Chapter 12 – Flamme's Killing Intent Decreased
Under the village chief's leadership, Elias began working alongside the villagers—building new homes, clearing land, planting additional crops, and reestablishing trade routes with the Holy City.
Three months later, the once-quiet hamlet had doubled in size. Refugees from the north settled in, and what was once a half-forgotten patch of land now pulsed with life and laughter again.
Elias still lived in the same old warehouse, his days filled with the gratitude—and curiosity—of those around him.
"Master Mage, this is a local specialty from the northern plateau—dried pickled lizard meat!"
"Keep it for yourselves."
"Then please accept this! The Sage Aivis's Grimoire of Eternal Curse: A Spell to Doom the Great Demons of the Mythic Age to Endless Death!"
"…A fake."
"Uncle Elias! Come play ball with us!"
"I'm not that old. Call me brother."
——
Until one evening, as twilight draped the fields in gold, Elias—while stirring a pot over the fire—felt that familiar intent to kill pressing faintly from beyond the window.
He smiled faintly.
"Fresh back from the Holy City and already watching me? I'll admit it—you really do keep your promises."
"Damn it… you cursed demon…"
Hidden in the grass outside, Flamme muttered irritably under her breath. She had tried her best to suppress her murderous aura—yet he'd sensed her instantly again.
"Flamme," Elias called lazily toward the window. "I'm making dinner. Why not come in and have some?"
Flamme hesitated, exhaled slowly, and pushed open the door.
Elias watched her with mild amusement, catching the flicker of defiance in her tense brows.
"Flamme, if you want to learn to control your killing intent toward me, we'll start from the basics, alright?" he said lightly.
"First lesson—don't grit your teeth when you call me 'demon.' Call me Elias."
Flamme shot him a glare. "You're insufferable."
"Fine then, Elias," she said, folding her arms with mock composure. "Since you helped expand the village, I'll refrain from calling you 'demon' in public—for your reputation's sake. But answer me this—what's your true goal here?"
Her tone sharpened.
"From the barrier protecting the village, to your daily 'assistance,' to the massive reconstruction—according to everything I know about demons, you're gathering humans, earning their trust, and waiting for the perfect moment to slaughter us all from within!"
Elias, completely unfazed, flipped the pan and gave a casual smile.
"Flamme, couldn't it just be that I'm acting out of simple compassion?"
"Compassion?" She snorted. "A demon speaking of compassion? Don't make me laugh."
"I forgot what it felt like," Elias said, plating the meal with an almost wistful tone. "But lately, some of it's been coming back to me."
The fragrance of sizzling spices filled the room as he presented three dishes on ancient myth-era plates, gleaming faintly in the firelight.
"Last time you threw out my sandwiches. This time, I hope you'll at least taste it—consider it a small celebration for the village's rebirth."
Flamme smirked. "If a demon can cook this convincingly, I suppose I'll die respecting your craft."
She thought grimly, If I'm poisoned to death, I hope Lady Serie at least avenges me.
"Fine," she said aloud. "It's just a meal. I'm not afraid of a dinner table."
But the moment she sat down, her suspicion ignited at the sight of the bizarre dishes before her.
"This red one—it looks drenched in venom. What is it?"
"Mapo tofu."
"And this… this unspeakable lumped thing?"
"Nine-Turned Intestines."
"…And this one? Strange sliced pieces floating in something that looks like blood—what is that?"
"Couples' Sliced Lungs in Chili Sauce."
"Couples'—what—lungs?"
(´-ι_-｀)
(´-ι_-｀)
Σ(ŎдŎ|||)ﾉﾉ
"You really are a man-eating demon!!!"
Flamme instantly drew her wand.
"Wait! Listen to me first!" Elias raised both hands hastily.
"There are no actual couples in Couples' Sliced Lungs!"
"Lies! Then why is it called that?!"
"I swear I forgot the reason! I just recreated it from an old recipe I wrote down when I first crossed over!"
"Oh, another one of your 'past life memories,' huh? Do you really think I'm that gullible?"
"It's made of beef! Even Serie ate it before—if you don't believe me, go ask her!"
——
"…Fine," Flamme said at last, eyes narrowing. "I'll believe you one last time. But if this turns out to be human meat, I swear I'll—"
Five minutes later…
Flamme rubbed her stomach and sighed in bliss.
"This… this is amazing…"
"I didn't know such delicious food could exist…"
"Could this 'past world' of yours actually be the legendary heaven?"
Across the table, Elias smiled faintly as he watched her lick her fingers, satisfied and radiant under the lamplight.
Despite the rocky start, the two had—finally—shared a peaceful, almost pleasant evening together.
What he didn't tell her was that the murderous aura she carried had grown faint—barely a whisper now.
When she noticed his gaze lingering on her, a flush crept up Flamme's neck. She quickly fumbled through her storage pouch and pulled something out.
"Here. Take it."
Elias blinked at the crescent-shaped sapphire pendant glimmering in her palm.
"A gift? For me?"
"Don't get the wrong idea!" she stammered, turning her face away. "It's just a trophy, that's all. Think of it as thanks—for helping the villagers. And for… tonight's dinner."
Elias accepted it quietly, holding the cool gemstone in his palm.
"I understand. Thank you."
"Don't get friendly with me," Flamme huffed. "As long as you treat the villagers well, I'll treat you the same. But trusting a demon, Elias? That's never going to happen."
Elias chuckled softly. "Don't worry, I'll look after them. But you—be careful on the battlefield."
He paused, smiling. "When you come back next time, I'll make you another meal. Eat your fill."
Flamme froze mid-step.
…Was that—concern? From a demon?
The realization struck her like lightning. Her heartbeat quickened; her instincts screamed danger.
"I—I have to go!" she blurted, spinning around and bolting out the door.
Elias watched her retreating figure vanish into the twilight, scratching his head in confusion.
"What was that about?"
Then, after a moment, he frowned slightly.
"…No, what's wrong with me?"
---
[Elias's Diary, Volume 3XXX]
Entry 1: Four months passed. Flamme came back. I cooked braised pork for her—she seemed happy.
Entry 2: Eight months passed. Flamme returned with minor injuries. I made a medicinal stew—she said it tasted awful.
Entry 3: Seven months later. Flamme cleaned her plate completely this time. Her killing intent still lingers.
Entry 4: A year passed. One of her comrades died. Her eyes changed—so this is what "sorrow" looks like.
We shared a drink and, under the moonlight, danced like fools. That night she fell asleep like a child.
Entry 5: Another year gone. Strangely, Flamme hasn't come back.
Entry 6: Yet another year. Still no sign of her. I refuse to ask the old dwarf.
Entry 7: Today marks the fourth year. Flamme finally returned. Her eyes were calm—too calm, hardened by something cruel.
She didn't even eat. She left behind a small, inexplicable child, and went back to the battlefield.
Now, that little one sits in the corner of my warehouse, watching me warily.