A Villain's Will to Survive-Chapter 193: World of the Voice (3)

... On the dim path of the Voice, I followed Deculein, his stance unwavering, his steps perfectly measured and sure, with no trace of hesitation, as if nothing in this world could touch or disturb him.

I barely spent a year around Deculein, yet I’ve spent far longer hating him with every fiber of my being. I never really got to know him, nor did I make any effort to understand him. And yet... now, I find myself curious about him.

What could he be thinking? What feelings does he carry in his heart? Then, after a while, I realized my own emotions—I found myself feeling sad for Deculein.

I tried to piece together fragments of his life that came to my mind—a father who never placed his trust in his son, the weight of family expectations and conflicts, and the only woman he ever loved, stolen from him by a meaningless death brought about by a letter from a demon. In the end, the ones who played a decisive role in his loss were Kagan Luna... and his daughter, me.

Now, I understand that Deculein has every right to hate me, even to the point of despising me. The very fact that I am Kagan’s daughter gives him enough reason to loathe me.

... Yet, he still accepted me as his protégé, understood my betrayal when I sided with Ihelm, forgave my father, and even honored Kagan Luna by listing him as a co-author on a groundbreaking thesis.

And I... don’t know why. I really don’t. The more I come to know Deculein, the more time I spend with him, and the more the days slip by, the less I seem to understand. In the end, I feel like nothing more than a fool.

Why did he choose me as his protégé? Why didn’t he turn his back on me?

Therefore, I no longer resent Deculein. Instead, I can’t stop worrying about him. If he were to meet his lover, brought back as a demon, and if he really had to destroy her with his own hands—if he had no other choice—what would be left of his heart after that?

Within his heart, already reduced to ashes, like a barren wasteland where not a single blade of grass grows...

“Epherene.”

At that moment, Deculein broke the silence by calling her name.

"Yeeeees—!" Epherene blurted out, startled out of her wits in a panic.

“... Have you lost your mind?”

“Oh, no... I-I mean, why? What is it?”

"Get inside," Deculein said, tilting his chin toward a building ahead.

Epherene raised her head, her eyes catching sight of the massive signboard hanging above the entrance.

“... A hotel?!”

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***

The hotel where Epherene and I arrived served as a save point. Without it, entering the Voice would mean waking up in an unpredictable location. But with a place like this—whether a hotel or a house—we could anchor ourselves here, guaranteeing that this spot would always mark the beginning of our journey.

Room 303

“Should I o-open it?” Epherene asked.

“Open it,” I replied.

Epherene unlocked the door first and hesitantly stepped inside.

“... Tch.”

The moment I stepped inside, the room greeted me with a stifling mustiness; the walls were draped in peeling wallpaper streaked with mold, and the bedding sagged under years of filth.

“Stay there,” I said.

Using my attribute, Encryption, I rearranged the room in my mind with clean, neatly arranged furniture through a Mana Code. Then, with Cleanse, I swept away all the filth and grime until everything sparkled anew.

“Whoa... That’s so cool,” Epherene murmured.

"Sit wherever you like."

"Okay, but... Professor, why are we here?" Epherene asked, looking around the room before taking a seat in one of the chairs.

"First, let me explain the Voice in detail," I said.

“Oh. Yes, Professor.”

"This place is an imitation of reality, a world created by the Voice of a demon—or rather, its very Waves. Though it resembles the real world, it is fundamentally different. Here, the impossible becomes possible, and objects that could never exist in the real world are present. Furthermore..."

I closed my eyes for a moment and used Comprehension to recall the memory of the Voice’s map design, something I had seen before. Back when I was Kim Woo-Jin, a game designer, such things came naturally to me. Without issue, I let the vision flow from my mind to the paper, recreating every detail exactly as I had once seen.

"Memorize this. The structure of the Voice is concentric circles," I said.

Concentric circles shared the same center but differed in radius. As the radius increased, the circles grew larger outward. Similarly, the Voice expanded outward, filling broader spaces as it moved further from the center, while becoming more focused and constrained as it approached the core.

"The two demons are most likely at the heart of it all," I added.

Like ripples spreading across a still pond, the circles of the map stretched outward, with the two targets trapped at the tightest point in the center. But Epherene seemed distracted, her focus elsewhere. Fidgeting with her lips, Epherene looked right at me, as if she had something she couldn’t quite bring herself to say.

Mumble— Mumble—

"Do you have something to say?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"Ah... um... are you really going to kill her? Yourself?"

“Yes,” I replied, nodding.

Epherene’s face clouded with sadness, and I wasn’t sure why she reacted that way. But for now, I decided to explain the necessity of it all.

"It’s not a responsibility to be passed on to someone else. Hunting demons is a duty that belongs to Yukline."

"That... I get it... But still..." Epherene stammered.

It was clear that Epherene still lacked the calm and collected rationality expected of a true mage.

... No. Or perhaps it is I who lack something fundamental to being human, I thought.

