Chapter 4 Logic

'Logic'

I've tried to analyze my situation, but it feels futile. People misunderstand love and hate; they are distinct emotions.

I wanted to escape reality.

Do you know what that feels like?

Do you understand true despair?

The kind that comes from gaining and losing, from loss itself?

How did I end up here?

How did I go from a carefree girl to this?

I've suppressed the turbulent emotions threatening to explode, yet I've grown accustomed to it, haven't I?

On my knees, head bowed, hands outstretched, palms up. But I could not accept this. I couldn't accept that I wouldn't join him in death. I was not reconciled.

After struggling against the maddening urge to have him, I died with him. I wanted to start over, to give him another chance despite everything he had done. This desire led me to a killing spree.

When I killed, I felt a thrill almost as intense as my love for the brother who hated me so much. I was hurt, and even though my expectations were unmet, I didn't see him after dying.

Instead, I was reincarnated into this body.

Not fully human, yet not entirely different either. I hadn't been fully human then, not in that world, not with that mind.

At least I gained some power, allowing me to survive in this savage world longer than I expected. Or so I thought.

Let me start from the beginning; the middle would only confuse you. Hopefully, you can learn from me and, in the future, live a little longer... without caring for the consequences.

~ ~

My name is De Villiana Chu, just as it was in my previous life. I was a pampered girl back then, raised by my father until I was two, during which I learned some unconventional lessons. Things worsened when my mother, who was controlling about appearances, took over.

At five, my grandparents brought home my adopted brother, a few years older, to be my companion, with the agreement of both families.

When I turned ten, my family moved from the island to the mainland, and my brother was fourteen. We arrived in the Asian continent, in a country that would become our home.

Life changed dramatically once I entered that country.

In this life I embody a perfect duality that is both striking and unique: while shadow demons often possess dark skin that aids in their ability to conceal themselves from the world around them, my own mixed heritage as a moon wolf bestows upon me a stunning and beautiful clay-toned complexion. This contrast highlights the differences between us, showcasing how my lineage provides me with a vibrant appearance that stands out in the night, unlike the shadow demons who blend seamlessly into darkness.

My long, thick hair typically lies in intricate twists, a style that I have come to favor over time. Each twist is carefully arranged, yet I find comfort in the way my hair seems to blend into the background, unnoticed. Although my eyes are a striking shade of blue by nature, I choose to conceal them beneath a layer of disguise to avoid attracting undue attention from others around me. It is important for me to remain in the shadows, away from prying eyes. My face is hidden behind a mask that serves both as protection and a barrier. This mask shrouds my features, allowing me to navigate the world without revealing my true identity. The only time my real self is exposed is when the master commands it, signalling that he is ready to see who I genuinely am, even if just for a fleeting moment. This dynamic of concealment and revelation defines my existence in this role I have taken on.

Yes, master.

A servant demon is far more suited to my existence than one that merely lurks in the shadows. Our nature is indeed unique-a deep-rooted essence that binds us to serve, to kill, and to thrive in the presence of our master's shadow, always waiting for his command.

"She is well trained," a voice remarked, and I flinched inwardly, unable to mask the twinge of discomfort that arose within me. The statement echoed in my mind, reminding me of the role I was destined to play.

Deep down, I had no desire to serve as my kind are expected to, yet I often wondered, who had crafted my form so perfectly for this purpose? Who decided my fate, moulding me with such meticulous care? It was a thought that haunted me.

I find myself bound once more to my master, just like all those who came before me, unable to escape the cycle of servitude. I diligently listened to my surroundings, focusing on the rich timbre of my master's deep voice as he spoke with authority. "She comes from twelve generations of servants," he declared with pride, a testament to my lineage. A royal red demon, easily recognizable by his iconic red hair that danced like flames, sharp pupils that captured the light, and horns grew from his forehead curving towards his skull, he embodied both elegance and power. Even though his physique remains slender because he is still in a stage of immaturity, he has already grown to a size that is significantly larger and more imposing than that of many others of his kind his age, even some older than himself.

"Oh my, she is certainly a prize," another male chimed in, his tone laced with intrigue. "Will she be breeding soon?" His question hung in the air, and while he may have seemed harmless on the surface, I was well aware that a grey demon is never to be underestimated. There's a subtle menace that often accompanies their kind, one that compels caution. The implications of his query sent a shiver down my spine, reinforcing the reality of my existence and the expectations laid before me.

Grey demons are elusive creatures, much like us, as we dwell in the shadows, hidden from the prying eyes of the world. The atmosphere shifted around me; I felt a sudden chill creep into the air, yet I remained utterly still-it was my master, and I recognized his presence without a doubt. His energy filled the space, a palpable force that commanded attention.