You, My Devil - Chapter 16
“Lord Yuri, no matter what anyone says, you are the emperor chosen by the gods for Nike. Thanks to you, we, the people of Nike, no longer go hungry. It’s because of your efforts to expand our territory that even we, whose lands are mostly desert, have hope of living in lands flowing with milk and honey. I swear on my life, even if my head is on the chopping block, I will say this: you are more than worthy of ascending the throne for fighting and sacrificing yourself for our nation.”
Tears welled up in Kun’s wrinkled eyes, and Yuri stared at him for a moment before smirking and lowering his gaze.
“…Seems like the wine’s really hitting you, old man. Laura, take him to bed. I can’t stand drunkards.”
Though Yuri’s words were harsh, his voice was uncharacteristically gentle. Laura and Kun exchanged a glance, their expressions filled with respect and affection, before bowing their heads slightly to Yuri. They began to clear the table, the clatter of dishes filling the room as they bustled about.
Soon, only Yuri and Heina remained at the table. Yuri silently sipped from his cup, his sharp eyes fixed on her, while Heina sat stiffly in her seat, unsure of what to do.
What am I supposed to do in a situation like this?
Her mind was in turmoil. This home clearly belonged to ordinary Nikean citizens. It was her first time encountering such people—people who weren’t part of the royal palace or aristocracy. They had offered her warm bread and a bed, showing her hospitality despite the circumstances.
But they’re still Nikeans, she thought, her chest tightening.
Nike was, after all, the nation that had colonized Constance—her homeland. The thought of being indebted to people from an enemy country made her head spin.
Constance’s laws, rooted in strict principles of honor, dictated that gratitude must be expressed to anyone who offers help, regardless of their status. Yet the idea of thanking Nikeans left her deeply conflicted.
Surely, they must know I’m from Constance, she thought, recalling their complete lack of hostility or suspicion toward her.
Unable to bear the tangle of thoughts any longer, Heina abruptly rose from her seat, needing to clear her head.
“Where are you going?”
Yuri’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“…I just need some air,” she replied, avoiding his gaze.
“What, planning to run away again?”
“…If I could, I would.”
Yuri let out a hearty laugh before throwing her a sharp, piercing look.
“Don’t do anything reckless. No matter how close you are to your homeland.”
“What… what did you just say?”
“This is the border region between Nike and Constance. Cross that mountain, and you’ll be in Constance—the land you’ve been yearning for.”
The moment his words sank in, Heina’s heart began pounding in her chest, a mix of hope and longing flooding her senses. Her homeland, Constance, was so close—close enough to taste its air.
She was desperate to step outside, to breathe in the air of her country, and to free herself from the uneasy feelings clouding her mind.
As she turned to head toward the door, Yuri stood up and watched her quietly.
“Let’s go. I suddenly feel like getting some fresh air too.”
Heina stared at him in surprise as he gently took her wrist and opened the door.
“Laura, bring out some warm tea.”
* * *
Somewhere in the night, the soft chirping of insects filled the air. Pale moonlight illuminated the backyard, connected to the barn, casting a faint glow over the neatly tended garden. In one corner of the yard, a large, flat, rectangular stone sat, its surface polished smooth by years of use.
Yuri gently pulled Heina by the arm and seated her on the stone, which was shaped almost like a chair. Then, without a word, he sat down as well, his back facing hers.
“The air here is always different,” he remarked softly.
Now that he mentioned it, Heina noticed it too. The air of this borderland, situated between Nike and Constance, was unlike the dry, chilly desert air she had grown accustomed to in Nike. It was richer, filled with the scent of flowing water and the fresh aroma of trees and grass.
After making that observation, Yuri fell silent. Heina, surprisingly, found comfort in the quiet. The sound of insects chirping and the faint rustling of the wind filled the void, a soothing rhythm that eased her nerves.
I can reach Constance.
Closing her eyes, Heina took a deep breath. The thought of Constance calmed her. She envisioned the blue skies, the lush forests that thrived in summer, the lakeshores, the villages filled with the aroma of cooking in the evenings, and the breathtaking sunsets that painted the mountains in gold.