Surprisingly, I found that I didn’t mind Epherene being like this—the nervous flutter of her fingers, the way she sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me hesitantly, or even the way she worried about me without reason.

“It might be difficult,” I admitted.

At my response, Epherene quickly raised her head. Killing Yoo Ah-Ra—a demon who looked like her—might prove difficult.

"However, I will neither falter nor turn away."

“... Why?”

"Ending the demon’s existence is my responsibility—because I know it is the right path for me to take."

Epherene hesitated, lowering her head for a moment before looking up at me again and saying, "... Professor, there’s something I’ve been wondering about—something I’ve wanted to ask for a long time."

"Speak," I said.

"Why... did you choose me... as your protégé?”

It was a weak question, but Epherene continued, her face as serious as the weight of the world.

"I mean, just like I hated you, it’s only natural that you’d feel the same about me. Because—"

"If your talent had been insignificant," I interrupted, meeting her eyes. "I would have left you to remain as you were—irrelevant, undeserving of my hatred or even a shred of my attention."

Epherene flinched, her shoulders trembling slightly.

"However, Epherene, listen closely. I do not speak falsehoods."

Gulp—

Epherene swallowed nervously, and the corner of my lips twisted slightly. Perhaps it was a smile—or something close to it.

"You hold the talent to define an era.”

Talent—I had long known of Epherene’s talent. It wasn’t just because she was a named character. The growth I witnessed with my own Sharp Eyesight was extraordinary—far beyond what anyone could have expected. It was the kind of progress that made her future as an Archmage feel inevitable.

“To become a mage whose name will be remembered throughout the history of the continent."

Epherene went blank for a moment, and a gentle blush spread across her cheeks, like the first touch of dawn.

"Your talent has nothing to do with the many things about you that I despise. I recognized your potential and believed I could shape it into something greater. That is all—nothing more, nothing less," I concluded.

Epherene nodded slowly, but something in my words seemed to bother her, and she murmured, "Many things about me... that you despise, Professor?"

I felt nothing for Epherene—not affection, nor hatred. Yet, if I were to rely on Deculein’s memories, dislike would be closer to the truth. To say the feeling was free of envy or jealousy would be a lie I couldn’t justify.

"How much does he have to despise me to say there are many things..." Epherene muttered, as if she wanted me to hear.

“Get some rest. Here, you’ll sleep more comfortably and eat your fill, far better than you could in the Northern Region,” I said as I rose from my chair.

“... There’s nothing to eat,” Epherene replied with a hint of sass.

“I’ll go and get something.”

“Sorry? Oh, no, no, that’s not what I meant. I’ll go and get it instead—”

“Stay here,” I said as I stepped out of the guest room, leaving Epherene behind.

Stepping outside the hotel, I found myself surrounded by a bustling crowd. Street vendors lined the roads, their stalls spilling over with color, while the air was thick with the aroma of food. In the heart of it all, I stood still for a moment, turning inward to quietly sort through the thoughts stirring within me.

Yoo Ah-Ra—perhaps it was the face in that montage, but for a brief moment, a long buried side of Kim Woo-Jin surfaced, like the tip of a needle breaking through. As I paused to catch my breath, my eyes were drawn to a familiar face among the street stalls, and when they turned toward me, our eyes met.

"... Professor," Yulie said, holding a hotdog in each hand, with a young boy named Leo, if I remember correctly.

"Oh! It’s Professor Deculein!" Leo exclaimed, his eyes wide as he pointed straight at me.

"... So, you were all here as well," I said, glancing past them while searching for Carlos, the half-human, half-demon.

“Carlos isn’t here,” Leo said.

"That does seem to be the case," I replied.

Of course, if Carlos had been anywhere nearby, I would have felt it in my blood before anything else.

“Professor, why are you looking for Carlos?” Yulie asked.

"That professor is trying to hurt Carlos," Leo said, without blame or tattling, as if he were innocently sharing a piece of information.

“What does that mean... Professor, is that true? Are you really trying to harm a child? Carlos isn’t even thirteen yet,” Yulie said, her eyes narrowing.

"... You've already gotten close to those children. Quite the talent for forming connections," I said with cold sarcasm.

Yulie’s expression grew cold, her eyes piercing, as if silently asking for an explanation.

"That's right. Its death would be a benefit to the world. If you think about it, he's no better than the Scarletborn," I said, nodding.

"... You!" Yulie shouted. "Just how far do you intend to fall into depravity?!"

I silently watched Yulie as she began to speak, her words pouring out like a flood, as if they had been held back for far too long.

"Not just Veron or Rockfell, or even my Knights' Order, but the dozens of Scarletborn you buried alive—"

“Are you defending the Scarletborn?” I interrupted.

“That’s not what I meant!” Yulie shouted, her whole body trembling with rage, like a kettle on the verge of boiling over.

"... Forget it," Yulie said, her teeth clenched as she shook her head, her face weighed down by a sorrow deeper than anger, bearing the hollow look of someone who had completely given up.

“Yulie, you must despise me,” I said.

