After the Fall of the Demon Race, Reincarnated as a Demon Girl - Chapter 9

Schubert’s fingers clenched into a fist, his nails digging deep into the flesh of his palm. Every time the image of those children trapped in cages flashed through his mind, his body trembled violently, as if consumed by a profound regret—a helpless self-loathing for his own powerlessness.

If only he had possessed the strength to resist back then, perhaps those tragic outcomes could have been rewritten, leaving behind a different path.

“Though your story is moving, don’t forget—you stand before me now as a servant of the Elberd household.”

Renith’s voice was icy calm. She wasn’t the type to be swayed by a few sentimental words. Slowly, she gathered the papers on the table and pushed them back toward Schubert.

“These records—you wrote them yourself, didn’t you? Then who’s to say you weren’t secretly involved in the disappearances of some of these people?”

“Y-you’re right…”

Schubert’s fists loosened, his hands rising weakly to clutch his head as if trying to bury the unbearable memories deep within. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, they surged back like a relentless tide.

“Ryle, Cobo, Nu Bolian… they all came to me.” His voice was low and trembling, each name a heavy stone pressing against his chest. “They said they could no longer endure Baron Elberd’s cruel and tyrannical rule. They begged me to help them escape, swearing that even if caught, they’d never betray me.”

“I… I agreed.”

“But their plans failed. The baron’s guards and those hired ‘Chosen Ones’ hunted them down swiftly.”

“The baron grew suspicious of me. He ordered me to interrogate the captured escapees—while his guards watched my every move.”

That day, Schubert remembered the hopeful faces of those who had trusted him to save them from Elberd’s grasp. And now, it was his own hands that struck those very faces, his own voice that demanded their confessions.

Every lash of the whip felt like it tore at his own heart. The pain cut through his soul like a blade. He shut his eyes, trying to erase the bloody scenes from his mind, but the screams and desperate stares were seared into him like a brand.

Suddenly, Schubert began pounding his own arms, each blow accompanied by a low, agonized groan. His eyes were hollow, his spirit teetering on the edge of collapse.

He hated these hands—these bloodstained hands.

“Ten-year-olds, twenty-year-olds, even the elderly in their sixties and seventies… They could have spared themselves the torture by giving up my name. But they… said nothing.”

Renith watched him silently. The timing seemed right. Now, she would see the truth of Schubert’s heart for herself.

“If you truly wish to free those children—to free everyone in this village—then tell me now, once more: Who are you?”

Schubert looked up at her, tears still glistening at the corners of his eyes. His pupils contracted sharply, his voice trembling with struggle:

“I am Elberd’s—no. I am a villager of this town. A rebel who wants to kill Elberd… and bring freedom to this land.”

Renith nodded. Schubert’s eyes now burned with unwavering resolve—the same fire she had seen in the soldiers who fought on the frontlines a century ago, defending their homeland to the death.

He could be trusted.

Had he continued to identify as Elberd’s servant, Renith would have left without hesitation. It would have meant this village was already too far gone, rotted to the core under the baron’s reign of terror. Any semblance of rebellion would have been a fragile illusion—a knife poised to stab her in the back the moment she turned around.

And then, what could she have done alone?

“Two more questions. Once answered, I’ll decide whether to save this village.”

“Please, ask.”

Schubert wiped his tears with his sleeve, straightened his posture, and gathered the papers before him.

“Why me? There must have been others over the years.”

Schubert shook his head.

“No. Outsiders are rare here, and most who come are already Elberd’s people. The restaurant staff are all on his payroll. The train conductor refuses to get involved.”

“Even if someone reported Elberd’s crimes to the garrisons in nearby cities, the soldiers would just relay it back to him. The baron is wealthy beyond measure—his farms bring him obscene profits.”

“But you—a mage—must have your own pride. You wouldn’t bow to Elberd’s petty bribes. And I’ve heard mages are usually affiliated with the Towers. Not even the ‘Chosen Ones’ dare provoke them lightly.”

