Beatrice was undoubtedly one of the people I absolutely had to recruit.
When she became a Corps Commander of the Demon King’s Army, countless members of the Humanity Resistance Army had fallen to her, along with many generals who met tragic ends.
The Commander of the Army of Scorn, who wielded cruel tactics capable of turning an entire Kingdom into a sea of fire in an instant, and whose vicious tongue had manipulated kings, twisting the entire Continent’s political landscape to her will.
She had spent most of her time operating covertly among humans, and the military resources wasted in attempts to capture her alone amounted to the loss of an entire corps.
Not to mention, she was a woman whose actual combat strength as a Corps Commander was truly threatening.
Just watching her relentlessly launch offensives against me made it clear that, in terms of sheer military might, she would hold her own even against the Knights.
But the bigger reason was her temperament.
She was someone fundamentally flawed in her concept of morality—prone to murderous impulses without regarding them as wrong, acting impulsively on these urges.
Leaving such a volatile woman unchecked risked her turning dark, creating one of the worst enemies I would ever have to face.
‘There’s no reason for me to watch that happen again.’
It was better to drive a stake through the heart of this issue here and now.
I looked at Beatrice’s stunned face and spoke again.
“You look like you don’t understand. It’s not complicated. I want you. That’s why I’m helping you.”
“W-what do you mean… want me? To think that… from someone I’ve never even met…”
“You’re quite flustered. What I said can’t have sounded that strange, can it?”
“Ugh…”
Beatrice frowned in embarrassment before letting out a deep sigh and asking.
“Sigh… Just say it plainly. What do you mean by wanting me?”
“Exactly what I said. I want everything about you.”
Your talent, your skill, and you as a person.
I want you as my subordinate.
Beatrice wore a bewildered expression.
“You mean you’ve been running background checks on me just because you want me?”
“If I’m going to have you, I need to save you first, don’t I?”
Humans who sided with the Demon King’s Army often forgot they were even human—destroying everything precious to them without feeling anything.
To bring such people back to being human even for a moment, one had to make them recall their past and stir strong emotions related to it.
That was Ryuk’s theory: that killing a Corps Commander of the Demon King’s Army as a person was a form of salvation.
Then, following Ryuk’s logic, preventing someone from becoming a Corps Commander by using their past would also be an extension of that salvation, wouldn’t it?
Of course, I didn’t need to explain all this to her in detail, so I left it out.
“…I can’t accept it.”
Beatrice muttered with a hollow look.
“If I accept that, I’m denying everything I’ve been until now.”
I judged that I couldn’t persuade Beatrice any further with words alone.
“Then maybe facing the truth will change your mind?”
“…The truth?”
“Yes. Staying as you are only extends a hellish daily life. It’s just more escapism from reality. In the end, you’ll struggle in agony without finding any meaning and die all the same.”
Of course, that death would be by my blade.
I planned to ensure she met death as a human before becoming a Corps Commander of the Demon King’s Army.
That would surely be the last mercy I could grant.
“…”
“Then at least, isn’t it a good idea to find out why you ended up in this situation? To uncover the memories you’ve forgotten, one by one?”
Beatrice clasped her hands together and wriggled them—a habit she had when organizing her thoughts.
I’d often seen this habit when she was fighting against Ryuk and me.
“Alright.”
And the end of that habit always led to a decision.
“If you said that to me, it means you’re ready to see the truth, right?”
I nodded in response.
“Of course.”
I led Beatrice to the nearby village.
Carrying her, I flew through the sky, and she asked in a shocked voice.
“W-were you a Hero?”
“Why do you think so?”
“Well, naturally! Praying to the gods to massively enhance physical abilities—that’s something only a Hero can do!”
“Is that so? The Paladins of the Holy Nation can probably do that much too.”
“W-what? Then you’re saying you’re a Paladin?”
“No, a Hero.”
“Then I was right! But if you’d been a Paladin, my neck would have been chopped off by now. Damn it! I almost got fooled!”
“Feels unfair. I never tried to fool you.”
“Shut up! You’re making me so mad I could die. Seriously.”
Her temper is something else.
But it’s not a bad thing.
Though she looked nothing like the bakery girl she once was, this side of her felt strangely familiar.
Even when we were enemies, we sometimes got along well enough to bicker, but meeting as people gave a new feeling altogether.
We must have bickered like that for a while under the moonlight as we traveled.
I found the inn where Murfin was staying—Murfin was the one I had sent ahead for reconnaissance.
When I knocked, a voice called from inside.
“Cuckoo.”
“It’s me. Open up.”
“Cuckoo.”
“We never agreed on a codeword. Can I just barge in?”
“Cuckoo.”
“Dragon’s roar.”
Click.
The door opened, and Murfin appeared.
“Hey, why don’t you just answer me right away?”
“Tests like this are how a superior usually operates. And I am your superior.”
“Y-yes, yes. Besides the King, you’re my only superior. No objections here.”
Ignoring his sarcastic tone, I entered, and Beatrice followed behind.
She addressed Murfin.
“Oh my, we meet again. Were you acquaintances?”
“Yes, he’s my superior.”
“…That must be hard for you.”
“Can’t be helped. I owe him my life, so I follow.”
“…Was your approach to me part of that as well?”
“Yes.”
Murfin and Beatrice exchanged awkward greetings.
