After lying in bed for four full days, I finally began to recover. My malnourished body had nearly succumbed to a cold. Thankfully, the illness that almost killed me stopped short of pneumonia—I barely clung to life. Breathing grew easier, my throat no longer ached, and most importantly, my appetite returned.
"Open wide, ah~~~~~"
Obediently, I opened my mouth and gulped down the spoonful of congee Lilia offered. Seeing me eat properly, Lilia beamed with joy. When had we grown so close? The moment she saw me, she rushed into a hug—my face met the unyielding impact of her chest plate.
"Finally meeting you in person—it’s a little sister! For some reason, I’m so excited!"
Though I wasn’t sure what Lilia meant by "even better," it probably wasn’t anything bad. Lilia visited daily. Today’s congee held dried shrimp and pumpkin. The combo tasted odd, but better than hunger. I slurped down her specially made bowl after bowl—I hadn’t eaten my fill in ages. Hungry days might return, so I’d eat while I could.
"Victoria," Lilia said, pulling out a book, "Big sister will read you a story."
Her bright smile and hopeful eyes left me unable to refuse. The fairy tale she chose—a prince, a princess, happily ever after—felt painfully childish. For someone who’d endured unimaginable suffering and twenty years of paralysis, such stories held no charm. Happiness isn’t handed to you. It’s earned. A happiness built on fantasy is just a mirage, destined to crumble.
"The story’s done. Time to rest," Lilia murmured, removing my propping pillow. "Good night, Victoria."
She left, closing the door softly.
Footsteps faded down the hall. Silence filled the spacious room. I stared at the shadow-draped ceiling and sighed. Then—the darkness swirled, forming a black cat with eyes like molten gold, eerily similar to my own.
"Feeling better, Victoria?"
"Much better," I said, stroking its head. "Thank you, Chris, for staying with me."
"Hmph. I haven’t recouped my investment. If you died, it’d be troublesome."
Classic tsundere. This demon could be surprisingly cute.
"Many kids have imaginary friends while growing up," I murmured toward the ceiling. "Sometimes I wonder… are you just in my head? The thought terrifies me—I fear you’ll vanish and leave me alone again."
"Don’t worry, Victoria," the cat nuzzled my hand. "You are mine. I’ll walk with you to life’s end, then claim your soul. It’s our contract—have you forgotten?"
Forgotten? How could I?
But Aleister knew something. That deceased mage was often goofy, yet his knowledge and power were undeniably real. He’d mentioned my pact with Chris and insisted I reaffirm it upon adulthood. A flaw in our demonic contract? Unease coiled in my chest.
I wasn’t afraid of Chris taking my soul. I feared abandonment.
In despair, I prayed to the gods. They ignored me, leaving me to burn. Chris answered my hatred, pulled me back through time, granted me revenge. These past months, I’ve wondered: what are we? I don’t know. Not yet. But having Chris beside me is enough.
Holding that quiet wish, I drifted into dreamless sleep.
I woke at dawn. Sweet breath brushed my cheek. Before me: a serene face, golden hair shimmering like liquid sun, delicate features with androgynous grace. Chris, in human form, lay beside me in thin sleepwear—a slightly protruding chest hinting at budding femininity. Wait… *her* chest?!
But wasn’t Chris a boy?
"Chris" could be Christopher or Christine. From the start, Chris played a word game, hiding their true gender. Now—a perfect chance to confirm!
Maybe I should…
"Victoria," Chris gazed at me with a mischievous smirk, "Abyssal Demons have no gender. But since you’re a girl, taking female form makes sleeping beside you more convenient."
What twisted logic! …Still, warmth bloomed in my chest. Chris considered me.
Just then—the door creaked open. I yanked the blanket over Chris. A plump maid tiptoed in, mana stone lamp in hand. Maids of the Lude household never treated me kindly—they’d once dumped dirty water on me from the second floor.
"Awake, young lady?" she whispered.
Cradling Chris, I feigned sleep. Her fingers gently brushed my forehead. Satisfied I had no fever, she slipped out. Once footsteps vanished, I lifted the blanket. A black cat popped out, tail flicking my hair playfully.
"Hah, Victoria—trying to suffocate me?"
That tone. The usual Chris. Gentle when female-formed, but tsundere was Chris’s core.
"Waking this early isn’t good for a patient," the cat licked its paw. "I’ll scavenge dried fish from the kitchen. Sleep more."
It leaped off the bed and melted into shadow.
Alone again, I traced the blanket still warm from Chris’s presence. A deep loneliness crept in.
Even if you’re a demon… you’re my only companion.
I willingly sank deeper into this sweet trap.
Three days later—exactly one week at the Duke’s manor. Lilia visited daily, brewing increasingly bizarre congee. Today: pork floss, cream, whole shrimp. Unique texture. I slurped a full bowl; Lilia’s eyes sparkled.
"Young mistress," the maid finally sighed, pushing up her glasses, "Next time… please follow the recipe?"
Huh? Recipe?
I paused. Lilia’s gaze drifted upward at a 45-degree angle—shifty, guilty.
"I’m sorry, Victoria!" She clasped her hands. "You always finish it… I never dared say—I can’t cook! I made it by feel, no idea if it tasted good… If it’s bad, *please* tell me!"
Ah. So *that’s* why broccoli and mushrooms appeared today.
"It’s okay," I rushed to soothe her. "Having food is happiness enough. Before, I hid in the attic gnawing stale bread—winter bread hard as stone, soaked in cold water to eat. Now… warm congee every day. I’m truly happy."
"Waaah, Victoria~~~~" Lilia sobbed, crushing me in a hug. Congee nearly spilled. "Poor child! Big sister’s got you! Anyone bullies you—I’ll crush them!"
…Should I call her sister-in-law? But this swordswoman’s embrace was pure strangulation for a frail six-year-old. Can’t… breathe…
"Young mistress," the maid adjusted her glasses calmly, "You’re squeezing too tight. The young lady can’t breathe."
"Eh?! S-sorry, Victoria~~~"
Lilia’s voice faded as my vision went black.
That afternoon, Doctor Kelly checked my leg. The hairline fracture held, but malnutrition slowed healing. Bed rest only. No walking.
So… boring.
Memories flashed: scrambling for survival in the Lude attic. Using Observer Unit 2 to sneak into the kitchen—only to find stolen scraps tangled in spiderwebs and rat droppings.
Ah—Observer Unit 2!
I opened the Item Vault, pulling the Observer from the spatial rift. Its metallic shell reflected my golden eyes—like the demon lord’s own gaze. These eyes reminded me: past suffering hadn’t vanished. This fragile happiness was charity. If the giver withdrew it, I’d plummet into a hell with no return. To avoid being cast aside by the Duke’s house, I must secure my own standing. Then—I’d use this foothold to execute my revenge.
I will brand those who burned me alive with a demonic mark… and cast them mercilessly into eternal damnation.
