Hungry Demon

It was the page that the novel had talked about and the very same page which 'Eser Valeria' found out about right before his death. The page that contained a spell powerful enough to make your opponents tremble just at the name of it..

"The spell to summon 'Nexus', The Ancient Ryu of Threads." Noir smiled as he traced some letters on the page with his nail, 'First line seventh letter, third line fourth letter, seventh line fifth letter…' He continued tracing out certain letters.

'A complicated way to hide a spell indeed.'

Noir re-checked all the tracings and let out a deep breath, "The Ryu that couldn't be killed to the point that sealing it was the only way to stop its 'reign'. "

Despite his adaptability, even he needed a moment to process the gravity of what he was about to do.

"Tomorrow." He shut the book, placed it back in the drawer, and sank into the soft, inviting bed.

Before sleep took him, he recalled every detail about the original 'Noir.'

A calm, loyal man. Born talented. Cheerful with those close to him.

He felt sympathy for the original Noir. The man had done nothing to harm the kingdom, yet paranoia had cost him his life. Had the king not been so fearful, Noir might have lived an honorable life.

Poor soul.

But this was his second chance at survival. He wouldn't repeat the same mistakes.

Yet as sleep claimed him, a familiar, dreadful thought crept in.

What if I die again?

What if this world erases me, just like the last?

No traces. No legacy. No proof I was ever here.

And what if, long after my body fades… even I forget I ever existed?

….

Noir groaned as he rolled over, the silk sheets cool against his skin. His hair was a mess, half covering his vision as he blinked sluggishly at the ceiling. The room was quiet—too quiet. No clatter of footsteps, no murmurs from servants outside, even though it was morning.

'Right… nobles wake up late.'

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. It was an excuse, sure, but one he'd take. For now.

Servants did everything for nobles—cooking, cleaning, washing. Commoners, of course. Noble servants only handled documents and management. He was familiar with this hierarchy.

The weak, the poor, the helpless—they were nothing more than tools for the rich and powerful.

No matter the world, it was always the same.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Young Lord, are you awake?"

"Yes." His voice was firm, edged with lingering drowsiness.

"Would you prefer coffee or tea?"

What would Noir prefer?

After a brief moment of reasoning, he decided—

"Tea should suffice."

"As you say, Young Lord."

That shouldn't have seemed suspicious. Noir sighed, smoothing his hair with his fingers before sitting at the nearby chair.

If the novel remained true, he should be arriving soon.

The servant soon returned. "May I come in?"

"Yes, you may."

The man entered, carrying a tray. Long blue hair contrasted sharply with his red eyes. An insignificant man in the grand scheme, yet vital in the 'play.'

'Aren. A commoner or shall I say a 'hybrid' ?'

Hybrids were half-human and half-ryu, they usually concealed their race due to slavery, discrimination etc. In Aren's case it was because of 'all of these'.

His sister–taken from him when they were young. Those greedy, cruel humans… they'd stolen her away. Ever since, Aren had searched, endlessly, for a trace of her. But as the years passed, that hope began to fade. The truth haunted him.

He'd never find her. Not because she wasn't out there, but because she was 'there'.

"I need his help and he needs mine, a fair trade. There's no time to waste."

Noir had no time to waste, after all there was hardly any left. He wanted to progress as fast as possible and therefore he decided to propose the trade to Aren.

He elegantly took the cup of tea from the tray, lifting it to his lips with a slight, almost imperceptible smile. "I have something for you."

Aren blinked, caught off guard. "For me?"

Noir's gaze turned serious, his voice low. "Close the door. What I'm about to say is of great value."

"Yes, young lord." Aren quickly walked to the door, closing it gently, his movements more careful than usual.

His eyes flicked back to Noir, a hint of nervousness in them.

"What do you desire most, Aren?" Noir's voice softened, but his eyes glinted with an intensity that belied the calmness in his tone.

Aren paused, surprised by the suddenness of the question, but after a moment of hesitation, he answered. "A happy life."

Noir's faint smile grew a little wider as he pressed further. "And how do you plan to achieve it?"

Aren shifted uncomfortably, realizing this wasn't just a casual conversation. "I— I don't know." His voice trailed off.

Noir's eyes glinted. "Is it wealth, then?" He mocked, though his words weren't unkind.

