Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 134: Myss’s Proposal
“Try… what?”
For once, Salaar’s voice stumbled.
“Tass’s theory is unlikely to be true. The Eye-Opening Ceremony has continued for over three hundred years, with more than three hundred pairs of living sacrifices. Even if collecting ‘knowledge of birth’ once wasn’t enough, there would be no need to repeat it so many times.”
“Who knows? This is preparation for Its own ‘birth.’ There’s no such thing as being too careful.”
Myss stirred the cream soup with his spoon, slices of mushroom rising and sinking in the milky broth.
He meant every word. For the sake of ensuring his own perfect birth, he had tolerated Salaar for more than three hundred years. A “god’s” concept of time was naturally different from that of short-lived humans.
When Salaar remained silent, Myss had no choice but to continue. “Of course, there’s another possibility.”
“Sogné seemed to change because he ‘understood’ something. The Blind God selects beautiful, good-natured humans every year and brings them here. Perhaps It wants to ‘understand’ certain things… things that will allow It to truly be born.”
“And going one step further, since the Blind God’s Blessing turns the sacrifices into lovers, perhaps what the Blind God wants has something to do with emotions.”
The more Myss spoke, the more brilliant he found himself. At the same time, he grew increasingly dissatisfied with Salaar’s passive attitude. They had adventured together in the human world for so long, and this was the first time Salaar had shown so little initiative.
Ever since entering this long dream, he hadn’t offered a single good idea apart from meal plans.
Salaar sighed softly. “So when you say we should try, you mean…”
Myss puffed out his chest. “We should do something that satisfies ‘pregnancy’ and also involves ‘emotion,’ then observe the Blind God’s reaction.”
Immediately afterward, he saw genuine shock on Salaar’s face for the first time. The Hero went pale for an instant, then flushed rapidly.
“Do you understand what you’re saying?”
“I know I can’t give birth, and you don’t possess that function either. But with my control magic and your mental magic, fabricating it shouldn’t be difficult.”
Myss confidently patted his chest. Of course, that was assuming the Blind God truly cared about something like “pregnancy.”
It didn’t matter. Trying it would at least provoke some kind of reaction from the Blind God. Studying the conditions required for Its birth would be highly beneficial to him. This was only an insubstantial dream anyway, and…
And Myss discovered that he greatly enjoyed the sight of Salaar feeling flustered yet trying to maintain a façade of composure.
Salaar thought, or perhaps simply froze, for two seconds before striding away from the dining table.
“Why are you running?”
Myss abandoned his soup and happily chased after him. The room wasn’t large. Before long, the unfortunate Hero had been driven into a corner.
“…This isn’t something you should joke about,” Salaar said dryly, averting his gaze for the first time.
Myss raised a brow. “What’s wrong with you? You weren’t this resistant before. I thought you would look forward to it.”
Salaar stared steadily at Myss, complicated emotions flowing through his lapis-lazuli eyes. “This should be something private between us, not an experiment.”
“And you. You were never this enthusiastic before… You want to observe the Blind God’s birth, just as the Blind God wants to observe the sacrifices, don’t you?”
“So what? You’re the one who repeats ‘everything is for end of the Night Scourge’ every day. If we can’t get out of here, how are we supposed to keep tracking V.O.R?”
Myss curled his lip, lightly brushing aside Salaar’s challenge.
“I thought Saint Salaar had always been willing to use any means necessary to end the Night Scourge.”
It was only their usual mutual mockery, not even particularly harsh, or so Myss believed.
But the instant he mentioned “everything is for ending the Night Scourge” in this ordinary room, Salaar seemed to dim. Within the shadows, his irises looked coated in dust, like ruins buried for more than three hundred years.
Myss hesitated and closed his mouth, swallowing the insult he had been about to deliver. He enjoyed seeing Salaar angry, stubborn, or bewildered. He didn’t like this.
Salaar only gazed at him in silence. Beside them stood an enormous window, and the daylight beyond it looked unbearably false. He needed to change the subject.
Myss quietly stepped half a pace backward, his ember-red eyes darting around.
Then…
“Protect…” A muffled voice exploded behind him.
Myss jolted and leapt directly toward Salaar.
Beside their dining table, a vaguely human shadow appeared without warning. It was mostly translucent, with only the faint outline of a human form. The farther downward it extended, the paler it became, resembling the “ghosts” described by bards.
Its voice was rough and loose like sand, making age and gender impossible to determine.
“You… wait… for him… to finish…”
“Mission… continue… the legacy…”
The shadow tilted its head upward, looking toward a target that didn’t exist within this place.
“Do not… give up…”
After speaking, it vanished.
Then Myss noticed several more shadows appearing throughout the room. But they merely hurried past, disappearing even faster than the Dragon Fae.
Salaar seemed to forget their earlier unpleasantness. He gripped Myss’s wrist tightly and stared in the direction where the shadow had been.
Myss cooperatively pretended to have forgotten everything. “What was that?!”
“Perhaps a dream belonging to the Blind God.” Whenever the subject involved mental magic, Salaar’s tone became serious. “Since Sogné exists here, this dream world is not only ours. The Blind God is its true master.”
“The environment has become distorted, and Sogné’s appearance has changed. In other words, for some reason, the Blind God’s embellishments are peeling away.”
“Those shadows and voices were probably things that had previously been concealed.”
“They didn’t look like former sacrifices,” Myss said.
