TBR CH60

Even though he had agreed to Tal, under the honey-colored lights of the tavern, Edwin looked at the demon in front of him and only felt his throat was dry. He didn’t know what to ask, so he had no choice but to take another small sip of the mead.

The mood was just right—it should proceed step by step.

“I’ll ask first,” Tal said. “Let’s make it clear beforehand: if you don’t want to answer, you drink. We go until someone gets drunk.”

The bishop nodded. This was probably the most absurd thing he had done in his life. Just a few months ago, he could never have imagined himself sitting in a cluttered little tavern, clinking glasses with a low-ranking demon.

Tal smiled at him. His ruby-like eyes were tinted with the warm glow of the lights:

“Let’s start with something simple—”

“Do you know why I was in a bad mood this morning?”

Edwin froze. He hadn’t expected that to be brought up again. In an instant, the thoughts from earlier swept back over him. The demon had been telling him about the things he had seen and experienced—the vast and magnificent world—and he had kept getting distracted, unable to keep up with Tal’s rhythm.

Anyone would be upset if the person they were speaking to seemed absent-minded.

“I…”

Edwin paused. His pinky stung faintly, as if reminding him to choose his words carefully, so the sentence on his tongue changed shape at the last moment. “Sorry. I was too greedy.”

The demon in front of him was silent for a moment, as was the wine in his glass. Tal was clearly surprised by the answer, but he didn’t reveal the truth right away. He simply waited for Edwin to explain what he meant by “greedy.”

“It’s just…”

Admitting his own thoughts wasn’t easy, and the bishop spoke very slowly.

“The places you talked about—I really wanted to see them. But Tal, I’m just a human. If I leave the Church, I’ll lose all the authority I hold. And that’s something I absolutely cannot lose. I admit I chase power and prestige, to this extent—I think that counts as greed. But I don’t intend to change.”

The demon took a small sip of absinthe—deep green, bitter, and very strong.

Then he said,

“You think I was angry because of your ambition? You’re wrong. I knew you’d think that.”

He had gotten it wrong again.

Sometimes, Edwin felt like all his thoughts were laid bare in Tal’s eyes. Being seen through so completely wasn’t a good feeling. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Tal pushed the mead toward him, meaning he was to accept his punishment.

The tavern’s glasses were quite large—this wasn’t just casual sipping to wet the throat.

The bishop reached out and took the glass. The smooth brown liquor swirled with a hiss inside, and only then did he realize that drinking half a glass in one go wasn’t an easy task. He’d have to take this game more seriously. In any case, as the liquor slid down his throat, its rich heat slowly spread through his chest.

Only after he drank it did Tal reveal the truth.

“I wasn’t angry because you’re too greedy, Edwin,” the demon reached up and tidied his hair. The soft black strands looked like silk under the light, making one want to reach out and touch.

“It’s because you’re not greedy enough—that’s why you think you need to make a choice.”

“…What?”

“I remember I told you a long time ago, ‘You’re an extraordinary human.’ The point of that sentence wasn’t the second half. Do you understand? You’re used to using your identity as a human to bind yourself. But Edwin, very few humans reach the heights you’ve climbed with their own strength. And never has a human, born a succubus, ascended to the rank of bishop.”

“Don’t let being human limit you. Your ambition could be far greater.”

It was almost like coaxing—this was how the demon spoke to the human:

“I’m not asking you to give up anything. But why not consider it—becoming the first pope to travel outside the capital. Lies can fool even the gods. It sounds heretical, but compared to what you’re doing now, it’s not necessarily harder.”

After two minutes of silence, Edwin finally spoke. His voice was hoarse, as if the alcohol had already flowed through his veins.

“You think I could do that?”

Even Edwin himself had never considered it. To him, freedom and power had always been an either-or choice. In this world, something always had to be given up. He believed his ambition was too big, so he couldn’t choose the other things he wanted. It seemed fair—until the demon spoke. Only then did he realize how unwilling he truly was.

The demon tilted his head slightly, looking at him as if he found him amusing.

“Edwin, before you decided to climb to the peak of power, did you ever ask anyone that question?”

No, of course not.

He had asked the wrong question—so another glass of wine was his punishment. Edwin swallowed the amber liquor. It was sweet, light, and swelled in his chest, just like his greed.

The bishop understood what Tal meant. He had to choose his own fate and not be shaken by anyone else’s judgment. What he was doing was already heretical enough that no one in the world could possibly understand.

Edwin didn’t need understanding, either. He was determined to go his own way. That was a terrifying kind of pride—and now, he wanted even more.

Tal understood Edwin better than Edwin had expected.

It was just that the bishop had to be careful not to let that greed show. He asked the demon not because he was hesitant, nor because he lacked affirmation—but because he desperately wanted to hear the words come from the demon’s mouth:

“I believe you can.”

