CHAPTER 44…………………………
It’s become a habit, it really has.
Now she didn’t even bother worrying about such trivial things. Carrying the tea she had roughly brewed, Zenya walked over to Lumiere, whom she had forced onto the sofa, and set a cup down in front of each of them.
“The honor of entering the chamber where Your Majesty resides—”
“Let’s get to the point.”
The Demon King cut off Lerazier’s words with practiced ease. Zenya studied him carefully as he didn’t so much as spare her a glance.
After taking a sip of tea, the Demon King spoke.
“Our final destination is the capital of the Empire.”
“…The capital?”
“Yes. There’s something there that I’m looking for.”
There were so many things she wanted to ask.
How he planned to enter the capital, which had the largest number of priests despite being demonkind. What exactly he was looking for once they arrived. Why he was saying all this so openly in front of Lumiere.
But setting all those questions aside, Zenya asked the most important one.
“Where in the capital is this item?”
The Demon King raised an eyebrow.
“Beneath the Imperial Palace.”
“Excuse me?”
Zenya doubted her ears, but he didn’t change his answer.
“It’s under the Imperial Palace.”
Holding her throbbing head, Zenya forced a smile.
“Are you perhaps planning to invade the palace?”
The Demon King looked at her as if she were an idiot.
“I said I’d retrieve it quietly.”
The capital of the Empire—and beneath the Imperial Palace at that. Was that even possible? Zenya pulled her lips into a tighter smile.
“You’re describing the impossible.”
But the Demon King looked utterly confident.
“That’s why we’ll prepare.”
His face showed not the slightest concern. Zenya asked,
“Do you have a plan?”
“It’s not like I don’t.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than Lerazier eagerly chimed in.
“Shall we simply defeat a suitable number of humans and take it?”
“That would work too.”
A curse nearly slipped out.
Zenya glanced at Lumiere to gauge his reaction. When their eyes met, he gently pushed her teacup toward her and whispered for her to drink it before it got cold.
Smiling softly, Lumiere showed not the slightest sign of shock at the Demon King and Lerazier’s words.
Is he really the Hero?
Zenya turned back to the Demon King.
“And that counts as handling it quietly?”
“As long as we eliminate only those who get in the way without causing a commotion, isn’t that quiet enough?”
“Ha.”
In the end, it meant killing humans regardless. Zenya hardened her gaze.
“If that’s your plan, why bother gathering information here? Why not go straight to the Imperial Palace from the beginning?”
As she frowned, the Demon King shrugged.
“Or is there some other reliable method?”
Resting his cheek against the hand draped over the back of the sofa, he looked at her meaningfully.
There was expectation in his eyes—along with scheming. Zenya squeezed her eyes shut.
Did Count Vine tell him?
No—Count Vine only knew she was a princess of a fallen kingdom. But the moment he mentioned the capital of the Empire, the answer was obvious.
Of course. There was no way he wouldn’t know.
You really do enjoy this, don’t you.
From the start, he had intended to use her. Opening her eyes again, Zenya let out a long breath.
“…If there were another method, you’d be willing to follow it?”
“If it’s reasonable.”
She felt like she’d die happy if she could just punch that smirking mouth once. Rubbing her face, Zenya glared at him.
“I take back what I said about it not being efficient. It’s incredibly efficient.”
At her sarcastic tone, Lerazier looked startled, but Zenya didn’t spare him a glance, nor did she bother fixing her crooked expression.
How underhanded.
After making her uncomfortable as if he had grown attached, in the end he was trying to use her lineage.
Beyond being the princess of a fallen kingdom, there was another title that described her.
More precisely, someone who had now become one of the most powerful people in the human world—her maternal uncle.
The man who had never stopped rising until the day Zenya was kidnapped by the Demon King.
It was a story one heard the moment one stepped into the city, even without trying. The head of a prestigious imperial family who ultimately claimed the position he had long desired.
The Emperor.
Zenya glared at the Demon King with cold eyes.
“Even if I’m the Emperor’s niece, that doesn’t mean I can just walk into the Imperial Palace.”
She forced strength into her voice despite her throat tightening. The Demon King, who had been looking at her leisurely, suddenly faltered.
“…What?”
His face shifted as if he truly hadn’t known—eyes widening, lips parting in surprise. Watching his reaction, Zenya’s own eyes grew round as well.
