The Forest Where the Black Monster Grows 112

“This kind of relationship isn’t normal.” “So what? I’m a monster anyway.” Rite’s right hand left my shoulder and touched my chin. My gaze, which had been fixed on the floor, was forced upward. Rite’s face, now level with mine, was an unreadable mask. “Should I devour everyone who ever pointed their fingers at us?” Hm? Should I, Arden? With those words, a playful smile spread across his previously blank expression. But I couldn’t return it. I could tell at a glance that Rite wasn’t entirely joking—even as he smiled. A Rite whose horns and claws could grow sharp in an instant. A traitor who might be dragged back to the capital and executed at any moment. How many people would they need to devour before the two of them could finally live in peace?