At the sound of a chirp so incongruously cute, the two men’s heads snapped in the same direction simultaneously.
“What is that? A divine beast?”
“It appears to be the child’s.”
“That tuft of fluff?”
“Yes.”
Kyriel answered curtly. “It’s not a black dragon. You must be deeply disappointed.”
Ludbreed’s words drew an incredulous look from Kyriel.
“Chirp—!”
The red long-tailed tit pushed off Kyriel’s shoulder, fluttering tiny wings as it took flight.
*Thump.*
*Roll, roll.*
It descended vertically, landing squarely on Bunny’s stomach. The wing-flap was pathetic.
“……”
“……”
“…Chirp.”
The bird rolled once, then stood upright as if nothing had happened. A heavy silence hung in the air before the creature plopped down onto Bunny’s chest.
“You’re telling me that came out of that massive egg? Is that even possible?”
“Yes. My son brought it to me to deliver to Bunny. Regardless, they kept their mouths shut quite well. The child in class came running here looking pale.”
Kyriel’s flat, languid voice carried a faint hint of reproach. Ludbreed noticed it, paused, then widened his eyes.
“…Are you blaming me?”
“Then who else should I blame for failing to keep them quiet?”
“Between the last time and this time… you’re acting unusually angry.”
“……”
Kyriel’s eyes narrowed.
In Ludbreed’s memory, Kyriel’s youngest brother was a man who lived as if he were already dead. Ever since the eldest son’s passing, he had turned his back on the world, merely breathing and performing his assigned tasks. Even as a child, Kyriel had been clumsy with his emotions—broken, somehow. He rarely spoke of likes or dislikes, indifferent to the pain of others. He didn’t know how to empathize, often delivering cruel truths without a second thought.
His combat sense, however, was innate. He was a born genius. Yet, from the moment he was born, he had felt like a machine built in a factory—devoid of humanity.
The suspected reason was always the same: black hair, red eyes. The colors of a demon.
For a human to possess these, it was proof of a demonic curse. While those cursed by demons generally had red pupils, Kyriel was a unique case. His mother had been cursed while pregnant with him, resulting in the jet-black hair that accompanied those red eyes. She had held on just long enough to birth him before dying.
Kyriel Yudia, born on the threshold of death, had failed to inherit the blue eyes or silver hair expected of a direct descendant of the Judia Dukedom. As a youth, people called him an unpleasant, creepy, disagreeable thing. His brothers, Kline and Salame, had simply dismissed him as having a rude personality, letting his presence pass like a breeze.
Only one person had reached for him: Dios Yudia.
It was Dios who taught him that pain was pain, bad things were bad, and sadness was sadness. That Kyriel now interacted with others was entirely thanks to the efforts Dios had made—efforts that even Ludbreed had neglected.
Kyriel had only participated in the Holy-Demonic War once Dios went missing, driven by a sole purpose: to find his brother. Once he joined, the momentum shifted. He was the only one who had faced the true form of the Demon King, exchanging words with him before delivering the fatal blow.
“Are you… truly intending to play at being a family? I thought you were…”
“That I wouldn’t be able to raise the child?” Kyriel interrupted, his voice void of emotion.
Ludbreed faltered.
“Why? Because I’m a cursed thing who killed my mother at birth? Or because I’m a monster who knows nothing of emotion?”
“Hah… It’s not that—it’s because you can’t even handle your own life properly…!”
“But you resent that my mother died, don’t you? If it weren’t for me, she might have been treated.”
“Kyriel! You really…”
Kyriel fixed him with a vacant, indifferent stare—the same look that had haunted Ludbreed since Kyriel was a child. It was a gaze that looked at nothing, felt nothing, and claimed nothing.
“You are resentful. And deep down, you are afraid of me. Because I am a monster who might go berserk at any moment.”
“What on earth are you talking about? I have never once…!”
Kyriel met Ludbreed’s gaze directly. Ludbreed recoiled, his eyes widening as he saw the reproach etched in Kyriel’s expression.
“Let’s stop this here. For now, the problem is Bunny.”
At the mention of her name, Ludbreed lowered his gaze.
*Pop!*
A strange sound drew their attention to Bunny’s chest, where a single red feather, flickering like a flame, had appeared. It was significantly larger than the red long-tailed tit. When they looked over, the bird had rolled off and was now nestled beside Bunny’s face, head tucked deep between its wings.
“A feather?”
*Whoosh.*
The feather twinkled once, then began to dissolve, seeping slowly into Bunny’s chest.
“…Wait, this!”
Kyriel, looking uncharacteristically flustered, reached out, but the feather had already vanished into her skin.
At the same time, Bunny’s ragged breathing smoothed out. The fiercely swirling demonic energy that had emanated from her began to dissipate. The three men in the room felt the shift and widened their eyes.
“…The demonic energy.”
As Ludbreed muttered the words, Kyriel grabbed the child’s hand, urgently pouring his own holy power into her.
“Is Lady Bunny alright, Young Master?” Levon asked, stepping closer.
“…It’s gone.”
“It’s gone? What is…”
“The demonic energy. It’s scattering, bit by bit.”
Whatever that feather was, it had done something.
*A red feather?*
Kyriel’s eyes darted to the bird, curled in a ball and sleeping soundly beside Bunny. The feather had been two or three times larger than the creature, but the connection was clear.
*It’s not as if the size of a divine beast is always proportional to its ability,* he thought, though he had never seen one so small.
Kyriel watched as the child’s fever subsided, then scooped her into his arms.
“She is stable for now. I will take her. What does the Emperor say?”
“He requested that you meet again once Bunny’s situation is settled.”
“I warn you in advance: do not force anything upon the child.”
Kyriel turned slowly, his face a mask. Levon bowed respectfully and followed.
“Raising a child is not easy. I say this out of concern, so think it over carefully.”
Kyriel left the temple without answering.
“Levon.”
“Yes.”
“I need to change rooms.”
“Yes???” Levon’s composure slipped as he asked what that meant.
“We’ll use the annex. Get it ready.”
“The annex…?”
“Yes. The mansion Mother left for me. Open it.”
Levon’s eyes widened, then slowly returned to their original state. He glanced at the child cradled in Kyriel’s arms and bowed.
“I will handle the arrangements immediately.”
A faint, fleeting smile touched Levon’s lips before it vanished.