Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – The Worst

“Why would he go out of his way to approach me in your form…?”

At Erin’s murmur, Ten raised his head, thinking she was speaking to him. “Pardon?”

Only then did Erin pull her gaze away from the blood-stained fragment of mirror and look at him. “On the day of the attack, the demon god disguised himself as you and came to me.”

There was not a shred of emotion in her voice. It was so empty that everything that had happened before Ten arrived now felt like a lie.

“…The demon god, you mean?” Ten had been carefully removing the slivers of glass embedded in her hand, but at her answer his eyes went wide in shock.

Erin, still looking vaguely dazed, watched her hand as he plucked the shards free one by one, then nodded weakly.

“It was our first reunion in eighteen years, and I failed to take my revenge.”

Ten hesitated for a moment before removing the last piece. He looked as though he wanted to say something but could not make the words come.

Erin flexed her now-cleared hand, watching the torn flesh slowly knit itself back together, the ragged edges seeking their proper place.

The treatment should have ended there, and she was ready to dismiss him, but Ten suddenly grabbed her hand in a fluster. “I’ll finish up properly.”

As if afraid she might refuse, he immediately poured his holy power into her fingers, rushing to heal her even though it wasn’t necessary.

There was no need for this. Erin rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, embarrassed on his behalf.

Ten continued to force his power into her already-healed hand before finally speaking, carefully, almost timidly. “To be honest… even though you told us about the demon god, I didn’t truly believe it.”

So that was why he insisted on treating her unnecessarily—he wanted a confession, to unburden himself. Erin gave a faint, wry smile and soothed his drooping expression as though to say it was fine. “Everyone was the same.”

She sat back with her legs crossed, watching Ten fuss over her hand as if tending fragile crystal.

The paladins were born with holy power, capable of healing others. And, because they could heal themselves as well, Ten’s own small wounds were already fading without notice.

But Erin was different.

Despite being the Commander of the Paladins, she possessed no holy power at all.

What she did have, however, was an overwhelming reservoir of magic—enough to eclipse the disadvantage completely. Perhaps because of that vast magic, her natural healing speed was incomparably faster than others’, even without holy power.

Which was why Ten did not need to heal her like this. But he clearly wanted to, and Erin allowed it.

At last the treatment ended, Ten’s hand falling away. “Still… since he appeared once, you’ll meet him again, won’t you? You’ll definitely get another chance to take revenge.”

He smiled at her—a soft, earnest smile, full of genuine sympathy.

But it only made Erin feel worse. His kindness twisted painfully inside her, and she could not stop herself from hearing it as mockery. How absurd. She, of all people, knew exactly what he meant, and yet here she was.

But in this moment, Erin could only be the smallest, pettiest version of herself.

She had devoted her entire life to killing that man, and yet she had been toyed with, utterly overwhelmed by the vast gulf of power between them.

How? By what means? Even if she saw him again, how could she possibly succeed?

Her untouched hand curled into a fist before she realized it, knuckles whitening.

Poor Ten had yet to notice any of this. His cheeks flushed pink, as if the intensity of her gaze embarrassed him, and he shyly looked away. “Just give the word. I’ll help you take your revenge with everything I have.”

“…How?”

The quiet question was filled with a chilling stillness. Ten flinched instinctively.

“M-Ma’am?”

One look at his frightened face brought back the moment Gabriel had stood before her wearing Ten’s face.

Revulsion surged up her throat.

“To take revenge,” Erin said, lifting her hand to ruffle Ten’s curly hair. Her fingers trailed down to cup his cheek, a gesture that seemed gentle—until the coldness underneath prickled across his skin like a snake slithering over his face.

Her red eyes, previously empty, began to fill with something. Rage, obsession, madness—all churned together, igniting life in those once-dead pupils.

“You have to think of him your entire life. Never let the anger toward him go out. Not even for a single moment.”

“Commander…”

Ten tried to meet her gaze but quickly looked away. These were not the weary, indifferent eyes he was used to. This was madness. Not mere fury—obsession sharpened to a lethal point.

Her emotions bled through her hands into his shoulders, twisting his stomach into knots.

He fought the urge to gag and steadied himself, breathing shakily. But Erin didn’t stop. She watched every flinch, every tremble, and continued speaking.

“It’s been eighteen years. Eighteen years of never forgetting—of running without pause, not for a single minute, not for a single second, just to kill him with my own hands.”

Her feelings—warped and warped again—began to spill out, things she had never shown to anyone. She should have stopped herself, but she could not.

