The Holy Emperor’s intent was as transparent as glass.

Faced with something he hadn’t even considered, Anankeus stiffened.
Sensing his reaction, the Holy Emperor softened his voice, as if to coax him.

“I am well aware of your devotion—of your loyalty to me and to Saint Arboas.”

And thus, an order disguised as a gentle request fell from his lips.

Anankeus stood with his head bowed, silently listening as the words went on.

“But it is for that very reason… that I ask you to treat her kindly—for the sake of Arboas.”

That gentle murmur echoed in his ears. At the same time, the image of her naturally came to mind.

A noble appearance befitting the title of “princess.” A suffocating scent that seemed created solely to tempt others. And those strangely mournful, emotionless red eyes.

Everything about her was—maddeningly—beautiful. So much so that his instincts refused to let her go. Or rather, he didn’t want to forget her.

The Holy Emperor’s kind yet commanding voice, in that moment, took on an eerie, bewitching tone. And in that absurd moment, the inescapable order continued:

“Give her the tenderness she’s never known. Let her glimpse a world she’s never seen. And when the fever that consumes her finally fades, show her that a rapturous world awaits just beyond it.”

In other words—

He would not be punished for rolling around like a beast with her under the excuse of her Season of Frenzy. That was the reason she had been given as spoils of war in the first place.

“Make her trust you. Make her give you all her affection. Make it so she can’t even breathe in a world without you in it.”

And then, when the time comes, she will uncover the most vital secret hidden within Belphegor’s impenetrable fortress — the secret that she will hold in her hands.

Of course, it was hard not to wonder if such a thing was even possible.

Just as Anankeus, born in the Holy Nation, had been raised to despise the demon realm and its people from birth, so the demons, born in their own realm, were no different.

From the outset, the long and bitter war between the two nations had never been merely about territorial conquest. It stemmed from something far deeper: a chasm carved by generations of hatred towards an alien race.

It was a pit of pure loathing, born not of reason, but of deep-seated contempt.

There were simply too many differences and too much history for reconciliation to ever be more than a distant dream.

The Holy Nation of Arboas was a centralized state, ruled by a Holy Emperor and twelve High Priests. Meanwhile, the Demon Realm of Arcadia, which pledged allegiance to the Demon King in the capital city of Abyss, was a confederation of eight great cities, each with its own autonomy.

The Holy Nation of Arboas was polytheistic, worshipping thirteen gods beginning with the primordial deity of the Void.

In contrast, the Demon Realm practised monotheism, honouring only the First God.

The holy people of the Holy Nation and the demons of the Demon Realm were undoubtedly two distinct races.

There is no need to list every difference. Their deep-rooted hatred and animosity began from the moment their races diverged.

Ultimately, these two races are eternal enemies. This harrowing hatred will never fade until one race is utterly annihilated.

“Anankeus, you understand the gravity of this matter. Regrettably, there is no one else I trust to carry it out but you.”

The Holy Emperor’s languid murmur carved itself into his ears. The hand gently resting on his shoulder now tightened its grip.

“I trust in your deep-rooted steadfastness and integrity. So please, do not disappoint me.”

Thus, the wedge was driven in—firm and unyielding.

“If we can just bring down Belphegor, we’ll be able to strike at the very heart of the demon realm—Abyss. And once Abyss falls into our hands, it’s only a matter of time. A thousand-year dream… will finally be realized by our hands.”

This is the dream of every holy being living on this land. Their ultimate triumph and the annihilation of the demons. This would mark the end of the gruelling thousand-year war.

“……”

Anankeus gave no reply. He only bowed his head in silence. He, too, wished for victory in this endless war. He, too, longed for the demons’ complete eradication.

From the moment he was born as one of the holy race, that was the only path set before him. Having risen to the rank of High Priest, there was no other way.

He had never seen, nor been taught, any other path. So even if the command was one he did not wish to follow—it was still his duty to obey. All for their victory.

***

But there was one thing the Holy Emperor had overlooked.

They showed blind devotion to the Holy Empire of Saint Arboas.

