There is no night in the demon realm's prison that carries the light of the moon. Only a thick darkness, draping over everything like the final ash of a world already burned to the ground.
The cell that held Hana wasn't cold enough to bite, but it held no warmth either — as if it were crafted solely to nurture despair. No chains. No torture. No blood. Just complete, unrelenting isolation.
A bed with a rotting wooden frame. A water jug dripping quietly, one drop at a time. A food tray delivered at the same hour each day — not too awful, but tasting of nothing but blandness. Everything arranged not out of kindness, but for another reason — to keep her alive.
Hana no longer pounded on the door. No longer screamed. No longer fought back. She had tried. She had cried until her tears ran dry in those early days of capture. She had slammed her hands bloody against the stone walls countless times, praying that someone, anyone, would come to save her.
But no one ever came.
All her comrades… were dead.
Yela — the ever-optimistic girl — was decapitated in an instant. Berry — the one who always shielded the team from harm — couldn't block that creature's strike. And Mirisu… the one she once trusted… once called "hero"...
She didn't know what killed him — maybe the light in him wasn't enough. Or maybe… it was her fault.
"I should've died with them..."
Hana muttered, staring blankly at the grey ceiling. Each day, she woke into the same cycle: open her eyes – check her body – realize she was still alive – and fall silent again.
There was one thing she feared more than death.
It was… the existence inside her.
She already knew. Felt it. From the nausea, the changes in her body — and most of all, the strange dream of a faint light flickering in the dark.
"No... it can't be..."
She had whispered those words dozens of times each day.
She didn't want to believe it, but the truth was undeniable. Within her… was the blood of a hero. And now, that very blood was the reason she was being kept alive — like a sacrificial vessel.
---
Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Hana shivered slightly. She recognized that sound. Slow. Steady. Never in a rush.
Saryx.
The iron door opened. Light from the hallway cast a long shadow across the floor.
He entered — a bit taller than Sary, but still held a human form. The only difference: his eyes were deep and black like an abyss, and every step he took carried a pressure that made the air feel frozen.
"You're still alive," he said, voice low, devoid of emotion.
"…"
Hana didn't respond. She turned her face away, avoiding his gaze. Her breath caught, and her hand clenched the frayed blanket.
"I thought… you'd have taken your own life by now."
"…I tried," she rasped. "But I didn't have the courage."
"Yes. Because you still have hope," Saryx approached. "Hope that the child inside you will somehow save you from this fate. A foolish thought, but… endearing."
"Shut up," Hana hissed, but her voice was weak — like wind brushing over ashes.
Saryx stopped beside the bed, leaned down, eyes meeting hers. It wasn't the gaze of anger or hatred — but the detached observation of a predator at the top of the food chain, watching prey that wasn't yet ripe.
"You're panicking, but not yet broken," he said. "I don't need to torture you. I just need… time."
Hana clenched her teeth, tears welling up in her eyes.
"I won't kill you. What's inside you is far too valuable. I'll feed you. Let you sleep. Give you all the conditions you need… just to wait for the moment you birth that 'light' in this darkness."
"…Monster."
Saryx stood up. "Perhaps. But at least I don't lie to myself, like you do."
Before leaving, he spoke one final line — a voice deep and soft, like a lullaby from hell:
"When that moment comes… you'll understand. That existence itself can be crueler than death."
---
As the door shut, Hana curled into herself, arms around her knees. Tears fell onto her hands.
Saryx's voice still echoed in her head — along with the lies she once told herself.
She didn't know how much longer she could last.
But the first crack had already appeared.
---
Time passed in that sealed room with no sense of day or night, where walls the color of ash seemed to slowly swallow every emotion. Hana had lost count of how many days had slipped away. The red marks on her neck had faded, but her eyes grew emptier with each passing day.
At first, she tried to sleep as little as possible, to keep her mind awake. She resisted eating. She stayed silent. A few times when the guards brought food, she simply sat still and didn't touch it. But hunger is a fear no one escapes. Slowly, she began to eat. Not to live — but because even death had grown terrifying, vague, and uncertain, like herself.
Once, the door opened. Saryx didn't enter. He just stood there, watching her.
No words.
No orders.
Just… watching.
Hana knelt, eyes fixed on the shadow where he stood. Part of her wanted to scream, to ask why he wouldn't just kill her. But the voice in her head — the voice of reason — was no longer as loud as before. It was slowly being drowned out by the long silence, like waves crashing against a cliff until the stone wore down and the waves kept going.
> "This must be punishment. No — an experiment. I'm being tested. But for what? I… don't know anymore."
He still watched.
That gaze held no hatred. No desire. Just a cold, aimless stare — like she was something under a microscope. A suffocating feeling rose in her chest. She felt small… no, meaningless.
> "This isn't fear anymore. It's the realization… that my resistance means nothing."
That night, she lay on the bed, hand on her stomach — where that tiny life was growing. Her heart pounded like it wanted to escape her chest.
She had once loved Mirisu. Or at least, she thought she did. But now, his name brought her no warmth.
She didn't know what she felt anymore.
Not hate. Not pain. Not love. Not anger.
Just… emptiness.
> "If this child is born in hell… does it need a mother who knows how to survive in hell?"
For the first time, Hana willingly finished her meal.
And when the door opened again, she stood, knelt, bowed her head — no longer resisting.
No commands. No coercion.
It was simply that she had begun to accept… but not out of reason.
It was the kind of acceptance that comes from a mind already broken.