TBR CH55

Chapter 55: Honey Mead

“There was a night—”

Tarksius spoke as he recalled. It was difficult at first. Those blurry lights and shadows existed from before a memory so old it almost didn’t exist, buried along with the death of the name Tar.

Then, the God recalled the evening a thousand years ago. The sky was actually the same as it was now, revealing a gloomy rose-red.

The demon had just escaped a pursuit. He covered his conspicuous ruby-colored eyes with a hat and asked the owner of the Reindeer Tavern for a large mug of honey mead, with rolling white foam.

He liked that back then.

Tarksius told Edwin whatever he remembered. The Bishop wanted to know everything, and the demon began his topic from an indistinct night. The gray in Edwin’s pupils spun with confusion for a brief moment.

“Honey mead,” he planned to remember this term. It was obvious that Edwin, who had grown up under the rules of the Holy See, had never drunk any other beverage besides expensive red wine, nor had he ever been to that kind of motley tavern.

But, the Bishop thought, it sounded sweet, very suitable for the demon before him.

It was as if his tongue had suddenly tasted a bit of sweetness sealed in memory. Tar was slightly stunned. By the things he had remembered. The words had remained in a vague and unclear state before breaking free from his tongue, shaking off the ashes of time, faintly a clear shadow of memory, and he thought he had long forgotten everything.

After he became a God.

After countless days and nights trapped in the bottle.

But the moment before the words peeled off his tongue, those abandoned memories suddenly jumped up clamorously. He wasn’t Tar, so who was Tar? A certain being who had truly and precisely existed until now, and no one in the world still remembered him.

And on that night a thousand years ago, there was indeed a red-pupiled demon who walked into a tavern and ordered a mug of honey mead.

“Do you really want to know?” Tar confirmed with Edwin again. “To know about me. But my dear Bishop, this will not help you in any way. You have no need to understand me at all.”

The demon’s eyes reflected the faint light cast in from the window at dusk.

And the Bishop looked like he was listening very seriously. This was not a serious occasion, but at this moment, Edwin looked more real than in any other ceremony, more sincere than when listening to the words of a god.

“I want to know,” Edwin said. “But… I can’t say clearly why.”

This was the truth.

So the God let the memories continue. The crystals of those memories appeared sparkling before him, like shattered gems on the ground. And he picked up all the fragments, even if the fragments would pierce his fingertips, and pieced them together bit by bit.

Tar was always on the run.

But, “fleeing” could not summarize his life. If he had to choose one word, the young demon would unhesitatingly use “freedom” to interpret it. His life was colorful, constantly meeting new people, walking in new places, a chaotic jumble of notes that was the most perfect kind of beauty.

Living freely.

He was clever and cunning, nothing in the world could trap him. He had learned a thousand and one disguises, and would always get away in the most dangerous situations. He knew basically everything, including bartending and playing the seven-stringed lyre. He never spent the night in the same place, yet his footsteps had trodden upon all the promised and chosen lands.

The words were clumsy at first.

Getting a demon to tell you everything was the most difficult thing. Edwin knew this in his heart.

But he didn’t know that the God was, little by little, from tens of thousands of years of waiting, re-sketching the hazy shadow of Tar.

“I like red,” the devil before him said, as he had expected. “The scent of roses? I’m not sure, actually, it’s always been there. Hey, Edwin, have you ever eaten rose candy? It’s sweet too. I think I probably like sweets—”

Until, starting from a certain dusk the demon had experienced, everything Tar said suddenly seemed to be colored, with colorful threads spreading out from a certain point, connecting his story.

Honey mead, Tar said, and then the seven-stringed lyre in his memory, with strings like molten silver. After that, there was more fleeing, seeing the dawn on the canopy of the elven trees, and after disguising and turning things around, walking alone through the ruins of a gladiator arena where monsters roamed.

He was clearly recalling his own affairs, yet for the first time, Edwin saw a kind of deeply hidden confusion in the demon’s bright pomegranate-red eyes, a confusion that had accumulated over years and months, with no end.

It was as if the demon was doubting, while speaking, whether these were all things he had experienced himself.

Picking up fireflies under the ancient elven trees, when the wind blew, the fireflies fell like golden rain beside Tar.

In a cave on the vast dragon’s ridge, a scorching fire burned, the scent of animal fat filling the lonely night. The firelight had once illuminated the face of a travel-worn traveler.

