“Mmm, it’s delicious, so delicious. I don’t like Kente Village, but the cookies and bread were really amazing.”
The devil, still frowning and glaring at Cecil—who was eating her sweets with such ecstasy that even her cheeks were flushed—let out a sigh as if her spirit had relaxed.
Nirhil’s shoulders slumped, “Are you really eating cookies in a situation like this?”
“Delicious snacks are delicious no matter when you eat them. Does food somehow taste better or worse depending on the situation?”
Cecile glanced at the devil sitting in the distance, looking dumbfounded, then held a piece of cookie up to [Julius II]’s mouth and started tapping it gently.
“This is really good, Julius. Do you want one too?”
Nirhil, trying to figure out just how much Cecile understood as she watched her other-half now performing what looked like a puppet show like a madwoman, eventually raised both hands in defeat and slowly stood from her seat.
“Stop it, I give up. It seems we’ve become more alike than I thought.”
“Hmph—so why were you trying to scare me? You should know it wouldn’t be fun if you kept acting all arrogant.”
At the devil’s declaration of surrender, Cecile curled the corner of her lips into a cheeky smile. She gently held the [Julius II] doll in her arms, stood up, and looked directly at Nirhil.
It wasn’t quite like looking in a mirror.
The black-eyed Cecile, dressed as a heretic inquisitor, and the cloud-blue-eyed Cecile, dressed in a brown skirt, stared at each other.
“Most of the devil’s bets and deals are just wordplay. They deceive people by exploiting the fact that they only need to tell the truth.”
“……”
“And the deal between Saint Erman and me was that, in exchange for the body, I would not come to the capital while the bet was in effect. But you broke that deal and fell into eternal sleep!”
The brown-haired woman, ‘Cecile Lionelta,’ looked at her other self, who wore a heretic inquisitor uniform almost identical to Thalia’s, with a smug grin and whispered softly, “Indeed, once we came to the capital, the deal was broken… and eternal sleep followed.”
“Yes, because of your foolish decision, we ended up telling lies. I’m honestly worried Julius will be heartbroken.”
“You’ve been acting so serious for a while now… Why don’t you just admit there’s nothing you can do?”
The question caught her off guard, as the Nightmare—no, Cecile—was left speechless.
The other Cecile, still watching, placed her hands on her hips like a knight declaring victory, set [Julius II] beside her, and shouted triumphantly.
“The power of Nirhil, the Emperor’s Nightmare, is the power to bring beings from the dream world into the real world. And this is the dream I’m dreaming after falling into eternal sleep!”
Ordinary devils cannot retaliate after receiving payment for a broken deal.
But Nirhil was different.
“For a devil that controls dreams, a curse of eternal sleep is nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Am I wrong?”
With that perfect rebuttal, she smirked and raised [Julius II] beside her, spinning it in the air.
“…That was the perfect answer, my other-half. Yes, eternal sleep is just a minor obstacle for us. All we have to do is send our dream-forged bodies into this world.” Nirhil slowly nodded, praising herself in a grave tone.
However, Cecil Lionelta, the wife of the heretic inquisitor, didn’t even glance her way and instead danced with her [Julius II] doll.
“The reason I’ve been talking to you like this…”
“La-la-la—our love will last forever~”
“…was to see how far we’ve become one…”
“When will we have our second child? It’d be better to do it the same way as before.”
“…Are you even listening to me!!!”
In the end, the Emperor’s Nightmare could no longer contain her fury. She exploded in rage, rushed toward Cecile, snatched the trembling [Julius II] from her hands, and shouted with a flushed face.
“First of all, this is mine! Don’t mess with it without permission!”
“You are me, and I am you. So why are you acting like this? What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours.”
Nirhil’s eyes burned red at the vulgar remark—as if she heard something from a mere vagabond loitering in the back alleys.
“I can’t live like this! We are one now! Don’t you understand? Respect for me is respect for yourself!”
“…What are you talking about?” Cecil tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “I respect you quite a lot.”
Nirhil, her other-half, shuddered at the unsettling sincerity in her other-half’s gaze.
“…What respect do you mean?”
“I reunited you with Julius—a historic moment! I even gave you the first few days when we first arrived in Aran! Isn’t that enough? What more could you want?”
The words gnawed at the devil.
They were one, yet somehow, she felt as if her existence had diminished.
Shaking her head, Nirhil steeled her resolve.
‘My beloved Julius will grieve… so I must leave this world. I must do it!’
Her other-half, Cecil—wild, unruly, a bully in every sense. So she must be decisive in her actions.
And so, the Emperor’s Nightmare slowly raised a hand, summoning her magic.
A shadowy door, the bridge between dreams and reality, materialized.
A translucent, black-tinged curtain rose from her shadow as the devil moved her steps.
“…Where are you going?” Cecil, mid-rant about her other-half’s unbearable jealousy, froze as she noticed the devil’s murky eyes rolling back, her form slinking away.
“I’m just going to change. Devils don’t lie—this is the truth.”
“…Do I look like a fool?” Her voice dripped with skepticism. “Where are you really going?”
Tak!
In one swift leap, Cecil lunged at her.
Caught off guard, Nightmare twisted away from her grasping hands, barely dodging before shouting in panic:
“No matter who leaves, we remain the same! Why are you stopping me?”
“Shut up!” Cecil snarled. “A tragic heroine collapsing into her husband’s arms, his tender care, the perfect moment for a second child—I’ve planned it all! And you’re trying to ruin it!”
Still ranting, she charged again, seizing the devil by the hair and throttling her.
Forgetting about the magic she had just invoked, Nightmare flailed, slapping at Cecil’s arm while spilling secrets in desperation.
“Wait—this reminds me of that ridiculous novel I read! Are you seriously reenacting a cheap romance? Have you lost your mind?”
[A Love Story: a fainting woman, her doting husband, and the flood of passion that follows…]
Invoking the title of the book she’d once used to confess to Julius, the Emperor’s Nightmare squeezed her eyes shut in secondhand shame.
“A sensual novel as a love confession? If Julius had read it, he’d have branded you a harlot!”
Abandoning her archaic speech, the devil spat the words like a curse.
But Cecil, long past shame, merely wagged a finger, smirking.
“Shame fades—love is eternal. Besides, men love that kind of thing. But you wouldn’t know, would you? Having never tried it yourself…”