You, My Devil - Chapter 23

“How many years has it been since you took up arms for Nike, enduring the harshness of the desert winds?”

“Forgive my inadequacy, but it has been a little over twenty years, Your Highness… Ah—!!”

The general, who had been bowing as he spoke, froze and held his breath. Yuri had silently drawn his sword, the sharp tip now aimed directly at the general’s throat. A faint twitch played at the corner of Yuri’s mouth.

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, startled by the sudden move, but no one dared to speak. A tense, wordless murmur seemed to hang in the air.

In a low yet forceful voice, Yuri began to speak.

“Linus. Twenty-five years. That’s how long it’s been. Twenty-five years—exactly the same length of time as the history of Nike, forged with sandstorms and blood. The one you serve now is not me, Yuri, the Fourth Prince of Nike, but the nation itself. The same applies to me as well. If Nike orders me to take your head right here and now, I will do so without the slightest hesitation. That is… the position I hold at present.

However, if I were to become the next ruler of Nike after that, I would provide for your entire family for three generations. Because that would be my humble way of repaying your loyalty. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Linus fell to his knees with a heavy thud. Yuri was right.

The ruler of Nike was still Emperor Nike, and Yuri understood that better than anyone. Linus shouted at the top of his lungs:

“…All for the glory of Nike and the gods who protect it!!”

The soldiers standing in a line around them also dropped to their knees, raising their swords in salute, and echoed his cry.

“All for the glory of Nike and the gods who protect it!!”

It was already a foregone conclusion that a bloody war over the next throne would break out. Linus felt as though he was beginning to understand why Yuri had been sent away from Nike immediately after his coming-of-age ceremony.

Yuri was growing stronger and more fearsome with each passing day. He possessed an undeniable force that compelled others to follow him—a quality that made him the most similar to Emperor Nike among the four princes.

Without a doubt, Yuri was the strongest contender for the throne and the greatest threat to the other princes, a thorn in their sides that they were eager to remove as quickly as possible.

Even Nike… must have thought the same.

Linus recalled the emperor’s inscrutable expression. If Nike intended for Yuri to be the next ruler, it was not entirely implausible that he had sent Yuri away from the treacherous political machinations of Granada to allow him to build his power elsewhere.

“Let’s go! My soldiers!”

Yuri turned his back and began to walk, dragging his long sword along the ground as he moved.

“This is the first night on this land of milk and honey bestowed upon us by Nike! Enjoy it to your heart’s content!”

* * *

Heina lay on the bed in her old room on the top floor of the palace, swallowing bitter tears. This had been her room before the war broke out. Though the luxurious dresses that once overflowed from her wardrobe and adorned her vanity were long gone, the lingering scent of sandalwood from the wooden floors of the bedroom filled her with a sense of melancholy.

“Does it hurt? It seems the wounds will take quite some time to heal,” the doctor said cautiously as he tended to her battered feet.

When the Nike soldiers had shown up at his house in the middle of the night and dragged him to the palace, the elderly doctor had thought the secret lessons he had been giving to Constance’s children about their history had finally been discovered.

Preparing himself for execution, he was shocked to find none other than Princess Heina of Constance, the royal who had been taken prisoner by Nike.

Tears streaming down his face, the old doctor had thrown himself at her feet, pressing his lips to the ground in a gesture of respect.

The young princess, once as radiant as a sunflower, now carried an entirely different air. Whatever had happened to her over the past year had stripped her of her former innocence.

“Don’t cry. I’m fine,” she said. “And don’t let them see you in tears.”

Her breathtaking beauty, once the talk of nations, remained unchanged, but Heina was no longer the sheltered flower she had been.

The old doctor had heard the rumors—how the mad, devilish red-haired prince of Nike had nearly sacrificed her as an offering during a drought ceremony and how she had barely escaped death. Imprisoned as a slave in the imperial palace of Nike, she must have endured unimaginable humiliation. Her transformation, then, was not hard to understand.

Swallowing his tears, the elderly doctor disinfected her torn and cracked feet before applying medicine.

