* * *
After traversing the long corridors of his subconscious, Jerome finally returned to reality and slowly opened his eyes.
Perhaps it was because Mephisto had disappeared, but his body and mind felt surprisingly light—almost overflowing with energy.
‘With all this energy, I should start by catching up on my overdue marital duties.’
A glimmer of something indecipherable flickered in Jerome’s usually clouded eyes.
As he glanced at Jean, peacefully asleep beside him, his heart began to race.
‘What’s wrong with me?’
Seeing his serene face, all thoughts of the marital duties he’d planned fled his mind.
His chest felt tight in an unfamiliar way.
It wasn’t lust or a desire for conquest.
As this strange emotion surged within him, Jerome frowned slightly and pulled Jean into his arms.
His lean frame barely filled his embrace.
The thought that this delicate body had saved him felt almost unbelievable.
‘It hurts.’
It was as if his warmth filled the emptiness in his once hollow soul, like a barren fish tank suddenly teeming with vibrant guppies.
Jerome’s hesitant hand found its way to the back of Jean’s head, gently stroking his hair.
The awkward motion soon grew more natural.
‘What do I do?’
With a troubled expression, Jerome nestled into Jean’s arms, burying his face in the crook of his neck.
He inhaled deeply, and the scent of his beloved husband calmed his restless heart in an instant.
‘I love Jean so much.’
Even if Jean were to be reincarnated as a pot-bellied old man, a grotesque monster, or even a voiceless animal, Jerome knew he would love him all over again.
He wanted to be reborn countless times just to love him anew.
Smothering the ache in his chest, Jerome whispered in a playful tone.
“Wake up, darling.”
“…”
“In celebration of our reunion, how about we mate right away?”
Jean flinched at the low, raspy voice, slowly opening his eyes.
Their gazes met in the air, and as life returned to Jean’s once-dull eyes, tears began to well up.
“Jerome…”
At his trembling voice, Jerome’s smile faded.
Struggling to hold back his tears, Jean eventually broke down, sobbing.
Without a word, Jerome pulled him into his arms, pressing a brief kiss to his forehead before speaking in a tender voice.
“Yes.”
“…”
“I’m home.”
Jerome closed his eyes, a feeling of finally being home washing over him.
Jean’s side, pierced by thorny brambles, had fortunately been healed by Jerome’s magic.
However, the real problem lay elsewhere.
Jean, emotionally and physically drained from the string of events, was utterly exhausted.
Holding him as he worked through his emotions, Jerome eventually spoke.
“You cut your hair.”
“…”
“What a waste. I could have made it look prettier if I’d done it.”
Jerome’s fingers brushed through his unevenly chopped hair.
The jagged ends bore the marks of a hasty, desperate cut.
Stroking the split ends, Jerome smiled bitterly.
Jean, once a nobleman, had cut his hair—an act symbolizing his abandonment of his former identity to become a fugitive and find him.
Perhaps he’d been caught by Carlisle as a result.
After a moment of quiet thought, Jerome spoke again.
“Jean, listen carefully to what I’m about to say, and don’t misunderstand.”
Jean, who had just managed to calm himself, looked up slowly.
As he gazed at his tear-swollen face, Jerome delivered his words with as much neutrality as he could muster.
“Mephisto is gone, but my thoughts are still as dark and twisted as ever.”
“…I know that better than anyone.”
“On top of that, I’m an orphan.”
“Your father is still alive, you know.”
“And because of me, you’ve become a fugitive, haven’t you?”
Jean averted his eyes at his sharp observation.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll just hide somewhere and live quietly. As for revealing that I’m a man, it couldn’t be helped. If I hadn’t, Carlisle would never have let me go.”
“I’m not questioning the justification for your actions. What I’m saying is that as things stand, even if you leave the underworld, you’ll never truly be free. You’ll always live in hiding, avoiding people’s eyes.”
“…”
“The only solution is a memory-erasure spell. You know what that is, don’t you? Of course, you do—you once asked me to use it on you.”
At Jerome’s words, Jean shuddered violently.
The memory-erasure spell—an insidious form of magic—would make everyone except Jerome forget Jean.
Even Jean himself would lose all memories of his time as Jean, erasing every trace of their shared moments.
Jean’s face turned deathly pale as he shook his head in desperation.
“No, not after we’ve finally reunited…”
“…”
“I believed we’d never have to part again…”
Deep down, Jean had always known the truth.
Living in hiding as an escaped convict was never going to be easy.
He understood that Jerome’s reluctance to use the memory-erasure spell was precisely because of the implications.
Jerome likely thought it would be better to live freely, even if it meant forgetting everything, rather than remain trapped as fugitives.
To be free, he would have to forsake love.