His reasoning wasn’t entirely wrong. Most mages would scoff at Elberd’s wealth, and the Towers were formidable enough to deter even the transmigrators.

But was Renith a normal mage?

Did she actually have the backing of a Tower now?

For Schubert to encounter the one-in-a-million exception… well, tough luck.

“What if I’m one of Elberd’s people? What if I report you to him?”

“You’re not. The moment you rushed from the restaurant to the farm, I knew. I’m staking everything on this gamble… because it’s my last chance.”

Renith nodded.

“Your resolve isn’t as firm as I’d hoped. But your courage is commendable.”

Schubert lowered his head, unsure whether she was praising or mocking him.

“Indeed… I can help you. But first, I need key information: the number of ‘Chosen Ones,’ the guards, their equipment, Elberd’s whereabouts—everything you know.”

At her words, Schubert stepped forward, eyes alight with excitement, gratitude, and yearning for freedom.

“Of course! I know it all. I’ve waited so long for this day…”

His gaze drifted to the window. Outside, workers in gray tunics were trickling out of the restaurant. Schubert’s break was over. The thought of facing Elberd’s vile smirk again dimmed his expression—but the sight of Renith reignited his hope.

Straightening his clothes, he carefully stored the papers in a cabinet, placed the key solemnly before Renith, and pointed to the bottom drawer.

“Everything I’ve documented is there. I won’t return until evening. The rest… is in your hands.”

Once Renith acknowledged him, Schubert adjusted his attire and quietly shut the door, leaving her alone in the silent room.

After exchanging a few words with Philofoe, Renith waited until the workers had vanished from sight before rising. She weighed the two small keys in her hand and approached the cabinet, unlocking the bottom drawer.

Inside lay a thick stack of papers—rough sketches of Elberd’s farms and mansion, detailed descriptions of the transmigrators, guards, and even the baron himself, along with records of their crimes. The writing was meticulous; Schubert was clearly educated.

Well, he wouldn’t have become Elberd’s steward otherwise.

According to the documents, there were six transmigrators. Renith had met two: the restaurant’s proprietress and the cannibal cowboy. One was always at Elberd’s side, while the other three remained unseen.

Thirty-four guards were stationed in total. Ten protected the manor, while the other twenty-four rotated shifts across three farms, working in teams of four.

Each guard carried a steel sword and a musket. Anyone acting suspicious within range would be shot without hesitation.

“This’ll be tricky alone. The guards are manageable, but the transmigrators need to be dealt with one by one.”

Renith flexed her hand. In her prime as an Archmage, crushing these sinners would’ve taken less than a blink.

“Philofoe, archive all this.”

Unlike spell transcription, these records only needed to be magically embedded into the void of Page 0 for later reference.

Rubbing her temples, Renith decided to eat first. She unpacked the now-lukewarm meal she’d brought from the restaurant.

「Appraisal」 confirmed the food was safe.

She took a bite of the steak. Though cooled, its rich, savory flavor lingered.

“I think… I’ve got a plan.”

Activating 「Appraisal」, she reviewed the cowboy’s known traits.

He had no fixed duties. Elberd merely sent him to trouble spots as needed. Aside from his lunch breaks at the restaurant—where he indulged in the “special menu”—he spent his time hunting wildlife on the plains.

The solution was simple: sever Elberd’s information network, eliminate the cowboy before his lunch break, then focus on the proprietress…

Two transmigrators down.

No—the plan still had gaps.

Food… food…

Renith stared at the steak, a faint smirk curling her lips.

“I really must thank you, proprietress.”

Night fell silently. The world hushed as a train’s mournful whistle pierced the air, its chimney belching black smoke that blotted out the moonlight.

Renith stood still, watching the train rumble into the distance, its passage vibrating through the tracks.

“Looks like my journey will be delayed. The capital will have to wait.”