It was a wish that needed no thought. She no longer wanted to wander as a vengeful spirit without even a body under the cold moonlight.

— Gladly.

The dark gloom came to kiss her. The breath, not of a human, was cold enough to freeze even the soul.

The next moment, Valentine opened her eyes in a pile of cold earth.

A heavy pressure pressed down on her entire body. When she barely inhaled, thick dust stung her nose and lungs. But because of that, she could feel it more clearly.

She was alive.

After sensing her survival, the next thing she felt was fear. The fear that she might suffocate in this thick pile of earth. Having experienced death once before made it even more terrifying.

Her delicate fingertips desperately tore at the grave. As she raised her body from the dug-up pile of earth, she saw a man in her blurry vision.

“Who… are you?”

— Your wish to be saved, to live, called me.

It was a voice resonating with her heart that had started beating again. That heavy gloom from earlier was there.

— Now, I have granted your first wish.

“Is this what you call saving me?”

She asked fiercely, shaking her wrist. Though she felt no pain, the sound of bones creaking throughout her body echoed eerily. Flies buzzed nearby, and maggots crawled over her blackened, rotting skin.

The man only asked back in a calm voice, looking at her grotesque appearance.

— What made you a vengeful spirit and called me?

‘What.’

Valentine pondered that question for a moment. Things that felt as vivid as if they had happened yesterday flashed before her eyes.

“I…”

In those terrible memories, there were five people who made her eyes roll back.

Liam, who killed Valentine, ungrateful for the kindness that had taken him in when he was an orphan.

Count Glastia, who prevented Valentine’s corpse from even resting in a grave.

Astaire, who provided the cause for everything and horribly lusted after her.

Amaryllis, who killed the child that had barely made its presence known in her womb and ruined Valentine’s body.

And Cassian, who used all of that and bitterly deceived her.

‘Cassian…’

Valentine gritted her teeth. She hated all of them, but the one she could never forgive was Cassian. Thus, Valentine de le Blumir swore to the pale moon.

“I will kill that person.”

She vowed that she would surely kill the one who had desecrated her love and devotion.

To this chilling resolve, the man asked back in a voice devoid of any inflection.

— Is that your second wish?

“…What?”

She asked back in a bewildered voice and looked down at her body. In her blurry vision, she saw her rotting body.

She tried moving her arms and legs. Misaligned bones creaked. Decayed skin crumbled and fell off like powder.

“The first one?”

— Didn’t I bring you back to life as you asked? Are you a dead person now?

If humans define being alive as having a beating heart, then Valentine was indeed alive right now.

However, unlike when she was in the pile of earth, she was alive but without the sensation of being alive. Her heart was clearly beating and she was breathing, but she was closer to a walking corpse.

— The wishes granted by a demon are extremely intuitive. You asked to be brought back to life, so I merely breathed life into your corpse. Am I wrong?

“…Ha.”

An incredulous laugh escaped her. Valentine’s neck turned. There was a clatter as misaligned bones twisted. Her decaying body spewed out unidentifiable substances. She could see maggots that had been feeding on her flesh dropping to the ground one by one. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant sensation.

— What is your next wish?

The demon urged in a seductive tone. A bizarre sensation that made her feel like she should blurt out some answer, completely entranced by that tone.

Valentine moved her fingertips. The decayed skin crumbled into powder, falling onto the abandoned grave.

Seeing this state, she needed to use the remaining two chances wisely.

“Can I wish for more wishes?”

— The absurdity a human soul can endure is limited to three times. I don’t engage in efforts without compensation either.

“……”

Her twisting heart spoke only of hatred and anger. Meanwhile, her cooling head mulled over the man’s words.

She couldn’t bring herself to ask for revenge against people. Looking at her current state, this demon might just go in front of her enemies and throw down only the word ‘revenge’.

Above all, she couldn’t do anything in this current form.

So, the next thing to wish for was decided.

