Chapter 32

It was a night of the melancholy full moon.

The moon, a perfect circle, stretched its pale arms toward the earth, yet the interior of the lush, dense forest remained almost entirely submerged in darkness.

The young man’s foot caught on a creeping vine. He lost his balance for a moment and let out a sharp, irritated click of his tongue.

“Annoying plants. Shall I burn them all away with nitric acid?”

The voice was youthful, still retaining the resonance of adolescence. His amber eyes flickered with the light of intellect, though they were tinged with a certain cunning.

The figure holding the lantern aloft as he navigated the forest was a younger Horst.

The face that usually wore a mischievous grin was now set in a dangerous expression as he scoured the surroundings.

“Elma! Elmaa! Where have you gone? Come out, come out!”

The reason for his distress was that his precious, precious “little sister” Elma had yet to return home to the prison, despite the sun having long since set.

“Honestly, this is what happens when [Gluttony], who isn’t used to the outside world, takes her out… I told him over and over to be careful because a small, cute child like Elma can get lost in an instant, and yet he plays hide-and-seek in a forest…”

His monologue was a mix of impatience and irritation. Of course, none of that irritation was directed at Elma—after all, it is perfectly healthy for a child to play hide-and-seek with all their might. Instead, it was aimed squarely at Isaac, who had neglected his supervisory duties and shamefully lost sight of her.

Ever since Heidemarie seized control of the prison, members with “seemingly normal” appearances—like Horst, Morgan, and Liesel (in his male persona)—had routinely “escaped” to enjoy shopping and gathering information.

Isaac, being a man of such conspicuous, giant stature, rarely went out. However, he had mentioned wanting to stretch his limbs in the forest for once, so they had entrusted Elma to him—and this was the result. Consequently, Horst and the others, who considered themselves Elma’s guardians, had been wandering the woods for over three hours now.

Cling…!

Horst’s foot brushed against a wire stretched between the branches, and a metallic ring echoed through the air. Recognizing the source of the sound and the scenery beyond it, Horst knit his brows.

“…I’ve made it all the way to Frenzel, have I?”

The Frenzel Territory. It was a frontier land of Luden, bordering the northwestern coast that housed Walzer Prison. While it saw constant rain in the winter, the climate was mild throughout the year, and it was famous as a wine-producing region.

However, it was also a harsh land surrounded by a miasmic sea and forests inhabited by magical beasts. The “Singing Chains” stretched along the border were a testament to the desperate survival wisdom of the people living there. It was said that the high-pitched sound of polished iron rods striking one another would ward off monsters.

“…Well, I suppose the concept isn’t bad. Though given that Elma might have already trespassed past them, the effectiveness is pretty much self-explanatory.”

The secret of Elma’s birth was known within the prison walls only to [Lust] and [Wrath].

However, because Horst had been present at her birth and had frequently examined her ever since, he had come to a faint understanding that Elma’s constitution differed from that of a normal person.

For instance, her physical strength.

For instance, her intellect.

Her immune system, her resilient skin, and her abnormal learning capacity.

Everything about Elma was worlds apart from any human Horst had ever seen.

“Not that I mind at all. As long as she’s healthy and cute, that’s plenty,” Horst muttered, dismissing the thought with a light snort.

To a man who had watched his own sister tethered to a bed and magic stones ever since she was attacked by thugs, the fact that the girl under his protection was healthy—perhaps a bit too sturdy—posed no problem whatsoever.

The problem lay with the Frenzel Territory.

“The Keepers of the Holy Wine, who Tilled the Demon Lands—is it?”

Wine was considered a drink offered to God. It was said that the people of this land had repelled the interference of the Demon Race during the height of their prosperity, and even now, they continued to evade monsters to produce their sacred vintage. They were a deeply devout people, and he had heard they loathed anything associated with the demonic.

If Elma were to wander into such a place—and if her “true nature” were to be discovered—what would happen?

Horst narrowed his eyes reflexively. It was then that he noticed something on the ground reflecting the light of his lantern with a sharp glint.

He rushed over and picked it up. It was a delicate hair ornament, gems inlaid in the shape of a butterfly. An exquisite piece that one would rarely see even in the Royal Capital, it was a gift given to Elma for her fourth birthday by [Envy], who was notoriously particular about fashion.

Horst knit his brows, his mind racing. He scanned the area, noting a tree nearby that looked easy to climb and a half-eaten nut lying at its base. He let out a long, deep sigh.

Knowing young Elma’s behavioral tendencies as well as he did, he surmised the following:

She had likely exercised her superior physical strength and wit—remarkable for a four-year-old—to evade [Gluttony]’s search and make it this far. However, having gone undiscovered for so long, she had grown bored. Or perhaps, she had grown anxious.

Thus, she had recalled Horst’s teaching: “If you get lost, stay still in a high place and wait.” She had climbed this tree, notably the tallest in the forest, and feeling hungry, plucked a nut to eat. Then, dangling her legs, she must have used her exceptional eyesight to peer out over the surroundings.

‘If anything were to catch her eye, it wouldn’t be the prison—which is camouflaged in the darkness—but rather the village houses, just as they were beginning to light their lamps.’

Horst pulled out a small, self-developed telescope and snorted. Beyond the gentle slopes of the vineyards and far past the winding road, he could see a single, prominent light. Likely the lord’s manor.

“…If anything happens to Elma because of this, I’ll burn this land and [Gluttony] to the ground.”

Masking his anxiety with such flippant words, Horst gave a slight, crooked smile. Then, he ducked nimbly through the ringing chains and stepped out of the forest with a steady, unerring stride.

Behind him, a swarm of Demon Moths, terrified by the metallic ringing and unable to enter, fluttered their wings in a repeated, resentful motion.