The Reincarnated Demon King Can’t Escape~ When I Reincarnated 1000 Years Later, My Yandere Heroines Were Waiting for Me~ - Chapter 4

The First Day Of School (2)

No, wait. It’s been a thousand years, you know?

Maybe my lingering attachment and desire to see them is just conveniently painting over the face of a stranger who looks a lot like her.

I tried to take a step forward.

The exact moment I did, a big wave of the school rush came pushing in.

People with horns, people wagging tails, people with folded wings. Students of all kinds of sizes, big and small, pass through the main gate and flow into the school building. Inside that muddy stream, the silver hair got swallowed up. For just a split second, the silver ears peeked out above the crowd of people, and then they disappeared.

Did she go?

The choice to chase after her crossed my mind, but it disappeared right away.

Even if it really was her, if she is coming from her side, I can just wait. Chasing after someone isn’t really my style.

If someone were to say that I am just being plain lazy, I wouldn’t deny it.

Without any certainty, I blended into the crowd of people and headed toward the school building.

—

The exact moment I stepped inside the school, the air changed.

Whispering voices spread out as if soaking into the walls of the hallway.

“It’s Eldi.”

“He’s the guy who jumped, right?”

“He’s still coming here.”

They probably think they are keeping their voices down, but I can hear everything perfectly.

Eldi’s memories throb. The weight of the looks he used to get showered with every single time he walked down this hallway. The days he was scared to open his shoe locker. Textbooks disappearing, thumbtacks getting set up, and nobody helping him. Those suffocating days.

But.

To me, it’s no different from a gentle breeze.

I am a demon king who led tens of thousands of soldiers, crossed the line of death countless times, and kept carrying the loneliness of the throne. My feet won’t stop and my skin won’t get goosebumps over something like a bunch of kids’ whispering.

I walk calmly. Looking forward, stretching my back.

It’s as simple as that.

One of the students who passed by muttered in a tiny voice.

“Did that guy’s vibe change somehow?”

When I got to the second-floor hallway, the path was blocked.

Four people. Well-built boys are lined up in a single horizontal row from wall to wall.

The person standing in the center had a face that was burned into Eldi’s memories over and over again.

Gareth.

The main leader of the bullying. A demon boy with a solid frame, and he has two short horns on his forehead. A cruel smile that I recognize is already floating around his mouth.

“Hey, you failed corpse.”

Gareth took a step forward.

“You sure have some nerve coming back here completely unbothered. Failing to die even after falling from the rooftop, idiots sure are sturdy and that’s great for you.”

His followers laugh. The students passing by the hallway speed up their steps and turn their eyes away. Pretending not to see. Eldi’s daily life was being replayed exactly as it was.

Suddenly, my shoulder gets grabbed.

I stopped my feet and slowly turned around.

I don’t say anything.

I just matched eyes with him.

That’s all.

It’s not like I let out a voice. It’s not like I released any magic power either. I just matched eyes straight from the front and threw back a stare. It was as simple as that.

But a gaze carries history.

A person who stood at the front of ten thousand armies and walked across a battlefield of mountains of corpses and rivers of blood. A person who took thousands of lives, carried tens of thousands of lives, and still kept standing up from the throne. The rank of our existence is fundamentally different.

The raw pressure built up over a thousand years on the battlefield rode on a simple stare and pierced straight through Gareth’s entire body.

Gareth’s hand stopped.

The fingertips that were grabbing my shoulder start to shake in tiny shudders. His knees look like they are about to buckle, and greasy sweat floats up on his forehead. His breathing gets shallow, and the color drains from his face.

For the first time in his life, his instinct was screaming. Run, it said.

It wasn’t logic. His body understood the overwhelming terror before his mind could.

The followers sensed the strange change too. They tried to call out to him, but for some reason, they are drawing back a step themselves. They don’t know the reason. Their feet just moved backward on their own.

I turned my stare away.
I face forward and start walking as if absolutely nothing happened.

Behind my back, I heard the sound of knees collapsing to the floor.

Back in my past life, a low-rank soldier of this level wouldn’t even enter my vision.

Let’s go about things peacefully.

The person himself fully plans on ending things peacefully.

—

A single male student was watching this whole scene from the corner of the hallway a little bit away.

He is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, showing a dignified posture.

“Heh, so that weakling boy can do that, huh.”

A light tone. But only his eyes are sharp.

Because he is someone with real skill, he notices. He knows that the pressure from just now isn’t something a regular student can put out.

