“How was the contract terminated so neatly?” Jabi demanded. She still wore her hood low, keeping her face hidden.
This was the first time I’d seen her in quite a while—it had been a month since I’d cleanly terminated my contract with the demon, leaving no lingering effects.
“It was purified by a sacred beast,” I replied.
“I see. You relinquished your core. I’m curious as to what happened.”
I’d expected that question, so I was able to answer calmly. “I was forced to read the autobiography of a talentless, incompetent lady. The shocking plot twists and artistic skill were so overwhelming that the moment I lost all will to fight, my core was erased.” Jabi stared at me intently, as if trying to glean information from my expression. Of course, her hood meant our eyes never met. It was merely a feeling I had based on our long association, despite everything.
I wasn’t lying. It was undeniable that I’d lost my will to fight because of that scandalous novel. What on earth had happened between her time as a princess and her rebirth as Lady Laviange? I was too scared to ask.
“Then die,” Jabi said lightly. A crimson-black arrow appeared from nowhere, flying straight for me. My pointed miter hat was blown off, and the creature perched atop my head swiftly kicked the arrow away.
“Disappointing, I suppose. Normally I’d kill you to silence you but... What the hell is that?”
Of course, I couldn’t see anything but Jabi’s mouth, but there was no doubt she was staring at the top of my head. Her mouth twitched slightly. She was clearly grossed out.
No wonder. A new species of plant-type magical beast was parasitizing the top of my head, and I’d been hiding it and keeping it there with my miter. One of my old friend’s wives had to be grinning smugly as she straddled that magical beast’s back. I was sure the top of my head looked utterly chaotic.
Unbeknownst to me, the princess, in her current reincarnation as Lady Robur, had entered a pact with my old friend—a sacred beast now called Captain Dread. I wasn’t sure if it was a name or a nickname, but the one who’d set this parasite on my head was, of course, that very captain. And the wife in question was an alraune. While I hadn’t seen him in decades, my old friend had apparently jumped the gun and inherited the name of the sacred beast Drogolena as if it were his family name, and had taken alraunes, born from the previous beast’s seed, as his wives. And not just one, but five alraunes. He was a rotten bastard, but since they were plants, I supposed it was in their nature.
“What on earth is going on?” muttered Jabi. “That talentless, incompetent, runaway lady... Well, I suppose it was inevitable that I’d underestimate her. In my current state, I can’t stand up to a sacred beast head-on. But that alraune... It’s riding a sheep? A sheep but a plant? How pointlessly ambiguous...but it’s a magical beast, isn’t it? Yet including the type of magic it releases... Isn’t it all just too ridiculous?”
Jabi sighed. It was no wonder she was so dumbfounded and resigned. After all, a mini beast called a barometz, a sheeplike creature, had bundled the vines sprouting from its belly and rooted them into my head.
This was apparently the miniature magical beast version of the vehicle that Lady Lavi rode on, which she called Hi Ho Hi Ho—the creature Nax had mentioned seeing with Lady Lavi and Countess Faltan.
After I lost consciousness in the underground lab, the first thing I’d done upon waking was check my parasitized head in a mirror. Needless to say, I’d immediately used an illusion spell to hide it, but I also had to wear a miter—a tall hat exclusive to the office of pope—whenever I appeared in public, so the creature would be hidden even if the spell failed.
It was my personal secret that this was the first time I’d even been grateful for the position of pope, a role I had never once been happy to hold.
Incidentally, Lady Lavi had named this smaller sheep just Hi Ho, and whenever she saw it she would tear up nearby weeds and feed them to the creature.
Whether it was naming things or solving problems, she’d always been simplistic and shortsighted, even as the princess. Now that everyone called her Lady Lavi, the name Lily miraculously seemed perfectly normal. The power-up she’d gotten from her reincarnation had made her simplistic instincts terrifying.
The creature on my head looked like a sheep from any angle. Yet, as he had vines sprouting from his belly, he was undoubtedly a plant-type magical beast. The classification itself induced confusion. Despite his ridiculous appearance and his constant bouncing about, he was a bundle of holy magic. And incredibly aggressive. When he got mad at me, he would attack my head with his sharp hooves—he was a magical beast that demanded constant vigilance.
Incidentally, whenever one of Captain Dread’s wives appeared, they inevitably mounted him, triggering a rampaging sheep event at least once.
