Chapter 249: 249. Art is a Demon!!
"Phew..." Lilith exhaled, her chest rising and falling as she placed her right hand against her hip and hunched over slightly. Her breaths came slow but heavy, dragging in the cool evening air.
Strands of damp hair clung stubbornly to her cheeks, and beads of sweat streamed from her forehead, sliding down to her chin before dripping onto the dirt. Her exhaustion was palpable, her body swayed as if even standing upright was asking too much of her now.
"Yeah..." Freya’s voice chimed in, lighter, almost musical despite the weariness hidden beneath it. She pressed a hand over her heart as if to steady herself and forced a bright smile.
Her violet eyes practically shimmered as she looked between them. "I think we did pretty good today. No, more than that—we did amazing. Something we should actually be proud of, don’t you think? Don’t you two think so too? Huh? Zyon... Art?"
Zyon and Art exchanged a glance, the corner of their mouths twitching upwards into faint smiles. Then Art, ever the casual instigator, raised his right hand and reached over, gently ruffling Freya’s hair. His palm lingered there, his tone uncharacteristically soft as he spoke.
"Yes, yes. You did great," Art said, voice laced with an easy warmth that was both sincere and teasing. "Good job..."
"Hey!" Lilith’s sharp voice cut through the calm, her golden eyes narrowing. Irritation dripped from every syllable as she glared at him.
Art blinked, feigning innocence, his hand still resting comfortably on Freya’s head. "What?" he asked in a tone so light it only fanned the flames higher.
Lilith’s brows twitched dangerously. "What do you mean, ’what’? I think I did a great job too, didn’t I? But you didn’t pat me? What’s with this obvious discrimination?" Her scowl deepened, arms crossing as if she were bracing herself against invisible injustice.
For a moment, Art just looked at her, lips quirking into a slow, mischievous grin. "Oh, that?" he finally said, dragging the words out deliberately. "It’s because I’m playing favorites, of course. You should know that already. I like... those kinds of things."
Lilith’s face turned redder than a furnace. A vein throbbed furiously on her forehead, practically demanding an outlet. "This guy!" she muttered through clenched teeth, her voice trembling between anger and disbelief.
She sucked in a long breath, forcing herself to calm down, telling herself there was no point wasting precious energy arguing with an idiot who thrived on provoking her.
"Enough, both of you." Zyon’s voice cracked, low and edged with irritation. His hand pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression a mixture of annoyance and fatigue. "It’s late already. Let’s head back. You can save your ridiculous banter for when we’re at the base."
Art tilted his head back, rolling his shoulders with a deliberately exaggerated shrug. "Cool, cool~~ I don’t have any reason to stay here either. But this little fiery princess might," he said with a smirk, jerking a thumb at Lilith. "She seems desperate for some affection. Who knows what she wants to do—afterall she wants that pat on the head after all~~"
The mocking sing-song tone was a direct provocation. Lilith visibly trembled with fury, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles popped.
Zyon’s glare was immediate, in response. "Can you stop antagonizing her for even one minute? Just one? It’s infuriating... seriously. Just stop it."
His voice cracked, not with rage, but with a weary desperation, as though he was genuinely pleading. Which he quite frankly was.
Art whistled under his breath, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Tsk, tsk. Even the cool, calm, and collected Zyon finally lost his patience. I must be on fire tonight. Truly, I’ve outdone myself."
He placed his hands behind his neck in a lazy stretch. "But fine, fine. Either way, let’s head back."
Without waiting for a response, Art strolled forward with a careless gait. For once, he didn’t jab at Lilith further. His smirk faded, replaced by a calmer expression, almost contemplative.
Throughout the walk back to base, his silence was a rare thing, making the air feel oddly heavier without his constant teasing filling the space.
...
When they finally arrived at the base, the first thing that greeted them was not silence, but the sight of Mia—cheeks stuffed, lips moving, happily devouring her food with zero shame.
Her tiny figure bent slightly over her plate, scarfing down mouthfuls like the world might end tomorrow. It was a sight both comical and oddly terrifying.
But that wasn’t all. Celeste sat beside her. Verena too. The three of them had grouped together, laughing softly between bites as though this was the most natural thing in the world.
Celeste’s composed elegance clashed hilariously with Mia’s messy eating habits, and Verena, somehow, managed to blend right into the chaos with a faint smile on her lips.
Art froze mid-step. His body jerked, almost as if his legs forgot how to function, and for a terrifying half-second he nearly toppled face-first into the dirt.
Somehow, by sheer stubbornness or perhaps sheer denial, he managed to save himself. His eyes went wide, his face twisted, and he raised a trembling finger at the impossible scene before him.
"What the fuck is this?" Art sputtered, his voice cracking between disbelief and panic. "Am I... am I dreaming right now? Yeah, yes, I must be dreaming. There’s no way this is real. There’s no way those three are sitting together. No, absolutely not."
His words grew louder, more desperate, as his head snapped back and forth between the girls. "Fuck! Am I... am I daydreaming in broad evening light? Seriously—seriously, I need help. Someone hit me. Right now. Hard!"
Slap—!
The sharp sound cracked through the air like thunder, snapping Art’s head to the side. His cheek stung instantly, heat blooming red across his skin. For a heartbeat, his mind went blank—then the rush of pain brought him back to reality.
