The Devil is the Villainess (COMPLETED)

Chapter XVIII: Persistence

Prince Frederick emerged from his bath, the steam lingering in the air, and slipped into a simple white button-up shirt and black pants that clung to his damp skin. As he made his way toward his bed, the soft rustling of fabric caught his attention. He turned his head sharply, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Who's there?" he called out, his voice low and commanding. Silence answered him. 

Muscles tensed, Frederick readied himself, summoning the flickering energy of his magic, prepared for any threat. He approached the source of the sound with deliberate steps, his breath barely a whisper in the quiet room. With a swift motion, he swiped the curtain aside, revealing...nothing. The tension in his shoulders eased as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Frederick let out a long breath, his muscles relaxing as he let the magic dissipate. "Just my imagination," he muttered, running a hand through his still-damp hair. Exhaustion was clearly getting the better of him. He slipped into bed, hoping for a few hours of undisturbed sleep.

Meanwhile, Medea and Caelus find themselves back in Medea's room, transported by Caelus's magic. They stood in an awkward silence, the weight of recent events hanging heavily between them. Caelus finally broke the silence, his voice filled with regret, "I apologize for acting rashly."

Medea shook her head, her movements restless as she paced the room, her frustration palpable. "Something's wrong... my powers are erratic. Could it be this human body I'm in causing these issues?" she muttered, more to herself than to Caelus.

Caelus stepped closer, reaching out but hesitating just before touching her. 

Medea suddenly whirled around, finding herself face-to-face with Caelus, who stood so close she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His hand was raised, hesitating in mid-air, as if caught between wanting to touch her and fearing the consequences. Before she could utter a word, Caelus gently placed his hand on her cheek, his touch both comforting and probing.

"I can sense your mana is what's blocking your powers," he said softly.

Her brows knitted in confusion. "My mana?" she asked, skepticism lacing her words.

Caelus's fingers traced a delicate path down the side of her neck, his touch both intimate and soothing. "Yes, your mana... or rather, this mortal's mana. Everyone in this world possesses mana. The difference lies in their ability to wield it—some can use magic, like me and other magicians, while others cannot. Unfortunately, the body you've taken hasn't developed its own magic, which is causing your struggle."

Medea blinked, processing his explanation. She ignored the intimacy of his touch and focused on his words. As the realization dawned on her, she spoke with a mix of frustration and understanding. "So that's why my powers keep malfunctioning. It's because of this damned vessel."

Caelus studied her for a moment, his hand still lingering on her skin before he finally pulled away. "Exactly. Because you don't belong in this world, your powers as a devil and the mana of this human vessel cannot coexist peacefully."

She crossed her arms and tilted her head, a sigh escaping her lips as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "So it's a bad thing," she muttered, her voice laced with irritation. "How annoying. Does this mean I should start practicing natural magic now?" Her tone was a mix of annoyance and resignation.

Caelus nodded, his expression serious. "Yes, that's exactly what it means. You either adapt or lose your powers altogether. You need to familiarize yourself with this body and its limitations. Only then can you adjust properly and harness the magic inherent to this world."

Medea's annoyance deepened. She had hoped that apart from this body, there would be no other obstacles. Yet, she found herself facing more challenges than she had anticipated. She recalled the deity's words about accepting the reality before her and scoffed at the memory.