"No— no, not wealth," Aren stammered, looking down at the floor.

"I know where she is," Noir's voice dropped to a whisper, laced with promise. "And I can help you find her."

Aren froze. His heart clenched, his breath caught. "Where… where is she?"

Noir took a sip of tea. "I'll tell you. But only after you do me a favor."

Aren swallowed. "What favor, my lord?"

Noir's smile was polite, but sharp. "Help me escape this house."

Aren's brow furrowed, a mixture of disbelief and confusion taking over. "But... why would a noble like you, successful and wealthy, want to leave?"

"I help you with your wish, you help me with mine. Simple with no questions asked." Noir gestured with his hands.

He kept the empty-cup on the tray, "Pay me a visit later."

Without questioning any further Aren nodded and left the room shortly after

Noir sank back into the chair, letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Half the work is done. Now, I just need to wait for 'it' to appear."

Nobles who hadn't reached the age of 18 didn't have much work to do, the same applied to Noir too, however Noir wasn't going to slack off at a time as crucial as this.

He decided to work with the diary and the quill. Noir shot a glance at the clock and proceeded to pull the drawer, 'I should stay at home until 12 O'clock and then search for 'him' outside, probably near the merchant streets.'

Noir kept the diary at the table, pulled out the ink case and gently dipped the quill's tip in it. 

"It's done like this?" he tried writing in spanish with it, the letters were barely understandable but that's exactly what-

'-I needed.'

…

Time passed swiftly and soon the hands of the clock reached 12.

Noir looked at the clock and smirked faintly, "At last the time has arrived."

He walked outside his room and asked one of the servants to call for Aren.

Aren arrived not long after the call, Noir spoke, "Accompany me for the day."

"Yes, my lord."

The regent who was handling the title of 'marquess' instead of Noir, was somehow a loyal one and did not seek any harm to him, this lifted more of his weight.

'I don't need to worry about troubles related to the title at least.'

…

Noir and Aren took a carriage and soon reached the merchant street.

Aren didn't ask any questions regarding anything as he knew it wouldn't be a wise option to ask Noir about it.

Noir walked some alleys, took some turns in search of 'the place'.

'It should've been around here.'

After roaming the place a bit more, he finally spotted it.

'Uh, at last I have finally found it.'

It was a shady yet intriguing place, a dusty shop with unpainted walls that were a dull shade of gray. It had only a single door and no windows.

'A gem in filth, indeed.'

The door's handle was so caked with dust that it almost made one reconsider entering, but Noir knew exactly what—or who—this shop contained, which was why he'd come.

As he stepped inside, a cloud of dust swirled into his nostrils, making him sneeze.

"Hhrrrchhhoo!"

Noir glanced around quickly, his eyes scanning every corner. "He should be here…"

He walked towards the counter and found a middle-aged man lying dead under it, the man's eyes were blank-white, his whole body was cold, almost as if someone sucked the life out of him.

"It's a good thing that 'it' has already arrived." 

His gaze flickered over the shelves—jars of strange liquids and odd substances. But only one jar mattered.

A lidless one.

"There we go."

Aren who had been silently watching all these take place finally spoke, "There's a dead person in front of you and you don't even bat an eye?"

"I help you, you help me. Simple. No questions asked." Noir's voice remained calm, almost detached, as he moved toward the jar and put his right-hand inside it which was followed by immense pain.

"Uhh, tch."

Every instinct in his body screamed to retract his hand. The pain was excruciating—every nerve in his arm felt like it was on fire. But Noir endured it. He couldn't pull back now. The power inside that jar was the only thing that mattered. If he gave in, if he let go, it would all be for nothing.

'Just a little longer.'

He gritted his teeth, forcing his hand to stay. His muscles burned, his vision blurred, but he stayed focused. If he was going to get what he needed, he couldn't waver. Not now, not ever.

The seconds felt like hours, but finally, the pain began to dull. The sharp, burning sensation faded, leaving behind something darker. His hand—his right hand—was now a sickly, reddish hue, throbbing as though something... unnatural was living inside it.

Noir breathed heavily, but his golden eyes remained cold, unwavering.

"It's done."

A surge of hunger, raw and ravenous, coursed through him. Before he could stop himself, he found himself drawn to the lifeless body—compelled, almost, by an unknown force.

…..