Chapter 72

It was inevitable that Demus’ name would spread in Buerno.

Sure, it had been a few years, so they must have heard the rumors one way or another. It was about time. Demus rubbed his weary forehead.

His casual steps took him down the hallway and into the long gallery. In any other mansion, this would have been a place to hang family paintings or portraits, but Demus filled the long gallery with weapons. All kinds of guns and knives were hung on the walls or placed in glass cases.

Some were too ornate to be weapons, so they were perfect as ornaments. Yet some of the others were so old and shabby that it was a wonder they were even kept. There were also some with ghastly clumps of unwiped blood.

As he crossed the long gallery, his eyes taking in all the guns and knives on display, Demus suddenly stopped. He stood in front of a beautifully crafted sword with its long, slender blade.

He was given this sword on the day he was promoted. The day he believed everything was going well. When he was certain that all that lay ahead of him was dazzling fame and glory.

Demus of that time was a naïve and foolish young man. A blatant mockery crossed Demus’ face as he recalled the past.

All that shiny sword did was inspire useless jealousy.

“You might be slow to recognize a situation because you’re young. But, Major, only your mother would understand such foolishness.”

Right. He did hear such a thing.

“Oh, and wasn’t it said that your mother wasn’t a cultured person? You’re such a juvenile fragrant. I wonder who the hell your backers are.”

The vicious voices in his memory no longer evoked any emotion in him. He had grown well past the age of being outraged by childish mockery.

But just because he didn’t mind, it didn’t mean he wanted to hear it again. He found them annoying, and all their ploys to get him back on board years later were ridiculous.

He thought it would be a good idea to increase security. There was nothing Demus could do to stop them from visiting Buerno, but he had no intention of offering his mansion as a lodging for them.

Should I just stay away altogether?

Maybe a week or two or a month, depending on the length of the visit.

The impulse was short-lived. He didn’t want to look like he was running away from the vestiges of the past that were chasing him. Once was enough for the humiliation of defeat.

After a brief pause, Demus resumed his steps. Compared to a moment ago when he was walking aimlessly, this time he had a clear destination.

He trudged on and reached the basement of the mansion. As he descended into the basement, an even colder chill enveloped Demus’ entire body.

Aside from the chill in the air, it was beautifully decorated like any other room in the mansion. Demus looked up and scanned the wall slowly.

All the pieces of nude paintings he had collected over the years were stored here. As he casually scanned the eye-catching array of beautiful naked bodies, Demus’ gaze suddenly settled on one specific spot.

“Liv Rhodes…”

The first painting of Brad he bought. The very same painting in which he first saw the back of a woman named Liv Rhodes.

The trigger that made him, who was satisfied enough with the works of art, feel curious about the living model for the first time.

Demus was still in awe of how he felt at that time.

The same was true when he faced Liv Rhodes. She made him feel like nothing was wrong with doing something he wouldn’t normally do. Most recently, that was the case as well.

Had he ever been to the hunting grounds and returned so quickly?

He didn’t bring her to the hunting ground with the expectation of anything in particular. It was more like he brought her along like baggage, just because she was in front of him. She would have quickly realized that there was nothing she could do in the hunting grounds.

And yet, she made her useless existence useful.

The urge, which would always end only when his eyes saw the dying breath, the blood staining the earth red, and the smell of tainted blood, came to an end easily, enough to leave him speechless. Only because of his conversation with her.

That day, for the first time in his life, Demus was seized by a lust that overcame his desire to kill.

The thought alone made his lower body stiffen again. Demus chuckled in amusement at the immediate reaction from his body. Even the tickling sensation from the scars all over his body seemed to be substituted for sexual stimulation. The sensations became increasingly acute and severe.

Will it get better after I sleep with her once?

Not that he didn’t think about it. Nevertheless, Demus knew his temperament well. It was hard to imagine that such a fierce desire would be quenched after just one time.

Furthermore, this sexual desire was not some savage urge to forcefully violate a crying, unwilling woman. If it was that kind of thing, it would have been resolved already. This was demanding more than that, it was about mental fulfillment.

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