TBR CH50

Many years ago, Edwin could no longer recall whether that night had been a distant snowy one, but everyone told him it had been bitterly cold. He had been left at the monastery’s doorstep, not yet bearing the telltale signs of a demon.

Yet, there had been no concealment, no note, no explanation—only pure abandonment.

From an early age, the bishop had understood that his bloodline was unclean, sinful. People looked at him with deep disgust, as if his very existence was a stain that needed to be erased, even at the cost of his life.

But sometimes, those same gazes carried pity. A silent whisper of “It shouldn’t be this way.”

Edwin was too well-behaved, too composed. And he worked harder than anyone else. While other children whined and pleaded for an extra bite of dessert after meals, Edwin had already learned to cast minor light spells using blessed prayer beads.

When he gazed at someone with his gray eyes, it was almost as if he possessed magic—something that soothed and reassured the heart.

And yet, he was the one tainted by demonic blood—the most unmentionable, the filthiest of all: an incubus.

Those who knew his secret pitied him, loathed him, and told him over and over again:

“You bear the blood of sin. You were born defiled. You will never rise above it.”

No matter how exceptional he was, he would always be nothing more than a test subject for the district bishop, a remarkable figurehead to showcase their achievements. Perhaps, once he displayed enough ability, he could even become a useful tool.

But just as he was about to leave the Warding District, to step into a higher position, his handlers encountered a crisis. And so, they decided to sell him off at a good price—offering up his secret on a silver platter in exchange for what they wanted.

—Edwin, you are bound to be forever cursed by your bloodline.

It had all been a foolish delusion.

But in the end, he had fought his way out of the church that sought to imprison him, shining so brilliantly that he could no longer be ignored.

His secret remained a secret. Edwin made sure he never had to think about it again. Everything was moving toward normalcy.

The bishop of the Church of Light covered his pale body in layers of ornate fabric, buttoning his collar all the way to the top, turning his private chambers into a cold, impenetrable fortress.

He had conquered the past. He had severed all ties with it.

—You’ve made it this far, Edwin.

In his daze, he heard a soft sigh by his ear. Then, a hand wrapped around his waist.

The touch was… unnatural. But Edwin knew that the heat coursing through his body was even more unnatural.

He couldn’t smell his own scent—only the rich, overwhelming fragrance of roses, engulfing him from head to toe.

“Are you sure you want to entrust this to me?”

It was Tal. The demon. The flower that had bloomed in deception.

And in this precarious, teetering world, he was also the only one Edwin could trust not to harm him—solely due to the binding force of their contract.

How ridiculous.

He felt his lips part slightly, but all that escaped was a faint, indistinct murmur. He barely managed to turn his head to glance at the demon.

Tal half-carried him to the bedroom and placed him onto the bed. The soft velvet swallowed him whole.

His bloodline had seized full control.

Now, he was open, feverish—a ripened fruit that overflowed with nectar at the slightest touch.

Edwin fought to reclaim the last shreds of his rationality.

The demon hesitated. At this point, any action he took would feel too abrupt.

So the bishop raised his trembling hands and, one by one, began unfastening the buttons of his own coat.

It was deliberate. Devastating. A gesture of breathtaking fragility and temptation.

It was as if he were offering himself to the devil in a complete, irreversible sacrifice.

Until his fingertips brushed against his own fevered skin beneath the fabric—then, a searing wave of heat surged through him, so intense that his hands trembled beyond control. He could no longer complete the simple task.

—

Tal helped Edwin undo the remaining buttons, peeling him apart layer by layer, as if unwrapping a meticulously packaged gift.

Even the demon found himself astonished by the sight before him.

The beautiful, pomegranate-eyed devil began exploring his prize, as if indulging in a game where the winner claimed the ultimate reward.

The bishop’s skin had barely seen the light of day all year round, making it naturally pale. Under the influence of his bloodline, his clothes had rubbed his skin raw in large patches, as though lavish flowers were blooming across his body.

Every simple touch elicited an interesting reaction from Edwin.

He seemed unwilling to face his own vulnerability, so he raised his hand to cover his eyes. But that did nothing to stop the involuntary tremors or the tension in his muscles.

And, of course, there were even more intriguing things.

