TBR CH190

The movie ended.

The cinema, moments ago plunged in darkness, was now filled with brilliant white light. Customers trickled out of the narrow aisles in twos and threes. Kriesmeier suddenly detected a scent as sweet as honey. Roland held a piece of popcorn between his fingers and placed it against the Demon King’s lips.

“Open your mouth,” the human said with a smile, “Don’t waste it.”

Most of the audience in their cinema hall were couples, so the gesture wasn’t particularly attention-grabbing. After Roland had dragged the Demon King to a romantic couple’s dinner, he had squeezed in a movie into their tight schedule. Of all the clichéd romance films, the human chose one that seemed the most melodramatic.

Kriesmeier lowered his gaze, looked at him, and then ate the popcorn. Roland let him lick away the lingering honey from his fingers, while simultaneously receiving a subtly provocative nip on his fingertip. At this moment, the cinema was still playing the movie’s end credit theme song in surround sound, the male and female protagonists singing soulfully, “I am willing to wait for you, even a thousand years.” The Demon King listened without much interest, his gaze already fixed on Roland.

The human continued to finish the last few remaining kernels of popcorn. He knew Kriesmeier hadn’t paid much attention to the plot, and of course, neither had he. He had basically taken the Demon King to try every dating activity possible in the real world, but halfway through the movie, they had already begun quietly holding hands in the shadow of their seats. By the time the male and female protagonists were reunited after a long separation, Roland still hadn’t fully grasped how they had initially met.

“The movie wasn’t bad,” he said, lying through his teeth.

“Mm.” Kriesmeier’s evaluation of the movie was rather cold; clearly, whatever the human said, went.

“But I think,” Roland mused, “some of the scenes were a bit too simplistic. You see, one party waited for a thousand years, and when they met again, they just silently shed tears? A thousand years is a hundred decades. Such quantifiers shouldn’t be treated so lightly. What do you think, Kris—”

Kriesmeier noticed Roland’s slightly tightened fingers and sensed a faint peculiarity in his state. The human leaned relaxedly against the Demon King’s shoulder, his dark hair brushing back and forth. He quietly finished his question: “If it were you, would you be willing to wait a thousand years for me?”

Although most people had already left, a few couples remained in their seats, savoring the lingering emotions of the movie, or gently comforting their partners who were weeping over the moving plot. Roland’s amber pupils appeared exceptionally clear under the bright lights, without a trace of gloom. It was as if he was merely discussing the movie’s plot, casually throwing out a dangerous topic.

Kriesmeier looked at him calmly. Roland hadn’t forgotten, despite the warmth of these past few days, that his partner was essentially a beast with dark golden eyes. The Demon King didn’t possess many human traits; in his near-mad search for himself, he could destroy anything in his path without psychological barriers. Even his presence here was thanks to his boyfriend’s violent scythe-wielding through the levels. In the decade that the Archmage had disappeared without warning, the other’s obsession had remained as strong as ever, only intensifying.

“I see,” Roland’s tone suddenly shifted. “It’s not ‘willing,’ but ‘will.’ You’ve always done this. Isn’t it like something I’ve abandoned, staying in place humbly and stubbornly, waiting for the one who discarded it to change their mind? No matter how you want to retaliate against me, you’ll be the one who ultimately suffers; how pathetic, you can’t forget any of it, so all you can do is wait, wait, wait…”

The human felt his neck seized by cold fingers, the grip strong enough to leave bruises on his skin. But it wouldn’t kill him here—Kris was this gentle now. He thought for a moment, then spoke with difficulty: “Darling, there’s a camera here.”

When Kriesmeier released him, the human coughed twice, choking on the sudden influx of air into his lungs. As he covered his mouth and readjusted, he silently watched the Demon King with amber eyes. The other’s face was terrible; he was being led around by Roland to experience couple life despite his pain-ridden body, and he was doing it willingly. But this didn’t mean the tyrant from the Abyss would tolerate such blatant insult.

Kriesmeier coldly closed his eyes a moment ago, determined to maintain the image of the Abyss Demon race. The next second, he smelled the sweet scent of honey again. Roland’s amber eyes looked clearly very tempting, and he leaned in again. He held the last piece of popcorn between his fingers. The Demon King found that his will wasn’t so firm either. He bit off the popcorn and left a shallow teeth mark on the young man’s knuckle.

