Bari’s eyes locked onto Rogue, cursing like a sailor. She seemed desperate to see anger flicker across his face.

When Rogue remained unmoved, she tore at her noble gown. Pale skin spilled free, her well-developed chest bared to the air. No one could fathom her thoughts.

Slowly, her movements and voice settled into stillness.

"Tch. Boring." Bari pouted, turning her head away, all enthusiasm gone. "Aren’t you supposed to avenge your family? Brutally torture me until I die? You’re colder than I imagined, old man."

Rogue’s expression didn’t shift. Not even a ripple stirred in his eyes. He looked at her like a clown begging for laughter.

A gleaming knife appeared in his hand. "Last warning. I ask, you answer. Or scream for help now. Otherwise, save your goodness for the next life."

"Fine, fine. I get it. Ask away." Bari ignored his threat, leaving her body exposed as she slumped against the wall.

Rogue crouched beside her. From afar, it looked like he meant to assault the girl.

Since she’d cooperate, he asked, "Where’s your family’s library?"

"The second-tallest building in the west wing. Next to my father’s chambers." Bari’s voice was flat. Before she finished, Rogue’s fist slammed into her stomach. Blood sprayed from her mouth as she curled on the floor, clutching her gut.

A grin split her lips. "Heh. So you already searched there. Shame I couldn’t fool you."

"So where *is* it?"

"The basement beneath my father’s room. If you’re after our family secrets... good luck getting them."

Rogue didn’t doubt her. In this world, books were sacred. Sword techniques, magic, skills—all were etched onto scrolls.

Shifting topics, he asked about Lilitha. "The Young Dragon Princess your family sold. Who bought her?"

"Eh? You’re interested in her too, old man?" At Lilitha’s name, Bari’s words tumbled out like a floodgate opening.

"Let me tell you, that little dragon was *perfect*. All that ‘noble Dragon Clan’ nonsense? A joke. They’re born slaves. Heal so fast you can’t kill them. Even when she was half-dead at night, she’d be chattering again in two days."

"She’d scream the moment I hit her. Know what’s cutest? Sometimes I’d get tired and stop. She’d think screaming louder made me stop! After that, she’d sob and beg me to hit her louder. Ha! It killed me!"

"Dragon healing is insane. I hammered nails into her body once. No healing magic—yet the wounds closed anyway. Amazing! And her blood? Silvery-red. So pretty!"

"Her horns too. I tried cutting them with enchanted steel blades. Couldn’t break them. Ridiculously tough. Pity Father sent her away last month. Miss seeing her teeter on the edge of breaking. Dunno who bought her. If you want a rare slave like that, I’ve got a leftover elf. But the merchant caravan tonight will take her tomorrow."

Bari finished, flushed with excitement, lost in memory. She glanced at Rogue—only to find him deep in thought, utterly unmoved by her tales.

After a pause, Rogue looked up. "Anything else?"

"Else what?" Bari frowned.

Rogue: "How you tortured that Young Dragon Princess. I want to hear more."

"Oho! So you like that too, old man?" Bari’s eyes lit up, forgetting Rogue could end her life any second. She spilled every detail about Lilitha.

Sadly, it was all torture. Nothing about how Lilitha was captured.

In short: a living hell.

Only the Silver Dragon King’s Pendant—pouring endless healing into her—and the dragon’s own resilient body kept Lilitha alive. Even her mind hovered on the brink of shattering.

*She’s barely a teenager. What she did... unforgivable.*

Bari’s voice grew tired. "Oh! I thought of something even better, old man. If that dragon heals so fast... what if I gouged out one eye, then stuffed the other one into its socket? What would happen?"

"Shame I never got to try."

"Hmm..." Rogue stroked his chin, staring into Bari’s eyes. "You could still try."

"What do you mean?"

"What you just described."

A smile spread across Rogue’s face. He’d planned to kill her. Now he changed his mind.

*Death would be too kind.*

He clapped twice. No.5 shuffled in from the hallway. Rogue turned to it. "I don’t know what you are. But as my creation, you understand me. Take her. No noise. And don’t let her die."

Puppet No.5 nodded sharply. Its mechanical limbs hissed with writhing tendrils.

As Rogue stepped outside, muffled screams and frantic thrashing filled the room.

Moonlight spilled over Bari and No.5.

On the floor, their elongated shadows showed a small figure pinned down, hands clawing at a massive arm, legs kicking wildly. Fear made the shadow tremble.

*Riiip.*

A thick tendril plunged into the shadow’s mouth. An eyeball, dripping with fluids, was yanked from the socket. Another tendril, coiled around a second eyeball, forced it in.

Droplets fell from the shadow’s chin. It curled up, clutching its eyes, howling soundlessly, shaking uncontrollably.

"Master... what’s happening in there?" Higor approached, blood still crusted on his lips.

Rogue shook his head, smiling faintly. "Nothing. Just my guard knocking that girl unconscious."

"You look troubled. Something wrong?"

"Nothing. Just wondering... are all humans like this? What I’ve seen on this journey... it defies belief."

Before returning to the surface, Rogue—a human himself—had imagined his kin with longing.

Rising with the sun, resting at dusk. Races thriving together in harmony.

The Demon Lord Fortress’s brutality had made amnesiac Rogue crave the opposite: human kindness.

*Demons are strong but evil. Humans are weak but kind.*

Cruelty. Slavery. Cold stares. Mockery. The powerful treating the weak like livestock, basking in bloodstained privilege. The powerless accepting it, sneering at each other, clinging to mere survival.

Everywhere he looked, reality mocked his dreams.

"Higor."

Rogue called his name.

"Yes, Master?"

"Forget my title. What do you think of humans?"