Chapter 15: The Doll
It was a rare day of good weather in the Demon City. The early morning sun pierced through the heavy curtains and fell upon the bedding, its warmth causing Nelly to turn over in her sleep.
The arm around her waist immediately tightened, and a voice, husky and alluring, whispered close to her ear, “Awake?”
Nelly bit her lip and gave a soft reply, appearing somewhat shy.
Karsus let out a low chuckle. The slight vibration pressed against her back, seeming to evoke some memory from a hazy dream, causing her cheeks to flush several shades deeper.
“I love you, Nelly.” Karsus’s inky black hair brushed against her shoulder, a slight tickle.
Nelly lowered her eyes, lost in thought.
Unsatisfied with her reaction, Karsus rested his chin in the crook of her neck, his tone colder than before. “You are mine.”
“Mhm.”
Still not satisfied.
“Nn! Kal… Kal…”
“You are mine. Whatever you want, I will give it to you.”
In the midst of the chaos, the young woman tilted her head back, her breath ragged. She turned her face away, and during the brief interval as he lowered his head to kiss her, she cast her eyes down. Her deep-sea colored eyes were numb and empty, but a ripple gradually began to form. A clear, sharp light flashed and was gone. Her hand, hanging at her side, clenched the silk bed curtain tightly, then finally let go.
She then curled her fingers, her nails digging into her palm.
※
The royal capital of Wildia, Mez, had been in an uproar for the past few days:
The kingdom’s little princess, known as the Rose Princess, Rosalia, had disappeared.
The news had been circulating in the streets and alleys for three whole days. From post-service pleasantries to market gossip, everyone was talking about the whereabouts of the beautiful and intelligent princess. The royal family remained tight-lipped about the matter, which only fueled the rampant rumors.
On the fourth day, the Lord Chamberlain finally posted a notice on behalf of His Majesty the King, announcing that Princess Rosalia had unfortunately been abducted by the evil Demon King Karsus. The esteemed Clovis II, the great king favored by the three goddesses, in the name of the Merloh dynasty and the continent of Wildia, called upon all heroes to travel to the Demon’s Lair on the frontier and defeat the long-reigning Demon King. The hero who slayed the Demon King would receive the King’s most generous reward and the blessings of the gods.
Not just Mez, but the entire continent was in a frenzy over this notice.
The most generous reward? The only things that came to mind were fiefs, titles, and… the princess herself.
Business at the blacksmiths in Mez boomed overnight. The forges ran nonstop, masters and apprentices working tirelessly to craft the best equipment, sparks flying. The west side of the city, where the weapon and armor shops were concentrated, was sweltering in the early spring heat, and the flowering trees by the walls bloomed overnight due to the temperature.
Those who sought equipment from blacksmiths were mostly mercenaries and other nameless figures. The true knights were already geared up and ready to go, embarking on their journey with spears and swords, on horseback, accompanied by their squires.
As they left the city, the knights’ armor shone brightly, more dazzling than the stars in the night sky. Capes of various colors unfurled in the wind, the family crests embroidered on them magnificent and heroic. They were bathed in the cheers of the people and a rain of flowers. Young women, their heads covered by hoods, secretly watched the heroes’ valiant figures, their cheeks flushed and their eyes red-rimmed.
After traveling day and night for over half a month, the first group of heroes finally arrived at the Demon City.
The people of the slums, as if they had seen messengers of the goddesses descend to earth, all prayed for them and offered everything they could gather as gifts. The knights, of course, did not accept the gifts. Instead, they generously distributed food and clothing to the people suffering from hunger and poverty.
After a short rest, the knights cut a path through the thorns, slaying the monsters of the Demon’s Forest, and charged straight up the hundred steps of the Demon’s Lair.
The drawbridge was raised high, and a bottomless chasm separated the heroes from the main gate of the Demon’s Lair. The thunderous sound of water could be faintly heard from below, and just standing and listening would make the faint of heart’s legs tremble. Some hesitated and temporarily retreated to set up camp outside the city, but many more chose to charge straight in.
The rust-red gate was forcibly smashed open, then slammed shut with a muffled thud.
