CHAPTER 11…………………………………………..
It was a relief that he was only showing his back. At least he hadn’t caught sight of her startled expression.
Zenya lowered her gaze just slightly to check—just as when she had left the room, her wrist was still hidden beneath her sleeve.
How did he know?
The wrist the hero had grabbed the night before was marred by an ugly bruise. But the dark reddish mark and the slight swelling were more than adequately concealed by her long sleeves.
It shouldn’t have been visible at all, so she couldn’t understand how he’d noticed.
Zenya didn’t clutch her wrist, nor did she raise her voice. Instead, she quickly smoothed her expression and looked at the Demon King.
“Even if I hadn’t been hurt, you would’ve sent me to Marquis Leraje anyway, wouldn’t you?”
She answered calmly, as if the injury were nothing, and the Demon King flicked his finger.
Wondering what he was about to do now, she approached warily—and then a hand touched her wrist.
From the Demon King’s hand burst a red light as vivid as his eyes. It wrapped around her wrist and vanished. Zenya tucked the envelope he handed her under her arm and rolled up her sleeve.
She checked her wrist, now cleanly healed without a trace left behind, and asked askew,
“So this is a ‘yes’ to my question, right?”
The Demon King, who had already turned his attention back to the documents as if uninterested despite having healed her himself, replied indifferently,
“Handle it properly without making it a hassle.”
Judging from the context, it seemed to mean she should manage the three demons well and not let the castle become noisy.
He sure asks for a lot, for someone who’s just a maid. Snorting softly, Zenya returned to her seat and checked the documents.
Marquis Leraje was scheduled to arrive at the Demon King’s castle tomorrow morning. At least it was a relief that the stay wouldn’t be as long as expected.
“Three days, huh.”
Still, demons tended to bring trouble wherever they went, so she couldn’t relax. Especially not when a line like this was written:
Even if an incident occurs that leaves permanent bodily harm, the Demon King’s castle bears no responsibility, nor will responsibility be demanded of House Gremory.
It reminded her of the infamous warehouse. Once again, she began to worry about her own safety.
Should I act a bit prettier?
For her own protection, she might need to stay by Marquis Leraje’s side and show him the smile he liked so much. At the very least, that would earn her one or two instances of protection.
And if the Demon King ordered it, he might even protect her two or three more times.
She had only read a single sheet of paper, yet she already felt exhausted. Zenya let out a loud sigh, deliberately meant for the Demon King to hear.
The next morning.
Zenya examined her usual neat and tidy outfit and hesitated for a moment.
Should I dress up a little?
This was a situation where she needed to make a good impression on Leraje in every way. Maybe instead of these muted tones, she should wear something brighter and more flamboyant—more to his taste.
But that would obviously make working uncomfortable. And if she suddenly changed her style, Leraje would pepper her with questions. More importantly, she didn’t even own clothes like that.
In the end, after some deliberation, Zenya decided to stick with her usual simple, clean style. Perhaps because she had wasted time worrying about her outfit, it was already time to leave.
Turning away from the mirror, Zenya lifted the corners of her lips when she met the smiling hero’s gaze.
Whether her mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Leraje, or whether she’d simply grown used to the hero’s face in the meantime, Zenya could now look at that smile without feeling unsettled.
Of course, being unfazed didn’t mean she failed to admire his beauty.
I can see why Lord Leraje fell lovesick…
Lovesick? At that moment, a voice from the past echoed in her ears.
“You know Marquis Leraje? They say he fell lovesick because of the hero’s looks.”
Only now did Zenya want to curse herself for remembering this. Which meant—Leraje had seen the hero before.
As the faint smile vanished from Zenya’s lips, the hero tilted his head slightly.
Checking the remaining time, Zenya grabbed the hero’s arm and said,
“No matter how noisy it gets, you must not come out of your room. Don’t even open the door like yesterday. And don’t go near the window either. Understood?”
Her mouth felt dry with anxiety.
“A demon who has seen the hero before is coming to the castle. And he’ll be staying here for a while.”
Honestly, as she said this, Zenya expected the hero to be at least a little startled this time. But she found nothing in his eyes.
A sudden doubt arose. How could he be this calm?
Looking into eyes like a still lake, Zenya continued,
“So what I’m trying to say is… you have to stay in your room, just like before.”
When she looked at him expectantly, the hero nodded very slowly. With the motion, hair like pure gold scattered across his face.
Perhaps a strand brushed his eyes, because the hero frowned slightly. Naturally, the memory of that dawn came back to her—the night she had stroked a sleeping person’s hair for a long time.
Maybe that was why she reached out and brushed his hair aside.
Zenya gazed for a long while at the hero’s face as he closed his eyes, smiling softly as if savoring her touch.
Leaving the hero behind, Zenya forced her reluctant feet to move. The closer she got to the first-floor hall, the louder the commotion became.
“Zenya, did you hear?”
“Lord Leraje is coming!”
The moment she entered the central hall, voices called out to her from everywhere. And then, finally—
“I have arrived!”
Bang! With the sound of fireworks, dazzling lights spread out in a flutter. Such a waste of magical power—it was almost impressive.
The scene was beautiful, like stars shattering and falling from the sky, but there was no time to admire it.
