Chapter 6: When Instinct Led Us Beyond Fate
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
When it came to the reason why the Hero and the Demon King fell in love, the people had always been divided. Some claimed it was all about looks—after all, the final generation’s Hero and Demon King were both famously attractive. Others swore it was destiny—after all, every Hero and every Demon King had been locked in a cycle of battle since time immemorial, bound to clash from the moment they were born. And some whispered it was born of loneliness—but that explanation was far murkier.
In truth, no one dared to say for certain.
— “Strange Romances You Need to Know About,” Volume II
After receiving the script of his supposed amnesia, His Majesty the Demon King looked at the village chief, as if hoping the elderly human might temporarily serve as the village’s resident doctor or therapist—someone who could make sense of his confusion and explain everything step by step.
Unfortunately, the village chief was only a village chief. He shook his head, admitting the matter was far beyond his knowledge, and instead offered the Demon King a few words of comfort based on his experience mediating village disputes. Then he turned and walked around to the other side of the bed, where the second survivor—the Hero—was struggling to sit up.
The Demon King’s gaze followed the village chief’s movements almost absently, as if simply drawn along by them. The chief helped the Hero sit upright, propping him against the wall. Once the Hero opened his eyes, the chief explained the situation to him as well.
He told him how a fisherman had pulled two survivors from the river. How, judging by their clothes and appearance, he had identified them as the Demon King and the Hero. How it seemed His Majesty might be suffering from amnesia. And how the Hero appeared to be some kind of knight.
“…Is there anything wrong with that?” the village chief asked after laying out everything he knew, including the Demon King’s apparent memory loss. His question came as he noticed the Hero frowning.
The Hero, his orange hair and brown eyes now paired with the standard villager’s clothing, hesitated. “Uh… actually, I’m not anyone’s knight. I was just passing through. I got injured and was swept downstream. That’s all.”
He shook his head, forcing a friendly smile. As the village chief blinked in surprise, the Hero quickly explained himself and reassured him that the misunderstanding was no big deal.
After clarifying that he had no special connection to the Demon King, the Hero pressed a hand to his forehead, steadying himself. His heart was still pounding from waking up so abruptly, but as he glanced around the room, instinct told him something. His gaze landed on the Demon King—sitting quietly to the side—and his pulse quickened.
The Demon King’s long, unbound hair gleamed like gold. His pale skin framed eyes as blue as the deep sea. He looked every bit the image of a nobleman. And, strangely enough, he looked… entirely human.
The Hero stole a glance at him. When the Demon King looked back, he quickly turned his gaze away, embarrassed at his own lack of manners. Redirecting his attention to the village chief, the Hero thanked him sincerely, explaining that although he couldn’t repay the favor immediately, he could help later by fishing, hunting, or working off his debt through labor.
The Demon King looked as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he stayed silent.
When someone came looking for the village chief, the Hero stepped in. Speaking for both of them, he told the chief not to worry—that he would take care of himself and the other survivor.
Relieved, the chief left them alone. Now, the Hero remained in the room with the Demon King, who had been silent this whole time. The chief was gone. No one else was around. There was no need to worry about anyone being taken hostage if he decided to test the Demon King.
“Can you give me a hand?” the Hero asked with a small smile. He had practiced that smile countless times before. It was the same one he had planned to use to reassure the princess after rescuing her. Now, instead, he used it on this amnesiac Demon King—to show he bore no hostility.
Still, he felt a little nervous. While smiling, he studied the Demon King, who had been watching him and the chief talk from start to finish, and who seemed—at least for now—harmless. He wanted to know, while they were alone, whether this Demon King carried magic or any other dangerous power.
The Demon King, for his part, had simply been observing. He wondered idly what kind of person he was supposed to be if he really was amnesiac. And when the Hero spoke to him, the Demon King hesitated, staying perfectly in character. —Should he pull him up… or not?
His Majesty the Demon King weighed the question from both sides. As a sworn enemy, the proper response upon seeing the Hero in need would have been to push him down further, not pull him up. But as an amnesiac… as a supposed human… when faced with such a trivial matter…
Uncertain of the Hero’s current state—and well aware that, in his present condition, he couldn’t possibly win against an entire village—His Majesty the Demon King hesitated, his hand hovering on the edge of action. The Hero waited for him.