“I just feel… it’s too hard to accept,” the human said, having successfully fed the Demon King, and continuing to step on landmines without looking back. “Kris, only I truly understand your feelings. For the characters in the movie, the sheer obsession of love allows them to ruminate for a millennium. But for you and me, it’s not like that. I can’t imagine how to live with the pain of losing you. Even half a night, from the moon rising over the treetops to the sky, feels like burning in purgatory.”

“What do you think you understand?” Kriesmeier’s voice was as cold as metal, hissing in the brightly lit cinema. Roland saw a few couples in the front row turn back to look at them in fright. When one person’s face was still tear-stained, it was hard for them to imagine someone arguing with their partner after such tragic scenes. Roland offered them a comforting smile, then gently placed his hand on the Demon King’s knee, ready to deal with his difficult partner. But there were some things he still wanted to make clear, it had to be this way.

“Perhaps I have no right to say,” through a layer of expensive fabric, the human felt the Demon King’s body tense in an aggressive posture beneath his palm. He sighed softly, “I just can’t turn a blind eye to your suffering. Sometimes I feel like I’ve done something wrong, and I’ll continue to do so.”

“Enough,” Kriesmeier said, and shadows seemed to silently spread from the Demon King’s direction, instantly engulfing the small space beneath the Archmage’s feet. The Demon King couldn’t control the malice in his eyes; his dark golden gaze made the onlookers shiver, turning away and pretending not to be witnessing the argument. “Don’t I understand what you mean? Archmage, I heard your conversation with that book, and I know what will happen, and I accept it willingly. I don’t need your pity, nor do I demand no reward. You will eventually die by my hand, if that’s what you want to know.”

The matter they were discussing was actually very close to them. That is to say, Roland had filled these two days’ schedule to the brim, as if they would be together forever, celebrating every holiday that couples in the real world should. But in fact, separation was imminent, and reunion—though seemingly close, was actually quite distant.

This story had to begin a month ago, when Archmage Roland Xavier extended his right hand to try and stop a car. Roland was no mediocre being; given a little time, even if he couldn’t grasp the fact that he was in an entirely different world, he would certainly notice that he could no longer summon his staff. The reason this happened was that when the steel monster rushed towards Roland, the Archmage still believed he was in the Demon King’s castle, in a strange morning dream.

He had hastily crossed the world’s boundary. It only took him a few brief seconds, so it took him a long time to finally understand what a long decade meant for Kriesmeier. Roland tilted his head, looking at Kriesmeier. “The connection between the two worlds is temporarily severed, and the flow of time has become chaotic. If that’s the case, even if we depart one after the other, it’s impossible to gauge how much time will pass between then. Is it another decade, or a hundred years, or even longer? Are you truly prepared to wait for me?”

“…” How could a demon resist a cunning human? Just as a faint, almost shadowy something flickered in the demon’s dark golden eyes, it didn’t escape Roland’s notice either. Kriesmeier was silent for a moment.

Everything was actually going smoothly. He shattered worlds, broke all obstacles that stood between him and the human, allowing them to leave him scarred all over. He knelt before the young man, spreading his vast black wings, gathering him within, feeling a sharp and bitter sweetness, as if he could take his life into his grasp the next second.

Waiting made him doubt he had ever left the Abyss. And time was the last barrier even his scythe could not break.

“I understand,” Roland murmured, as if realizing something. He stood up and reached out to Kriesmeier. “You’ll wait for me, and I will surely come. This is our promise. Before then, please wait for me, don’t forget me. Even if it sounds despicable, at that time, demand a hundredfold, a thousandfold reward from me…”

Kriesmeier coldly raised his eyes to look at him. The human realized with a blank expression that he hadn’t moved the Demon King, so he slowly released his hand. In that instant, his hand was forcibly and coldly clamped. Kriesmeier yanked him hard, and the human, who had just stood up, tumbled down. He instinctively wanted to use magic but felt it would be too conspicuous. Instead, the inconspicuous shadow on the ground cooperated with Kriesmeier’s actions.

“From that moment on,” a detached fire burned in the Demon King’s eyes. He repeated the endearment syllable by syllable, the words seeming to rip bloody from between his sharp teeth, “Darling. What in the world were you thinking?”

It was merely—a trivial amount of time to cross before they met again.

