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

Chapter 198: A Name for the Flame

They didn't return to the city right away.

Not yet.

Too many eyes. Too many assumptions. And too many questions no one was ready to answer.

Instead, they gathered within a secluded glade on the edge of the elven capital's outer wards—still within reach of safety, but far from public view.

Asmodeus stood beneath a sunlit arch of living vines, her presence calm, radiant, unmistakably foreign.

Sylvalen stepped forward, voice quiet, but firm.

"If you're going to remain in Terra," she said, "we need to talk about appearances."

Lira leaned against a tree trunk, arms folded. "Yeah, no offense, but you kind of scream 'ancient abyssal seductress.' The whole wings-horns-tail combo isn't exactly… subtle."

Isaac looked between them. "She doesn't mean to stand out."

"That's the problem," Sylvalen said, eyes never leaving Asmodeus. "You do, even when you don't mean to. The moment anyone sees your true form, every noble faction in Elaraiya will want answers. Every divine-affiliated cleric will raise alarms. And every temple will assume an invasion is underway."

Asmodeus gave a slow nod, brushing her hair back with one hand. "Then you want me to hide what I am."

"Not forever," Sylvalen said. "But for now. Until people trust what they see… before they learn the rest."

Asmodeus was silent for a moment.

Then she raised her hand.

The air shimmered.

In one breath, her abyssal traits faded.

The gilded horns disappeared into her golden hair. The long, violet-tipped tail evaporated like smoke. Her wings folded in on themselves—until they were nothing more than a whisper of pressure in the wind.

And just like that, she became… a beautiful, strange woman.

Unmarked.

Unthreatening.

Still powerful—but not visibly so.

Sylvalen raised an eyebrow. "That's… extremely convincing."

Lira walked in a circle around her, eyes narrowed. "You look like some rich sorceress who's probably impossible to flirt with."

Asmodeus smiled faintly. "Then I've succeeded."

—

They sat together in the grass as the sun filtered through leaves above. The mood had softened—less defensive now, more contemplative.

"So," Lira said, tilting her head toward Asmodeus, "if we're going to keep your identity under wraps, you'll need a name."

"A false one," Sylvalen clarified. "Something believable. Something no one would associate with Lust or the Abyss."

"I could be anyone," Asmodeus said softly. "So who should I be?"

Lira grinned. "What about something sweet and gentle? Like Mira. Or Liane."

Sylvalen glanced at Isaac. "She's soulbound to you now. Your flame lives in her. She should choose something that reflects who she wants to be in this world—not who she was."

Asmodeus looked toward the sky for a long moment.

Then back at the three who sat with her.

"…Then I want a name that isn't built from fear or seduction. Something warm. Something… real."

She closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she said:

"Call me Selene."

Isaac smiled. "Moonlight, huh?"

"It's soft," she said. "But it reflects fire."

Sylvalen nodded in approval. "Selene, then."

Lira gave her a look. "Alright, Selene. But if you start smoldering in a crowd, we're blaming you."

Asmodeus—Selene—laughed for the first time that day. Not as a queen. Not as a demon.

But as someone new.

Someone free.

And someone ready to walk beside them, not as a secret—

But as a choice.