He watched Erdrain walk away with a lot of interest, and the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Not bad.”

His name is Zekt.

At this point, Erdrain hasn’t noticed his existence at all.

—

I entered the classroom.

The noise before the morning homeroom. A mix of random chatter and laughter, a morning scenery that you can find anywhere.

But the exact moment I saw the person standing in front of the teacher’s podium, the sound disappeared from my world.

Pitch-black wings folded on her back.

A tall dragonute woman is standing in front of the podium with an attendance book in her hand.

An appearance around her early twenties. Soft black hair flows to her shoulders, and her sharp eyes are looking across the classroom gently.

No way.

While I stood frozen, the voices of the surroundings slid into my ears.

“Teacher Asmeia is beautiful today too.”

“That smile is practically an angel’s, honestly.”

Asmeia.

Did these guys just say Asmeia?

She kept her name exactly as it was. She isn’t trying to hide it at all, and there are limits to that.

It looks like Asmeia, Big Sister As, is known around here as a pure, beautiful, and popular teacher. Just by placing her hand by her mouth and smiling with a little chuckle, sighs of admiration come up from the male students.

You guys are getting totally tricked.

This girl is absolutely not that kind of pure character.

In my past life, whenever I was dozing off from being tired from war, she was the kind of woman who would seriously try to make me nurse, saying, “Little brother, are you okay? Do you have no energy? Do you want some milk?” It’s not like anything would even come out, but even when I refused with all my strength, she would close in with a smile like the Holy Mother, saying, “You don’t have to hold back, you know.” That was a completely different type of terror from the battlefield.

At the very least, she is definitely not pure.

The moment Big Sister As caught me in her sight, her expression changed for just a split second.

A mere instant. Something shook deep inside her eyes, but in the next split second, she went back to the face of a gentle teacher as if absolutely nothing happened.

“Please take your seats.”

How many seconds had I been standing frozen?

“Eldi, what are you standing around for?”

I came back to myself at a classmate’s voice, and I quietly headed toward my own seat.

—

After taking my seat, I suddenly looked toward the back of the classroom.

The seat by the window. Silver hair is shining white, catching the morning sun shining through the window.

She was there.

The girl I saw in front of the school gate is sitting right there completely naturally. Wearing the uniform, opening her notebook, and making the face of a normal classmate.

She must have noticed my look because she peeks over here.

When our eyes match, she quickly turns away.

A few seconds later, she looks again. Turns away. Looks again.

Only the very tip of the silver tail coming out from the back of her uniform skirt is wagging in tiny movements.

It’s a movement I recognize.

No, is it just my imagination? There are probably tons of silver wolf beastmen in this era. Dog-type beastmen wag their tails all the time. Just because it’s similar, thinking she is the exact same person as my subordinate from a thousand years ago is too much of a leap.

But the wagging of her tail doesn’t stop.

What’s more, it is speeding up.

She peeks. Turns away.

In proportion to that repetition, the width of her tail’s swing keeps getting bigger. While it was just the tip wagging at first, now it had started swinging around with a loud buzz, just like a propeller spinning at high speed.

The boy in the seat behind her is holding down his textbook with a totally confused face.
The pages are flipping over rapidly. Because of a silver storm.

The girl who is the source of it looks like she doesn’t notice that kind of thing at all, and she is still glancing toward the front here and there. Unable to take it anymore, the boy in the back seat spoke up in a low voice.

“Um, Miss Lycolegis. Your tail.”

Did he just say Lycolegis?

Her silver ears don’t show a single twitch of a reaction. Does she not hear him, or does she hear him and is just ignoring him? She probably really doesn’t hear him. Everything else has been pushed completely out of her awareness.

Memories came rushing in like a flood.

Lycolegis, Lyco’s tail usually hangs down quietly. The tail of a girl who is quiet and doesn’t show her emotions rarely ever moves.

But only when she was with me, it was a different story.

While she never did it when she was acting as the demon king’s subordinate, it moved surprisingly well only when we were completely alone.

According to the person herself, when she is with her beloved master, she can apparently even fly in the sky with the power of that high-speed spin.

I think that’s a lie, as expected.

Setting that aside, the name is the same. The face is the same. Even the habit of her tail is the same.

The homeroom teacher is Big Sister As.

A classmate is Lyco.

Two of my subordinates from a thousand years ago are inside this classroom.

While looking out of the corner of my eye at Lyco’s tail swinging big again and flipping the boy’s textbook behind her in a flashy way, I moved my stare outside the window.