His gaze shifted back to the cooled bowl. Even though it had grown cold, the savory scent of the broth was strangely vivid. Unable to resist, Damian buried his face in the bowl and licked up every last drop. Despite the chill, the aftertaste lingered on his tongue for a long time.
Once the bowl was licked clean, his eyes turned back to the man’s arm. Staring at the distinct claw marks he had left, Damian hesitated for a moment before mindlessly licking the wound with the tip of his tongue.
It tasted of iron.
Along with the familiar scent of blood, a strange sense of fulfillment washed over him, though he felt no further interest beyond that.
There was no reason to eat the human when he had this food. Besides, if he killed the human, he would never get to eat that warm soup again.
Of course, monsters that actually preyed on humans were rare. They would much rather choose other prey, these weak creatures had flesh and blood that spoiled far too quickly, they weren't worth eating.
Just then, the eyelids of the man he thought was asleep fluttered, and golden eyes emerged faintly through the thick bangs. The eyes, thin and hazy with sleep, met Damian’s gaze for a fleeting moment.
Damian immediately turned his head away.
The human lived not because he had saved Damian, nor because of a whim of Damian's, but solely because of the taste of his cooking.
***
The time that followed flowed with a strange tranquility. The man continued to clean Damian’s wounds and never missed a single meal. The more he did, the more something deep within Damian flickered with complexity.
Why is this human being so kind to me? He wasn't hiding poison, nor was he weaving a plot. It wasn't as if Damian was of any use to him, either. Then what was it?
Suddenly, an old memory surfaced.
His father had been a man of few words, but he was unusually talkative when it came to Damian’s mother. Eighty percent of it was pathetic, useless nonsense.
For instance, he would say that when she smiled, it was as if a Bonita, a rare flower that hardly ever bloomed even in the Monster Forest, had burst into full bloom, or that even a Mimic wouldn't dare try to imitate the sound of her laughter.
Looking back now, it all felt like futile flowery language, but his father would repeat those stories until Damian was sick of them. Endlessly. As if those moments were the entirety of his life.
Among those stories, the one he shared most often was the recollection of their first meeting.
While embroiled in a bloody struggle for the throne, his father had been mortally wounded and collapsed beyond the border. When he opened his eyes, he was in a shack in a remote village.
A young girl was by his side, silently nursing the blood-covered man back to health.
Every time Damian heard that story, he shuddered with disgust. To be helped in a world where power is everything, and by a human woman, the weakest of creatures. How pathetic.
Yet, ironically, his father recovered, ascended to the throne, and took the girl who saved him as his companion.
Damian had stopped listening to that repetitive story long ago. But now, the memory came back because the situation was eerily similar.
A human who nursed a wounded creature and served meals without asking for anything in return.
Is that why? Even though his instincts screamed warnings, a certain delusion kept sprouting in his mind. Damian involuntarily recalled his father’s words.
“Listen, Damian. One who gives you food without expecting anything in return surely harbors affection for you.”
...Then, was this human also constantly 'seducing' him right now?
Of course, it was a massive misunderstanding. His father had been in human form when he collapsed, and humans are naturally attracted to those who look like them. For a monster like Damian, with a horn protruding from his head, no one would harbor romantic feelings unless they had a particularly twisted fetish.
However, Damian had almost made up his mind. And for some reason, that conviction sparked a subtle irritation.
He didn't know whether to call it ridiculous or annoying, even the man's small gestures, like the occasional smile, felt like intolerable signals of affection when viewed through that lens.
***
By the third day, Damian finally left the inn without a sound. His body wasn't fully recovered, but every time he thought of the man’s gaze, an unknown heat rose up the back of his neck, making it impossible to stay.
As he ran, he flicked a glance back. A bizarre scene stood there. a lone, out-of-place building sitting right on the border between humans and monsters. It was anything but ordinary.
Because he hadn't fully healed, he couldn't return to the heart of the Monster Forest immediately. Instead, as he lingered nearby, Damian sensed several presences targeting the place.