Even I wondered what was happening on top of my head. I was praying in earnest for the first time since joining the church as an apprentice priest that the commotion on my head might someday subside.
It was quite, ahem, immoral. If I didn’t read aloud at night from the racy novels that highlighted Lady Lavi’s tastes, the sheep wouldn’t sleep and would protest by bouncing around. The sleep deprivation had become so severe that I just gave in. Sneakily reading scandalous novels in the middle of the night? I wanted to ask just what kind of adolescent boy this sheep thought he was.
From Nax’s account, this sheep had originally been derived from a large, migratory plant-type magical beast that withered quickly. Being cultivated into a parasitic magical beast had apparently extended the species’ lifespan. That was, of course, thanks to my old friend.
“I pride myself on having the most terrifying—ahem, the strongest guard,” I told Jabi. “It’s a gift from a sacred beast, after all.”
This gift had clearly been given in anticipation that the demon would reappear and attempt to kill me. Since the sheep provided round-the-clock protection, I should be grateful. And I was, but every time I looked in the mirror I couldn’t help but resentfully wish they could have done this another way...
“Ugh, sacred beasts again. Truly annoying. And it attached itself to you using Beljeanne’s hair. My restrictions work especially strongly whenever it involves things or creatures connected to her—including you. It’s even worse since she seemed to care deeply for you.” The vision of my old friend with dark magic power streamed directly into my mind—of the princess searching for me after reincarnating as Lady Lavi—and before I knew it, a smile spilled over my lips.
“What a pity,” Jabi continued. “If you’d managed to fulfill the contract with me back then, you could’ve taught that troublesome Beljeanne a lesson. But soon enough, you won’t have any bodyguards left.”
“Ah, this is the type that sprouts again immediately after withering. Thanks to the sacred beast’s power, it’s supposed to last more or less permanently.”
“But are you really okay with that?”
“Of course,” I replied with a chuckle. Though hidden by her hood, Jabi’s gaze was undoubtedly fixed on the top of my head. I couldn’t stop my eyes from darting around. It wasn’t good, but I’d endure it. Touching the princess’s heart had finally filled my own emptiness. I’d learned I hadn’t been abandoned by her.
“Well, I suppose I have no choice,” Jabi muttered. “I’ll go now. You are the true architect of keeping me here, so I’ll let you off just this once. As long as you don’t interfere with my complete revival, we’ll likely never meet again in your remaining human life.”
No sooner had she spoken than she vanished.
“Well, that was rather abrupt...” I couldn’t help frowning. For a demon’s exit, it was far too...
I recalled the moment I’d first heard the demon’s whisper, after the princess had died. Unable to accept her death, I’d returned to the hut where we’d lived. No one had come for weeks. The only one who’d stayed with me was the mandrake—the princess had been friends with it and raised it as a guard dog.
“You must hate me for taking away your beloved Beljeanne. This country chose to make your true savior, your beloved, the villain. They chose self-preservation. If you revive me, I’ll give you the chance to bring the dead back to life,” a hoarse, raspy voice had said. That must’ve been Jabi’s true voice. I understood the meaning of her words immediately. It was exactly the sort of thing the rotten royal family and the Four Dukes would do.
Even now I couldn’t forgive them for that. And that righteous crown prince? He’d summoned a demon, after all.
But initially, the overwhelming grief and emptiness of being left behind by the princess had far outweighed any simmering hatred. I’d sat silently beside my friend in front of the hut, consumed by memories of the princess, and resolved to simply wither away.
And yet, when I heard that voice, the embers of hatred had been reignited.
“The princess... Is it true?” I’d asked.
“Look. The offering has arrived. Use that thing which tormented your beloved to the very end to grant me a vessel for my soul. See? What I hold is a lock of your beloved’s hair. Accept the power dwelling within my fading thoughts. I shall restore your beloved, and ensure you yourself regain the status befitting that achievement, along with the honor you were stripped of. This time, your beloved will love you as a man.”
It had been Sriarde who’d staggered into the abandoned palace just then, looking like a criminal. Her once glorious crimson hair was now matted and tangled, stained a dull, dirty red. Yet her eyes—a deep purple that had long seethed with hatred for the princess—burned with an even more murderous, bloodshot fury.