As Kriesmeier kissed him, Roland was certain he heard a few soft gasps under the bright spotlights. But he didn’t have time to see how the other lingering patrons of the cinema looked at their bickering couple with relieved expressions, how they once again believed in tenderness with a sigh of relief, while Roland was surprised by Kriesmeier’s passion, as if he wanted to tear everything apart, including himself. He reached out and stroked Roland’s hair; the Archmage’s soft black hair was quickly messed up by the Demon King’s kneading.

“Wait a minute,” the human protested, quickly maintaining his balance so he wouldn’t put his weight on Kriesmeier. “Are you even aware that you’re still injured?”

Kriesmeier found he really liked seeing the Archmage’s surprised expression. Because the human always seemed composed, and hid a pile of heavy secrets. These secrets occasionally became obstacles to his complete possession of the human. The human also used them to skillfully control everything before him, as if even he himself was acting according to his own design.

He provocatively raised his dark golden eyes, slowly and ambiguously kissing the human’s palm, branding his damp and shadowy mark onto his hand. Just like the beautiful and subtle hints on the screen earlier: crushed petals, a damp sudden rain, inexplicable creases on silk. This was the flaw of the human race: they had to express their inner thoughts through hidden meanings. Roland was one of the most frank among them, and also the most headache-inducing.

The human stopped moving. He understood the Demon King’s meaning.

“Archmage,” the Demon King’s gaze lingered on the fading mark on his neck. Desire flowed in his voice, and he said imperiously, “If you want to atone for your sins, then let me have what I desire before we meet again. I surmise your wish at this moment is the same as mine—”

“I don’t want you to suffer more,” Roland pointed out calmly and gently. He hadn’t expected his focus during the movie to diverge so much from Kriesmeier’s. Frankly, it was impossible for the human to feign no desire, especially when Kriesmeier’s dark wings were torn to shreds, yet his dark golden eyes still shone like a fire as he looked at him. When certain tender moments turned into fierce arguments, he felt a devouring beauty.

“Then let me feel only pleasure,” Kriesmeier commanded arrogantly, noticing at the same time that the human’s amber eyes were fixed on him without blinking.

After a few seconds, Roland calmly stepped back, straightened his clothes and hair, and helped Kriesmeier tidy his formal wear, the collar meticulously folded into perfect creases. Just as Kriesmeier thought the human was beyond salvation, he reached out and pulled the Demon King with surprising force, a silvery white light seemingly flashing from his fingertips. He dragged the Demon King out of the long corridor with its dark red carpet, gliding smoothly into the heart of the night, while the taxi he had called on his phone happened to pull up in front of them. The human’s voice was also a little hoarse: “As you wish.”

Initially, the human tried to be as restrained as possible.

Considering Kriesmeier’s injuries, every time he trembled slightly, Roland would stop, turn his face, press his ear to the Demon King’s lips, and quietly ask if he was alright. This scene replayed multiple times. The Demon King gritted his teeth, nearly attacking the human’s reddened ear, because he truly loved the human’s expression at that moment.

“You,” Kriesmeier said quickly, “don’t need to worry about these trivial matters. Unless you stop, there will be no unbearable unpleasantness—”

Roland slowly traced his fingertip along the Demon King’s broken horn. The Demon King closed his mouth. The broken horn was hidden in the real world, otherwise it would be too strange. But the severed horn of an Abyss Demon was filled with sensitive nerves. If it were a weakness in battle, it might still be bearable, but if it were lightly caressed… His cold, metallic eyes quickly melted, like a crumpled piece of gold leaf.

“If I were you,” the human said as he leaned down to kiss the broken horn, “I wouldn’t say ‘don’t need to worry about anything’ when clearly exposing a weakness. Now you want to avoid me, but I’ve granted your wish, so you’re not allowed to do that.”

The young man’s dark hair fell. His hair wasn’t long, so when it brushed against the Demon King’s face, they were already very close. At certain times later, Kriesmeier physiologically wanted to avoid his hair, but the fine strands still brushed against the Demon King’s cheek, carrying an indescribable human scent. All in all, it was very comfortable.

