Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 43: That Heart

“I want a room of my own,” Myss said.

Iver didn’t look especially surprised. “And what about the two of your cats?”

“I’m taking all of them,” Myss said without the slightest politeness. “Give me a quiet room. Preferably one farther away from that bastard.”

“A wise choice.” Iver smiled.

He paused politely for a moment, then added, “I’ve heard there are some rumors about you inside the Red Amber, and I can understand your displeasure. But regarding the incident where you hurt someone, it would be best if you came forward and apologized.”

“That kind of behavior reflects poorly on you. I would advise you to maintain a more appropriate demeanor.”

“Oh, I’m not displeased, and I have no interest in apologizing.”

Myss said, “To put it in your terms, I feel that everything about me is perfect. I’m extremely satisfied with myself.”

The only thing that could truly make him unhappy was Salaar. But even then, it was his own choice to avoid the risk and not strike the killing blow. If time returned to more than three hundred years ago, Myss would still make exactly the same decision.

Yes. His decisions were perfectly flawless. If the outcome didn’t satisfy him, then that was Salaar’s fault.

Likewise, Myss didn’t feel in the slightest that beating up those people had been wrong. If it happened again, he would only enjoy beating them more.

Iver’s gaze grew complicated. “Very well, if you insist.”

Before dinner, Myss had already been given a room of his own. The model suite’s dressing room and bath were more spacious, though it had no dedicated painting area and the light wasn’t as good.

Myss took all three cats with him. “Salaar” didn’t try to stop him in the least. Cinnamon and Butter took it in stride, but the ragdoll cat Apple looked confused, rubbing itself back and forth against Myss’s trouser leg and mewing questioningly.

Unfortunately, Lord Archdemon didn’t possess Father Kalen’s gift for affinity with animals. He simply hung the magic badge on the cat and had the priest explain the situation on his behalf.

“It’s fine now.” A few minutes later, the priest said, “I told it the two of you had a fight and were breaking up. It understands completely.”

Myss: “…?”

“What else was I supposed to say? They can’t understand topics like Divine Realms.”

Snake-Salaar poked his head out from Myss’s collar and rested comfortably along the fold of the fabric. “At last, we can talk freely. Wonderful.”

He craned his little head, peering around inquisitively as he surveyed their new base. As for Tass… they had lent him Cinnamon’s tracking magic artifact, so they weren’t worried the Dragon Fae would be unable to find his way back.

Myss casually picked out a tea saucer and stuffed a soft tea cloth into it. Then he lifted snake-Salaar into it and gave him a few squeezes on the way.

Fork circled curiously around Salaar, its tongue lightly brushing over his head.

Salaar rested his tiny snake head on the edge of the saucer, looking completely unruffled, as though losing his body were no big deal. Unfortunately, that relaxed mood didn’t last long.

Before the dinner Myss had ordered even arrived, Tass returned first.

Tass looked in exceptionally bad shape. His skin was ulcerated all over, the membranes of his wings were full of holes, and he flew so unsteadily he nearly pitched headfirst onto the floor.

Only now did Myss truly understand the Dragon Fae’s terror.

If the Dragon Fae had merely been attacked by magic, he could have “washed” the effects away using gemstones with ease. But if the entire environment itself was poisonous, then there truly was nowhere to escape to.

Salaar hurriedly slithered out of the saucer and used his meager magic to heal Tass’s injuries.

But Tass himself seemed to have forgotten his pain. He hugged his knees in a daze and haltingly recounted everything he had seen and heard. The words sounded less like something drawn from memory than something he was vomiting up from his heart.

“So you’re saying Danton was made into a living specimen, and Mr. Anti is a living specimen too.”

“And the blood amber is most likely made by that so-called god, the ‘Perfected Creation,’ and only Perfected followers of it are allowed to leave the Divine Realm.”

Myss murmured, “But Salaar’s body wasn’t turned into a specimen…”

“Oh, that might be because my conversion was incomplete, so ‘I was not fully accepted.’” Snake-Salaar cut in. “Seen that way, separating out my heart was actually for the best. At least I won’t hesitate because of reason.”

“In other words, the ‘you’ acting right now is purely on emotion?”

“And what of it? You didn’t meet me yesterday. I’ve always been emotional,” snake-Salaar said openly.

True enough, Myss thought.

After all, he couldn’t imagine any rational leader naming every mushroom on a plate before dinner, giving each one a funeral speech in order, and only then eating them.

But that wasn’t the main issue right now.

With snake-Salaar’s cool and smooth body wound around his finger, Myss began to formulate a plan. “We can’t stop investigating ‘Flaw.’ That’s the closest lead we have to V.O.R. And now, we happen to have the most useful kind of manpower.”

