Chapter 6 - Whispers of the Past

Aoi’s phone buzzed loudly, dragging her out of the dusty haze of the storage room. She yanked it from her pocket, glaring at the screen.

“Ugh, it’s him,” she muttered, pressing the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Aoi! Did you finish the—” a lazy, cheerful voice cut in.

“Finish? Finish?! You mean me finishing everything for our project again while you sit there doing nothing?!” she snapped, waving a small stack of old papers in frustration. Her voice echoed off the wooden beams of the storage room.

“Relax, I’m sure you’ve got it under control,” he said lazily, entirely unbothered.

Aoi’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Under control?! Do you even hear yourself? I’ve been doing all the work! All of it! You just sit there and... ugh!”

A beat of silence. Then he chuckled softly. “You’re stressed, aren’t you?”

Aoi’s jaw dropped. “I am stressed! That’s why I’m calling you to complain! Why do you have to act like it doesn’t matter?!”

“…You’re overreacting,” he said, completely calm, completely unconcerned.

That was the last straw. Aoi threw her hands up in defeat, pressing the end call button and tossing the phone aside. “Ugh! Forget it! I don’t even care anymore!” she muttered, glaring at the heap of boxes around her. Fueled by a mix of irritation and stubborn determination, she returned to searching through the clutter.

She shifted an old wooden chest, wincing as the hinges groaned. Something felt… different about it. Not just another dusty box, but… hidden. Her fingers traced along the edges, and she found a small latch cleverly concealed under a carved floral pattern. Heart pounding, she flipped it open.

Inside lay a collection of scrolls, yellowed letters, and a small, leather-bound diary. She froze. The first thing her eyes landed on was a name she recognized from the magical artifact: the Demon Lord.

Curiosity piqued, Aoi carefully unrolled a scroll. Elegant, flowing script filled the parchment, describing battles and strategies, kingdoms lost and won. As she read, she realized that this wasn’t just some ordinary journal, it was a record of someone who had lived through centuries, someone who had commanded armies, someone who had… suffered.

Another letter fell from the chest, this one marked with a seal she vaguely remembered from the artifact. She unfurled it slowly. Words described the fear and hatred directed toward him: betrayal, rebellion, and the isolation that came with being a ruler feared by all.

Aoi’s breath caught. “He… he’s been alone… all this time?” she whispered, tracing the edge of the paper. The soft glow of the talisman gem on his forehead flickered in her mind, a subtle pulse that seemed to echo the loneliness etched in the pages.

The diary was next. It spoke of friends lost, battles fought for ideals no one remembered, and the long, silent centuries of confinement. She read a passage that made her fingers tremble:

I have been bound, silent, and alone for longer than any human could comprehend. My voice has been stolen, my power restrained, and yet… the world goes on without notice.

Her heart tightened. The legendary Demon Lord, someone so powerful he had been feared across kingdoms, was in these words, unbearably human. Vulnerable. Lonely. Silenced.

Aoi closed the diary softly, holding it against her chest. A strange warmth spread through her, a sense of connection she hadn’t expected. She thought of the previous days: his clumsy efforts in cooking, the sparks flying from the gem, his silent but attentive presence. Everything suddenly made sense, the care, the hesitation, the gentle way he looked at her.

“I… I have to check on him,” she whispered to herself. Not because it was a duty. Not because she felt responsible. But because she genuinely cared.

That night, when she entered the living room quietly, she found him sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading the scrolls she had placed there carefully. His eyes flicked up at her, soft and trusting. The gem glowed steadily, and for the first time, Aoi noticed the subtle pulse of calm it emitted when he felt safe.

“Hey,” she said softly, approaching him. “I… I found these. I wanted to understand… you.”

He reached a hand toward her slowly, hesitating mid-air. Aoi knelt beside him and gently took it in her own. He relaxed immediately, leaning slightly toward her touch.

“You’ve been… alone for so long,” she murmured. “You shouldn’t have to be. Not anymore. Not while I’m here.”

The silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken understanding. No words were needed. In that quiet, Aoi felt her walls begin to crumble, a small but significant shift inside her heart. She no longer saw him as just a magical being, a project, or a mysterious guest... she saw him for what he truly was: someone who had endured centuries of isolation, deserving of care, attention, and maybe… love.

For the first time, she smiled at him, not out of duty, not out of obligation, but genuinely. And the gem on his forehead seemed to pulse a little brighter, as if acknowledging her feelings without words.