You, My Devil - Chapter 17

In a hidden alchemical chamber beneath the Granada Imperial Palace, Fessis sat with a grave expression, locked in a private conversation with a man whose face was partially obscured by a hood and cloth wrapping his golden hair.

“When our forces arrived, the battle was already over. The stench of burning corpses filled the desert. Naturally, Yuri and his party were long gone. Who could have sent troops ahead of me? Was it Nadine?”

Fessis scowled, his sharp black eyes gleaming with suspicion. The man with the golden hair, his face calm and composed, spoke slowly.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Fessis demanded, his gaze piercing.

The man continued in a measured tone.

“If the First Prince had intended to act on his own, he would never have involved you in the first place. His purpose in provoking you by mentioning the Empress and Yuri was to stoke your hatred against Yuri, not to act himself.”

Fessis frowned but couldn’t deny the logic. Nadine had deliberately baited him, using the Empress’s situation to fan his animosity toward Yuri. It was clear that Nadine preferred Fessis to move against Yuri on his behalf, thereby avoiding direct responsibility.

“From Nadine’s perspective, it’s far better for you to act in his stead. That way, should complications arise, he could shift the blame onto you.”

“Blame…” Fessis trailed off, narrowing his eyes.

The man gave a faint, knowing smile.

“Spilling the blood of a sibling is never a good look, even in the royal court. And Nadine, for all his power, lacks sufficient justification to have ‘him’ killed outright.”

Fessis let out a bitter laugh.

“You’re right. No matter how much he hates Yuri, the First Prince can’t justify killing a fellow royal over a mere slave. Carrying the title of First Prince means he must act with decorum. So then, who could have sent troops to Yuri?”

“Perhaps…”

The man hesitated, his words trailing off as he gauged Fessis’s reaction.

“You have someone in mind, don’t you?” Fessis pressed, his eyes flashing with intrigue.

The man nodded slightly.

“Someone who fears ‘him.’ Someone who would order his death even as he leaves Nike. Someone with both the authority to command imperial forces and the power to give such an order against the Fourth Prince.”

Fessis’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, his curiosity now laced with tension.

“You just said it wasn’t Nadine.”

The man shook his head. As he did, the cloth wrapped around his head slipped off, revealing his radiant golden hair, shining like sunlight in the dim chamber. It was a color foreign to Nike—an exotic, striking shade that marked him as an outsider. When he had first infiltrated the Granada Palace, he had dyed it black to blend in. But under Fessis’s protection, he no longer needed to hide.

“Forgive my impertinence, but… do you truly believe Nadine is the only one in this palace who ranks above you?”

Fessis’s face hardened as the implications sank in. His piercing gaze bore into the man, who remained composed under the scrutiny. When Fessis finally spoke, his voice was icy and deliberate.

“Are you suggesting that Nike’s Emperor… that he ordered Yuri’s death out of fear?”

The man’s response was slow but unwavering.

“Under the heavens, there cannot be two sovereigns.”

* * *

“Laura, you’re not seriously thinking I’m heading on some long expedition to the far north, are you? Just one mountain over, and we’re in Constance. So what’s with all this?”

Yuri scowled at the pile of supplies strapped to a single horse. Laura, however, paid no attention to his complaints as she bustled around, checking and rechecking items with a look of focused determination.

“Oh, dear, what did I forget? Let’s see… I’ve packed herbs just in case, snacks for the road, and the incense to keep mountain insects away….”

Unable to hold back his frustration, Yuri raked his hand through his red hair and grabbed one of the bundles from her. Swinging it onto his back, he growled, “Enough. This is more than plenty. If we don’t leave soon and end up caught in the dark on the mountain, what then?”

Kun, who had been silently tying the load onto the horse, hesitated before speaking cautiously, glancing at Yuri for approval.

“Lord Yuri… wouldn’t it be better to wait a few days before departing? My bones have been aching since dawn, and I fear the weather might turn foul….”

Yuri snorted and smirked. “Of course your old bones ache—that’s what happens with age. And the weather here has always been as fickle as your wife’s temper. What’s new about that?”