I closed the door and asked.
“Is the room soundproofed?”
“Even if you shout, nothing will leak outside.”
“Good. Since you two know each other, try warming up to each other little by little from now on. Murfin, how’s the reconnaissance report?”
“We finished the investigations as ordered.”
Murfin sighed deeply and looked at Beatrice.
“Are you really planning to take this… person with you?”
“Yes. No change of plan.”
“Haah.”
Judging by his sigh, he must have learned more than he expected.
“Um… Excuse me, Miss Beatrice. Could you roll up the left elbow of your sleeve a bit?”
“Hmm, that’s not difficult.”
Beatrice obediently rolled up the sleeve on her left elbow.
Her smooth left arm was fully exposed.
Murfin stepped closer and examined her left arm carefully.
“Ha, as expected, it’s here.”
I nodded, as if I had anticipated this.
“The Assassin’s Mark, right?”
“…You knew about this?”
“Not exactly knew, just suspected.”
Beatrice’s dagger skills were no amateurish trick.
Even among back-alley assassins, there was a hierarchy, and she ranked at least among the upper tier.
The fact that she could still show such skill despite amnesia was proof of countless hours of training ingrained into her.
It was a given she belonged to an affiliated group.
“What did you find when you checked Beatrice’s family home?”
“It was the Assassin Group’s Headquarters. It was wiped out completely four years ago, though.”
Beatrice’s pupils trembled as if shaken by an earthquake.
“A-Assassin Group? Wiped out? Mark? What… what does all that mean?”
“Oh, looks like you don’t remember that time either. Well, it’s better to see it than to explain it with words.”
I stood up immediately and gestured to Murfin.
“Lead the way.”
“Yes, yes.”
After leaving the inn and following Murfin’s guidance, we soon entered a secluded area outside the village where no one’s gaze reached.
“This is it. The site where Miss Beatrice’s ‘family home’ once stood.”
Before us stood a decrepit house that gave off no warmth whatsoever.
Since we had come in the early morning, the atmosphere was especially gloomy.
I summoned the Holy Sword and scattered light around the vicinity.
The eerie atmosphere dimmed considerably, replaced by a gentle warmth.
Murfin frowned and muttered.
“That Holy Sword is really something. When I did the reconnaissance earlier, the atmosphere made me want to die.”
“But it was daytime then, right?”
“Even in daytime, ghosts don’t disappear. There were intermittent knocking sounds coming from nowhere—it was clear the spirits haunting the place were trying to drive me away. It was seriously creepy.”
True, real ghosts, unlike demon spirits in ghost form, cannot be cut by the Holy Sword.
The space-time between the ghost world and reality is twisted.
According to magic confirmed by Ryuk, one hour in reality is like a month in the ghost world.
The Great Sage’s magic was a symbol of trust to me, so I had no doubt it was accurate.
Anyway, I used the Holy Sword’s light to dispel the chill around us and entered the haunted house.
“Sigh.”
Though it wasn’t winter, my breath was visible.
“The chill is intense. Must be a deeply vengeful spirit.”
“Most likely. After all, this was the base of a group of assassins.”
Assassin Groups often consider each other family.
They have a ritual of sharing each other’s blood in a cup along with alcohol.
Though not blood-related, exchanging blood in this way made them real family in spirit.
The vengeful spirits here would be full of hatred for whoever wiped out their group.
“This is a perfect place for a Necromancer to grow.”
How far we went inside, I wasn’t sure.
Eventually, a staircase leading underground appeared before Murfin.
He’d come down here during daytime reconnaissance.
No matter how bright it was outside, no light would leak in here, so it would be pitch dark underground. It was impressive he managed to explore this place.
“Tough going alone, huh?”
“If told to do it, I have to. I’m your subordinate.”
Murfin shrugged and started descending the stairs.
His steady strides were reassuring.
Beatrice trembled, but judging by her eyes, it wasn’t fear—rather, a grimace of discomfort as something tried to surface in her memory.
“You okay?”
“…Not okay. Probably.”
“Then I’ll trust you on that.”
At my words, Beatrice nodded.
Feeling uneasy, I added one more thing.
“Don’t forget. I said I want everything about you.”
“…Huh?”
Murfin, who led the way, looked back with a blank expression.
I frowned at him.
“Aren’t you going to lead?”
“Oh, right. I should.”
I glanced at Beatrice, who seemed a bit more relaxed.
Thank goodness.
No sudden outbursts for now.
“Aaah, aaahhh! Aaaahhh!”
That peace was short-lived.
Beatrice suddenly started losing control.
It began after she saw the portraits hanging halfway down in the basement.
Though the walls were covered with scorch marks and burn traces, the portraits were perfectly preserved, seemingly protected by magic.
“Do you know who this is?”
I asked the screaming Beatrice, but she shook her head.
“No! I don’t! I don’t know that person!”
Tears streamed down her face like a faucet had been fully opened.
Knowing the real Beatrice, it was a truly strange sight.
“But why are you so frustrated? Why?”
I stepped past her and approached the portrait she had been staring at.
Looking closely, a name was written below.
[To my beloved daughter, with Beatrice.]
The portrait depicted a woman with a stiff expression holding a tiny baby in her arms.
“Hmm.”
I narrowed my eyes and kept silent.