“Yes,” Yulie responded without hesitation. “I despise you.”

... It was undeniably true.

“And I loathe you.”

It was, without a doubt, the most appropriate emotion for her to feel. Yet, for some reason, a quiet ache settled in my heart—perhaps because, even now, I still loved her.

"... Very well. But let me give you one piece of advice," I said, looking at Yulie.

However, this level of hatred was far from enough. If she were to break free from her curse and endure, becoming an unbroken knight, she still had a long way to go.

"If you are going to hate someone, then hate them with all your heart—hate them enough to want to kill them."

Yulie remained silent.

"As you are now, stuck in this halfway state, nothing will change. No—worse, it might even get you killed."

“Is that a threat?” Yulie said, clenching her fists.

"Consider it advice."

Yulie pressed her lips together in silence, and I turned my gaze elsewhere, walking toward a street vendor selling roasted chicken. I bought two for Epherene and paid no mind to Yulie’s searing glare, as if she were trying to burn a hole through me.

"I’ll take my leave. There’s a burden waiting for me," I said, making my way back to the hotel.

Room 303

I opened the door to my room.

“Snore... Snore...”

Epherene lay sprawled on the bed, drooling in her sleep. But as soon as I set the chicken down, her nose twitched, catching the scent. Almost like a sleepwalker, she sat up and reached out for the chicken.

“... Professor, aren’t you going to eat?” Epherene asked.

“Eat it yourself,” I said, shaking my head.

"Right, you wouldn’t touch something this cheap..." Epherene said, biting into a drumstick.

The way she ravenously devoured the food, her sleepy face somehow full of life, had a certain satisfying quality to it.

Buzzzz—

At that moment, a faint light shimmered, and a gentle vibration rose from my right shoulder, signaling that the time for the Voice had come to an end.

“Epherene, finish your meal. We’ll be returning to the Northern Region shortly,” I said.

“Oh. Yes, Professor...”

***

... On a night under the Red Moon, scattering crimson mist across the heavens, the heart of the Empire—the Imperial Palace—was bathed in an unusual luminescence.

Tick, tock— Tick, tock—

In the innermost chamber of the Imperial Palace, where even the faint ticking of a clock was smothered by silence, Sophien slowly opened her eyes. In the suffocating darkness, her crimson eyes burned brightly, slicing through the shadows.

“Hmm...”

As Sophien released a quiet breath after returning from the Voice...

Thud—

Not far away, a faint sound of movement broke the silence, and as Sophien turned toward it, a vein tensed and pulsed at her temple.

“... You?”

Beyond the darkness, in the bedchamber where no one was permitted entry, stood someone Sophien knew all too well. The sheer audacity of his confidence was so bold that it left her momentarily speechless in disbelief.

“How could you...” Sophien murmured.

“It has been a while, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t dare address me with that filthy mouth of yours, Rohakan.”

Unlike Deculein, the one who sparked her out of her lethargy in an entirely different way was Rohakan, the Empress Assassin.

Sophien raised her upper body in anger and said, “Did you walk here, on your own two feet, to stand before me? To this very chamber where the Empress you murdered once lived?”

Rohakan nodded and replied, "I had no desire to come here, Your Majesty, but I recently heard rumors that you’ve been exchanging letters with Deculein. It’s rather unusual, to say the least. The thought of Your Majesty corresponding through personal letters with someone seemed inconceivable to me... yet it appears to be true."

When Sophien rose from the bed, an immense surge of mana burst forth, swirling like a violent tempest. The sheer force of it seemed to awaken the entire Imperial Palace, and the knights, sensing the presence of an intruder, had already begun to mobilize.

"Your Majesty," Rohakan asked, bracing himself against the crushing weight of her overwhelming mana. “Could it be that you’ve developed feelings for Deculein?”

Swoosh—

Soon, her mana momentarily stilled, and she narrowed her eyes at Rohakan, asking, "And why would such a question come from your mouth? Or have you dared to set foot in this chamber for such an insignificant matter?"

“It is far from insignificant. This is a matter of great importance,” Rohakan said.

"You really are a fucking piece of shit," Sophien said, laced with irritation, as if his solemnity had grated on her nerves.

“Your Majesty, I can glimpse the future, though it may be incomplete,” Rohakan said.

Precognition—the miraculous ability to see the future, a power that grew clearer for Rohakan as his remaining lifespan waned.

Rohakan quietly continued, “... Among them, I glimpsed Your Majesty’s future—a fragmentary yet crucial moment.”

Sophien said, “If you are really desire death of your own life, I would gladly grant it to—”

“In that future.”

Tap, tap, tap, tap—

As the knights' footsteps drew nearer, Sophien released her mana—or rather, she began chanting in the runic language, binding Rohakan’s entire body and leaving him with no chance to escape.

“Your Majesty confessed your love to Deculein,” Rohakan said, his body bound and immobile.

At that moment, it felt as if time had stopped entirely, and in complete disbelief, Sophien’s expression twisted almost comically, as if it had been pressed and flattened like soft clay.