The Dog Collar
“Darling.”
Sitri’s lips twitched.
“Have you lost your mind?”
Not even the false laughter she usually poured out so freely could leave her mouth now.
“Do I look like it?”
“Did you catch some idiot virus in your lungs while you were briefly up north? Or are you actually under the delusion that I’ve fallen for you just because I keep calling you darling?”
Plenty of humans had fallen for that delusion before.
But Ferda was not the type.
Which was precisely why Sitri had never been this rattled by anyone.
“I know your fatal secret.”
“The only thing about me that deserves the word ‘fatal’ is my charm.”
The greater the secret, the less one lets it show.
The more critical the matter for a nation—or the more it threatens those in power—the more thoroughly it is buried.
Demons were no different.
Even they could not escape the laws of secrecy.
“There’s a story that goes like this.”
A story from a far later time.
Ferda had been gathering every scrap of information he could for his magical research.
Among those records were accounts of Hell itself.
Recollections of the moments when the seven Great Demons of Hell had felt threatened.
A complete compilation of the fatal mistakes they had made and the weaknesses that had been exposed.
The demons called it the Deviromicon.
It looked like a document handling matters of the gravest importance, yet even humans could access it.
The reason was simple.
It was both a firm resolve never to repeat the same mistakes and, at the same time, a trap for the foolish.
Those who peered into the Deviromicon hoping to seize a demon’s weakness always ended up on the receiving end instead.
The result of arrogantly believing that they alone would be different.
But Ferda truly had been different.
He had read that demon history a full fifteen years later.
And what he was reciting now was the story of what had happened in between.
“There’s this ridiculous tale about how the Great Demon Sitri, while carousing as usual, had her Life Vessel stolen by one of the countless children she had spawned.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Sitri tilted her head.
“You don’t know the story?”
“Of course not. I can’t make head or tail of whatever nonsense darling is spouting.”
“Is that so?”
As befitting a demon of temptation, her mask was excellent.
Ferda leisurely studied her face, waiting for the moment that mask would crack.
“Then I’ll just take Penelope over to the Magic Society.”
“The Magic Society…?”
“You know full well how much those people despise demons. What do you think will happen if I hand her over? Especially if I tell them she’s not just any demon, but one who holds the weakness of the Great Demon Sitri herself?”
Ferda spoke as if singing.
“They’ll search Penelope’s body thoroughly. It’ll take time, but eventually they’ll reach the truth. And when that happens—”
“Stop.”
Sitri cut him off.
The atmosphere flipped in an instant.
The silken thread of seduction that had been winding around Ferda only moments before now felt like cold thorns.
“Who was it?”
Sitri’s mask shattered.
“Which bastard handed you that secret?”
Her gaze burned.
It felt as if she were straining with all her might to peer straight into Ferda’s insides.
“Doesn’t seem like it was my daughter, at least. If that stupid girl had said anything or even dropped a hint, she would have already returned to my hands.”
“Is it impossible that I simply figured it out myself?”
“I’m not underestimating you. But I’m not overestimating you either. There’s no way a mere human would know something even the Grand Dukes still don’t.”
“You’ve stopped calling me darling. Getting impatient?”
“Yeah, I am. Answer quickly. Unless you want to burn forever in Hell.”
Sitri threatened him with her long nails.
“Don’t threaten me. Do you want to end up a dung fly yourself?”
Demons of Hell had their rules, and those rules grew stricter the higher one rose toward the rank of Great Demon.
Climbing was difficult, but falling took only an instant.
“You think I won’t do it?”
Her sharp nail pressed hard into Ferda’s skin.
“You violated the terms of our deal. I asked you to hand Penelope over, and now you’re using her to screw me over.”
Ferda answered calmly.
“You asked me to rescue Penelope. And I did.”
“No. I clearly told you to send her to me. This is a breach of contract, Regent.”
Ferda snorted.
“Didn’t you break it as well?”
“What?”
“You said you would send ‘all of us’ back safely. But I never escaped that place. What do you intend to do about that?”
“Obviously I should have killed Penelope. Reverse-summoning her to Hell would have settled it.”
“And if I simply didn’t know that? You set the condition of rescue. And I safely rescued her. If anything, you’re the one in breach.”
“Are you trying to play word games?”
“Isn’t that what you lot love most?”
The word games of demons.
How many people had been seduced and killed by them?
“If it bothers you that much…”
Ferda crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair.
“Let’s take it to trial.”
When contractual disputes arose, they could be settled in the Demon Tribunal.
And Sitri would certainly win.
But would she actually bring it to court?
She could not.
The moment the words “Life Vessel” left that man’s mouth, her shame would be exposed to the entire world.
Sitri fell silent.
She had been thoroughly checkmated.
“You said it yourself. Even a demonkin can become a fine dog if you just put a proper collar on it.”
Ferda allowed himself a faint sneer.