Do you know how pathetic this is, Ten? To show nothing but a loser’s bitterness, a wretchedness so low it scrapes the floor?

“…And despite all that, I still lost to him. So how exactly do you think you can help me?” Her tone was flat, the same as always, but beneath it throbbed a heavy, viscous emotion.

“With what means?”

Ah. This was sorrow. Grief curdled into anger, seeking an outlet.

Ten slowly lifted his hands and placed them over hers, which were digging painfully into his shoulders. As though calming a wounded animal, he gently stroked the back of her hand.

“Then… tell me everything, so I don’t forget either.”

He wanted to help her. If this was what it took to make Erin happy—even at the cost of his life—he would accept it gladly.

She was someone everyone admired, a talent beyond compare. And yet she always stood alone. Even so, she never let anyone close.

All the more reason he wanted to stay by her side.

“I am your subordinate, Commander.”

Erin stared at the smile on his face without a word.

It should have been a moment of joy—finding someone willing to help her take her revenge.

Then why… why wasn’t she happy at all?

Because he was hers alone to kill. Hers alone to chase. Hers alone to corner and cut down. She had never once imagined allowing someone else into that pursuit.

Perhaps that was why—

“…Your words alone are enough. Thank you.”

Useless obsession began to flicker inside her.

Erin rubbed her still-aching neck despite Ten’s healing. Perhaps this lingering pain was the demon god’s mark. Gabriel’s wound had not yet closed; it remained an angry red stain on her skin.

It didn’t take long for her to realize that it was a noose he had slipped around her.

***

Meanwhile, Gabriel sat silently on the edge of a bed. It had only been a drop of blood, yet he could taste it as though his mouth were full of it. And that scent at her neck…

And the feeling of her chest in his hand…

Once kindled, his lust refused to settle. His palm drifted downward, wrapping around the er*ction that had long since hardened. “Haa…”

When he opened his eyes, Erin was beneath him—looking up at him, legs spread.

A vision he had seen far too many times. How long had he endured for this? How long had he waited to see her like this?

Her sharp, emotionless eyes melting with heat—just the thought made the stiffness in his lower abdomen throb violently. His jaw tightened.

In his imagination, Erin’s body was already marked with him, her breath unsteady.

His hand moved faster over his reddened length, slick with pre-seed. The wet, obscene sound filled the room. Ah, if only this were inside her. If only this were that sweet place overflowing with honey.

Erin, legs parted, her soft pink entrance quivering as she looked at him with desperate yearning.

Just picturing that face made his vision go white.

Her mo*ns echoed in his ears like a divine chorus. When he glanced downward, she was there beneath him, gazing up with eyes softened by pleasure.

She was almost unbearably beautiful. His c*ck pushed into her in his mind, glistening with her slickness.

Seemingly unsatisfied, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, tightening eagerly. Even though it was clearly an illusion, her obscene movements were vivid, her heated breath melting against his skin.

How heavenly would it be to hear her for real?

His c*ck leaked constantly, dripping over his hand, growing even harder and heavier with every stroke. He had never been this aroused. His breath grew quick and hot.

“Ah… hh… aaah, Lady Erin…”

Collapsed over the bed, Gabriel gasped her name—the name he had wanted to call so many times. The rising pleasure finally broke him, and he bit his lower lip.

It was maddening. Nothing was harder than trying to satisfy himself like this. Unable to control the fever in his body, he pressed his forehead into the sheets and thrust into his own fist.

How had her chest felt again? Soft—so soft, like a trembling pudding under his bare palm. If he stripped away the cloth covering her body, her pale bre*sts would show, crowned with tiny pink peaks begging to be taken between his teeth.

Then he would leave marks—red marks like her eyes—so that no one else could ever touch her. So that—

“Hh—”

At last Gabriel spilled hotly into his own hand. But in his vision, Erin only tightened her legs around him, pulling him closer, her lips parted and glistening, her cheeks flushed deeply with lust.

Unsatisfied—still unsatisfied. The thought alone made his c*ck swell again, as if he hadn’t just spent himself. Desire devoured the last scraps of restraint.

Erin reached toward him—slender, pale, a little larger than average. What would it feel like if that hand wrapped around him? Gabriel swallowed hard.

But her hand did not go downward—it went to his throat. Her eyes filled with hatred as she closed her fingers around his neck and squeezed.

Gabriel only laughed. He pried her hand off and pressed a kiss to her palm.

“Just a little longer, Lady Erin. I haven’t… gone all the way down yet.”