In a black lake deep in a cave, he had once fished out a finger bone from a corpse, polished it into a ring, and sold it at a high price to a wealthy merchant possessed by an evil spirit. This caused the list of crimes for which he was wanted to grow a little longer.

The market of the undead was crowded with strangely shaped travelers. Tar had once crossed his arms and walked through the cold air, looking for someone long dead, to make a transaction that would have been best if it had never happened.

All this was like a stranger’s story to him.

All this was something he had actually experienced.

Tarksius had chewed over these memories, more than once, in the twisted tens of thousands of years in the bottle. He had once been so free, so happy, full of strange hope for life, to an unbearably foolish degree.

At first, these memories could bring him hope.

But when the long years revealed the cruelty of time, the demon in the bottle could no longer bear to think about the outside world. He indifferently realized that there would probably be no more freedom, nor should he hold expectations for the past. Which was real, the emptiness in the bottle, or the living life outside the bottle? In the end, the demon couldn’t tell clearly.

So he forgot.

Tarksius was the new name the demon gave himself, because the day he broke the bottle, he also broke his past self.

Every time he killed a powerful enemy thrown into the bottle by the Church, he would hide a small piece of their bones. This was very difficult. He had to avoid being discovered by the Holy Light and be very careful. Even so, he spent an almost unimaginable amount of time and finally succeeded.

The bones were polished into the shape of a blade by him with his flesh and blood. The blade was stabbed into his heart by the demon named Tar.

The bottle shattered. It could no longer trap him.

Tarksius had no desire for freedom. He obtained the name of a god. The world trembled at the arrival of the new god. There was nothing he couldn’t do anymore, he wouldn’t be trapped by anything, and could get anything he wanted.

And then what?

The story began with a young demon ordering a mug of honey mead in a tavern, and then abruptly stopped somewhere in the world. Tar had accidentally said too much. Looking at the slightly dazed Bishop, he smiled silently.

Telling the story of the demon from a thousand years ago bit by bit in front of Edwin gave him a very strange feeling.

For example, the soul he had pronounced dead was being resurrected bit by bit in the gray pupils of the human before him. Tar originally did not exist in the world, but now he existed, because there was someone in the world who knew him again. This was not the bond the God had expected.

Observing interesting things was one of the few remaining hobbies of the God.

But that didn’t mean he was willing to stay for anything in the world. The Dark God had no interest in destroying a person. He didn’t mind helping Edwin, didn’t mind accompanying Edwin, didn’t mind providing a hand for him to rest on when necessary. That was all. He could leave at any time, because Tar was a fake name.

So the current situation also surprised the God.

The Bishop wanted to understand him. This was wrong. The other’s soul was constantly burning, craving power and fame, unscrupulous in his climb. He had never in his life tried to get close to another being. In his vision, there was no need to try. But Edwin had asked three times.

Even if Edwin had asked a third time, the God could have chosen not to answer.

But he still answered.

This was not the bond the God had expected.

He had given the human too close a distance and too much leniency. The Bishop’s black curly hair was blurred by the falling night. He unconsciously moved closer to him, often holding him tightly.

Right, that hug, the demon thought, was not part of the plan.

Then, Edwin slowly blinked.

Tar had said a lot, far more than he had expected. The Bishop had never tried to understand another person like this before. He began to be glad that he had a good memory, and had firmly written down everything the demon liked in his mind.

This was the method of taming a demon.

But, the gray mist in his eyes deepened little by little as he listened, and then melted little by little, becoming thin. He listened to Tar’s story as if listening to one strange dream after another. Everything existed in this world with him, yet everything the demon had experienced, he, as the Bishop of the Church of Light, would never be able to see.

Above the Bishop was the Pope. The Pope held supreme divine power, and he would continue to reach for the royal family.

In the best-case scenario, he would become the one who walked highest among humans.

But correspondingly, he would remain in the center of the continent, spending the rest of his life in the Holy See. The Holy See was not a suitable environment for taming a demon. Edwin thought this for the first time. He shouldn’t think this way.

Tar must stay, not be allowed to leave him.

“I’m very happy—” Edwin said. “I’m very happy you were willing to tell me all this. I will remember it.”

His demon had clearly only just realized he had said too much, and was now sizing him up with a very strange look, as if exploring something, with a sharpness and vigilance peculiar to a beast.