Chuckling softly, Yuri took the reins from Kun and began preparing to mount. Meanwhile, Kun launched into another explanation of the mountain’s terrain and hazards, as he had been doing since the early hours.

Heina stood some distance away, lost in thought. She hadn’t slept much the night before—not because of exhaustion or the fact that Yuri had been sleeping on the bed in the same room, but because of her restless excitement.

I’m finally going back.

The thought of returning to Constance had kept her awake, her heart racing. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice Laura approaching with something in her hands.

“Here, try these on,” Laura said warmly, placing a pair of sturdy leather boots at Heina’s feet.

Startled, Heina blinked and looked down at the knee-high boots. They were made of thick leather, and she stared at them, bewildered, as Laura continued with a kind smile.

“The Knompen Mountains are treacherous, you know. Even strong men hesitate to climb them. The wild animals there can be quite aggressive too. You’ll be safe with Lord Yuri, of course, but the sandals you’re wearing now won’t do—they’ll only make you slip and fall.”

Heina glanced down at the boots and then at Laura, her lips pressed tightly together. She didn’t know how to respond. No one had ever taught her how to react to such genuine kindness from someone who was, technically, an enemy.

Seeing her hesitation, Laura gently placed the boots on the ground.

“Come on, give them a try. They look about your size. I may have a big frame, but I’ve got small feet—just like you. Hohoho… oh my….”

Laura’s cheerful chatter trailed off as her gaze fell to Heina’s feet. She clucked her tongue in dismay, her smile vanishing.

“Goodness… this can’t be left as it is….”

Heina’s feet were a mess—burned from the sun, chafed by sand, and blistered and cut by her worn sandals. The straps of her sandals had dug into her skin, leaving raw, painful wounds.

Feeling Laura’s concerned gaze, Heina quickly tried to hide one foot behind the other, but it was no use. The damage was too visible.

“This won’t do at all,” Laura muttered, her worried eyes darting toward Yuri. Sensing where this was headed, Heina snatched the boots from Laura’s hands.

“It’s fine,” Heina said quietly. Her voice was barely audible, but it carried a firm undertone. She didn’t want to give Yuri any reason to mock her or lecture her about the state of her feet. Knowing his personality, he would seize the opportunity to humiliate her further.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she added, shaking her head.

Laura studied her for a moment and then nodded, seemingly understanding Heina’s reluctance. She didn’t call Yuri over but instead urged her gently.

“Well, try them on, then.”

With a deep breath, Heina relented. She untied her sandals, wincing as blood and pus oozed from the wounds they had caused. Quickly, she slipped her feet into the boots Laura had given her.

To her surprise, the interior of the boots was soft and warm. The outer leather was camel hide, while the inside was lined with plush sheepskin.

“See? They fit perfectly, don’t they?”

Heina nodded silently. Compared to the pain of her sandals, the boots were a revelation—cushioned and comfortable. For a moment, an unspoken gratitude flickered in her emerald eyes as she looked at Laura. She didn’t know how to express it in words, but it was clear in her gaze.

“That’s a relief,” Laura said with a warm smile at Heina before disappearing back into the house. As soon as she turned, she clicked her tongue softly. There was no way Heina’s battered and blistered feet weren’t in pain.

When Laura returned moments later, she carried a small bottle filled with a green liquid. Without a word, she tucked it into one of the bundles strapped to Yuri’s back.

“What now?” Yuri asked, glaring irritably at her as if already exhausted by her preparations.

Laura leaned in close and whispered something in his ear. Yuri’s expression darkened, and he turned his sharp gaze toward Heina. His eyes swept over her from head to toe, scrutinizing her so thoroughly that it made her uncomfortable.

Finally, Yuri’s lips parted, and he spoke gruffly, “Let’s go. Now.”

Heina hesitated for a moment before slowly approaching him. Without a word, Yuri grabbed her arm, lifted her effortlessly, and placed her onto the horse. He tightened his grip on the reins and led the horse forward, his pace brisk.

The sky was still a dim blue, with the moon faintly glowing in a corner of the heavens. They needed to leave before sunrise to reach Constance by the end of the day.