The young, fragile-looking woman, too, remained unwaveringly loyal to the Demon Realm of Arcadia. Perhaps, as the emperor had deduced, this was because she had been shaped by years of brutal ab*se.

She obeyed her father’s order to sacrifice her life without hesitation. She didn’t seem to think the order was unjust.

She slit her wrist with the knife provided for meals. She tried to hang herself with the scarf she had been given. In winter, she deliberately submerged her head in her lavish bath.

She would willingly rush towards any weapon she saw in someone’s hand. She even tried to throw herself out of the window.

However, every attempt was unsuccessful.

Eventually, she was confined to a barren room containing nothing at all.

She refused to eat.

It was the only way left to end her own life.

“She didn’t eat again today?”

Tap.

The muffled thud of fur-lined winter boots echoed along the corridor, hinting at irritation.

Solon, the senior priest who had served under Anankeus for many years, could easily sense the emotion.

Cold sweat trickled down his spine.

“Yes, she hasn’t touched a single bite of food — or even a sip of water.”

At this report, Anankeus’s lips curled slightly and unpleasantly.

It had been nearly a week, hadn’t it?

This ridiculous hunger strike.

Her body shouldn’t have lasted this long.

In fact, it was a miracle she was still alive.

Her body had never been strong to begin with, especially with the tendons missing from her ankles.

With the heat of her Frenzy still raging inside her, she must be in agony.

“……”

Anankeus clicked his tongue without realizing it. He had thought the same thing back in front of Belphegor’s grand fortress. She was not, by any means, an easy one.

At last, his hand flew toward the shut door, his gesture sharp.

Bang!

The thick iron door groaned as it shuddered under the impact.

At the heavy sound, the small figure sprawled on the floor stirred slightly—her bright red eyes flickering weakly.

Step. Step.

Footsteps echoed through the faintly moonlit room. Sensing a presence, the blue butterflies that had lingered nearby, heedless of the season, scattered all at once.

A heady, seductive scent assaulted his nose.

Following the fluttering wings with his gaze, Anankeus turned his head. There she was, collapsed on the bare floor.

Her jet-black hair writhed across the stone floor like snakes. She looked so pitifully withered now that she didn’t appear to have the strength to lift a single finger.

He glanced at the lavish meal sitting untouched nearby — a spread far too extravagant for the setting. Despite the enticing aroma, she hadn’t eaten so much as a crumb. Not even a spoon had been touched.

The meal was as pristine as when it had first been laid out.

“Are you planning to starve to death like this?”

His voice, though quiet, carried a harsh edge.

“Is this how you plan to carry out your father’s orders, so loyally?”

The stubborn female gave no answer. No—she didn’t even pretend to hear him.

With a sharp sigh, Anankeus picked up the cup of water on the floor. He easily flipped her feeble body over and held her down.

Her lips, dry and pale, were forced open. He poured the water into the trembling gap between her lips.

She was so limp she couldn’t even resist.

Half the water spilled down her chin, but the rest slipped into her mouth.

He pressed firmly beneath her jaw—gulp—the water passed down her throat.

Only after forcing the entire cup of water down her throat did Anankeus finally release the female.

As soon as she slipped from his grasp, she broke into a fit of coughing, gasping as if she’d just emerged from a brutal battle.

Tears welled and clung stubbornly to her wide eyes.

Having achieved his goal, Anankeus let the cup fall from his hand.

Clang. Clang. Clang…

The sound rang out loudly, echoing like a scream.

Amid that wretched clamor, his sunken voice resonated through the room.

“You.”

At that moment, the woman finally responded to the call. She lifted her head and met his gaze.

Her teary gaze, ragged with suppressed sobs, was beautiful. Even her sorrowful eyes seemed to emit that unbearable scent.

For a brief moment, Anankeus became aware of this. The thighs he had pressed down to restrain her felt burning hot. It was as though the fever of her frenzy had transferred to his hands.

But he forced himself to ignore every signal his body was sending.

He left only a cold threat behind.

“If you keep up this pointless rebellion, you’ll end up eating what I chewed and spat out.”