I Was Reborn in Another World, But I Awoke Inside a Corpse

Chapter 176: The Garden No One Knows

The golden blossom in Asmodeus's hand dimmed slowly, its soft glow fading into the twilight air.

Isaac watched her, quiet and still, unsure what to say—because this wasn't the moment for answers. It was a moment meant to be held, not solved.

But Asmodeus broke the silence with a soft breath and stood.

"There's something I want to show you," she said, voice low.

Isaac rose without a word, following as she led him away from the terrace and deeper into the city's heart. The mood changed the farther they went—not darker, but more quiet. The buildings here were older, their shapes less refined, the air heavier with unspoken memory.

They came to a massive, ancient tree.

Its roots sprawled across the earth like veins of black and silver stone, and its trunk shimmered faintly with runes Isaac couldn't read. Its branches reached high into the sky, silent and unmoving.

Beneath the roots, half-hidden in shadow, lay a narrow archway.

No guards.

No magic seal.

Just a single door of pale wood covered in crescent-shaped carvings.

Asmodeus placed her palm against it.

The runes on the tree glowed.

The door opened inward with a sigh of warm wind.

Isaac followed her into the dark.

—

What lay beyond was no throne room.

It was a garden.

Small.

Simple.

Untouched.

It was no larger than a chapel, with soft grass underfoot and a narrow stream of pure water winding through the center. White blossoms hung from weeping trees, and silver fireflies danced in silence. The air smelled like memory—mild and aching.

Asmodeus stepped in, barefoot now, and turned once to face him.

"No one else has ever entered this place," she said softly. "Not my council. Not my guards. Not even those I've known for centuries."

Isaac said nothing.

Because something sacred had just been given voice.

She walked toward the center of the garden and knelt before a flowerbed filled with golden blooms. She touched one with delicate fingers.

"This is where I first awoke," she whispered. "When I was born, I had no name. No family. Only hunger. I crawled through this soil alone. It took me weeks to stand."

Her fingers trembled slightly.

"I return here when I forget who I was."

Isaac stepped forward slowly.

The quiet didn't feel empty.

It felt alive.

Each golden blossom pulsed faintly.

Memory.

Asmodeus plucked one flower and offered it to him.

"This one holds the first memory I ever feared."

He accepted it.

The moment he touched it—

He saw.

A child-form of Asmodeus, filthy and trembling, curled in the dark as older demons laughed above her. Hands reached down—cruel, mocking, cold. Words like "use her," "break her," "make her understand what she is."

And then silence.

The child didn't cry.

She only survived.

The memory faded.

Isaac opened his eyes.

Asmodeus had turned away.

Not in shame.

But to give him time.

He stepped beside her.

Not to speak.

Not to offer comfort she didn't ask for.

Just to sit.

And he did.

Wordless.

Still.

She joined him on the soft grass and leaned her head gently against his shoulder. Her hair smelled like starlight and dusk.

And for a long time, neither of them moved.

No need for armor.

No need for seduction.

Just the quiet truth of two souls sharing the same breath.

"You see me, Isaac," she whispered. "Even the parts I buried."

His answer was a quiet nod.

And the fireflies kept dancing.