Chapter 73: The Meticulous Band-Aid

Perhaps due to the complex emotions stirring within him, Wade applied the band-aid to Lamia with exceptional precision. The curve, the edges, the pressure—everything was perfectly aligned.

Lamia gazed at the band-aid on her hand, utterly ordinary for a human, and devoid of any special embellishment. She scrutinized it repeatedly, several times over.

To her, it felt as though something had been delicately placed upon her finger, more akin to an adornment than a medical dressing.

Even after deliberately piercing her skin multiple times, even after tearing her flesh open and drawing blood, she had healed swiftly, leaving no trace of pain.

Pain, in essence, manifests in two forms: the acute agony of actual injury and the phantom ache of an imagined wound. Lamia experienced neither. Thus, she could only perceive the band-aid as a mere ornament, or perhaps… a token of affection?

‘Hmm… it doesn’t hurt. So this… it looks like… a gift?’

‘Could this be—the White Knight’s first gift to me?’

****

The voice in her heart reached Wade’s ears.

He glanced, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, at Lamia, who was still looking down, her thumb tracing the band-aid. ‘A gift? She considers this a gift?’

If Lamia could hear Wade’s thoughts, she would have heard a profound incredulity, bordering on the absurd.

‘Had I truly never given Lamia anything?’

As he pondered this, Wade mentally reviewed the past few short days. The answer was… nothing?

‘Really nothing at all?!’

While he had brought back demon stone powder for Lamia this time, Wade’s conscience wouldn’t allow him to claim credit for another’s generosity. Thus, he had openly stated that it was a gift from Lilith.

As for himself… the first day of their acquaintance, the second spent at the Knight Order, then the church, and after that, home…

‘Ah, truly nothing.’

‘Absolutely nothing!’

‘Had I really given her nothing but a few slashes and an over-the-shoulder throw?’

While he felt it should balance out, given that Lamia had also given him a beating, and his body’s rapid recovery meant he was no longer hindered by pain, a thought struck him.

‘Ah.’

At that thought, Wade seemed to grasp something profound.

It no longer hurt.

Lamia’s pin-pricked finger no longer hurt.

Wade’s back, which had been smacked away the previous night, also felt no pain.

‘…Yes, I don’t feel any pain either.’

The sensation of injury, the pain itself, had vanished for him too, and he hadn’t even noticed.

Two “monsters” possessing extraordinary healing abilities, each silently contemplating a single band-aid?

He, a person notoriously dull to pain, was now incredulously dissecting Lamia’s reaction?

‘…Haaah…’

At this realization, a sense of helplessness washed over Wade.

He was supposed to continue altering his clothes, yet Lamia’s few words had so thoroughly distracted him that he could no longer focus on the task. Instead, he let out a wry chuckle, covered his face, and sighed.

But it was only for a moment; his hands swept upwards from his face, as if merely brushing his hair back.

Wade’s sigh caught Lamia’s attention, though he seemed not to mind. She merely cast a glance at Wade, then lowered the hand that had been touching the band-aid, picking up a handkerchief and a sewing needle.

People often said that losing the sense of pain was a fatal blow to one’s humanity, as the absence of pain swiftly led one away from it.

However, this wasn’t the case for Wade, for he was a deeply emotional individual. His conventional worldview allowed for perfectly normal emotional expression.

Lamia, however, was different.

She was truly distinct.

She was purely devoid of “humanity”—not in a cruel, savage sense, but simply in that Lamia was incomplete as a human being… though she wasn’t truly human to begin with.

‘Come to think of it, if I have wounds, wouldn’t that allow for more contact?’

Lamia picked up the sewing needle, her movements notably slow, not indicative of someone diligently working. Rather, it seemed her actions were meticulously careful, slowed by some profound contemplation.

Wade was much the same, holding his clothes and needlework, yet not truly engaged.

‘The medicine I gave him last night worked like this, and now my hand, after being pierced several times, feels the same way—does this count as us growing closer??’

‘In that case, hmph hmph… indeed, wounds can bring us closer. This is truly a good thing.’

Upon hearing this, Wade raised an eyebrow.

Though he wouldn’t admit it, the medicine from last night had indeed brought them closer. Wade still recalled how he had tackled her, the final embrace, and the profound emptiness within Lamia’s heart.

They had indeed grown closer… and the same was true today.

He lowered his head and rubbed his fingers, only then recalling the immense care he had taken while treating her wounds. He knew perfectly well that it didn’t matter if the Demon King was injured or bled; she wouldn’t die, and her wounds would heal perfectly on their own. Yet, he had instinctively, meticulously tended to Lamia’s wounds, wiping away the blood, disinfecting them, and then applying the band-aid.

A sudden sense of speechlessness overcame him. He suspected Lamia had thought her injuries would simply close up by the time he returned with cotton swabs, so she had deliberately created more punctures… just to wait for him to come back and treat them.

At that very moment, Wade, on his way to his room to fetch medicine, had indeed hesitated, pondering this exact possibility.

He had impulsively stepped out, but halfway there, he realized that such minor injuries would heal for Lamia with just a breath. Why was he even bothering to find medicine?

And just as he hesitated, Lamia, to be absolutely sure, had pricked her finger with several more needle holes, even tearing her own flesh, all so Wade would feel that this treatment had been meaningful upon his return.

Wade, too, had feared the awkwardness, so he had prepared a blood-cleansing solution. He reasoned that even if the wounds healed, there would still be a trace of blood for him to attend to.

But he had never anticipated *that* scene.

What Wade had anticipated even less, however, was Lamia’s next thought.

‘Hmm… I’ll do this again next time! I’ve found the trick! Next time, I’ll continue to leave wounds on my body! Hmm… perhaps a knife cut while cooking for him? Or… rolling down the stairs in this human form, holding back my strength—’

—No!

Wade cried out.

Immediately following was his own horrified gasp.

‘I… I got excited and said it aloud…!’

‘Hm?’

Lamia looked at Wade, who had suddenly exclaimed, with a puzzled expression, seemingly bewildered.

“I mean… this clothing of mine, the alterations aren’t right. It’s so annoying…”

Wade looked at the clothes he was unconsciously holding, feigning annoyance as he waved his hand.

“No matter how I try to alter these clothes, I can’t get it right… haha… perhaps I’m hungry.”

Wade pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, using his feigned dissatisfaction to perfect his flimsy excuse as best he could.

“Then let me try?”

Lamia appeared not to see through his act; instead, she offered to help.

“No.”

Wade shook his head once more.

“You… you can’t handle such intricate needlework.”

He said, gazing with a complex expression at Lamia, whose face wore an utterly harmless look.

She was clearly thinking such things… yet her expression remained so carefree?

“You’ll get hurt, you’ll bleed, so—I’ll do it.”

“It’s fine if I bleed, you’ll put this on me.”

Lamia even lifted her hand, displaying it to Wade as if showing off.

“No, no.”

Wade, however, shook his head with a hint of irritation.

“No… you… you really shouldn’t get hurt. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

—He’d said it.

Listen to those words; how truly ironic.

Before, they had fought to the death, every single strike aimed at the Demon King’s life.

Yet today, he said…

‘…I don’t want you to get hurt?’