Yuri silently decided that the first thing he would do upon reaching Constance’s palace was summon a physician. He threw a curt comment over his shoulder as they left.

“Laura, refill your empty wine casks before I come back. For all your lousy cooking skills, Kun’s brews are surprisingly good.”

“Lord Yuri…”

Yuri didn’t wait for her reply. He turned sharply, walking away without so much as a proper farewell. Farewells weren’t his style. He would always appear at Kun and Laura’s home unannounced, stay a day or two, and leave just as suddenly.

“Next time, Kun’s planning to make a brilliant fig wine! Make sure you come back before the next dry season ends!” Laura called after him.

“Take care, Your Highness!” Kun added, his weathered face filled with quiet worry.

Heina, seated atop the horse, glanced downward. Yuri, holding the reins, strode forward without looking back. Feeling an odd tug of emotion, she turned her head slightly and found herself locking eyes with Laura, who was smiling warmly up at her.

Heina’s cheeks flushed.

There was an old saying in Constance: A person who fails to repay a debt is lower than an animal.

It wasn’t these villagers, clad in simple clothes and living frugally, who had attacked Constance and reduced her people to slaves. That crime belonged to the Nikean royal family and their soldiers.

After a moment of hesitation, Heina bowed her head silently toward Kun and Laura. It was a rare gesture, as Constance’s royal family was taught never to bow to anyone. But she had nothing else to offer them except this small act of gratitude.

Laura grinned warmly and waved her rough hand toward Heina.

“Take care, dear! And come visit us again with Lord Yuri whenever you’re missing my potato soup!”

Heina quickly turned her gaze forward, her lips pressed into a tight line as she tried to ignore Laura’s kindness.

I hope I can repay them someday—for their food, their shelter… and these boots.

Behind her, as the figures of Yuri and Heina grew smaller in the distance, Laura pulled a handkerchief from her blouse and dabbed at her eyes. Beside her, Kun placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“At least this time, Lord Yuri isn’t alone, eh?”

“Yes,” Laura said, her voice trembling with emotion. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen him look so… alive. He reminded me of the boy he used to be.”

Kun chuckled softly, his hand stroking his short, grizzled beard. His eyes narrowed as he recalled the first time he had seen Yuri, dragging a dead wolf’s carcass and collapsing just outside their home. He’d recognized him instantly—the child with fiery red hair, infamous across Nike as the “demon born in the palace.”

So pitiful, Kun had thought then. Just a small boy, really.

He had coaxed the wounded, animal-like child into their home, tended to his injuries, and let him rest. That night, Yuri had fallen asleep clutching Laura’s hand tightly. Since then, Yuri had begun appearing at their home unexpectedly, year after year.

“Laura,” Kun said, his tone turning serious. “That girl… she’s from Constance, isn’t she? No one from Nike has hair like that. If she’s from Constance, that would make her… a slave.”

Laura’s expression darkened slightly, her lips pressed together in thought.

“What can people like us say about what Lord Yuri does? All we can do is pray that the gods watch over them both,” she replied quietly.

Kun nodded in agreement, though his brow furrowed. It was obvious to both of them that Heina wasn’t an ordinary slave. Her graceful posture and every step she took spoke of someone who had once held a far higher status.

Her hands, delicate and pale as if they had never known a day of hard labor, silently helped Laura set the breakfast table that morning. Despite Laura’s protests that it wasn’t necessary, Heina stubbornly carried ingredients and arranged the tableware in perfect order. Even the bedding on the small bed she had used was neatly folded and placed with care.

Her demeanor was composed and precise, every gesture filled with quiet determination.

Outwardly, her relationship with Yuri didn’t seem particularly warm—there was a palpable tension between them. Yet it was unmistakable that Yuri cared about her, even if he showed it in his own brash, abrasive way.

“Lord Yuri, no matter what anyone says, we are always on your side.”

As Laura watched the figures of Yuri and Heina grow smaller in the distance until they became mere specks on the horizon, she clasped her hands together in silent prayer. She prayed fervently to the gods for the happiness of the lonely boy she had once known—the boy who had now grown into a man but still carried the weight of solitude on his shoulders.

* * *