She had meant to greet Leraje at the castle gate, but she’d lingered too long. Beyond the main gate, amid the multicolored, sparkling lights, she saw Leraje just stepping down from his carriage.
Zenya hurried forward, watching Leraje wave gracefully. At the same time, it felt as though their eyes met from afar.
When she blinked once, a rush of floral fragrance swept over her, as if to confirm it wasn’t an illusion. Then, naturally, an arm wrapped around her waist.
As soon as she opened her eyes, Zenya tugged her lips at the sight of gray eyes before her. A man who loved beauty and spared no effort in cultivating himself, Leraje was breathtakingly handsome up close.
“It’s been a while, my black pearl.”
His cringeworthy manner of speaking hadn’t changed either.
As Leraje lightly grasped her hair, kissed her, and pulled away, Zenya stepped back one pace and bowed her head.
“It’s been some time. Marquis Leraje.”
At her polite greeting, Leraje drooped his eyes and put on a sorrowful expression.
“I told you to call me Leraje, comfortably.”
“Lord Leraje.”
Murmuring that even this strict adherence to rules was adorable, Leraje held out his hand to her.
When she took his gloved hand without hesitation, Leraje looked thoroughly satisfied.
“I never thought His Majesty would send you to me.”
A shameless thing to say, considering he’d requested it himself. Zenya replied with a gentle smile, pretending ignorance.
“I only hope to be of help to both of you. Shall we go to His Majesty at once?”
“Of course, of course. There’s no greater happiness than seeing His Majesty’s beautiful countenance again.”
Warmth like a spring breeze lingered in his gray eyes as Leraje moved as though dancing. His curly silver hair brushed against his waist, swaying with each step.
As they walked at Zenya’s pace, Leraje never stopped praising her beauty. It only ended when they arrived before the Demon King’s office.
Barely maintaining her smile, Zenya announced Leraje’s arrival with a look of relief.
“Your Majesty, Marquis Leraje has arrived.”
While they waited for a response, she heard the same tiresome line she’d been subjected to all the way here.
“So our time alone is already over. Even a hundred years with you wouldn’t be enough.”
Thankfully, she didn’t have to respond to that dreadful remark.
“Come in.”
As she reached for the doorknob, Leraje naturally opened the door himself and stepped inside, gesturing gently for Zenya to follow.
Passing through the door Leraje had graciously opened for her, Zenya bowed her head toward the Demon King and Eligos.
He’s already taken my spot.
Using the moment while her head was lowered, Zenya puffed out her lips slightly. Then, smoothly hiding her emotions, she stepped back and began preparing tea for the three demons.
“Your Majesty, this Leraje greets your beauty.”
“Yes. You came quickly.”
In contrast to Leraje’s voice, trembling finely with apparent emotion, the Demon King’s was utterly flat.
“Your silken hair is as beautiful as ever. If you would grant me but a single strand—no, even a feather from Your Majesty’s mighty wings—!”
As expected from that dry tone, the Demon King coldly cut off Leraje’s absurd request.
“Leraje.”
Despite the Demon King’s chill, Leraje showed no sign of hurt or agitation and bowed politely.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You remember well the purpose for which you came here.”
“Yes.”
Zenya glanced at the atmosphere and placed a cup of tea before each of the three demons.
“Keep a close watch so there’s no foolishness. Finish the work within the schedule, if possible.”
“I will carry out my duty to the best of my ability.”
Just as she set down the last teacup and was about to step back, the Demon King spoke in a frosty voice.
“And since I’ve lent you my hand personally, as you wished, be sure to return it without issue.”
The Demon King wasn’t looking at Zenya, but no one present could mistake whose “hand” he meant.
Leraje replied without hesitation.
“Of course.”
“Go. They should be arriving.”
“Then.”
Even being dismissed immediately, before she could feel any satisfaction from serving the tea, Leraje showed no resistance.
After confirming that he gave Eligos a slight bow, Zenya stepped forward and opened the door first. As she left the room with Leraje, the Demon King’s voice rang out once more behind them.
“I really hate it when what’s mine gets damaged.”
Click. As the door shut on those words, Zenya cautiously glanced at Leraje’s expression. It was good that he was guaranteeing her safety as promised, but wasn’t that a bit excessive?
No matter how light his demeanor, Leraje was still a noble. Provoking him too much might just irritate him further—
“Ah!”
But her concern was completely unfounded. Leraje flushed red and spoke with an ecstatic expression.
“Truly, that rough voice he uses from time to time—it makes my heart tremble!”
Twisting his body and muttering that his heart might burst, Leraje suddenly shouted that he was in love.
Face burning bright red and looking blissful, Leraje left Zenya bowing her head as if she’d seen nothing at all.
How much time passed like that? Just as her throat was starting to ache, Leraje held out his hand to her.
“Ahem, shall we be off now?”
When she looked up again, Leraje had returned to his original dignified expression. But she had already seen every bit of his perverse side.
It’s nothing new.
Though no matter how often it happened, she never quite got used to it. With a composed face, Zenya took Leraje’s hand and headed toward the central hall.
Not long after, Count Beris and Viscount Vine—both looking somewhat haggard—arrived in a carriage bearing the crest of House Gremory.