The Bishop hesitated for a moment. “I think…” Edwin would never choose to escape. And, now it was he who wanted to keep the other. He tried his best to make the matter sound serious and credible. “Tar, I want you to stay. Give me a price. I don’t mean now, nor do I mean when the contract ends. I mean forever, until I die as a human. I know demons have long lifespans.”

The last added words hardly counted as a bargaining chip and were also quite despicable. But the Bishop didn’t care.

There was almost no light left in the room, and neither of them intended to light a candle. In the darkness, the demon was coated with a hazy, soft curve. In terms of silhouette, there was also a mysterious beauty.

“Should I ask ‘why,’ or should I remind you that keeping me doesn’t need to be so troublesome?”

Tar was talking about the contract. He had used the soul contract to force Edwin to accept him staying in the Holy See, under his protection. But, the contract the demon used could be completely turned around and used by the Bishop.

“I don’t want to use that method.” Edwin raised his eyes. Even through the dark veil of darkness, the demon could see the Bishop’s gaze. “I want you to stay willingly, Tar. You hate having your freedom restricted, so I won’t do things that you detest. Everything you like, I can give you, except for freedom, but that’s only within a hundred years.”

“…Sounds like a good deal.”

In the darkness, Edwin couldn’t see the demon’s specific expression, only heard Tar’s light laugh.

He seemed to have moved closer. “But what if I don’t agree? My dear Bishop, do you think everything in the world can be obtained through exchanges like this?”

A certain ambiguous danger surged in the air.

But the demon was not entirely testing him out of playfulness. He seemed to be questioning this with genuine sincerity.

This was… the worst-case scenario.

Edwin thought, alright, it’s time to tear up the previous false words. There is no method that can’t be used.

This thought only flickered for a moment. The Bishop’s pupils contracted sharply. The demon hugged him like some kind of feline, nuzzling his neck, bringing a warm sensation.

As long as Tar was in the room, there was the scent of roses. But only when the demon truly moved close to a position where their skin touched did the Bishop feel the scent of roses was so real, as if he were holding a cluster of flowers in his arms.

The sharp words just now and the soft warmth formed a stark contrast. The demon’s black hair scattered on Edwin’s shoulder, like marking prey, covering him strand by strand like a spider’s web.

“Edwin,” he asked, “tell me what it is you really want now?”

—This was the first time the Bishop had changed his answer. He knew his desires were growing larger and larger, to the point where there was nowhere to hide.

“You already know,” Edwin said without any hesitation. He gently reached out and touched Tar’s drooping hair. “Those haven’t changed, but, I also want… you.”

“Me?”

The demon’s lips curved. They were very close now, so even in the darkness, Edwin could see the demon’s beautiful red pupils, almost transparent, clear to an unbelievable degree, twinkling faintly like gems in the dark.

“Any contract requires a name,” the devil said softly, enticingly. “So say it again, what is it you really want?”

“…Tar. What I want is Tar.”

Edwin realized he was in a completely controlled situation. Even though the shadow covering him was just a controllable low-level demon, there was no intention of struggle in his will.

Their breaths intertwined. The Bishop subconsciously felt this line of questioning was worth paying attention to.

But soon, he had no extra energy to pursue the matter.

Because what fell on the side of his neck the next second was, without a doubt, a genuine kiss. The demon’s sharp teeth gently bit the blood vessels hidden under his skin, kissing his way up bit by bit. Edwin’s hand clenched tightly at once, but was pried open by Tar, who had already anticipated it.

Even without considering the succubus bloodline, this was too…

Edwin vaguely felt he was in a burning rose garden, and the breath before him was unprecedentedly intense. The last sentence on his lips had not yet dissipated, and was being vaguely reinterpreted in his mind bit by bit.

What I want is Tar.

The demon gently separated Edwin’s fingers to prevent him from hurting himself, but he forgot that Edwin had always been firm and stubborn about the things he wanted. So Tar didn’t have time to hold down Edwin’s raised hand.

“Tar…” he called the demon’s name, then stroked his satin-like hair with his hand, making him lift his head from the crook of his neck. The demon was obviously a little confused, but the atmosphere at this moment was self-evident, so he let him do as he pleased.

He was really well-behaved.

So Edwin propped himself up slightly and kissed him. The target was his lips and teeth, which carried the demon’s unique sweet scent of roses.

The Bishop was satisfied to see Tar’s expression finally show surprise for the first time. He swallowed the words of his sworn wish along with this kiss, and the demon did not resist.

This was what could be considered—

A genuine kiss.

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