He looked at Tass without the slightest mercy. Tass remained blankly hugging his knees, making no response to Myss’s gaze.

“Mr. Anti may not be entirely dead. As far as I know, he still has a Magibase.”

Myss said, “A Magibase is a symbol of the mind. Since it still exists, your friend’s mind still exists too, even if only as a remnant.”

Tass’s green eyes shifted. “Really?”

“He wouldn’t lie about something like that. I guarantee it,” snake-Salaar affirmed, lifting his head.

Tass pursed his lips; the deathly pallor had finally started fading from his face.

After the first day, everyone was utterly exhausted.

Tass ate some fruit and pastries, then spread out a tea cloth for himself as a bed and quickly fell asleep.

Salaar recovered a little magic at a time and spent every bit of it healing Tass. Even so, Tass’s condition improved very little. Snake-Salaar seemed a little downcast, lying motionless in Myss’s palm.

As for Myss, he cupped both hands around his tiny enemy, pressed him to his chest, and then curled up around him.

The Red Amber’s bedding was actually quite good, but Myss simply found it cold and hard, uncomfortable no matter how he lay on it.

Later, in the middle of the night—

Bang bang bang bang bang bang!

An earthshaking pounding came at the door. Myss opened his eyes in irritation. His left hand tightened around Salaar while his right wound itself with black threads of magic. “Who is it?”

No reply came.

Still on guard, Myss pulled open the door and found several sheets of paper scattered on the floor. Looking more closely, he saw that many slips had also been stuck onto the door itself.

They were unsigned, and every one of them was covered in vicious ridicule. The general meaning was much the same as the whispers during the day: he was a filthy, arrogant male whore, utterly unworthy of entering the Red Amber, and he ought to repent for “defiling art.”

There were also accusations like “violent lunatic” and “disgustingly crude,” all written in a tone of perfect moral righteousness.

Myss: “……”

He picked up one of the sheets and sniffed it carefully. Sure enough, it carried a faint blood amber scent… Was the “Perfected Creation” serious? Did it intend to attack him with these flimsy bits of paper?

“How boring.”

Myss paid them no mind at all.

The servants could clean them away in the morning. He gave a huge yawn, draped Salaar over his collar, and sleepily crawled back into bed.

Snake-Salaar, however, stared silently at the stack of papers, his blue eyes gleaming in the dark.

Myss buried his face in the pillow and quickly fell asleep again, but the moment his mind began to settle—

Bang bang bang bang bang bang!

The pounding started at the door again. This time, even two of the cats woke up. They let out unhappy little meows and jumped off the bed one after another.

Myss glanced at the time. It wasn’t even two in the morning yet. A faint killing intent rose inside him as he yanked the door open.

This time, he caught sight of two fleeing figures. They vanished quickly around the corner, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. The pile of papers on the floor had grown higher, and the words “WATCH YOUR CONDUCT!” had been assembled across them in giant cut-out letters.

The paper used was different from sheet to sheet, clearly from different hands, but every message was the same.

His door had become damp and sticky, smelling faintly sweet and bloody. Narrowing his eyes, Myss saw that “WATCH YOUR CONDUCT!” had been painted in huge strokes across the door itself.

The words were written in blood. In the weak light, they looked nearly black.

All right, then. He had been wrong. The followers of the “Perfected Creation” did have a move or two. He was actually getting a little annoyed now.

If only Salaar’s body were still here, Myss thought resentfully, poking the snake—at the very least, Salaar’s defensive magic had been remarkably effective, especially when it came to soundproofing.

Myss ignored the mess outside yet again and slammed the door shut. He buried his head in the pillow and went back to sleep.

Naturally, it went exactly as expected. The moment he drifted into that half-dreaming state again, the pounding began anew.

Myss practically sprang to the door in one leap and charged outside. Just as he was about to attack the fleeing culprits, a sharp pain shot through the sole of his foot.

Looking down, he found several sharp vase fragments underfoot. They were just pointed enough and just hard enough to pierce the soft indoor shoes the Red Amber provided.

Blood welled up at once. Myss pulled the bloody shards out of his sole and slowly drew in a breath.

The pile of papers before him had grown even higher, almost like a paper grave mound. This time, the words written on them were no longer mere “warnings” or “advice.” Myss sensed the presence of curse magic—far from deadly, but enough to injure someone.

“This isn’t a prank. This is deliberate harm and sleep deprivation.”

Snake-Salaar spoke in a grave tone, his body rigid, his anger no less than during the day. “Go back into the room quickly. I’ll heal you.”