“The year I first met Cassian, when I came up to Gabrienne…. The day before I first met Astaire. Return me to how I was then.”

At this specific request, the man came closer to her. He kissed her decayed, crumbling lips without hesitation. At the moment when his temperature, cold enough to freeze even her crumbling nails, was transmitted…

The extremities of her body came back to life. Sensations she had completely forgotten returned to her fingertips and toes.

The feeling of the wind wrapping around her body, the scent of the dark night, the sound of dust scattering, the man standing before her… all her senses, vividly revived, cried out.

She touched her cheek. She felt the softness of something alive, and a temperature that was a bit cold.

Valentine, finally taking in the man fully with both eyes, opened her lips.

“What should I call you?”

— Lucifer.

The one who once shone brightest in heaven. This demon was Valentine’s kindred, fallen and cursed by the Holy Father.

* * *

“What do you want me to say?”

Lucifer’s voice was dry and emotionless.

“If you want comfort, I’ll offer comfort. If you want advice, I’ll give advice.”

“…No, I don’t need either.”

Neither comfort nor advice would penetrate Valentine’s turbid heart.

Valentine took one step, splitting the night garden. The faces she had just seen and encountered flickered before her eyes. Count Glastia’s words clung to her ears, refusing to let go.

The whispers that blamed all of Astaire’s sins on Valentine.

People didn’t care much about what the truth was. A woman who seduced the emperor and plunged the country into ruin — what better topic could there be to gossip about?

People would recite the story of Madame Marguerite, not the truth, when they saw the Black Rose. Valentine de le Blumir would remain, forever, as the villainess of Sehera. That was unbearably painful.

“The stench of garbage… seems to be spreading.”

Valentine muttered through her teeth, clenching her fist tightly.

Only Count Glastia’s ugly mutterings echoed endlessly in her ears.

Although she had always been taught to love her country, she felt she could never love this barren land again that made her the scapegoat. Not just this country, but any human being.

“Lu.”

“Speak.”

“When all this is over.”

Valentine turned to Lucifer with sorrowful eyes.

“Kill me. Let me lie down in the grave I dug-up.”

Lucifer caressed Valentine’s cheek out of habit. The pitch-black gloom embraced the white cheek. A fragile, pitiful smile bloomed in the cold touch.

“That will be my last wish to you.”

There was neither affirmation nor denial. The red eyes just looked down at Valentine indifferently.

“But before that… I have things I must do.”

Lucifer finally opened his mouth.

“They say to prepare two graves when seeking revenge.”

“That’s right. But my grave has already been dug up, hasn’t it?”

Now, when even her soul wasn’t entirely her own. There was nothing left to lose, nothing left to discard.

So all that remained was to move forward.

“I was thinking of dealing with Liam first.”

Valentine’s eyes flashed red.

“But I’m going to take care of Count Glastia first.”

She had vowed to kill her enemies, but she had no intention of killing them easily. Death was the most generous mercy.

Those who commit sins should face appropriate punishment. She wanted to make them struggle in the abyss of life, deprived of what was more precious than their own lives. She would eat their flesh and cut their bones until they realized that death was the most merciful escape.

Just by the appearance of ‘Belle Laure’, who resembled Madame Marguerite, those who had sinned against her were already on edge. Despite knowing that a dead person couldn’t come back to life, they harbored doubts and constantly suspected.

That was the guilt of the living.

Hadn’t Amaryllis already proven it admirably? Even to the point of dropping her dignity as an Empress to the ground.

It wouldn’t be long before Liam’s eyes rolled back too, so she just had to wait for that.

But Count Glastia was ambiguous. He had dared to sharpen his blade against Lumière, but that was all.

From the start, the sin that Count Glastia had committed against Valentine was disturbing the peace of the dead and framing her to defend Astaire.

It was unlikely that this brazen fellow would feel the guilt of the living to that extent.

So it was right to pay him back directly.

‘The most precious thing to Count Glastia.’