Louis has been dreaming. He has for some time. All along.
Dreams that are sticky and slimy, brimming with love and lust.
Dreams tinged with despair, devoid of even a shred of sweetness.
They came and went in turns, throwing his mind in turmoil.
"So Louis is human after all."
"I just..."
"I knew humans were liars. To think I stayed in a place like this for so long. What have I been doing."
Mocking herself for having been foolish enough to trust him, Eleanor spread her beautiful wings and flew away.
"It's not as though I can't live without your mana. Bye, then. It was tasty."
"Wait, please wait..."
"I'll find a mate among my kin, so it's fine. Don't worry about me, okay?"
"Eleanor!"
Of all things, she declared she was going off to another man. Not wanting to hear such filthy words come out of those beautiful lips, the Louis in his dreams called out after her again and again. Even when he tried casting petrification magic to bind her, for whatever reason, it was repelled. Eleanor slipped away gracefully and nestled up against some unknown male fairy.
Nightmares are nastier than illusion magic.
They're hard to undo by one's own will, and sometimes one can't even recognise them as dreams.
By the time he came to, he was in a dark room.
He finally realised it was a dream. But his deeply wounded mind ached.
Her parting words clung to his ears. So did the cold breeze created by the fluttering of her wings as she drifted away from him. It felt strangely real, and that was why it was so frightening.
That morning, as he was about to head to the academy where his sister attended to give a lecture, he was in the worst mood imaginable.
That must be why he ended up saying strange things; things he hadn't planned on saying until he actually stepped onto the stage.
"Defying time, draw your blades against the Gods."
This is the game's tagline. At the end of the commercial, the voice actor/actress playing Eren or Eleanor solemnly recited those words which appeared in bold white text against a black background.
The meaning of that phrase becomes clear once you play the game.
The advanced sorcery you can learn in the latter half of the game, and the top-tier equipment you can obtain through secret routes, were all created by Louis. That fact is gradually revealed as the story unfolds. With power given to you, you strike down the one who gave it. It does resemble rebelling against God.
In the game, the Court Mage's Memoir, acquired in A Certain Court Mage's House in the ruins of Grenol, was filled with profound hatred towards humanity. Though it wasn't explicitly stated, it was written by Louis.
But the circumstances that led him to become the Demon King were never explained in the main story.
"And so?"
"I was just wondering why young Louis becomes the Demon King."
"I've told you, I have no intention of becoming the Demon King."
"Then you won't get to meet the protagonist."
"You're the one who wants to meet the protagonist."
"The protagonist's cute, you know. She might even end up on young Louis's route."
"I have no intention of being conquered either. The character who gets picked as a story's hero and such is largely predetermined. Now that I already know, nothing will move me."
"I think being hardworking, kind, plucky, and full of energy is great. She's just like Lumina."
"My type these days is someone who's a bit vulgar, reasonably obedient, not too cheerful, modest, quiet, and doesn't get in the way."
He added, "and family-oriented."
Eleanor thought there was something slightly off in there somewhere, but she just shrugged it off with a "Hmm."
"A hero who charges head first into the slightest bit of danger makes me want to tell them to calm down. So, Eleanor..."
"Yes?"
"Even if you end up meeting the hero, going near him would be dangerous. Don't let yourself be conquered. Don't follow him blindly. Don't get involved with a reckless protagonist no matter what happens."
"Is that what this is really about?"
"Elly."
"It's fine, it's fine. I'm not getting conquered, not at all."
Behind Eleanor who was peeling carrots, Louis, leaning against the wall, looked exasperated.
He had walked home from the academy and, for some reason, had taken up residence in the kitchen.
"What's for dinner tonight?"
"Mm, one of your favourites."
"If it's carrots, then cream stew?"
"Mhm. Going to the academy must've worn you out, right?"
"... Well, I did get mobbed, so yes."
"I'll help," he said, picking up a potato without asking Eleanor, and began peeling it with practised motions. A pleasant shurr, shurr rose from the hands of the two who were both well-versed in cooking.
"By the way, I heard you're going around town tomorrow? Good luck with that."
"I'll only be going to the main streets."
The fishtail lamps standing around the city are a kind of magical artifact, and they're state property. Everything from their management to their installation falls under the Court Mages' jurisdiction.
Even though it's called a research institute, as long as it's a group of mages serving the nation, they must devote themselves to the nation.
She'd heard he'd been getting involved in a variety of research projects lately. And with his Deputy out of commission, that meant his share of the work had also fallen on Louis. Just thinking about it made Eleanor worry about him.
"The mages are all capable, so they shouldn't need my help. Besides..."
And Louis let the sentence trail off.
Eleanor glanced sideways and saw he had stopped moving his hands. So he was tired after all.
Although he had been promoted to Chief at a young age because of his abilities, the pressure and responsibility weighed heavily on him without mercy. She knew it was the nature of his job, so offering clumsy words of comfort would only backfire.