“What?”
The Demon King and Zenya stared at each other in confusion.
When she handed over a pitch-black rag—something that had clearly never been touched before—the response she received was cold.
“No.”
You were always shining, even though your colors were darker than mine.
Was that why? When you, whom I had always envied, fell to the ground, the first thing I felt was elation.
So I wanted to drag you even deeper into the mud.
The beloved princess was gone now. There was only a cliff before you, and I would climb higher and higher.
So Jeremiah sent the rag to Astria once more through a servant.
“Do it even if you don’t want to.”
“Why should I?”
Jeremiah replied sharply.
“Because you’re living off our household.”
“What?”
Jeremiah smiled brightly.
“You know it too, don’t you? You’re staying under our roof.”
The girl who once only looked up at you, who envied you, was gone.
“So you don’t get a choice.”
At those words, Astria’s trembling eyelashes made a thrill run all the way to Jeremiah’s fingertips.
But at the same time, somewhere in her heart…
Flash.
Jeremiah stared at the white ceiling, estimating the time.
From the sounds of people stirring outside the door, it seemed it was time to begin the day.
She must have woken earlier than usual, but that always happened when that girl appeared in her dreams, so it was nothing new.
“How long ago was that, and she still shows up in my dreams.”
Why did someone who was now dead and gone—someone whose face she couldn’t even remember unless she was dreaming—keep appearing?
Because she was resentful of dying like that?
“I’m not happy either…”
What she had believed was a future that only rose upward had turned into a bottomless pit.
“Your Highness, did you cough?”
Jeremiah let out a bitter smile and turned toward the door that opened before she could answer. A servant bowed deeply without meeting her eyes.
“His Majesty the Emperor summons you.”
It was both notice and command.
Gritting her teeth, Jeremiah hurled the surge of emotion rising within her into that deep pit.
Then she nodded calmly.
“Very well. Prepare me.”
The moment she finished speaking, servants flooded into the room. Jeremiah watched them with cold eyes.
Even if she refused, they would have dressed her up by force and brought her before the Emperor.
Her position had changed, but nothing else had.
No—perhaps there was one change: the one who once shone so brightly was gone, and there was no longer anyone left to envy.
Even as he received reports early in the morning, the Emperor showed no sign of fatigue.
“There’s no trace of them?”
The man bowed his head even deeper.
“Any rumors we hear are either complete nonsense or stories spread by the Temple.”
The Emperor said nothing. The man added cautiously,
“My apologies.”
“No, that’s fine.”
Tapping his fingers against the desk, the Emperor spoke meaningfully.
“If this much time has passed, shouldn’t there be a result by now?”
Either dead—or having run away of their own accord.
Murmuring softly, he continued as if organizing his thoughts.
“The Saintess will soon begin searching for a new replacement as well.”
Pretending not to have heard, the man remained silent. After a long pause, the Emperor stopped tapping the desk.
“We should spread a rumor before the Temple moves first. Say that the Hero has been gravely injured.”
“Ah.”
It was only a single sentence, but the man—who had served under the Emperor for a long time—immediately understood its meaning.
As he nodded, the Emperor rubbed his hands together.
“And our people in the Temple?”
“We’ve inserted about half the target amount.”
“Move faster.”
The man rose at the Emperor’s gesture of dismissal but ventured one cautious thought.
“Your Majesty, if the Hero were to return alive…”
He already knew the answer—and as expected, it came.
“The chances are slim, but if such a miracle were to occur… then we’ll have to kill him.”
Gone was the kindly smile of the Emperor who once clasped the Hero’s hand and thanked him, saying he would save the world.
Now his eyes gleamed cunningly, a greedy smile spreading across his face. The man swallowed dryly.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Lowering his head further to hide his revulsion and fear, he stepped back—only to encounter another visitor.
“Your Majesty, Her Highness the Princess has arrived.”
“You may leave.”
Relieved by the dismissal, the man hurried out.
On his way, he briefly met the expressionless gaze of the Princess. It felt as though she had glimpsed his reaction, but he greeted her calmly and withdrew.
“Your Majesty.”
From behind, he heard the Princess’s voice as she greeted the Emperor. Even nobles of high rank maintained decorum—but they were family, weren’t they?
Ignoring the chill running down his arms, the man let the detached sound of her voice fade behind him.