“It seems demons can make excellent dogs as well.”
“Heh…”
Sitri let out a laugh.
“Heheheh! Hahahaha!!”
She burst into wild laughter.
Had she finally snapped?
“You know what, Oppa?”
“……Oppa?”
“Oppa, you’re being incredibly sexy right now.”
The false seduction was gone; the atmosphere had shifted into something else entirely.
“So what are you going to do?”
“Fine, I’ll do it. It’s true I made a deal with Abel Silverwin. Is there anything else?”
She moistened her own lips with her long tongue.
Breathing hard, she spoke.
“I’ll do anything for Oppa.”
It was more chilling than when she had gone cold.
“Get away from me.”
“Heh, so prickly. Even your pushiness is charming.”
Sitri obediently withdrew.
“So, your answer to my question?”
“What question?”
“The snitch who told Oppa the information.”
There was no snitch.
It was knowledge he had possessed from a distant future.
Naturally, there was no way to explain it.
So he answered like this.
“Barbatos.”
Barbatos, one of the seven Great Demons of Hell.
The demon of shadows and schemes—the one most likely to have any connection with Ferda.
“Barbatos… How strange. I never expected that name to come up.”
Sitri murmured to herself.
She did not look like someone who had found an answer.
But her reaction was more or less: Well, whatever.
“See you next time then, handsome Oppa. Keep that dog collar nice and safe until then.”
Mwah.
With a blown kiss, her form vanished completely.
Dawn arrived.
“Urrrgh…”
A Dark Elf.
Because she had used emergency escape magic, only her body had been transported here.
“Damn it…”
She had barely managed to find a place to hide, yet she could not escape the cold.
Even an Elf with high physical resistance found it difficult to endure a snow-covered high mountain range.
The frigid wind seeping in from outside the cave brushed against the threads of the Dark Elf’s consciousness.
Then she jolted awake with a start.
Someone was approaching.
“Who’s there?!”
All she had was a rock clenched in her hand.
With a face full of venom, she threatened the intruder.
What emerged from outside the cave was a massive frame that half-blocked the entrance.
It was clearly visible to the Dark Elf’s eyes.
It had red eyes and pointed fangs.
“So this is where you were, Research Director Linne.”
“……”
The man swept his gaze over Linne’s body and spoke.
“I received word there had been a disturbance. From the looks of it, all of it was true.”
“You demonkin bastards really are a sneaky bunch. Did you line up just to get a look at an Elf’s body too?”
“Useless talk.”
“If you know it’s useless, then hand over some clothes. At this rate I’m going to freeze to death.”
The demonkin man held out his hand.
The large, mottled muscles that bulged from it were menacing.
“The logs and samples first.”
“Looking at me in this state, you still want those? Of course they’re out of my hands.”
“So that means they’re in those people’s hands.”
“Yeah. I failed.”
“You know full well what happens to those who fail.”
Linne snarled.
“So? Are you going to execute me on the spot for failing?”
“You’ll be transported as a prisoner instead of Research Director. Then you’ll stand trial.”
“Go ahead and hold your damn trial all you want! Every bit of the research is in my head. I’m the only one who knows how to remake those samples and how the real deal is supposed to continue.”
“There are those among us who practice necromancy. Pulling what’s in a head is no trouble at all.”
“Those idiots? Ha! How perfect do you think those gloomy pretentious bastards can make anything by messing with my head? I can already see them regretting it after churning out a few children’s toys!”
The man merely looked down at her.
She forced her mouth to keep moving.
In the cold that felt like death, she forced the words out.
“You people only kept me alive while my kin were dying. That day you said it yourselves, didn’t you? That I was the only useful one among them. Are you going to execute the most competent one right here?”
“……”
“So hand over those damn clothes already.”
The man stared at her for a long moment before tossing her a coat.
Linne wrapped it around herself.
The inside was warm with heat magic.
“Was it Ferda Valdrova who did that to your eyes?”
Linne clenched her teeth and nodded.
“I never imagined I’d lose to that brat.”
“I’d heard he was superior to ordinary humans. His name is even coming up at the Round Table now.”
“You can’t settle for calling him superior to ordinary humans. Even that underestimates him.”
“Then how would you rate him?”
Linne hugged the coat tightly.
“In all of history, there has never been anyone like him.”
“You’re scared.”
“I’m simply being objective. I felt it when he struck my weak point.”
After the Lightning Bolt had pierced her eyes, she recalled the image of Ferda that had entered her vision.
What she had seen was a young man with gray hair.
Blue eyes whose intentions could not be read.
In those blue eyes she had sensed something familiar.
“That bastard is a madman who’s fought mages stronger than himself again and again.”
The eyes of giant-slayers who filled gaps in power with technique and overwhelmed their opponents by reading several moves ahead.
In those eyes, Linne had sensed defeat.
That was why she had abandoned the fight and used an emergency escape scroll to get out.