The bishop didn’t fall into confusion because of his own words. Tal could clearly see the light in his eyes grow steadily firmer. This human, whom the gods regarded as special, didn’t let him down. The god residing within the demon’s body finally felt satisfied.

Edwin’s expression that morning had seemed a little unlike him—and that “unlike” was the reason for his disappointment.

Edwin had the most dazzling soul Tarchsus had ever seen. He should not be bound by any worldly chains. He deserved to have power—and that didn’t mean he had to give up freedom. If he wanted it, then he shouldn’t sentence his fate to death before it even began.

Even if failure would mean being shattered to pieces.

God didn’t miss the greed burning in the human’s eyes. Within the searing soul, he caught a glimpse—of his own shadow?

The beautiful demon curled his lips into a smile at the bishop of the mortal world. He clearly knew what the human before him desired—including himself. Strangely, this didn’t make the god feel repulsed.

“All right, Edwin,” he said softly, “it’s your turn to ask the next question.”

Originally, Edwin had also wanted to start with a lighter question.

He hesitated a bit, quietly watching the demon seated across from him. The environment could influence people—like in a place such as this, with noisy chatter around and fragrant aromas wafting through the air, one couldn’t help but relax. That comfort showed on Tal—his gem-like eyes were slightly narrowed, he cut a piece of roast meat and brought it to his mouth, then licked the fork.

“Have you ever been, by those hunting you…”

The bishop was trying to think of a more tactful way to phrase it, but before he could come up with a good enough alternative, he had already finished asking:

“I don’t know if you’re willing to tell me, but, Tal, have you ever been locked up somewhere?”

A rather unexpected question.

The demon’s movement halted, and quite astonishingly, everything around them seemed to slow down in Edwin’s eyes. Tal leaned closer to him, lightly tossing aside his knife and fork, like a wary beast facing a prey that posed real danger. It wouldn’t be surprising even if he reached out the next second to grab Edwin by the throat.

That’s what Edwin thought, but the demon didn’t do it.

Tal was smart. A low-ranked demon up against the High Bishop of the Church of Light—the outcome was clear at a glance. Not to mention the contract.

“What made you think that?”

Tal leaned close enough, and the table was too narrow—nearly nose to nose. The demon, full of confusion, demanded an explanation.

“I don’t know.”

This time, Edwin chose to speak truthfully. “Maybe it’s sometimes your eyes—like every morning when I close the door; and then this morning too, when you looked at the demon seed in the vessel. That made me instinctively feel…”

“You thought I pitied it?”

“No, you didn’t.”

This time Edwin gave his judgment cleanly, then softened his tone:

“But it reminded you of something not so pleasant. That’s what I guessed.”

The demon was silent for a while. Bubbles in the mead swirled at the surface of the cup, then melted one by one. After that, Tal confirmed again:

“Do you want to know who was hunting me, or whether I’ve had experiences I don’t want to talk about?”

So sharp—Edwin had only asked the latter, but he had indeed wanted to probe for clues to the former. The bishop had privately sent people to investigate the demon Tal’s background. Logically, if someone had moved through the world, they would leave traces. Especially since the demon had provided many places he had visited.

Yet, the result was: nothing.

Cleaner than snow, as if a demon named Tal had never existed in this world.

“I want to ask both.”

The bishop admitted, “But it depends on what you’re willing to tell me.”

“I won’t answer the first question.”

The demon cruelly gave him hope, only to withhold it again, keeping his secret. “That’s worth half a glass of absinthe. I’ve got no objections.”

He brought the glass to his lips. The liquor was bitter and spicy, but the demon’s expression didn’t change at all. High-concentration alcohol was nothing to him.

The bishop didn’t even have time to feel disappointed—he had already guessed this outcome.

“But,” when Tal’s lips left the clear glass, he swirled the deep green liquid inside—it was the kind of green that made people think of secrets buried deep—

“Edwin, you guessed right. So I don’t think there’s a need to hide it. It’s true—I was once locked up somewhere, for quite a long time. It was definitely a very unpleasant memory.”

“I’m sorry.”

Edwin said it almost instinctively. Tal’s last words were lightly and slowly spoken, with a slight hook in the tone, making it hard to tell whether he truly cared or was intentionally adding a touch of coquettishness. Either way, it was enough to make the bishop helpless.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

The glass clinked crisply on the table. The demon looked at him. “It was a long time ago. But the feeling of being locked up is truly awful—being in a space you can’t escape from, where even the days can’t be counted. And neither could you leave on your own, nor wait for someone to come rescue you.”

Edwin had no experience comforting others. At this moment, he desperately wanted to do something. Tal’s tone was light—practically casual, like he was telling someone else’s story.

