People who lived during the era when plagues ran rampant grew up always hearing tales of a “cruel beast.”

“If you don’t come home before dark, the evil god will take you.”

“Who’s making all that racket! The evil god’s going to come and snatch you away!”

“Live selfishly like that your whole life and you’ll get dragged off by the evil god!”

If Sergio had heard those, he’d probably have said, “What am I, some kind of tiger?” with a dumbfounded look.

Anyway, that’s how it was back then.

Ather was one of those children.

It was a time when the existence of the evil god had become deeply woven into everyday life.

Deep in their minds and hearts, people were filled with fear and caution toward Argio.

But the Argio he met in person was different.

“Have you eaten?”

“Did you get your exercise today?”

“You’ll collapse from crying like that.”

He’d suddenly appear, casually ask after his well-being, then disappear again.

“......”

It was probably because he knew that Ather was afraid of him.

‘But an evil god...?’

That terrifying Demon King was showing concern?

‘I just can’t get used to this.’

That’s what he thought at first.

Ather had indeed been resurrected as a proper human being thanks to Argio’s help.

He felt gratitude for that.

But that didn’t mean the fear he held for the evil god could vanish in an instant.

‘I don’t know why he chooses to appear in that form, but...’

As time passed, things started to change.

Ather, once a madman, slowly regained his composure.

His fractured mind gradually aligned with his now-whole body.

“Have you finally found some peace?”

“...You're right. I’ve gotten quite a bit better.”

“You look decently human now.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Good boy.”

Naturally, his anxiety about Argio also began to fade.

‘I couldn’t help it.’

He had been the one to free Ather from eternal torment.

He was the first god to grant salvation when his name was called.

He also appeared in a human form.

They shared meals, talked, checked in on each other.

When Ather raged and went mad, lost in fragments of his past, Argio gave him space.

That was exactly what Ather needed.

Time to think.

Time to gather himself.

Argio helped him learn how to care for himself again.

‘It’d be stranger if I didn’t feel more at ease by now.’

Even today — look.

“I think this is roughly what it was like.”

“...Yeah, you’re right. Though for something a vagabond usually eats, it’s suspiciously well made. It feels off.”

“Well, as long as it’s tasty, who cares? But the fact that I failed to perfectly recreate what you remembered wounds my pride a bit, so next time I’ll make a more proper jerky soup.”

“Even if you put more effort into it, I think it’ll just end up being tastier than it should be.”

Argio had cooked the jerky soup himself, simply because Ather had once said, “I miss jerky soup.”

“I keep thinking this, but... it’s strange that you’re good at cooking.”

No — it was more than strange.

It felt unnatural.

Cooking was something laborers did.

Nobles looked down on it.

Argio had once been a noble.

And even before remembering that, Ather knew him first and foremost as “the Demon King.”

A being like that — cooking by hand?

‘And for a commoner like me, no less.’

Well, the old world was gone now, but still—

‘I can’t help feeling awkward about it.’

To top it off, Ather had once been one of the “heroes” who sealed Argio away.

That the evil god held no grudge against him still felt surreal.

Because Ather himself knew he wouldn’t have been able to do the same.

“...You said that when you were human, you lived as a wanderer like us. So maybe it’s not that odd.

Still, your resplendent ruins are etched so deeply into my memory.”

“Yes, my old house did sparkle quite a bit.”

Argio welcomed the conversation without hesitation.

“There were many offerings made from all over, after all.”

“You received offerings? I heard a lot about how you devoured living sacrifices...”

“After I gained divinity, yes, there were more living sacrifices.

But in life, I received more gold and treasure than anything else.

Life is more precious than offerings — isn’t that obvious?”

“Ah... so that part got twisted.”

“I loved decorating my home.

Did you know I was the only one of the saints offered to the Black Forest who lived past twenty?

That means I was the first saint to go in and out of both the forest and the world outside.”

His story was genuinely interesting.

“Everything I plundered or received as gifts, I brought to my home.

To these ruins.

I think maybe because that self of mine remained so strongly, I kept up that environment even after losing most of my ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) mind as an evil god...”

“So your memories from then — they’re still incomplete?”

“They used to be.

But not anymore.

Thankfully, I got a good opportunity that let me bring myself together again.

Though it takes some effort to recall the memories of the saints who came before me.”

“And having so many selves merged into one — doesn’t that feel uncomfortable?”

“I’ve never really thought about it that way.

Do you find your own hands and feet or eyes uncomfortable just because you were born with them?

It’s just that effort is required to clearly recognize and manage those parts.”

The evil god asked,

“Are you managing okay here?”

“For now, there’s no more comfortable place I could be.”

“That’s just what you think — you’ve only stayed within the ruins all this time.”

“...You do know how big these ruins are, don’t you?”

The ruins were nearly the size of a castle.

That is, they were as large as the palace of a landowner and the villages spread around its outskirts.

“This place is practically a city center.

Back when I visited as a hero, or when I ran here fleeing people, I didn’t have time to explore.

But I’ve started walking around lately, and it’s much larger than I imagined.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying the sightseeing.”

“It’s less dazzling than it was in the old days when treasure overflowed, but...

in a way, it’s more comfortable.