“Cough… maybe you should just take all the papers inside?” Tass, who had also been woken by the disturbance, offered. “It looks like if you don’t accept them, they won’t stop.”

“Compromise for now. Recovering your strength matters most.”

“Compromise? Me?” Myss snorted. “So they don’t want me to sleep? Fine. Then no one sleeps.”

He didn’t let Salaar heal his foot. Instead, leaving bloody footprints, he strode out into the hall. Black threads swept up the papers and spread them evenly into every corner of the corridor.

In one hand Myss held a square silver serving tray. In the other he brandished a broken chair leg, hammering away with deafening force. The shrieking metallic scrape tore through the night, enough to burst anyone’s eardrums.

“Somebody—left something—outside my door—Who is it—throwing garbage around—in the middle of the night—”

Imitating the Salaar from the seal, Myss began to sing in a high, trilling voice. The hideously off-key melody paired perfectly with the noise, enough to wake even the plants in their flowerpots.

“Hurry up—and come claim it—”

Salaar was trembling where he sat against Myss’s neck. At first Myss thought the little snake couldn’t endure it. But after a moment’s glance, he discovered that Salaar was actually swaying to the rhythm.

“Come on, I’ll teach you the song.” Instead of stopping him, snake-Salaar urged him on at once. “I know one that’s even worse. The lyrics are unbelievably awful. Perfect for tormenting those bastards.”

How novel. Usually it had always been Salaar harassing him one-sidedly. Rare indeed was the chance for the two of them to join forces and harass other people instead.

Myss immediately perked up. “Let’s go!”

The corridor was dimly lit, the flames casting swaying shadows.

Doors, carpets, wallpaper—everything was immaculate, repeated with the sameness of an endless collage, radiating a silence so perfect it turned the skin cold.

Snake-Salaar stood straight up on Myss’s shoulder, leading the song in a fine, high little voice while Myss followed in rhythm. Once they were familiar with the tune, they even added bits of harmony.

Myss and the little snake swayed as they walked, silver-white hair mingling with silver-white scales in the warm dim light. Bits of torn paper flew everywhere in their wake like tiny falling petals.

Two cats trotted along with their tail held high, occasionally knocking over an exquisite vase or two. Each time Myss sang a line, they followed it by shrieking at full volume, their voices wonderfully piercing.

Chaos rapidly devoured order. Bright paint splashed itself over blankness. Myss never used annihilation magic, yet the result was somehow even more chaotic than annihilation itself.

The Archdemon’s talent for imitation was astonishing, and that terrible song was astonishingly awful. With a tune like sawing wood and lyrics of unbelievable vulgarity, Myss sincerely suspected that if the Abnormal Fruit weren’t sustaining the place, the song alone might be enough to send the “Perfected Creation” to the grave.

The faintly sensed web in the air was trembling—whether from provocation or anger, who could say.

From behind countless doors came restrained clicks of the tongue. These perfection-seeking creatures dared throw threats at him, but not one of them dared be the first to step out and curse him to his face.

…Strange. This actually felt pretty good, Myss thought.

He began to understand why Salaar liked howling—no, singing—in the darkness.

The only regret was that Salaar had quietly healed his foot after all, ruining Myss’s chance to stamp bloody footprints all along the corridor.

After nearly an hour of this traveling concert, Myss returned to his room feeling utterly refreshed and immediately collapsed into sleep. Snake-Salaar lightly coiled around Myss’s wrist, resting his head against the warmth of his enemy’s fingers, sleeping just as soundly.

This time they slept in perfect peace. No one dared trouble them again until the sun rose.

Morning.

Myss didn’t leave the room right away. On a sheet of paper he wrote, “Hello, how is the weather?” and carelessly stuffed it into an envelope. When he sealed it with wax, he deliberately pressed a gemstone into the seal.

That would be Tass’s hiding place.

While Myss prepared the letter, snake-Salaar recited “Flaw’s” old correspondence to Tass. Once Tass successfully infiltrated the mail storage area, he would be able to search through the records based on the relevant dates.

As a seasoned assassin, Tass was high adapt at gathering information, and he agreed without hesitation.

“…But how are you planning to fool the registration process?”

Once the letter was ready, Tass couldn’t help asking, “I know that lie-detection magic. It’s no joke. If Mr. Myss uses a false name, the registration form will definitely react.”

“Oh, I’m not like this bastard.”

Myss glanced at snake-Salaar out of the corner of his eye. “My real name—the only name I myself recognize—is ‘Myss.’”

“And what if they refuse to send the letter? This place is becoming increasingly hostile to you,” Tass said, still full of concern.