When the Demon King realized that, he reached out without another thought, grasping the Hero’s arm. In doing so, he let the Hero get close enough to probe him. Then, without warning, the Demon King steadied him against the wall in one smooth motion. The Hero froze, a strained laugh catching in his throat. Meanwhile, the Demon King simply flexed his wrist, released him, and sat back down.
Hidden in the corner of his vision, the Demon King’s fingers tapped lightly against the back of his hand, as if in some small, private dance. The faint smile tugging at his lips nearly slipped free, but he held it in check.
The Hero, still recovering from being choked by the sudden movement, didn’t notice that tiny gesture at all. He was too busy.
Because as soon as he finished his inspection and confirmed that His Majesty the Demon King had no magic within him, he finally relaxed. He confirmed that this man—the one who had triggered every alarm in his instincts—was not the Demon King. That he wouldn’t harm anyone nearby. That no one was in danger.
And then… he realized something else. The Demon King had no magic. Which meant the Demon King was not a demon. Which meant the Demon King was just an ordinary human. Which meant the Demon King triggered his instincts for an entirely different reason.
Everyone knew that every Hero inherited three things. A sharp sword, to cut down all evil and obstacles, and to protect themselves and others. An eternal heart, to ensure that every Hero through the ages carried the same courage, kindness, and resolve. And a Hero’s intuition—to warn them of danger… and, at the most critical moments, to point them toward their destiny.
It was this intuition that sounded the alarm when they encountered the Demon King, a warning of mortal peril that could not be ignored. And it was this same intuition that stirred when they stood before their fated soulmate, declaring that if they failed to act, they would regret it for the rest of their life.
The world knew the first function well—Heroes had proven it time and again through countless battles. The second was written just as clearly in the ancestral teachings passed down from generation to generation.
Now, with his thoughts shifting, the Hero was stunned. Petrified. His gaze grew vacant as the truth sank in. And in that dazed stare, the Demon King’s golden hair fell in smooth waves, his blue eyes as deep and striking as the ocean, his pale skin marked by the faint, unhealed scars of recent wounds.
He looked exactly as one would expect from someone who was not the Demon King at all. For his part, His Majesty the Demon King, still weak and utterly useless in his current state, quietly confirmed his success.
He had not been met with sudden hostility. Which meant the Hero didn’t recognize him as the same Demon King he’d once fought. He had not been faced with a drawn sword. Which meant the Hero didn’t recognize him as the same Demon King he’d once fought. He had not been beaten into the ground by an angry mob. Which meant the Hero didn’t recognize him as the same Demon King he’d once fought.
…
In short, as long as he remained truly powerless, he didn’t fear being tested. As long as no one recognized him, as long as he could fool the Hero, he wouldn’t be exposed—at least not yet. And by the time “yet” arrived… He would have already recovered his magic.
His Majesty the Demon King was quietly pleased with this line of reasoning. Watching the Hero’s expression grow more and more conflicted—and oddly fascinated—he let out a soft laugh. After all, his enemy’s discomfort was his joy.
The Hero’s expression only grew more complicated at that laugh. After a long pause, he finally spoke. “I know this might be rude… but, can I ask you something?”
The Demon King glanced at him, granting the Hero permission with a single look. The Hero hesitated, then asked very carefully, “Um… what’s your gender…?”
What if the Demon King was actually a woman—one with a neutral face, a neutral build, and a neutral voice?
If that was the case, the Hero figured he owed it to himself to confirm it before he died. The Demon King answered him by punching him in the shoulder. “What do you think?”
And so, weighed down by his injuries, the Hero collapsed back onto the bed like a corpse. Life was truly strange. You never knew what would happen next.
Author’s Note:
Intuition: Warning!! Warning!! There’s a Demon King!!
Hero: …what the hell, life is wild—am I really destined to be into this guy?!
Demon King: Get lost!!!
(Staring at the 2,500 words I spent over four hours writing: speechless.jpg)
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