But it wasn’t like that. Just imagining that Tal had once been trapped somewhere, in pain and despair, made the bishop’s heart tighten unnaturally, like it was gripped by unseen hands. He opened his mouth, wanting to stop Tal from continuing.

“Not exactly,”

But Tal continued anyway, somewhat thoughtfully.

“I think I was just too foolish. You know, Bishop—even though I’m saying this now, it’s only because I already know the ending. In truth, even until the very end, I still held on to a sliver of the most baseless hope, thinking someone would come to save me.”

No one did. Edwin read the ending in the demon’s eyes.

He racked his brain for something to say to comfort him, but everything felt powerless. The demon’s red eyes trembled slightly before him, and a sharp longing flooded Edwin’s veins.

If only I had been there. The bishop thought. If I ever have the chance to save him, I’ll never let him down.

Tal, seeing his expression, seemed amused by Edwin’s clumsy thoughts. He leaned forward and patted Edwin’s hair in a soothing way.

“It’s fine. It’s been a long time already, you don’t need to worry about it.”

Then the demon’s hand was caught by Edwin. He was surprised to realize he couldn’t easily pull away. The bishop bent his knees slightly—just enough to cross the narrow table, enough space—he could hug him.

It was like being taught the answer by a student he had taught himself.

Edwin hugged the demon across from him. Tal sank into the bishop’s embrace, a little incredulous. Just moments ago, what had been deeply hidden in his eyes wasn’t sorrow—but a deep, biting self-mockery. The bishop’s hug was light and stiff. He wasn’t a soft person, but it was warm enough.

“I’m sorry.”

Tal heard Edwin whisper next to his ear. “I… shouldn’t have brought that up. But it wasn’t your fault. Wanting to be rescued isn’t something foolish. If it were me—”

The latter half of the sentence was very soft.

There was no resistance at all. The demon completely, voluntarily, accepted the embrace. He buried his face in the other’s neck. Not being in a transformation period, Edwin had no scent. The bishop’s aura was cool and clean.

Even in a quiet corner, Tal could still hear—someone from a drunken direction whistled at them.

Edwin had used Light magic to disguise them. They didn’t have to worry about being recognized.

So no one cared.

“There won’t be a next time.”

Edwin’s latter sentence was very soft, but every word was heard very clearly by Tal.

“You are mine, you are mine. I won’t let this kind of thing happen again. I will save you. No matter who wants to take you away, or lock you up, I will definitely take you away.”

Stubborn and willful.

The bishop thought he could do it, so he made the promise. Of course he would think that way—this human was about to ascend to the high position of Pope of the Church of the God of Light, and had just been fed an even greater ambition. He didn’t know that the demon he swore to protect was a god high above, with endless divine power.

The truth-telling was Tal’s suggestion, but even God could not have imagined that things would develop into this.

“Do you like me to this extent?”

The demon rubbed against the bishop’s slightly cool black curls. His voice, pressed very low, sounded a little muffled—this barely counted as a question.

“I do.”

Edwin said without hesitation, softly, as if trying to catch a nimble pigeon that could easily fly away. If he had been a second later, he might not have been able to say this so easily.

“If I said I didn’t want to stay by your side anymore, would you force me to stay?”

Following closely, Tal asked right by his ear.

The bishop fell silent.

Tal knew he was caught in a dilemma. Indeed, humans were such contradictory creatures—desires clashing against desires. The bishop absolutely didn’t want to let go; he tightly clutched the thing in his hand. Every morning he carefully checked the locks on the room door, and the formation with a forbidden curse ran steadily at all times.

“Tell the truth.”

Tal reminded him, but it was only a verbal promise, without any real effect. Unless the person holding him was moved by words—his voice sounded like a sigh:

“I will…”

Edwin pressed his lips together, gray eyes silently brewing a storm. “I will give you enough in return. You must stay by my side.”

He had guessed it.

This time, Tal was a little helpless, but couldn’t bring himself to blame too much.

Maybe it was because the human in front of him had just spoken words too touching—he had slightly touched the true core of a god. It still wasn’t a qualified deal, but at least in this moment, there was no need to refuse.

The answer was still too firm, so the one giving it was a bit uneasy. After saying something so decisive like “you must stay by my side,” he didn’t know whether he should let go of the demon he was embracing.

Then, his hand was gently pressed down by Tal. The demon slightly broke free from his hold and dropped a kiss on his forehead.

The bishop’s pupils slightly dilated.

“Hope you can afford the price. I don’t guarantee I won’t change my mind.”

Demons lived long lives—staying by one human’s side wouldn’t take up much time. Offering up everything precious just for the companionship of a deal sounded foolish. But Edwin thought—he couldn’t find a better bargain.

He obediently drank the last half glass of mead under the demon’s guidance. Tal didn’t explain why, but his answer truly wasn’t great—worthy of being punished.

