Gargoyle.
One of the three major demon clans—renowned for their monstrous physical strength and stone-like skin.
Durability incarnate.
"There was a reason Joe was built like a tank even in the original story," I muttered.
Maybe it was the recent attack that stirred his nerves.
Joe shifted restlessly on the bed, eyes darting around the room as if the walls themselves might turn hostile. I leaned closer and spoke in a low voice, one meant only for him.
"Relax. No matter what’s happening behind the scenes, this is still human territory. The Ravarn can only stir up so much chaos before they hit their limits."
Joe swallowed.
"...But if humans find out," he whispered, "wouldn’t we be in danger too?"
I didn’t answer right away.
Because the truth was—
I’d be fine.
I was human, after all.
Joe wasn’t.
I reached out and tapped his shoulder lightly, snapping him out of his spiral.
"Come on. Nobody would ever think a demon would go as far as cutting off their own horns just to infiltrate human society," I said. "Not humans. Not even other demons."
Joe stiffened.
Horns weren’t just decoration for demons.
They were a symbol of pride, proof of lineage, and—more importantly—an organ that stored surplus mana. Losing them wasn’t just painful; it was crippling.
In simple terms—
It was insanity.
And Joe had done exactly that.
’...So that’s why his mana was always scraping rock bottom when I played the game.’
The pieces finally clicked.
"I’ve lived here for decades," I continued calmly. "I guarantee it. No one sees you as a demon anymore."
That much was obvious.
Joe had enrolled in the Academy—the Academy—where the prince walked the halls, where the saintess herself studied magic.
Hell, if the rumors were even half-true, he might’ve already been entangled with her fate.
If he hadn’t been exposed there, then he could probably live out his entire life as a human without anyone ever suspecting the truth.
Joe let out a shaky breath.
"...I still feel like everyone’s watching me."
"That’s because you keep looking around like a guilty criminal," I said bluntly. "Stand straight. Look forward. Confidence is the best disguise."
Joe glanced at me, lips twitching.
"Are you lecturing me as a senior?"
Before I could reply—
A presence slid out from the shadows.
Velra appeared silently, already seated cross-legged on a nearby chair as if she’d been there all along. Her crimson eyes settled on Joe, and she clicked her tongue.
"Common sense has never been the strong suit of the Faceless Imposter," she said coolly. "It would be wise for you to listen to him."
Joe froze.
"...When did you get here?"
"Before you started spiraling," Velra replied. "After you started panicking."
I sighed. "That’s rich coming from you, Velra."
She shot me a sideways glance, lips curving ever so slightly.
"Oh? Am I wrong?"
Her gaze returned to Joe—sharp, evaluative, but not hostile.
More like... curious.
There was something almost nostalgic in her expression.
’Figures,’ I thought. ’Meeting another demon in exile, hiding in a foreign land—it must hit close to home.’
Velra leaned back in her chair.
"You’ve severed your horns," she said. "Your mana circulation is unstable. And yet you still chose to remain among humans."
Joe clenched the sheets.
"...I didn’t have a choice."
Velra’s eyes softened—just a fraction.
"No," she corrected quietly. "You did. And you chose survival over pride."
She scoffed lightly.
"Most demons wouldn’t."
Joe looked down at his hands.
"...Does that make me pathetic?"
Velra was silent for a moment.
Then—
"No," she said. "It makes you stubborn."
She stood, walking past the bed.
"And stubborn beings tend to survive longer than proud ones."
Joe blinked.
I raised an eyebrow. "...Was that encouragement?"
Velra didn’t answer.
But the faint, almost imperceptible curve of her lips said enough.
I let out a long breath.
"How about a fresh start?" I said lightly. "Let me reintroduce myself properly. I’m currently using the name and body of Julies Evans—also known as the Faceless Imposter. A parasite noble."
Joe’s gaze sharpened immediately, every trace of that brief amusement wiped clean.
"I’m Velra Erzsebet," Velra added calmly. "I once ruled lands within the Drazroth Empire. Though..." Her eyes flicked to Joe’s wings and stone-like skin. "You’ve been holed up underground most of your life, haven’t you? It wouldn’t surprise me if you’d never heard of it."
Joe didn’t answer right away.
His lips pressed into a thin line, jaw tight, eyes never leaving us. The wariness in his expression was almost palpable, like a wall of stone he’d learned to build long ago.
I sighed, exaggerated and theatrical, rubbing my temple.
"Hm. That’s disappointing. From the snowy fields to the recent attack, I’ve been quite the lifesaver, haven’t I? I was hoping for at least a thank you."
"...Joe."
He finally spoke, voice low and rough, as if unused to conversation. The name came out reluctantly, like he’d been forced to give up a weapon.
But that wasn’t what I was after.
"And your position?" I pressed. "You don’t strike me as a random bystander. You noticed it too, didn’t you? Lady Velra is a noble, and I... well, I’m not exactly harmless. An ordinary gargoyle wouldn’t be chasing—or being chased—by forces like that."
Joe’s brow furrowed.
"...I hold a place among my kind," he said carefully. "Nothing more. Nothing less."
That answer told me plenty.
Not a leader—but not expendable either.
Which only deepened the mystery.
If Joe was fleeing toward the Solhaven Empire, and Drazroth had already fallen into Ravarn’s grasp, why pursue him all the way to Draken territory?
Risking confrontation with a northern warrior lineage wasn’t something demons—or anyone—did lightly.
Unless...
They were afraid of him.
Or what he knew.
"Huh?" Velra suddenly frowned. "What are you staring at?"
I blinked, then smiled.
"No reason. Just thinking Lady Velra’s hair looks particularly radiant today. Like sunlight on fresh snow."
Velra froze.
Then slowly turned toward me.
"You—have you eaten something strange today?" she snapped. "Enough with the nonsense!"
Despite her sharp words, a faint warmth crept up her pale, ghostly skin.
Just a little color.
I raised a finger. "Observation. Not nonsense."
Her ears reddened.
Then her cheeks.
Then—very clearly—her entire face.
"...Just kidding," I added quickly, taking a step back.
The heat in the air shifted instantly.
Embarrassment turned to anger in the blink of an eye.
Velra’s hand twitched.
I recognized that motion.
Ah.
That was the about-to-pounce-and-drain-you-dry motion.
I retreated another step.