“They won’t.” Snake-Salaar cut in confidently. “This place places extraordinary emphasis on following the rules. As long as Myss is still fulfilling the contract, he’s entitled to the corresponding services.”

“Otherwise, Iver could simply have rejected Myss’s request yesterday and forced Myss to eat and live together with my body.”

Before snake-Salaar had even finished speaking, another piece of good news arrived: Father Kalen had found a volunteer cat.

“It’s willing to help test the boundary of the Divine Realm. You can call it ‘Grandma Black Cat,’” Father Kalen said. “She even knows a few secret entrances used only by cats.”

“She might get trapped. Does she really understand that?” Myss asked in return. “Oh, and I’ve sort of gotten Salaar back, by the way. He’s the one making me ask.”

“No problem. Grandma Black Cat was seriously ill before and is still physically weak. By your description, the Red Amber will provide medical treatment and food for her.” Father Kalen said, “As I said, she’s old enough that even if she can never get back out…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Myss understood what he meant.

“All right. I’ll wait for her good news.”

Myss ended the communication and let out a long breath.

Excellent. Everything was going smoothly.

Tass would handle the mail collection room. A volunteer cat would test the boundary of the Divine Realm. Now he could finally free his hands and go looking for this so-called “Perfected Creation.”

This Divine Realm was nowhere near as large as the Fallen Child’s had been. That Perfected Creation had to be hiding in some corner. He had no intention of negotiating with it. He wanted to tear it apart with his own hands.

“If you don’t recover soon, I’m going to deal with that thing myself.” He toyed with Salaar between his fingers and declared with satisfaction, “All of its little tricks are useless against me.”

Before opening the door, Myss deliberately extended his senses. There was no especially heavy human presence outside, nor any suspicious magical fluctuation.

All right. He twisted the doorknob, determined to begin the second day of his divine-realm adventure.

Click.

The instant the lock turned, Myss collided head-on with a golden defensive barrier.

…Bad. It was “Salaar”!

Myss hurled an annihilation spell back at it immediately, clutching snake-Salaar tightly against his chest. As always, he didn’t retreat—he only tried to break straight through the thing blocking him.

“Salaar” smiled.

The moment the barrier shattered, two ordinary-looking models suddenly rushed out from the side. One wrapped around Myss’s waist, the other pinned his shoulder.

At the same instant, a streak of red light scorched the back of Myss’s hand. The spell was extraordinarily powerful, and his fingers loosened by instinct.

Only for a moment.

Truman burst out from behind “Salaar.” A golden defensive barrier covered his body, and in his left hand he clenched a magic ornament forged from the Saint’s Blood. With his dexterous right hand, he snatched at Myss’s chest, then flung what he took straight toward “Salaar.”

As the thief who had once swapped out the Saint’s Blood, Truman’s hands were astonishingly quick. By the time Myss reacted, snake-Salaar was already in “Salaar’s” grasp.

In an instant, layers upon layers of defensive magic wrapped around “Salaar,” ensuring that not a single thread of annihilation magic could get through.

“I—I caught that snake.”

Truman’s voice shook with excitement. “Mr. Karns, Mr. Karns… now you approve of me, right? You approve of what I said, don’t you?”

“Salaar” ignored him completely.

He pinched the frantically struggling “heart” in his hand, the blood amber eyes curving slightly.

“I know where I would place my ‘heart,’ Mr. Myss.”

“Salaar’s” tone was full of regret. “You’re even more dangerous than I imagined… You have had too corrosive an effect on my ‘heart.’ I must place it somewhere safer.”

Snake-Salaar seemed to realize something at once and jerked his head upward. He sprang toward “Salaar’s” chest, as if trying to attack his own body.

“Myss!”

The tiny shout pierced through all those layers of shielding, carrying a certainty that could not be doubted.

“Remember, this is not your fault!”

“I understand the precondition for Its attack now! You absolutely must not sus—”

The voice cut off abruptly.

Drop by drop, blood amber appeared out of nowhere and engulfed the little snake completely.

The next second, “Salaar” peeled that beautiful blood amber from his chest and tossed it upward, letting it vanish into empty space.

“Now, in accordance with the contract.”

“You cannot leave me anymore, Mr. Myss.”

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The author has something to say:

The first time, Salaar was attacked by the Perfected Creation, and his heart fled to Myss’s side. [doge head]

The second time, Salaar’s heart was attacked by the Perfected Creation—but don’t worry, everyone, he’ll still be back at Myss’s side at top speed. [dog with rose in mouth]

Mr. Hero, isn’t that amazing? …Take a guess how he’s going to do it. [OK]

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