“Do you have pain anywhere else?”

Heina stared blankly into the air, saying nothing. Her thigh, torn by Yuri’s sword and bitten by a snake, was slowly healing, though it remained painful. Interpreting her silence as agreement, the doctor took a thin piece of cloth from his bag and carefully cut it into strips.

“Let me know if it hurts, Princess.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied flatly. “Instead, could you open the window for me?”

The cool night air, fragrant with the scent of flowers, flowed into her bedroom. Heina leaned back on the bed and closed her eyes.

Just breathing the air of Constance felt like it was healing the festering wounds in her heart. Her feet, for all she cared, could be left as they were. The stinging and burning of the medicine barely registered as her thoughts consumed her.

What should I do now? What should I start with? And how?

Outside her door, two soldiers who had escorted the doctor here stood guard, swords in hand. Knowing Yuri’s personality, Heina was certain that her life here would be no better—and likely worse—than her imprisonment in Nike.

She recalled the words Yuri had spoken atop the horse earlier:
“What’s that face for? Don’t tell me you were hoping for Constance’s rebels to appear. Could it be that the foolish Princess Heina actually believes the ridiculous fantasies of those ignorant slave dreamers?”

His words made it clear—Yuri, too, knew that the people of Constance were stirring.

Even if she remained confined here, the information she could gather in her homeland would far surpass anything she could access in Nike. Yuri knew this, yet he had taken the risk of bringing her back.

“Doctor Georges, where are you currently staying?”

“By the Cherun River,” the doctor replied.

The Cherun River…

Heina bit her nails anxiously. The Cherun River was not far from Lucina’s city center. If she could cross the river, she could potentially reach the neighboring country of Pimonte. Pimonte, with its harsh, prolonged winters, had been excluded from Nike’s territorial expansion.

“…The security isn’t as strict there as it is in the city. That’s where the intellectuals of Constance have gathered to teach history to the children, Princess,” Georges said cautiously, adding more details.

Georges had been the royal physician of Constance before stepping down just before the war began. Heina’s heart began to race faster.

Perhaps I can escape sooner than I thought.

Staring at the ceiling, Heina’s mind churned with plans. She resolved to gather as much information from Georges as possible and look for a chance to escape as quickly as she could. However, fear gnawed at her—fear for Georges’ safety. The price he would pay if they were caught wouldn’t just be “consequences.” It would be certain death.

“Princess… it’s done now. You must have endured great pain; you’ve been very strong,” Georges said, finishing her treatment and bowing his head. He glanced at her injured feet, unable to hide his sorrow. To allow air to reach her wounds, he had wrapped them in thin cloth.

What were once delicate, pale feet had become a mess of burst blisters, oozing pus, and angry, red wounds covered in medicine.

“Does this compare to the pain of losing a country? If cutting off my feet would mean regaining Constance, I’d gladly make that trade,” Heina said with a faint, self-deprecating smile.

The old doctor looked at her for a moment before glancing around the room. Apart from the two of them—patient and physician—it was empty. Yuri had ordered that no one else be present during her treatment.

After a moment of hesitation, Georges lowered his voice and spoke.

“Princess Heina, we have not lost hope.”

Heina bit the inside of her cheek, hard. Guilt weighed heavily on her, the guilt of losing the kingdom and failing her people due to her weakness.

“This is only something I heard from merchants crossing the desert, so I cannot confirm it…”

Georges’ voice dropped even lower, and curiosity flickered in Heina’s eyes. Georges took a deep breath before continuing, his voice trembling slightly.

“There are rumors that Lord Arzen is alive… that he has not died.”

Heina’s golden eyebrows furrowed deeply as she listened to his words. Then, suddenly, she stiffened.

From somewhere outside, she thought she heard the sound of familiar footsteps.

“Shh!”

As Heina quickly raised her finger to her lips in warning, the door to her bedroom burst open. A sharp voice cut through the air.

“Is the treatment still ongoing? Or are you both reminiscing about a country that no longer exists?”