“Tal,” the bishop couldn’t help saying. The tavern was practically a breeding ground—here, all exaggerated and unrestrained thoughts grew wildly.

“You are free. And you were right about what you said before. So, I want to make a deal with you.”

“Hmm?”

The demon finally sat back properly. They had been too intimate just now. The tavern counted as a semi-private setting—this could practically be called a legitimate date.

At this moment, Edwin’s glass had no more wine, and he had no intention of asking the waiter for more.

The bishop didn’t intend to actually get drunk.

Tal still had half a glass left. The demon turned his head to look at Edwin, eyes filled with inquiry.

“The meteor shower at Dragon Ridge you mentioned this morning—”

The dazzling, unbelievable thought made the bishop’s mouth dry. The spot on his forehead that was just kissed still felt a bit hot.

“I will see it with my own eyes. So—at that time, will you be by my side?”

Tal laughed. His smile was beautiful.

“Sure.”

Edwin knew, he should have stopped there. But just at that moment, upon hearing the answer, he realized a sharp dissatisfaction filled some part of his heart—that was another question, touching the deepest, most hidden core, seemingly not suited to be voiced at this moment.

But still, maybe—

“Tal, do you love me?”

He asked very cautiously, like a traveler yearning for water reaching out to touch an oasis, trying to confirm that it wasn’t just a mirage. Love wasn’t a necessity. The bishop knew the bare minimum he needed was merely companionship, but he longed for it, hoped for it—and before he knew it, this nameless desire had filled his entire heart.

He regretted asking almost the moment the words left his lips.

The small demon with black hair and red eyes sat right in front of him, reaching out to take the wine glass in front of him. The dark green liquid swirled—jealous words, the bishop thought, human original sin was this thick green, born of desire for the unknown.

“I can’t answer that question.”

Tal’s pupils rotated slightly, looking at him, frank and without any evasion. Then, he drank the wine in his hand in one gulp, curled his lips into a smile, and extended a hand to Edwin.

“I’m sorry. Maybe one day I can give you an answer, Edwin. Not today. But as an exchange—you did really well today and made me like you. I want to give you a wish.”

“…A wish?”

“Today is your birthday.”

The demon placed his hand over the bishop’s—dry and soft—as if handing something to him, and didn’t miss Edwin’s stunned expression.

“I knew you wouldn’t remember—even though that loudmouthed man said it in front of everyone. Bloodline doesn’t matter, but birth is worth celebrating. In any case, dear bishop—happy birthday.”

Edwin inhaled sharply. He hesitated, not knowing how to react.

Birthday.

This was a completely foreign word to him. As an abandoned orphan, he didn’t even know when his birthday was, nor would anyone celebrate it for him. Now, he cared even less about his origins, no longer paying attention to a meaningless date.

“Thank you, but… wish?”

The bishop forced out those few words, probably enough to express his confusion. The demon in front of him looked like he had everything under control. He turned slightly and snapped his fingers. About a minute later, their table received a new dish—or rather, a small cake.

“This isn’t this tavern’s specialty,”

The demon shrugged. “It’s an apple pie–based cake. The boss said this is the best they can do. But they’re good at baking apple pie, so it should still be worth hoping for.”

When the cake was cut, warm apple filling oozed out, mixed with the fragrance of cinnamon—sweet and tempting.

And the Tal across from him was even sweeter.

“I couldn’t think of a proper birthday present.”

The demon gently scratched the back of his hand. Edwin tried hard not to look too surprised, but everything before his eyes truly exceeded his imagination. It was all so beautiful it felt like a dream, and he could only barely keep his attention focused to listen to Tal speak.

“So, one wish. As long as it’s something I can do—of course, it can’t be too difficult—I’ll do my best to make it happen. That’s your birthday gift. I hope it doesn’t come off as too perfunctory.”

The cake was sweet and soft.

Edwin began to think about his wish. The surprise had suddenly crashed over him. He never dared to hope he would be lucky enough, and this, without a doubt, was the best, the very thing he wanted most.

“No need to rush to make your wish.”

The demon’s smile deepened. He raised a finger to his lips in a gesture for silence. The cross-section of the cake shimmered under the amber light.

“Bishop, the night is still long—and there’s no need to rush tonight, either. I mean, if there’s still anything you want to do, I think we can do a lot more.”

The memories that followed were sweet and drowsy, like stepping into one dream after another. The demon was right beside him, within reach, patient and gentle, until finally, he didn’t even have time to make that wish.

Until finally, his breath had grown unsteady.

Tal whispered beside his ear, word by word, engraving them onto his soul. It was not something lost and regained—it was the one and only time in his life he had ever truly received something.

He felt that he would never forget. It touched his heart as lightly as a feather.