actions, incomprehensible. She's a different being, a different species. Why can't he see that?
"—"
Her words silence him. Why is he so shocked?
"…What? Something wrong?" she asks.
"…No, sorry," he mumbles.
He glances at the moon, then leaves, carrying an odd air—unlike his usual self. What was that? She doesn't know, but if he's gone, that's enough.
Aura resumes her training, as if nothing happened.
She doesn't realize what her words did to him.
She doesn't know why he left.
In the silent plaza, only her mana's glow and the moonlight remain.