Soon, a giant centipede-type monster came into view, attempting to crawl into the inn. Damian tore it to shreds without a word, thinking to himself.
There is only one monster who uses such centipedes as servant.
Basha of the West. He was known as an indifferent monster who never left his cave, so why was he interested in this inn?
Damian’s red eyes narrowed coldly.
Then, after one last glance at the human’s presence, breathing steadily as if asleep, he snorted and vanished back into the darkness.
***
A few more days passed.
Damian loitering around the inn had somehow become a natural part of the scenery.
As if recognizing Damian’s presence, the human placed a bowl of hot soup outside the inn every day. Like a lover waiting for one who had left. Damian thought such devotion was almost pitifully touching.
So, occasionally, he would stop by and take a sip before the bowl grew cold. When the human checked it later, he looked as happy as if he had gained the whole world.
One day, while Damian was just waiting for the day he would be fully healed so he could leave, a groan suddenly erupted from inside.
"Ugh... Wait, hold on...!"
Realizing it was the human’s voice sounding flustered by a strange presence, Damian did not hesitate.
Slam!
He kicked the inn door open. In his sight stood a stranger, a human with long, flowing black hair. Damian’s claws flashed as he lunged, biting into the stranger's shoulder.
"Arrgh!"
Blood splattered, and the stranger writhed in pain. Then, a gaze shimmering with violet light pierced Damian.
Though his expression didn't change much in his monster form, Damian’s brow twitched. That appearance, that gaze... this was the lineage of a famous mage among humans. A powerhouse among powerhouses.
Immediately and without warning, ice surged from the stranger's palm. A blast of cold energy flew toward Damian.
Boom! Crash!
As the table and floor split apart amidst flying debris, Damian twisted his body to dodge. Just as the confrontation was about to escalate, the human with the messy hair stepped between them.
What? Move! Damian was about to scratch at the man's leg to get him out of the way when,
"Stop it."
The voice was absurdly firm.
"The border is exactly what separates the world of monsters and humans. And this is an inn built right on that border. So... there’s nothing strange about a monster being here."
At those words, Damian’s claws stopped in mid-air.
His instincts whispered to him. A weak human is blocking your path. Tear him apart.
Yet, for some reason, the strange resonance in that voice held his hand.
After a brief exchange between the two humans, the mage slowly bowed his head. For a moment, Damian thought about ripping his throat out, but he hesitated because of the weak human shielding the mage.
Then, suddenly, the mage roughly grabbed Damian by the scruff of the neck.
-Grrrrrrr!
Humiliating! A human dared to grab the King by the neck! A murderous growl leaked out, baring his fangs.
However, the golden eyes in front of him were looking straight at him. If he killed the mage here now, the one who would get in trouble was this human.
Damian gritted his teeth and swallowed his breath. A suppressed growl vibrated in his throat, but his claws did not descend.
Just as he hadn't bitten his father when he rambled on about useless love, this too was a display of Damian’s own version of patience. For the first time, Damian allowed himself to quietly shut his mouth like an ordinary creature.
Soon, the two humans were talking about sealing devices and such. It was irritating to hear, but Damian just snorted.
As if the crude magic of a human could ever restrain me.
But his arrogance was misplaced. The violet-eyed human, Geoffrey, was an Archmage, and Damian’s recovery had been slowed by the poison. Because his strength was depleted, he couldn't immediately break free from the shackles.
"He seems to have some intelligence," Geoffrey said with a mysterious smile, watching Damian receive an electric shock from the magic restraint. "I thought he was just a brainless creature that only knew how to charge forward."
Damian bared his fangs at those words.
Damned mage! Once I’ve fully recovered, I’ll tear you to shreds first.
Having ended up as a stray monster taken in by the inn, Damian ironically found himself acting as its guardian. Though he threw tantrums by kicking his food bowl around, he occasionally pulverized the centipede monsters, specifically, Basha’s servant, that tried to crawl near.
In the meantime, the human took meticulous care of him.
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