The realization that she was so close to returning to her homeland filled her with emotion. Her eyes grew hot, and tears threatened to fall. She raised her hand to rub at her eyes when she suddenly felt Yuri’s back brush against hers.
“Haah…”
He sighed as he leaned back, his weight pressing lightly against her. Heina froze, her body tensing instinctively at the unexpected contact.
“The moonlight tonight is stifling,” he murmured, his voice lower and softer than usual. Perhaps it was the wine he had drunk earlier, but there was something unfamiliar in his tone.
Heina remained silent, unsure of how to respond.
“Look up at the night sky,” Yuri prompted.
She hesitated, but her eyes slowly lifted toward the heavens.
“How does the moonlight make you feel?”
Above them hung a full moon, round and luminous. To Heina, it was a terrifying sight. During her year of captivity in Nike’s palace, the full moon had become a symbol of dread. Each time she saw its pale glow, she remembered Yuri’s cruel voice whispering in her ear:
“The Nikean rain ritual will take place under the full moon, on a night when wolves howl mournfully. That will be the day you lose your life, Heina.”
“…It’s terrifying. Horrible. It makes me feel afraid,” she admitted, her trembling lips finally voicing her thoughts.
Yuri let out a quiet laugh as the faint aroma of the tea Laura had prepared wafted toward them.
“To me, that moonlight feels so subtle, yet so eerie. It vanishes after the sun sets, as if it were gone for good, only to reappear in full glory, round and brilliant, suffocating in its brightness.”
Heina didn’t reply, but her hands clenched into fists.
“It shines so close, almost within reach, but no matter how much I want it, I can’t grasp it. Sometimes… that makes me angry. I want it, but it isn’t mine.”
Yuri’s voice was filled with an odd wistfulness, but his words made Heina stiffen. He was someone who had always taken what he wanted, without hesitation or regard for others. His greed was insatiable—a trait he shared with the other princes of Nike.
She clenched her fists tighter, her nails digging into her palms.
“No one can have everything,” she said, her voice steady but firm. “No matter how high their position, that fact doesn’t change. Not for the Emperor of Nike, or the Emperor of Constance, or anyone else.”
Yuri chuckled faintly, the sound reverberating through their shared contact.
“I’ve never said I wanted everything. I only desire what I truly want. Is that so wrong?”
“Your selfishness hurts people,” she retorted, her voice trembling slightly. “Don’t you see the people who lose everything and are left to weep in despair? Every victor in war exists because there are losers.”
Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and her lips quivered as she held back a sob.
“Because of you… the people of Constance lost their country overnight. And I….”
I lost Arzen.
She swallowed the last words, unable to say them aloud. Instead, she bit her lip hard to suppress the rising lump in her throat.
Yuri’s voice broke through the silence, slow and deliberate.
“Are you resentful?”
Heina didn’t deny it.
“…Yes, I’m resentful. Just thinking about it makes me want to lose my mind.”
Heina let out a bitter laugh, her anguish spilling over as she dwelled on the misery of her circumstances. Yuri, undisturbed, continued speaking in his calm, measured tone.
“If I had died back then, and your country had won the war, do you think the outcome would have been different?”
Heina took a deep breath behind him, frustrated by his seemingly obvious question. She didn’t answer, but Yuri shook his head slowly.
“No. You’re wrong. The suffering would have simply shifted to someone else.”
“…What are you trying to say?” Heina demanded, her voice low and strained.
“If there’s a victor, there’s always a loser. The only difference is who fills which role. Nothing changes. The pain your people are enduring now would’ve simply been ours to bear instead.”
Heina clenched her trembling lips, her frustration boiling beneath the surface.
What was the point of such reasoning? In the end, her homeland, Constance, had fallen. Her people had lost their country and were forced to live as slaves under foreign rule. This wasn’t just an unfortunate hypothetical—it was their cruel, unrelenting reality.
“…”
No matter how hard she tried to hold back, tears welled up in Heina’s emerald eyes.
“You don’t understand—no, you refuse to understand just how unbearably cruel this reality is for the people of Constance,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion.