He blinked, touched his burning cheek, and slowly turned, glaring at the culprit.
Lilith.
Her hand still hovered in the air, her face completely unapologetic, lips curved into a smug little smirk.
"What the hell?! What the helly?!" Art barked, voice pitching up as he jabbed his finger at her face. "Why did you hit me?! What in the seven hells was that for?!"
Lilith only shrugged with the air of someone who had just paid off a debt. Her voice was laced with mocking innocence that stung worse than the slap itself.
"Oh, that? I was just helping you return to reality. You were blabbering random nonsense, frothing at the mouth like a lunatic. Honestly, I thought the fastest way to fix you was... well, this." She tapped her fingers together as if reenacting the slap, her smile widening.
Then.
"Tsk." She clicked her tongue, deliberately loud, deliberately slow. "And instead of thanking me for saving you from your delusions, here you are pointing fingers at me. Pathetic. I expected at least a shred of gratitude. But alas... you truly don’t even have the bare minimum of courtesy."
Art’s eye twitched violently. "Bare minimum—?"
But before he could explode, another voice cut in, thick with amusement.
"Bro, your cheek is pure red. She hit you real damn hard."
The culprit this time was Leon, and of course, he wore the sweetest, most untrustworthy smile. His tone was far too gleeful for someone who was supposed to be a comrade.
Whissss—!
Leon snapped his fingers, summoning a crystalline slab of ice. The ice molded itself into a perfect mirror, polished so clean it almost outshone reality. He angled it toward Art with all the pride of a magician unveiling his masterpiece.
"See for yourself. I’m not lying." Leon’s grin widened further. "She really did hit you hard. Brutally hard. Your cheek looks like it’s about to start glowing."
The smile never reached his eyes. No, in those white depths, Leon was enjoying every second of his instigation. He was becoming the embodiment of a professional instigator, playing his role to perfection.
Crack—!
Art didn’t hesitate. His fist clenched, and with one swift motion he shattered the mirror into glittering shards that scattered across the ground.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head back toward Lilith. His movements were deliberate, theatrical, like a predator fixing its gaze on prey. His lips curled upward into a malicious smirk, his voice dropping into a mockingly sing-song tone.
"Ooooh, Lilith~~" he cooed, stretching her name into something terrifying. "Your cheeks are looking sooooo chubby today. Positively adorable. And you know what happens to naughty little kids with chubby cheeks, don’t you? They get punished."
His expression warped into something monstrous. His grin stretched too wide, too sharp, his eyes glittering with manic delight. In that moment, he looked less like a man and more like a demon who had just spotted his next victim.
Lilith’s blood ran cold. Her bravado evaporated. Just seeing that smile sent a shudder racing down her spine. Every instinct screamed at her to run. And so, with every ounce of energy left in her exhausted body, she spun on her heel and bolted.
But Art, No, the demon called Art was faster. He pursued with long, confident strides, closing the distance with terrifying ease. His hand shot out, lightning quick, and latched onto her cheek.
"Gotcha."
"E-eh?!" Lilith yelped in horror as his fingers clamped down.
And then came the torture. His hand pulled at her cheeks, stretching the soft flesh outward like a cruel child playing with a toy. He yanked them left, then right, then further, until they burned red. Her face contorted in agonizing humiliation.
"Oi oi oi oi oi!!! Please—stop! Ekkkkk!!!" she wailed, voice muffled and broken as her cheeks were tugged like dough.
But Art’s grin only grew more sadistic. He was merciless, enjoying every second of her suffering. Her fists pounded at his chest and arms, desperate attempts to break free, but compared to his strength it was like a kitten clawing at a stone wall. Her blows bounced off harmlessly.
"Struggle all you want," Art cackled, stretching her cheeks further. "This is your punishment!"
Lilith’s cries grew louder, more desperate. Her pride shriveled with each humiliating tug, and in her despair, she did the only thing she could—she looked to the others for salvation.
Her tear-filled eyes darted to Zyon first. Surely the ever-reliable Zyon wouldn’t let this injustice stand. But no. He turned away, arms crossed, deliberately ignoring her plight as though he had suddenly found the wall very interesting.
Then she looked at Leon, but the bastard was openly smirking, eyes twinkling with pure amusement. He wasn’t even pretending to hide his enjoyment. He wanted this. He lived for this. Fuck that guy!
Even Freya, sweet Freya, only winced and turned her head aside, pretending to be too distracted to intervene.
The betrayal was absolute.
Lilith’s chest tightened with indignation. She felt abandoned, discarded, sacrificed to the whims of a monster in human skin. Her voice broke, her cries growing weaker, until finally she sagged in defeat. She stopped struggling, her fists falling limp at her sides.
Fine. Let it end like this. If no one was coming to her aid, then she would face her demise with dignity. She closed her eyes, accepting her cruel fate.
And deep down, in a desperate, delusional corner of her mind, she even convinced herself that maybe, just maybe, if she stopped struggling, Art would lose interest and let her go. Reverse psychology.
But alas... she underestimated the demon.
Art wasn’t the type to lose interest. No, her surrender only emboldened him further. Her quiet acceptance wasn’t the end of her punishment. It was only the beginning.