The demon looked as if he had discovered something utterly novel—something he had wanted for a long time. His ruby-red eyes sparkled. Seeing Edwin cover his eyes, clearly intending to avoid looking at him, he leaned in close and whispered in his ear:

“May I ask, Edwin… Is your tail also a result of your bloodline awakening?”

Edwin could still process the meaning of the words, though his rationality was hanging by a thread. But Tal’s question left him deeply mortified.

He started to reconsider whether choosing a demon had truly been the right decision. The other party’s curiosity about his current state was alarmingly intense. But all Edwin wanted was for this to end as quickly as possible—meaning, fewer touches and fewer questions.

Through the gaps in Edwin’s fingers, Tal caught sight of his eyes.

What kind of thing could be such a deep, husky gray, yet dampened by mist to the point of seeming fluid?

There was hardly a way to describe it in the human world.

“Demon,” Edwin said, “I hope you won’t ask so many questions. But… yes, all of this only happened in the past few days.”

He regretted his answer almost immediately, as it clearly only piqued Tal’s interest further.

Humans had no tails, so they wouldn’t understand what this meant. incubi tails, clearly having only just grown out, were still soft and sluggish—completely opposite to the sharp, weapon-like tails of other demons.

A fully matured incubus could control their body with ease, including all traits of their race, even using them for hunting.

In reality, only conservative humans would hold both filthy prejudices and lewd fantasies about incubi, despite their lack of a thorough understanding. The traits given to demons never put them at a disadvantage; they were meant to make them formidable predators.

Edwin’s case was unique.

He had been consumed by his own power, having suppressed it for too long. By bloodline alone, he was already a mature incubus, yet physically, many traits had only just begun to manifest—still too fragile, too sensitive.

Tal carefully reached out and touched the bishop’s newly grown tail.

It had a blunt tip and, as expected, was quite soft.

Almost the instant it was touched, the absurdly delicate tail shivered and recoiled in the opposite direction.

As a demon, Tal had indeed heard many rumors about the tails of incubi, but that didn’t stop him from finding this truly fascinating.

And in that moment, Edwin’s pupils suddenly unfocused, as though a mirror clouded with gray mist had been shattered into countless fragments.

He opened his mouth, releasing a sharp gasp—like he wanted to scream, but the sound ultimately lodged in his throat.

“Don’t—”

He didn’t even have time to finish his sentence before the demon grabbed hold of his fleeing tail. This time, the sensation was even clearer. The tail was slightly fuzzy, and it felt very nice to squeeze.

Tal cast an innocent look his way.

Edwin didn’t lower his hand, but the gleam of moisture between his fingers spoke volumes. Amid the blurred, broken light, he saw Tal’s ruby-red eyes, burning like a fire that ignited everything.

The latter half of the bishop’s sentence vanished. He bit his lip, as if trying to draw blood from his own pale lips—yet all it did was stain them a lovely crimson, the color of a rose.

Demons were truly despicable creatures, and Tal was undoubtedly one of the most fitting embodiments of that description.

And yet, he hadn’t really done much.

He had merely started at Edwin’s soft hair and, with great interest, explored his body from head to toe—appreciating every inch of exposed skin in this moment when Edwin was least able to endure touch. He watched as the bishop’s hands, too weak to keep covering his eyes, fell to his sides.

An embarrassed gaze.
An inescapable gaze.
A gaze drowning in indulgence.

For Edwin, this was one collapse after another.

“You can just… ha.”

The rest of his sentence dissolved completely under the demon’s actions. His eyelashes trembled, his gray eyes now like a wisp of mist that could be tasted on the tongue—carrying a faint saltiness.

A sensation like an electric current coursed up his spine, and he no longer had the strength to support himself. Tal caught him.

“You did pay the price,” the demon said, stroking his body as though running a hand along the taut strings of a violin, drawing from him hoarse, indistinct sounds.

“Rest assured, Bishop, demons are a race that values integrity. I won’t let you down.”

“And,” Tal suddenly seemed to remember something. His crimson eyes swirled like fermented wine, pulling his prey into an endless vortex as he scrutinized his prize.

“What I actually meant to ask earlier was… Have these markings appeared before?”

Due to his occupation, the bishop’s body was pale—after all, his clothes always covered every inch of skin, leaving him untouched by sunlight.

Edwin could hardly endure the scrutinizing gaze. He curled up, finally mustering the courage to look at his own body—only to see what Tal was pointing at.