That was what Eleanor had concluded.
She had wrongly assumed that the only thing troubling him was work.
She reached out. She touched his forehead. It felt slightly warmer than usual.
"You're a bit warm. Eat quickly and go to bed early, okay?"
The hand she was about to pull away was seized at once.
"Young Louis?"
"... Eleanor, I..."
He trailed off.
Even Louis himself didn't seem to know what he was about to say.
Louis is a member of the Stillus family.
During the lecture at the academy this morning, he found himself repeating that to himself.
The Stillus family are heroes, and sinners.
Louis himself bears no blame. He knows this.
But the weight of his guilt, the burden of the major secrets he held, secrets that betrayed her, was crushing him.
He had managed to brush them off with "it's nothing," but he had reached his limit.
The nightmares born from ten years of lies, and the dreams soaked in his own lust, were, by their sheer contrast, steadily eating him away.
Late at night.
Having prepared a glass of water on a tray, Eleanor stepped into Louis's bedroom.
She set the glass of water down on the bedside table and looked at him.
"... Ugh."
He looked like he was having trouble sleeping. His tightly knitted eyebrows and low groans spoke of just how bad his nightmare was.
Sweat beaded on his skin, and his nightwear had ridden up, revealing his chest. The bedding had been pushed to the edge of the bed.
Since there's no thermometer, Eleanor had no way to gauge his fever other than with her own body temperature. When she placed a hand on Louis's forehead, it felt considerably hotter than before.
--- At this rate, he won't be able to go to work tomorrow.
That was all right. Even rest that isn't welcome for someone in a position of responsibility is sometimes necessary.
Thinking she would need a damp cloth and some ice, she turned to go.
Just then someone grabbed the hem of her dress.
The only person here was Louis. She turned around, worried that she had woken him, only to find him glaring sharply at her.
"... Louis?"
He wasn't being gentle. He wasn't teasing her. He wasn't even exasperated.
His moonlight-coloured eyes held unwavering hostility.
--- That was how Eleanor felt, but that wasn't it. Because what he was directing at Eleanor was his raw feelings, they were so intense they could be mistaken for malice.
Eleanor tried to take a step back, but he wouldn't let her.
"Where do you think you're going."
This time he grabbed Eleanor's wrist and pulled her towards him.
"Wha—!"
Eleanor, who was pulled on top of Louis as he sat up, let out a small cry.
She had never been in a position like this, as though she were clinging to someone. His clean scent, mingled with his sweat, made him seem even more alluring.
When she looked up at Louis with teary eyes, he wound one arm around her back and pulled her closer.
His cold gaze gouged at her heart; it was unbearable.
"Are you planning to run away from me?"
"I-it hurts, young L—, ...ah!"
Her slender wrist creaked.
"Please, don't, call me young," he said, his trembling voice brimming with irritation.
His chest was right in front of her, and when she looked up, she was met by a fierce gaze. She reflexively lowered her eyes, but the gaze she still felt on her filled her with nothing but fear.
She didn't know this side of Louis.
During her meals, he'd always supported her so gently.
The overwhelming difference in strength, enough to hold and crush her with ease, stirred a sense of danger within her.
"Ah, or is this the fairy's curse? To reduce a person to this state and then leave... what a cruel woman you are."
She had no recollection of those words that he spoke in cold ridicule.
This was a situation that she couldn't make head or tail of.
As she felt her lungs being crushed by the suffocating pressure and the prickle of tears at the back of her nose, she remembered.
"I won't allow it. Such a thing."
His tone was the quiet lament of Louis Stillus in the game at the moment he reveals his true nature. Love like overripe fruit at the end of obsession, from which only bitterness remains. He would smile even at her frightened face as he showered her with such a love.
As if betraying the peaceful moments that had come before, his madness had shown itself.
"... I won't let you leave me."
--- A shiver ran down her spine.
He had whispered into her ear. Madness, affection, anger; all of it breathed into her.
The heat radiating from her ear made her skull tremble. Eleanor's frozen body betrayed her on its own with a small sigh.
No. I don't want any of this.
Eleanor realised it. Her wrist which was gripped so tight it felt like it might snap, his strong arms wrapped around her back, and his eyes gazing down at her -- every part of him was telling her he desired her.
"I've never seen this expression before. You look distressed, how sad. Let me see more of it."
"No..."
As she twisted her body, she felt a gentle stroke across her shoulder blades through her clothes.
The base of her wings.
Driven by her fairy instincts, she froze in place.
He looked delighted when he saw her like that; and smiled refreshingly. His eyes, however, were dark and clouded.
Slowly, slowly, his fingers moved back and forth between the base of her wings and her skin, stroking in an alluring way. Eleanor could only pray that this moment would pass quickly as she squeezed her eyes shut and endured.