The dull sound reached Nelly’s ears. She blinked, looking around, appearing somewhat bewildered. She stepped onto the cold stone floor with her bare feet, paused again, and looked down at the rise and fall of her silk skirt, frowning as if trying hard to remember something.
But she soon gave up and slowly walked to the wall, instinctively searching for the source of the sound she had just heard. It was a room with no doors. Even if she had determined the direction of the disturbance, there was no way for her to investigate.
There was a faint clanging sound, and then everything sank back into silence. Fortunately, it seemed her curiosity was only a whim, and she had no intention of delving deeper. Soon, her attention shifted again.
The valley outside the long row of pointed windows looked like the spine of a beast under the dark red sky, its form massive and silent. They had been asleep for too long, so long that they had even forgotten to wake from their long dream. Nelly quietly gazed at the inexplicably desolate scenery, something in her heart on the verge of surfacing. But this sense of incongruity quickly disappeared, melting into the light, floating warmth that enveloped her entire body.
She wasn’t supposed to be thinking, anyway.
A flock of crows circled in the air, endlessly looping. Nelly’s gaze involuntarily followed the black birds as they skimmed the mountainside, flew toward the depths of the valley, and finally returned to their starting point. She didn’t know why, but the perfect circle drawn by their wings made her feel powerless and sad.
One raven broke away from the flock. She became excited, her eyes fixed on that tiny dot, watching it drift further and further away in the mountain wind, becoming a slowly sinking black mole on the setting red sun.
At that moment, Nelly felt as if she were that raven, breaking through the invisible shackles, flying toward the blood-red sunset, her wings consumed by the scorching flames, yet gaining a new life.
Her expression was blank. Standing in the sunset, she looked like a doll bathed in the colorful light of a stained-glass window. She reached out and pushed open the window. The cool wind rushed in, messing up her hair. Her fingers passed through the gap in the window frame, touching the early summer evening breeze. She couldn’t help but push the window open wider, leaning on the frame to look down.
The smooth outer wall of the fortress stretched downward, ending in a sunless abyss.
What would it feel like to fall?
The thought had barely sprouted before it was cut off. Someone pressed against her from behind, the arms around her waist squeezing her painfully.
Kal whispered softly against her earlobe, “What are you looking at?”
Only then did Nelly realize that her body had grown cold in the evening wind, and the chest pressed tightly against her back felt scorching. She subconsciously shrank forward, but he held her in his arms from behind, his lips traveling down from behind her ear, planting lingering imprints.
“Nothing,” Nelly’s voice was barely audible.
But Kal chuckled softly. The wide-open window creaked and swung upward, opening on its own until the hinges were on the verge of breaking. He effortlessly changed his position, sweeping Nelly up into his arms and deftly sitting on the windowsill.
He held her on his lap, his feet dangling outside the window, his heels tapping idly against the castle wall.
Sitting at such a height, facing the endless emptiness, the only things Nelly could cling to were Kal’s shoulders and chest. Her body acted more composed than her mind, and she naturally wrapped her arms around the black-haired young man’s neck. The parts where their skin touched were warm, but the parts exposed to the wind were cold.
After a brief moment of disorientation, Nelly grew bolder and looked down into the depths of the chasm, which was almost swallowed by the night. Her heart beat faster, each thump loud, as if it were right next to her ear. Nelly couldn’t tell if it was because of the dangerous height or because she was once again stirred by the overwhelming scent that belonged only to Kal.
She couldn’t help but turn her head to look up at him.
The ambiguous light of dusk softened the young man’s profile. He gazed at her, his eyes lit by the last rays of the setting sun, the fierce and fiery red burning straight into her heart.
Kal couldn’t help but lower his head to kiss her. It was a meticulous and lingering kiss, unusually lacking in aggression.
Nelly was very submissive. She didn’t push him away, and amidst the entanglement of their lips and tongues, she let out a sound that grew increasingly rapid, low, like a sigh. But this emotion did not reach her eyes. In a fleeting glance, Kal saw the color of the girl’s eyes beneath her lashes, as calm as a waveless lake. It gave him the illusion that he was kissing a doll.
He stopped, his words coy and cold. “Hold on tight.”
Nelly’s eyes widened in confusion.
The next moment, Kal pushed off with his feet and, holding her, leaped from the windowsill.