Kriesmeier had indeed chosen the right person. While kissing wasn’t enough to make one forget pain, more intense actions clearly could. And he needed to endure pain, but not other surges. Roland kissed his sparkling eyes, his damp hair clinging to him, measuring every inch of the Demon King’s skin hidden beneath his proper suit. The Abyss Demon’s body was full of power, and the Archmage was clearly fascinated, as if taming a wild beast. The other’s eyes held an unquenchable excitement and satiety.

Roland’s fingers touched that small, thin patch of skin over his heart. “Will you give it to me?” the human asked.

Kriesmeier forgot the specific details, but he must have said yes. In that situation, in that scenario, he couldn’t imagine any reason to refuse the human. In fact, even if he retained full sanity, he would have agreed.

The human seemed to smile at him contentedly.

“It’s settled then,” Roland murmured, hooking Kriesmeier’s silver-grey hair. A glint of contract light seemed to flash, though it also looked like a hallucination born of extreme confusion. The Demon King only knew he had broken the human’s skin. There was definitely blood between them.

The initial restraint completely vanished. They looked at each other, gazing into each other’s eyes, knowing that the same sinful thoughts were surfacing in both their minds, and so they indulged without limit.

—Leave my mark on him. Forever, forever.

Blood flowed from the torn vessels, exuding a strange sweetness here. Kriesmeier wanted to kiss away the bloodstains, but he felt his own internal wounds slowly bleeding too. Yet, the exquisite pleasure, enough to drown him completely, covered everything bloody. All he could see was the human’s amber eyes and a shimmering crimson.

It was roses. Countless red roses swarmed to cover this hidden space. Kriesmeier didn’t know how the human cultivated such strange romantic cells, nor did he want to investigate how these roses were obtained through some peculiar human magic. Bringing the staff from the Mirar Continent and returning it to its rightful owner was definitely a good thing.

In short, Roland booked a hotel room, but the moment they walked in, both the human and the demon involuntarily paused. The human’s unique fondness for couple’s packages had finally backfired on him. Rose-colored balloons, gaudy posters, strange furniture. The Abyss Demon didn’t care about these things and even thought it was fine to just start. But clearly, the human had some particularly picky requirements for ambiance.

Therefore, from the bed curtains, countless roses abruptly grew. They all shared a unified red hue, but some were bright red, others dark red, varying in shades like fireworks flickering before their eyes, mingled with blood.

“…Did you know it would turn out like this all along?” When the ambiguously floating air in the room finally gradually dissipated, Kriesmeier found that the bed was covered with shattered rose petals. Roland picked one from his forehead and smiled at him.

“Happy anniversary.”

“Anniversary,” the Demon King’s voice was truly hoarse now, because he had overused it just now. His eyes were sated. He propped himself up on the bed with his hand, thinking for a moment, “The 4017th day?”

“Our eleventh anniversary since we started dating,” Roland announced cheerfully. “Counting from when we kissed in that sea of flowers by the Abyss, you know those were roses, right? Darling, although the anomalies caused by the Abyss are hard to understand, it really suits you. Also, the World Consciousness might be going crazy—it’s blocked outside by me, but we’ll probably have to face it sooner.”

Considering Kriesmeier’s physical condition, sending him back to the Miral Continent was already imminent, given their recent actions. Although the Demon King had indeed forgotten all pain for a moment of pleasure, they couldn’t pretend this wasn’t a decadent revelry that came without any cost. He moved closer to the Demon King; the atmosphere at this moment was like a final respite.

“I was seduced by you,” Roland looked at him, as if lost in thought, “but I don’t pretend that I regret it.”

Kriesmeier looked at him with inhuman eyes, then actively leaned in, and the human kissed his forehead. The human seemed to chuckle softly, as if feeling an unprecedented peace.

“Remember the gift you promised me,” he said, “Darling, don’t forget to wait for me.”

When the Black Book saw Roland again, the human’s attitude of admitting fault was exemplary, and he answered every question. To the extent that the World Consciousness was somewhat reluctant to emphasize the danger of their actions. Although behind Roland, the Abyss Demon still stood coldly, looking arrogant and disrespectful, like a drawn blade.

“Alright,” if the Black Book had a physical form, it would have surely taken a deep breath. A blinking kitten emoji popped up on the screen, seemingly trying to lighten the mood. “Since you two… well, since it’s already happened, the ritual should be performed immediately.”

Kriesmeier didn’t speak. Roland answered for him: “I understand. Everything is ready. I think we can start very soon.”