Thick, hot blood welled up. Damian looked down with cold eyes as his flesh split apart, vomiting crimson. The man’s hands trembled violently as he tried to shove the knife deeper, but his feeble strength couldn’t even tear through the muscle.
Clang!
With a flick of Damian’s hand, the knife fell uselessly to the floor.
There was neither anger nor pain in the eyes that looked at the man, only a dry, hollow chill.
The man shuddered, squeezing out words through a ragged throat.
"Gack... Hah, because... of... you lot..."
"......?"
This time, even Damian looked surprised.
He can speak? There was no one here to teach him, when could he have possibly learned language?
Come to think of it, it was likely that lingering intelligence that had allowed him to catch Damian off guard. Indeed, the human species was notoriously persistent.
Damian furrowed his brows in renewed disgust. Then, coughing up blood, the man articulated each word clearly through his weakening breath.
"Mon... Monster."
"Me?"
The man flinched at the indifferent reply, but Damian simply let out a scoff.
True, he had a horn, but objectively speaking, wasn't this man, with his hunched back, sunken face, and protruding cheekbones, far more like a monster than Damian and his handsome features?
Damian grazed the man’s neck with a sharpened nail. He didn't cut deep, only a single trail of blood trickled down. The man was dying anyway. There was no need to leave a messy mark.
Ultimately, Damian left the man behind and stepped out of the shack, clutching his side. Hot, viscous blood leaked between his fingers.
Just as he was about to attempt to staunch the bleeding,
Fshhh!
Something was scattered from behind him. A heap of finely ground herbs caught the wind, swirling into his wound and his lungs.
"......!"
As a sharp, pungent scent pierced his nose and chest over the metallic smell of blood, Damian’s face contorted for the first time.
It was poisonous herbs.
"Di... Die... Cough, hack!"
The man’s hands were already stained black. Having failed to withstand the very poison he was handling, he collapsed, his body seizing before he fell still. His heaving chest stopped abruptly, and his blurry eyes rolled back completely.
Damian looked down at the corpse indifferently. The wound in his side was widening as if carved open, the split flesh deepening to reveal the vulnerable layers beneath.
Damian clicked his tongue inwardly, but he could no longer maintain his human form. His bones twisted, his muscles swelled, and a beast-like roar tore from his throat.
Grrrrr!
If he returned to the Monster Forest like this?
Other monsters would surely catch the scent of blood and swarm him. They only respected a King while his power was intact, a bleeding King was nothing more than prey.
Damian panted heavily, hiding himself within the boundaries of the Border.
The wound began to close, but recovery was sluggish. He didn't know what kind of poisonous herb it was, but the toxin circulated through his blood with a parasitic tenacity. The veins beneath his skin turned black, and while the wound looked closed on the surface, it still burned from within.
Even after the physical traces of the poison vanished, the effect lingered stubbornly.
Wheeze, wheeze.
Every ragged breath he exhaled vibrated with the scent of iron. The air around him grew damp with the smell of blood.
It was then.
A faint light flickered in the distance.
Strangely, there was a single light blinking in the middle of the darkness-shrouded border. At the same time, a savory aroma wafted over, stinging the tip of his nose.
Hunger and instinct pulled at Damian’s feet. His blood-red eyes cut through the darkness, slowly moving toward that light.
Finally, at the edge of his vision, he saw an inn radiating a small, warm glow. In his blurring sight, Damian collapsed as he took in the image of the building.
Thud!
That was his last memory before blacking out.
***
When Damian opened his eyes again, he wasn't on a cold, damp floor, soft bedding supported his back.
The first thing he saw was a man with chestnut hair that hung long enough to hide his eyes. A chilling aura flared in Damian’s red pupils.
Was he helped by a human? No, the mere fact that a lowly human dared to look down at him was offensive. An instinctive hostility surged at the unfamiliar humiliation.
Grrrr.
A deep, warning growl rumbled out, telling the man not to approach. Sharp fangs were bared, and Damian swung his arm as if swatting an annoying fly.
"...Ah."
Damian had only meant it as a light push, but human skin was so fragile, a vivid red welt appeared on the man's arm, and beads of blood began to drip onto the floor.
Instead of remorse, Damian only let out a cynical scoff. Humans really were weak.
The man flinched as if terrified and stepped back. He closed the door and left, looking very much like he was running away.
However, a short while later.
Click. The door opened again, and warm air drifted into the room. The human had returned, holding a bowl with steam curling off the top. A savory, rich fragrance hit Damian’s keen sense of smell directly.
"Do you want to eat?"
The man’s voice was softer than expected, causing Damian to waver for a moment.
Was he offering food because he was scared of the injured creature? If so, there should have been signs of terror. Yet, there wasn't a single tremor on the man's face. He couldn't see the man's full expression behind the bangs, but there wasn't even a hint of fear in his breath.
...What is this human?
Monsters are inherently sensitive to fear. The tremor of a breath, the wavering of a gaze, the racing of a heart, all of it is revealed without lies. Yet, he sensed nothing from this man. Was he trying to catch him off guard? Was the food poisoned? Shallow tricks were a human specialty, after all.
He glared at the bowl with suspicious eyes, but the persistent hunger gnawing at him triggered his instincts. Ultimately, unable to resist his nature, Damian slowly touched the tip of his tongue to the broth.
"......!"
As the flavor hit his tongue, his red eyes widened. He wasn't exactly a gourmet, but his palate was quite picky compared to other monsters. This broth, however, was different.
The hot, fatty meat flavor settled deep into his chest, and the warmth felt like it was tending to every corner of his starved body. Enchanted, Damian pressed his mouth to the bowl and licked up the remaining broth.
The broth vanished, and the bottom of the white bowl was revealed. As his stomach filled, a strange lethargy drifted in along with his fatigue. For the first time, Damian let his guard down and buried himself loosely under the covers. As the warmth seeped in, his eyelids slowly lowered.
How much time had passed?
Awakened by a faint presence, Damian saw another bowl placed on the table. Beside it, the chestnut-haired man sat leaning against a chair. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was too steady and calm to be considered a mere lapse in guard.
Is he pretending to be defenseless to tame me? Damian showed his wariness out of habit. However, the moment his gaze landed on the man’s arm, he saw the shallow marks, the traces he had left with his claws. The beads of blood had dried, but the scars were still vivid.
Damian’s nostrils flared.
The scent of human blood and the savory aroma of broth mixed in the air, tickling his instincts. Eventually, he lowered his head and touched the tip of his tongue to the cooled broth.
Lap. The savory taste brushed over his tongue.
When he flicked his gaze back to the man, he saw a faint glint of gold eyes blinking at him through the thick bangs.
Hmph.
Meeting the man's eyes, he snorted and turned his head away. Vigilance was essential, but for now, the food this human offered was far more delicious than the prospect of harming him.
Damian gripped the fabric of the blanket and buried his body deeper. The faint scent of blood and broth filled his nose. That peculiar scent strangely soothed his stomach, and he fell into a brief sleep.
When he opened his eyes again, there was cold broth on the table and the man was still asleep in the chair. The soft, even sound of breathing filled the room.
Damian narrowed his eyes.
To breathe so defenselessly beside him, even if he was an injured monster... Was this human just stupid, or did he lack the sense to feel danger entirely? Like a typical foolish human, he didn't even seem to notice the red warning bells of instinct.
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