Less strain on the eyes.

To be honest, back when you were the Demon King, this place wasn’t exactly a nice tourist spot.”

“Hearing you say that — did you have an interest in ruins originally?”

“When the heroes visited this place, I was the one who uncovered the truth of the Black Forest.”

He had been a royal librarian.

“For a commoner to rise to that position is nearly impossible.

In short, I was so talented that I overcame my low birth and forced all those nobles to eat their pride.”

The evil god feigned surprise.

“You were a librarian with that body?”

“...Why is that the part that surprises you?”

“There aren’t many people taller than me, you know.”

“I am taller than average, yes... but among the heroes, there were plenty.

Even with my blurry memory, I’m sure some were taller than me.”

“I’m glad we met back when I was the Demon King.”

“...That wasn’t exactly fortunate for us. Why do you say that?”

“Because I got to look down at you?

I mean — I’m the Demon King.

Wouldn’t it bruise my pride if I had to look up at someone?”

“Ah, so that’s why... I see...”

It made him laugh in a weary sort of way.

)

“Did I ever tell you this?

You’re a much more down-to-earth person than I imagined. It surprised me.”

“Be thankful that the final saint is the one who ended up in control.”

“I probably couldn’t be more thankful.”

But the more he grew used to this tranquility,

the more that deeply etched anxiety started to crawl back in.

“......”

Ather was thankful to this evil god.

‘He saved me.’

The only one who responded to his call — who granted him salvation.

The debt he owed was beyond words.

Even if he gave up his own life, it wouldn’t be enough to repay it.

‘But at the same time, the more I feel close to him...’

...the more afraid he became.

***

He’d been thinking about this since the first moment he regained his “mind.”

‘Can I really call this being genuine?’

The evil god was a creation — the amalgamation of countless victims of rage and hatred.

And the one who saved Ather and treated him with warmth was someone who called himself “Argio,” the final saint.

But what is a god?

Their truth and lies cannot be distinguished by human standards.

This gentle, approachable “Argio” might not be the truth at all.

The furious evil god could be his true nature.

‘If that’s the case, then I have a role to fulfill.’

Many of the accusations against the beast were false.

But there were many horrors he truly had committed.

If the apocalyptic war of that age were destined to repeat, Ather had to stop it.

‘Even if it meant repaying kindness with betrayal — and suffering eternal torment again.’

That was his role.

‘...But, I can’t be sure of anything.’

How can one judge the truth of a god?

“Do you have time to talk today?”

“A rare thing — you asking first. Is something the matter?”

“There’s something I’ve been curious about.”

“I’ve always been happy to talk with you, you know.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

In the end, Ather chose to ask directly.

“I want to trust you.

But can you tell me how I can be certain?”

“......”

To that—

“......?”

Argio looked genuinely taken aback.

“Oh... so all that brooding lately — was this what it was about?”

“Yes.”

“And now you’re asking me that directly?”

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong with you, really... I don’t even know what to say.

Do you think that if I said, ‘This evil god is totally safe and harmless, so stop worrying and just trust me,’ you’d believe it?”

“Probably not.”

“You’re an odd one.”

Ather clenched his jaw like he was embarrassed or frustrated by Gio’s reaction.

“...Zrrgh mmm ezll skssnnkk...”

“Please speak in a human tongue.”

“What do you expect me to do, when I’m dealing with an evil god?”

“Should I call this despair, or wisdom...”

Gio stroked his chin, thinking, then looked up.

“Can’t we just keep living like this?”

“I can’t — I’m too anxious.”

“Why is it that everyone who knows me becomes obsessed with trying to define me?

Whether I’m human, god, ghost, whatever — can’t we just live well and enjoy life?”

“Living carefree isn’t so easy, you know.”

“Do you analyze and define every friend you make like this?

I feel sorry for you. Being too clever isn’t always a good thing.”

“You can’t compare random people you meet in everyday life to an evil god with a tangled history.

You can’t relax just because the bomb looks cute and harmless.”

“You’re picky.”

A bit uptight, aren’t you?

“Hmmm...”

He probably wanted a kind of trust that couldn’t break.

“There’s something you don’t know.”

“What is it?”

“No trust in this world is perfect.”

It’s like learning Santa Claus is just your parents — that’s how people grow up.

“There’s no such thing as lifelong trust.

Everyone gets burned, then fills in the cracks with friendship and love.

Living beings can’t survive in perfect order.”

“...I understand what you’re saying.

But I don’t need trust in our relationship — I need to trust that you won’t return to being that evil god.

That other kind of trust is my responsibility.”

“Then why do you think I’d go back to that?”

“You said your heart is missing.”

Ather exhaled and continued.

“Your heart. The most important part.”

Argio had once said he wasn’t whole.

That the heroes’ seal still lingered.

This evil god wasn’t complete.

“I want to know what your complete self looks like.”

“Oh, I see.”

A truly brave soul.

“Then shall we open it up?”

“...The seal?”

“The coffin of the evil god.”

“Is that really okay?”

“There’s no reason not to.”

After all, the only reason it’s remained closed is because I chose to stay inside.