‘Even if I must live as a fugitive, it’s fine. I can’t lose Jerome again after finally finding him.’
Jean, having grasped the situation, shook his head more vehemently.
His refusal to use the memory-erasure spell was unmistakable.
After a moment of silence, Jerome slid his arms beneath Jeanne’s knees and back, lifting him effortlessly.
Startled, Jean instinctively wrapped his arms around Jerome’s neck.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to show you something.”
Jerome answered cheerfully and began walking.
Jean, uneasy at Jerome’s confident navigation of the Underworld, spoke with suspicion in his voice.
“I already said I don’t want to. I’m not using the memory-erasure spell.”
“Funny, are you the one casting the spell? That would be me.”
“Don’t joke around at a time like this.”
“You’re telling me, someone who lives for making you laugh, not to joke? Hold on tight around my neck. Your butt keeps slipping.”
Jerome gave a sly grin as he tightened his grip on Jeanne’s hips, earning a shudder from Jean, whose face turned a furious shade of red.
Seeing Jean’s flustered expression, Jerome let out an amused laugh.
His unguarded smile, so pure and lighthearted, gradually eased the tension in Jean’s stiff demeanor.
“We’re here.”
The place Jerome brought him to was a barren field, devoid of even a single flower.
Jean glanced around with a wary expression and asked doubtfully.
“This is what you wanted to show me?”
“Do you see the lakeshore over there? There’s a small boat.”
“A boat in the Underworld… You mean the Styx? Isn’t that the shortcut to the afterlife?”
Jean murmured nervously, staring at the murky waters that looked as if a water spirit might emerge at any moment.
Jerome’s insensitivity in choosing such a place for a “date” was almost impressive.
After much bickering over whether to board the boat, the two finally climbed aboard.
“I can’t believe you came all the way to the Underworld just to find your husband.”
The boat began to row itself as soon as they got in, heading toward an unknown destination.
Jerome studied Jean, who was looking more like a young boy, and asked curiously.
“Do you like me that much?”
Jean simply nodded as if there was no issue. Jerome let out a deep sigh, overwhelmed by the thought.
To think Jean would follow him all the way into the Underworld, a place one could never leave.
If they had a child together, he might’ve even carried the child on his back here.
For the first time, Jerome felt a chill down his spine. Narrowing his eyes, he asked.
“You do know, right? Once you enter the Underworld, there’s no way out.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“Not a problem?”
“Here.”
Jean rummaged through his robe pocket and handed Jerome a piece of paper inscribed with a curse-dispelling spell.
Jerome’s expression turned serious as he unfolded the paper and began reading.
His voice trembled with awe as he spoke.
“This is the most ingenious spell I’ve ever seen. Who could’ve devised such brilliance in the Empire besides me? It’s astonishing.”
“…”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Just.”
“But really, who made this? The person who came up with it?”
After hesitating, Jean answered calmly.
“The one who wished for your happiness more than anyone else in the world.”
“More than you?”
“Yes, more than me.”
Jerome’s hand, which had been steering the oars, froze.
He tilted his head slightly as if recalling something, but then resumed rowing. In the silence, the boat steadily moved forward.
After about thirty minutes, they arrived at a dock—oddly human-like in design for a place in the Underworld.
Jean narrowed his eyes at the peculiar structure.
“This place is…”
“A village for wandering souls.”
“A village for souls?”
“Yes, it’s where spirits stay temporarily while waiting for their next reincarnation.”
From the dock, something transparent waved at them.
The floating figure resembled a cute ghost from a children’s cartoon rather than anything terrifying. Jerome waved back and steered the boat closer to the dock.
Stepping off first, he extended his hand toward Jean.
“Hurry up. This boat’s impatient.”
Before Jerome could finish speaking, the boat rocked, startling Jean.
He grabbed Jerome’s hand and clumsily disembarked.
Laughing at Jean’s flustered movements, Jerome wrapped an arm around his waist.
“For now, let’s stay here together. It seems like you’re not fully sure about your decision yet.”
“…”
“Take your time. And when you decide to go through with the memory-erasure spell, let me know.”
“What if I decide to live here forever?”
“That’s your choice, and I’ll respect it. But… do you remember what you said to me the first time we met in that underground prison?”
Jean’s eyes widened at Jerome’s words.
He recalled what he had said to Jerome back then, who had chosen to live in a nightmare rather than face the fear of reality.
“Afraid of reality, so you choose to live in a nightmare? I’ll live in a hellish reality—not a nightmare that I can dismiss as just a dream!”
Jean let out a bitter laugh at the irony of how far he’d come from his past self, and how close he had become to the Jerome of that time.
Jerome watched the now-quiet Jeanne and grabbed his wrist.
“Come on, I’ll show you something fun.”
* * *
