Iserin knew all too well the true nature of why she kept Mowan by her side.
It wasn’t because she loved Mowan, nor because she liked her.
She didn’t even yearn for the future Mowan spoke of, where the Human Race and Demon Race could love each other freely.
Everything she did ultimately pointed toward the foul goals of the schemers and herself—a terrifying future that would bury the Demon Race.
Iserin gazed at Mowan quietly, her eyes no longer cold.
She walked to Mowan’s side and sat down.
Only at this moment, and only while gazing at Mowan, did the Demon Race feel like a living, breathing group in her heart—a diverse race rather than just a bargaining chip to be traded for human happiness.
“I’m sorry, Mowan. It is I who brought you this pain.”
If she hadn’t given Mowan hope, if she had never created a beautiful dream for her, then Mowan wouldn’t be in such agony now that the dream was shattered.
“Please also forgive my coldness. I believe your ideas are nothing but a pipe dream. Going back would not only ruin all my plans, but the cold reality would also leave you drowning forever in the pain of an unattainable dream. Mowan, I believe staying with me is your best choice. No one else would indulge you like I do.”
Iserin pulled Mowan into her arms.
The purple-haired girl struggled constantly; she no longer wanted to be Iserin’s obedient child.
She didn’t want this kind of treatment, like a pet.
“Mowan, be quiet, alright? Quiet. I told you I will fall in love with you. Just give me a little more time. I really don’t care about your past—your affection is a great salvation to me.”
“I don’t—I never forced you to like me! I don’t want your love if it’s just charity!”
“Mowan, I’m begging you. Let’s calm down and think about the pros and cons. There must be a way to satisfy us both. There won’t be a war, and you won’t have to leave me. We can still be as happy as before.”
“No…”
‘You still don’t understand, Iserin.’
Mowan struggled hard to break free from Iserin’s arms.
Iserin was still looking down on her, telling her to calm down.
Iserin still kept saying she shouldn’t leave.
To Iserin, Mowan leaving was as good as taking Iserin’s life.
As long as Iserin didn’t understand that loving someone wasn’t about preventing them from leaving or serving a purpose, but about respecting and understanding them—a mutual appreciation of two souls—Mowan had to leave.
She had to make Iserin realize the heart of the matter.
“Mowan, don’t be like this. I don’t want to give you an ultimatum. Mowan, stay by my side, alright? I don’t want to use the cruelest methods to keep you.”
Various methods flashed through Mowan’s mind, including…
Losing the use of her limbs, having her four limbs severed…
“Would you really do that?”
“I won’t, and I don’t want to. Please, Mowan, I don’t want to become that kind of person. I am a Saintess. I am a kind, gentle Saintess who brings happiness to others.”
“……”
Mowan grew quiet.
She leaned into Iserin’s embrace, held tightly by her.
For the first time, she felt Iserin’s racing heartbeat.
For the first time, she heard a sob in Iserin’s pleading voice.
Iserin cared immensely about her persona as a Saintess—a gentle, kind, and holy Saintess.
A perfect, angel-like figure whose very presence brought warmth and happiness to others.
Mowan suddenly realized she had found Iserin’s core contradiction.
Even when Iserin eliminated demons, it was always a clean kill.
She would never leave an enemy alive only to cruelly torture their body and leave them wishing for death.
Because the standards of a Saintess’s kindness wouldn’t allow her to do that.
However, for Visa’s Conquest Plan, and for a future where humanity could become the world’s hegemon, Iserin had to take on the responsibility of keeping Mowan alive.
Even if Iserin truly snapped Mowan’s tendons and bones, no one else would judge her—but Iserin would judge herself. her own standards of conduct wouldn’t allow it.
Iserin performed her hypocrisy to the fullest.
She had already made the Saintess persona her underlying logic for behavior.
To Iserin, violating her persona as a Saintess was even harder to accept than the failure of the plan.
That was why Iserin would tremble, why she would feel sorrow.
Mowan felt a sudden urge to force Iserin to choose: either cripple her limbs or let her go.
But after a moment’s thought, she felt a faint fear that her guess might be wrong.
If Iserin “evolved” while being pressured by her, turning into a completely cold machine…
Then she wouldn’t even be able to die if she wanted to, and the Demon Race would truly be doomed.
Mowan’s body gradually relaxed.
She could only find another way to move Iserin, to make her willing to let her go.
She could start from Iserin’s persona; it was the only weakness that touched Iserin’s True Heart.
“Sister Selin, let’s… let’s both calm down. I can’t bear to see you become like that either.”
“That’s wonderful, Mowan. It’s truly wonderful that you can come back to me.”
Iserin buried her face in the crook of Mowan’s neck, breathing in her scent almost greedily.
When she brought Mowan back last night, she had already used Magic to clean Mowan’s body, washing away all the dust and sweat.
So at this moment, what lingered at the tip of her nose was the pure scent that belonged only to Mowan.
This fragrance gave Iserin a sense of peace—a sense of security that she could still hold onto the plan.
Even though the plan was already shattered, becoming something completely different from the original vision.
But at least Mowan stayed.
At least she hadn’t used forced means to harm Mowan’s body.
As for the scars left on Mowan’s soul, she would patiently mend them.
After all, she was the Saintess. What she was best at was healing people’s hearts.
“I brought you breakfast. You’ve been hungry for one day. Come and eat.”
Iserin released Mowan.
Mowan sat on the bed like a piece of wood.
Iserin lifted Mowan’s legs and placed them on the edge of the bed.
She knelt down, picked up the shoes from the floor, and slipped Mowan’s rounded, delicate feet into them.
“I originally wanted to feed you. If you really were unwilling to stay by my side, I thought about trying to tie you up first, but now it seems that’s not necessary.”
With Iserin’s support, Mowan slowly stood up.
She allowed the other woman to take her arm, leading her step by step into the dining room.
This small house was filled with too many precious memories.
Mowan sat at the table, taking small bites of the still-warm pastries Iserin had bought from outside.
The familiar sweetness melted on her tongue.
She suddenly remembered the manor Iserin had first taken her to, and those days that were as sweet as cake.
They were so sweet it was sickening—so sweet that Mowan almost burst into tears.
Iserin sat opposite Mowan.
She didn’t eat anything; she just crossed her hands on the table, her gaze fixed tightly on Mowan’s face.
Iserin wasn’t being kind to her.
Iserin… was simply still stubbornly maintaining her perfect Saintess disguise.
Those sweet days were also just something Mowan had once perceived as sweet on her own.
To think she had once cherished those memories as treasures—how pathetic.