Yuri stood in the doorway, dressed in the traditional white robes of Nike. His fiery red hair blazed like a flame, and the sight of him made the elderly doctor instinctively lower his gaze in terror. At the mere sight of Yuri, all rational thought vanished, leaving only fear.

Though he had heard of Yuri in rumors, this was the first time the doctor had come face to face with him—the devilish Fourth Prince of Nike who had driven a dagger into the heart of Arzen and plunged Constance into the chaos of war.

“Answer me, doctor. Report on her condition,” Yuri demanded, his sharp tone cutting through the tension. His voice alone seemed to have the power to chill the air around him.

Georges hesitated but managed to stammer out a reply.

“T-Treatment is complete. The wounds on her feet will take a few days to heal, but with proper nutrition and rest, she will recover fully….”

“And by a few days, how many exactly do you mean?”

Yuri strode across the room, dragging a chair from the corner and planting himself in it. Folding his arms, he fixed his gaze on the doctor.

Heina, leaning back against the bed, bit her lip and glared at him.

“Ah… at least ten days, to be safe….”

“Three.”

Yuri cut him off with a flat voice.

“Pardon me?!”

“Three days. You will heal her wounds by whatever means necessary within three days. Use forbidden medicines or make deals with devils; I don’t care how you do it. But if her feet remain in this state after three days, your head will roll.”

The elderly doctor trembled violently at Yuri’s abrupt and terrifying ultimatum.

Heina, unable to hold back any longer, raised her voice in anger.

“No matter how skilled a physician he may be, there are limits to what is possible!”

“We’ll see whether it’s possible or not. This will be an excellent chance to test the supposedly exceptional medical knowledge of Constance.”

Yuri scoffed, his lips curling into a mocking smile.

“I-I will do my utmost.”

The doctor bowed his bald head, his voice trembling with fear. Heina, unable to contain her anger, breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling.

“Oh, how thoughtful of you to be so concerned about my torn feet. I’m so touched I could cry,” she spat sarcastically.

“I mean it sincerely. But that aside…”

Yuri shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and strode toward her bed. Without hesitation, he yanked the thin blanket off her, exposing her body clad only in a light robe.

Heina’s face flushed with humiliation and fury. To have him act so rudely in front of the doctor was enough to make her feel like she’d lose her mind. She screamed at him in a shrill voice.

“What… what do you think you’re doing?!”

“Did you show him the snakebite?” Yuri asked, his expression darkening. He then grabbed her robe and tore it open with his hands, revealing the bruise on her thigh. The wound, once red, had now turned round and bluish-green.

Heina tried to resist, but Yuri was faster and stronger. Pressing her forehead down firmly, he prevented her from getting up from the bed. He then barked an order at the doctor.

“My slave still seems to think she’s royalty. She appears to believe she’s above others, so much so that she considers exposing her body in front of someone else a shameful act. Come closer, and properly treat this wound. Do it right now, in front of me.”

“Let me go!” Heina struggled, but her strength was no match for his.

The doctor, on the other hand, was frozen in indecision. He was unsure whether he could dare touch the princess’s inner thigh, even under these circumstances.

“What are you hesitating for? Do you want to die?” Yuri’s eyebrow arched as he glared at the doctor, his voice dripping with menace.

Panicked, Heina made a desperate decision. “Just do it! I don’t care—treat the wound now!”

She could no longer bear to watch innocent people from Constance lose their lives because of her. She knew all too well that Yuri, standing there with his arms crossed and his displeased expression, wouldn’t hesitate to kill the doctor if pushed.

“I… I apologize for my rudeness, then….”

“Apologies are a waste of time. Just shut up and treat her quickly if you value your life,” Yuri sneered.

Under Yuri’s cold, piercing gaze, the elderly doctor reached out with trembling hands and began treating Heina’s wound. Judging by the bite marks, it was likely the venom of a highly poisonous snake. In such cases, death would typically occur within two days—or, at best, the venom would spread, leaving the victim with permanent damage.

Someone must have administered emergency treatment right away; otherwise, there was no way Heina could still be in such stable condition.

“Ugh…”