“Do you think Constance lost the war because of bad luck?” Yuri asked in return, his voice calm but probing.
Heina bit her lip instead of answering, her silence speaking volumes.
Leaning his head back against hers, Yuri gazed up at the star-filled sky. His voice dropped to a low murmur.
“If you’re not strong, you’re devoured. That’s how it works, Heina. Whether it’s in the animal kingdom or the human world, it’s all the same.”
“Yes,” Heina spat bitterly. “Constance was weak, and your nation was strong.”
“Exactly. That’s all there is to it. There’s no good or evil in this. Your country lost the war simply because it lacked the strength to win. It wasn’t chance—it was inevitable. No one blames a lion for tearing into the throat of a deer.”
“Then why…” Heina’s voice cracked, and her thin frame quivered. “Why don’t you just kill me?”
Her words spilled out in a sob. She was overwhelmed with anger—anger at her own weakness, anger at her country’s defeat, and anger at the pain of having lost everything.
Her chest ached as she thought of Arzen, whose strength hadn’t been enough to defeat Yuri and save her. She squeezed her fists against her tear-streaked face and cried out:
“If I’m nothing but a worthless slave to you, no better than an insect—then just kill me! Just end it!”
Yuri turned toward her, his expression inscrutable as he regarded her tear-soaked face.
“How much lower do you think I need to drag you before you’re satisfied?”
Instead of answering, Yuri reached out, threading his fingers into her hair. He gripped her head firmly, tilting her face up to meet his. His voice was almost a whisper as he murmured:
“Because seeing you angry… is strangely entertaining.”
“You’re insane,” Heina hissed through gritted teeth.
“This world isn’t easy for anyone who tries to live with their sanity intact,” Yuri replied, letting out a low laugh. “And you know that better than anyone by now, don’t you?”
Her earlier question—why he hadn’t killed her—wasn’t something Yuri could easily answer, even to himself. There was something about the way she looked at him, with hatred burning in her emerald eyes, that stirred something deep inside him. It was strange, but when he saw the defiance in her gaze, he felt an inexplicable thrill, a sense of conquest.
“You can hate me all you want, Heina. Just stay by my side like that. Burn with your hatred, for all I care,” Yuri said, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“I hate you,” Heina said through gritted teeth, her voice laced with venom. “I hate you so much I want to kill you.”
Yuri raised a cold hand and gently brushed her tear-streaked cheek.
“Then get stronger. If you want to kill me, you’ll need to become strong enough to do it,” he said softly.
Heina shuddered as his words echoed in her mind. She couldn’t understand why fate had thrown her into the clutches of someone so deranged, but one thing was clear: she wouldn’t die here—not like this.
She couldn’t let her life end without avenging Arzen and her homeland. Perhaps this was why the gods had spared her.
“Someday, when you’re strong enough to kill me—stronger than I am now—I’ll gladly let you end my life.”
Heina burned his words into her memory, vowing to never forget them.
“The night I die, I hope the moon in the sky looks just as it does to you now.”
Yuri’s voice was soft, almost wistful, but the words struck Heina like a cold blade. She trembled faintly, and he could feel it through his fingertips. Beneath the pale, almost hypnotic glow of the moonlight, Yuri silently laughed as he gazed at her.
The chirping of insects broke through the stillness of the night, a persistent and melancholic melody. The wine Yuri had consumed earlier left a languid warmth coursing through his body, dulling the edges of his usually sharp demeanor.
His hand moved through Heina’s soft hair, sliding gently along the strands. She flinched and tried to shake him off, but his grip tightened, holding her firmly. When she stopped struggling, Yuri pulled her into his arms, holding her as he always did—with a strength that allowed no escape.
“…Hnn…” Heina let out a stifled sound, her defiance faltering.
“Remember this,” Yuri whispered, his voice low and deliberate. “Until that day comes, you belong to me. The day you gain your freedom will be the day I die, Heina.”
His words wrapped around her like chains, heavy and unyielding. Yuri closed his eyes as he spoke, his breath steady and calm. The faint scent of flowers seemed to rise from the steam of the tea Laura had brought earlier, a fragile illusion in the quiet, moonlit night.
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