Spreading across his abdomen were vast, ambiguous red markings.

Against his pale complexion,
they were the symbol of impurity, filth, and debauchery.

“…No,” he could only say. “No, no, no.”

Rationality collapsed with a thunderous roar. Edwin could even feel the deafening crash of his self-control finally shattering.

Like everything he had built up before was now crumbling without restraint.

The bishop grabbed Tal’s hand, pulling the demon toward him without reservation. He shut his eyes, his lashes trembling incessantly, tears slipping down uncontrollably.

Like honey.

“Deeper… touch me.”

That was the last coherent sentence he managed. Beyond that, there were only unintelligible murmurs, accompanied by the taut symphony playing across his body, and the inescapable sounds escaping from deep in his throat.

Everything—

—was granting him pleasure.

…

When he woke, Edwin realized his voice was hoarse.

Tal was right beside him, watching. His pomegranate-red eyes gleamed, reflecting a sight too disgraceful to bear.

It seemed post-service care was part of the deal. Not a single mark remained on Edwin’s body, and his robe had been draped over him neatly, though the buttons were still undone.

Soft white silk covered his body, leaving only a dry and comfortable sensation.

The bishop lowered his gaze to his abdomen. All the ominous markings had vanished. As had his tail, which he had been unable to conceal no matter how much he tried. These traits had disappeared without a trace.

Now, more than ever, he was acutely aware: the blood flowing through his veins was, for the time being, still human blood.

In other words, his incubus bloodline had been suppressed once again. Though the method of suppression this time…

He had been forced into maturity—then gained control over it.

One by one, the bishop buttoned his robe from the bottom up.

Tal couldn’t understand why Edwin’s robe had so many buttons, nor did he have the patience to help with them. Even when unwrapping his “gift” earlier, he had thought it was quite a hassle.

And yet, Edwin always had to be meticulous, always had to wrap himself up in layers of impenetrable defenses. This time was no different.

Then, he coughed—his voice hoarse.

To a demon, this was nothing significant. But to the bishop, it clearly was. Tal noticed, for the first time, a trace of unease in Edwin’s gaze. Even his movements were a bit stiff, his eyes frequently avoiding Tal’s, his head lowered in contemplation.

That pair of eyes had, mere hours ago, reflected Edwin’s most humiliating state.

That vivid red was a reminder.

When Edwin tried to step off the bed, his footing faltered. Tal reached out, catching him at just the right moment. His hand, separated by a layer of fabric, burned against Edwin’s waist.

Edwin reached out—but he didn’t know what for.

To push him away?

Tal had helped him. He was still helping him. That was undeniable. It wasn’t Tal’s fault.

Demons, of course, had no real sincerity. But Edwin didn’t want Tal to think he placed too much importance on something like pleasure. That shouldn’t be his weakness. This should not continue to trouble him now that it was over.

Now, it was all over. This matter should be buried in the graveyard of memory, never to be mentioned again.

The more he tried to convince himself, the more pathetic it felt.

This pitiful self-consolation only proved how desperately he wanted to escape.

“You? Need what?”

He hadn’t yet had time to organize his thoughts and come up with a reasonable explanation for the absurdity of what had just happened when Tal spoke first.

Alright, in times like this, the only thing to do was to accept it calmly—

“Water,”

Edwin said, feeling how parched his vocal cords were, producing a hoarse, rasping sound as he spoke. Rattlesnake—he thought of the word at an inopportune moment. In the end, he simply gave up on thinking and let his thoughts drift aimlessly.

“I just made some hot tea.”

It seemed Tal had anticipated Edwin’s request in advance and, surprisingly, was already prepared. He gestured for Edwin to lie back down before turning to fetch the water.

Somehow, without realizing it, the bishop had once again inexplicably ended up lying in bed. The bedding was soft, carrying a lingering scent of roses.

The realization made him shudder. The scent of roses—that was a fragrance demons often carried.

Telling himself not to dwell on such thoughts, he closed his eyes, only to feel an inexplicable sense of security pulling him deeper into the soft mattress.

Was he just too tired?

It had been a long time since he had felt this way—a strange sense of reassurance, being cared for and knowing with certainty that he was being looked after.

The last time he had experienced this was when he was seven, bedridden with a severe illness. The young boy, in a feverish daze, had only been aware of lying there, not needing to think about anything, like a fledgling nestled safely in its nest.