Salaar nodded.
Only after a long pause did he look back at Myss.
“For now, they appear harmless.”
“Oh,” Myss said. “Good. This dream is getting closer and closer to collapse.”
“…”
Damn it. Salaar had gone silent again. He was definitely thinking about what had happened earlier. Myss scratched frantically at his thoughts until inspiration struck.
“I’ll finish the soup, and I’ll wash the bowls! You didn’t sleep enough last night, so go catch up on your rest.”
Salaar shook his head and looked again toward where the shadow had disappeared.
“This isn’t reality. Nothing will happen if I don’t sleep.”
“We should remain awake as much as possible. It would be best not to miss what those shadows say. They’re all clues.”
Myss gave an awkward laugh. “Oh. Right…”
Salaar fell silent again, and a subtle awkwardness spread through the room.
Myss continued clawing at his thoughts. He was no longer certain whether he should provoke Salaar, seduce him, or comfort this strange version of Salaar.
Especially the last one. Since the moment he developed consciousness, the word comfort had never existed in his dictionary.
“…You.” Salaar returned to the table and rubbed his face hard. “You hate Sweet Trap so much that I thought… Never mind.”
“Thought what? That I firmly believed you would use sex as a means of deception, like that Hero everyone knows?” Myss snorted dismissively. “I only hate being portrayed as an idiot who gets manipulated, controlled at will, and has no ability to resist.”
“If the story had been about a Chaos Witch seducing a Hero into destroying the world… that would be another matter.”
Salaar stared at him with an expression that seemed caught between being disappointed in unyielding steel and resenting steel for being so unyielding.
The Hero said nothing, yet Myss could practically hear the question in his mind: How did I end up falling in love with something like you?
Myss decided to go all the way. He pulled out a chair and sat opposite Salaar, then propped his chin in his hands and met Salaar’s gaze directly.
A strand of hair fell with the movement and swayed beside Myss’s cheek. The room was somewhat dim, but the pomegranate blossoms on Myss remained vivid, like countless eyes watching them.
After an unknown length of time, Salaar gave a self-depreciating laugh. “So in the end, the one willing to use any means necessary is you. You’re even more heartless than I imagined, Lord Chaos Archdemon.”
Myss didn’t understand. “What are you talking about now?”
“Do you seriously think I’m using you as a tool because I want to get out of… uh… this place sooner?”
Before Salaar could answer, Myss himself grew irritated. “Then you’re far more stupid than I imagined, Saint Salaar.”
“If I were trapped here with the Crow Priest, I would simply take that little brat Sogné hostage. No one in this world can force me to do something I don’t want to do. Not even I can force myself!”
Myss pounded the table repeatedly, his voice growing sharper.
Amid the Archdemon’s storm of anger, Salaar looked somewhat stunned. “You mean you actually want to… with me?”
“The previous two times weren’t unpleasant,” Myss said. “You know perfectly well that I’ve always enjoyed using you, and only you, for amusement.”
Salaar shot to his feet. Then, as though remembering something, he slowly sat back down. “I need to think about it.”
Seeing this enemy become so unusually anxious and uncertain, Myss found him utterly incomprehensible. When fighting Myss, Salaar wouldn’t even blink after losing a leg. They had already done similar things before. Heaven knew what this human was agonizing over.
Then again, Salaar had already fallen in love with him, and Myss had felt a certain emptiness after accomplishing that goal. Now, at last, he had found a new method of tormenting Salaar.
The two of them becoming entangled would certainly not improve the situation, but Myss didn’t mind welcoming further chaos. What he wanted should be held tightly in his hands. What he disliked should be kicked away. Wasn’t that how it worked?
…Wait, no—by that logic, he should kick Salaar away.
Strictly speaking, the Crow Priest had never wronged him. His treatment should rank above Salaar’s.
Forget it. It had to be because Myss had signed a contract with Salaar. Myss decided to abandon the irritating paradox.
“Take your time thinking.” Myss finished the lukewarm cream of mushroom soup and pushed the bowl in front of Salaar. “Oh, and now that you look slightly less like a corpse, remember to wash the dishes.”
Salaar gave him a helpless glance. “…Fine.”
Myss rose while humming, brushing nonexistent dust from his clothing. The proposal had been made, the soup was finished, and Salaar was still staring blankly at the bowl. He was surely considering how he should wash it later.
It was only shortly just past noon, with a long time remaining before night. The great genius Myss decided to find something to occupy himself, such as inspecting Sogné’s room.
Perhaps more talking shadows were hidden inside. Who knew? He had to understand this damned dream as soon as possible. After all, understanding was the prerequisite for control.
Only by seizing control of this dream early and holding its final outcome in his palm could he… Could he stop facing that brooding Salaar whose thoughts he couldn’t understand.
Myss stopped outside Sogné’s door and knocked with moderate force.
The author has something to say:
The true main plot of this book: “Sweet Trap” (×
Actually, Salaar cares very much! He’s a Hero who is taking this romance extremely seriously.
And then there’s the Archdemon who has no idea he’s currently in a relationship. [cat paw]
Kinky Thoughts:
The author’s note is really quite apt. Poor Salaar, wants to get his rocks off but wants Myss to reciprocate his feelings too and not have it be a means to an end. Though when Myss stated that no one (not even himself) can force him to do things, isn’t that quite a declaration of love?
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