The man glanced outside.
The weather that had been dumping snow so fiercely had begun to calm at some point.
“We should move soon.”
The man rose from his seat, but Linne’s steps hesitated.
“My punishment… is unavoidable?”
“You know the answer yourself.”
The man replied coldly.
“You’ll just have to hope that evaluation of him as a madman finds purchase in the council.”
Demonkin were all like this.
No emotion, no guilt.
They would weigh her life solely by calculation.
All I can do is show them how useful I am.
Linne gripped the coat and pulled it close.
I… am going to survive.
Survival.
That was the vow she had made from the moment she laid hands on Godwin’s blood.
In the peaceful central-eastern region of the Serdes Continent, the Rosnova territory was also rolling along quietly.
The family head, Eremvald, had grown old and retired, but his two sons were carrying the house forward with great success.
Into that household, a bomb dropped without warning.
Not that actual cannons or catapults had flown in.
No—this was a situation where that would have been preferable.
“Hello, Family Head. You know who I am, don’t you?”
Standing before Eremvald was a girl.
She asked with a childish voice, utterly insolent.
Ordinarily Eremvald would have bellowed at once about how a brat whose blood hadn’t even dried yet dared speak so casually to him.
“Yes. I know very well.”
But he did not dare do so to her.
What one saw was not everything, and he knew that the small girl standing before him now easily surpassed even his own age.
“You are Lady Erdes, the exemplar of great mages, are you not?”
“Oh my, an exemplar? You don’t need to butter me up like that. I know you people call me a beautiful-girl menace.”
It was a difficult reaction to respond to.
She was a menace, true, but not a beautiful girl.
“To what do we owe the honor of your visit to this humble place?”
Eremvald was curious about her purpose.
Erdes was a storm-like existence.
She appeared without warning, turned everything into chaos, and left.
Depending on the case, people could simply vanish.
Eremvald could become one of them.
“It’s nothing much. I have no intention of turning this place into a wasteland or anything, so relax.”
“Yes, yes. Of course I wasn’t worried about that.”
“But depending on the circumstances, I might.”
Eremvald swallowed hard.
He had run into a genuine lunatic.
When Erdes flicked her fingers, a map unfolded on the table from her bosom.
“What do you think this is?”
“A map… is it not?”
“Yes, a map engraved on magic paper. The people in our Magic Tower use this map to observe the flow of mana.”
After a brief explanation, she pointed to one spot with a small staff.
“Where do you think this is?”
“According to the markings… it is Count Consiler’s castle.”
“Correct. And this marked place?”
“Hmm… isn’t it some mountain in the north?”
“Be specific.”
“That is… Silverwind’s territory.”
“Correct! Thank goodness. If you’d been as dull as our Blue boy, I might have gotten a little angry.”
She smiled brightly and withdrew the staff.
“Why do you think I pointed out those two places?”
“Pardon? Uh, well, that is…”
Eremvald looked down at the map.
He could not lift his head.
That subtle smile. He did not have the confidence to meet head-on whatever was dwelling in those eyes.
“I apologize. With my dull mind I cannot comprehend…”
“Well, it’s fine. You’re not even a mage, so how would you know? And unlike Blue boy, you at least know that you’re stupid.”
Eremvald realized that the god of death had been lingering right behind him until moments ago.
Every time his words, actions, or choices went astray, he would die.
Why?
Why did he feel this way?
The reason was simple.
“Bending Bridge magic occurred here. The kind of Bending Bridge that routes through Hell.”
It was because of black magic.
Her hatred of black magic was famous.
“Is… that so?”
“But I don’t think Count Consiler was the one who used it.”
“Th-then…?”
“Use your head a little more. If it wasn’t Count Consiler, then who? His relatives or children? Or… someone higher than him?”
“Someone higher than him…”
Then he felt the connection.
Why this menace of a mage had come looking for a knight family like his.
“Ferda…”
The third son he had discarded.
This had all happened because of him.
“There are traces that the Regent of Valdrova has made contact with a demon.”
Erdes Roton.
He knew just how strong her hatred of black magic was.
Anyone who made contact with black magic faced, at minimum, the extinction of their entire house.
That meant the annihilation of House Rosnova.
“P-please spare me!”
Eremvald dropped to his knees.
The crest of a valorous house crumpled.
“I swear I have nothing to do with that boy! From the moment he left this place until now, we have been complete strangers! I haven’t even contacted him!”
He rubbed his hands desperately, begging for his life.
Erdes still wore a smile as she watched him.
“I know. A knight nobody like you wasn’t involved.”
Her tone suggested understanding.
Yet it brought no relief.
There was no mercy in her wrath.
This fact alone was enough to wipe out House Rosnova.
But today she would not do so.
“So tell me.”
The wish she wanted was only one.
And that one wish was far too large.
“Tell me about that Ferda.”