Someone touched his forehead, pressing a cloth-wrapped piece of ice against it to cool him down.

He didn’t need to think about anything. He didn’t need to do anything.

His thoughts drifted in a haze, and in the next moment, a demon’s palm covered his forehead. Tal was trying, with some difficulty, to recall human methods for diagnosing illness—something about checking forehead temperature to confirm…?

His palm felt scorching, like metal that had absorbed too much heat.

Tal handed him the water, asking somewhat uncertainly,

“Bishop, do you have a fever?”

The warm cup in his hands brought a rare sense of comfort. As the heated water moistened his throat, Edwin tried to respond, but his voice came out even hoarser than before. He had to cough twice first.

Oddly, coughing seemed to help restore his vocal cords. His voice was much closer to normal afterward, though still lower than usual.

“No.”

He wasn’t entirely sure if he had a fever or not, but even if he did, what of it? Besides, a minor flaw like a fever—he could easily dispel it using light magic.

Tal was clearly aware of this as well, so he didn’t press further.

His hand naturally withdrew from Edwin’s forehead, and only then did the bishop finally feel uneasy about it.

He had been in contact with the demon far too much—especially after what had just happened between them. So much so that when Tal approached him, he barely felt any sense of alarm anymore, barely even registered the touch of his hand.

That wasn’t a good thing.

Tal, however, was thinking far more simply than Edwin. He merely believed that if a deal was to be made, it should be done thoroughly. Besides, after an act of intimacy, helping a disoriented bishop adjust to the situation seemed only natural.

Right now, the other man was like a wary cat, the demon thought, his lips curling into a smile.

A deliberate touch would make the bishop freeze in place, overwhelmed, his sharp claws ready to lash out.

But a casual, natural caress would lower his guard—until a moment later, when he suddenly realized it and showed that look of “this isn’t right.”

Edwin was trying hard to restore some sense of normalcy, even the demon could see that.

Clearly, in this particular area, the bishop was utterly inexperienced.

Fine then.

Tal leaned in close, and Edwin’s nerves immediately tensed. He caught every sound Tal made, not missing even the faintest breath.

“It’s just a transaction,”

The demon whispered, his voice steeped in the richness of aged red wine, carrying the same feeling as his eyes.

“Doesn’t that make it easier? I won’t bring it up again in the future, and you don’t need to worry about it. You’ve already paid your price.”

In the end, it was Tal who delivered this final conclusion.

Edwin’s thoughts were complicated, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he simply nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“Sleep,”

Tal said. “It’s not dawn yet, you can rest a little longer.”

The demon lifted his hand swiftly and lightly, casting a small shadow over Edwin’s face before pressing it against his fevered forehead. Normally, Tal’s body temperature was always higher than a human’s, but demons could regulate their heat at will, so now his touch carried a pleasant coolness.

It served the same purpose as an ice pack—yet, in some subtle way, felt different.

Comforting.

Edwin didn’t want to think too hard about what made it different.

When dawn came, there would be countless exhausting and painful matters to deal with again. The bishop knew Tal was right. At this point, Tal’s presence no longer felt unfamiliar. Even with a living, breathing demon sitting right at his bedside, he could still sleep soundly in the room.

He set a time limit for himself.

Until he woke up again, he would allow himself to be vulnerable and uncertain. He would allow himself to forego healing magic and, instead, indulge in the comfort of a demon’s warmth.

He would allow himself to feel so flustered that he didn’t know what to say. For the first time, he would let himself fall asleep without thinking of anything, without dreading the vague, looming future.

And then, when he opened his eyes again, he demanded of himself to return to being the flawless Bishop of Light.

No hesitation. No mercy. No softness. He had to be sharp-edged, as unyielding as a blade.

He would not be destroyed by anyone.

He would destroy everyone who tried to ruin him.

Sleep, the demon said. You should rest.

Edwin closed his eyes.

The scent of roses, though faint, was unmistakable, clinging to him as well.

There was no need to guess—he knew those beautiful red eyes were watching him. At some point, the distance between them had grown too naturally close.

The thought troubled him for a few seconds, but soon, he stopped thinking about anything at all.

Fatigue finally overtook him.

He sank into the warmth and softness of the bed, falling into an untroubled sleep.

There were no dreams. Just a rare, peaceful slumber.