The Demon Lord's Lovers (3)
The dining hall of the Demon Lord Castle was a place where each meal filled the void left by long hours of emptiness. It was where those who rose rubbing sleepy eyes came seeking the vigor to begin their day. With breakfast prepared, the hall buzzed with lively energy. The ever-changing recipes brought variety even when ingredients stayed the same, turning each day into a quiet anticipation of what might appear on the table. A delicious moment always waited, unchanged. The dining hall was one of the few sources of happiness in the ruined castle, and many residents found themselves smiling the moment they stepped inside.
It was no longer merely a site for food distribution or worker benefits. The hall had become a place that safeguarded the residents' joy and comfort, raising their quality of life. In a castle where laborers spent their days covered in dust, hauling rubble with little room for entertainment or leisure, the three daily meals had grown into something that delivered happiness and eased stress. The only other pastime was gathering on rest days to drink, sing, and dance. In such a meager existence, those meals had become a precious source of relief.
This transformation had begun when Beatrice, once focused solely on her duties as a maid, accepted Neromeltia's gentle suggestion to oversee the dining hall and its supplies. Remaining at her master's side to serve her alone brought a maid immense joy, yet fulfilling the tasks her master assigned and exceeding expectations brought a different kind of satisfaction—the pride of a Demon Lord Army officer. Her master already held the dining hall in high regard, a clear sign of approval that anyone could see: the Demon Lord herself, who could have eaten in private, chose instead to dine among her people.
Beatrice was determined to protect this place. It was the result of her own efforts, a space her master cherished deeply. The brick dining hall, large enough to seat roughly five hundred, was her domain. The kitchen, roughly two thousand mentols across and built from cut granite, was her battlefield. Here she was a lord granted territory by the absolute ruler, and loyalty meant never disappointing that ruler's expectations.
Yet not every effort bore fruit. To keep what she had built, she would have to defeat a certain enemy. And that powerful foe was now opening the gates and stepping into her territory.
“My, this place has improved quite nicely.”
The woman who flung open the double doors and entered swept her gaze across the hall. She clasped her hands before her chest, clearly impressed.
“It used to be nothing but crudely stacked bricks and a dirt floor. I came because Beatrice called for me, but I suppose I’ll have to drop by more often from now on.”
She was right. The previous structure had been little more than salvaged bricks from the ruins. Following the Demon Lord’s order that any place tied to daily life must be kept clean, the dining hall had been rebuilt with fresh stone bricks, while the kitchen floor and walls had been fashioned from solid granite slabs sealed with lime. The project had begun with Neromeltia’s directive, but it was the combined result of Beatrice’s meticulous planning, Crawford’s swift procurement of materials, and the construction expertise of Nella and the Orc engineering corps. When three high-ranking officers moved at the Demon Lord’s command, even a temporary building was constructed with care.
“Oh! Lady Hestinia!”
“My, Zved!”
“Lady Hestinia! What brings you to the dining hall?”
“Butler! You’re here too? Good to see you!”
As Hestinia approached Beatrice, who had been waiting for her, several men of various races called out in delight. Hestinia greeted each of them warmly, accepting their goodwill with graceful ease. At a single glance from her, men clutched their chests in rapture; a single greeting left some half-shouting with excitement.
“Please maintain decorum in the dining hall.”
Beatrice’s cool, businesslike remark sliced through the lively atmosphere. Though spoken softly, it froze every person in the hall. The men who had been so animated moments earlier now focused intently on their meals, though their eyes kept darting toward Beatrice. They were wary of the cold, formidable officer of the Demon Lord Army.
“Aww, Beatrice! You’re so scary first thing in the morning.”
“Please follow me quietly. Unless, of course, you wish to be embarrassed in front of everyone.”
“My, how cold… Hehe. Still, that’s part of your charm, isn’t it?”
Beatrice’s jade-green eyes, once reminiscent of sunlight dancing on a clear, beautiful sea, now radiated the chill of the Heavenly Pillar’s eternal snow. She turned silently and headed for the kitchen. Hestinia appeared to comply, yet before following, she glanced back and cast a seductive smile that set the men’s hearts aflame once more.
From a corner of the dining hall, Neromeltia watched the scene unfold. The Demon Lord was dining with her secretary and the engineering captain.
“To steal the minds of so many men with a single smile… She’s like a succubus from legend.”
Nella marveled at Hestinia’s effortless allure. The witch was undeniably beautiful, and her charm would have captivated anyone if not for her frivolous jokes. Yet the way men lost themselves at her smile or gesture raised questions. If they were so easily enchanted by Hestinia, then surely they should have been left breathless by Neromeltia, Lusteria, or Beatrice, each of whom possessed beauty that surpassed even the goddess of love and beauty, Eshtar.
That was why Nella thought of succubi—demons whose every whisper, gesture, and glance existed to seduce, creatures capable of changing form for the sake of temptation. Only a true succubus could so thoroughly unsettle men’s hearts.
While Nella remained lost in thought, Neromeltia met her eyes with a clear signal.
“The real succubus is right here.”
“Nom nom nom!”
Following Neromeltia’s gaze, Nella looked at Lusteria and struggled to suppress a sudden burst of laughter. After wondering whether Hestinia might be a succubus incarnate, she now beheld the genuine article: the pure-blooded succubus the Demon Lord had personally contracted and summoned from hell. Lusteria was happily stuffing her cheeks with potato from the stew, her face puffed out like a squirrel. The sight should have been messy, yet on her it looked only adorable. Nella’s cheeks flushed, and a warm, protective feeling welled up inside her, as though she were watching a beloved puppy. Without thinking, she reached out to pat Lusteria’s head, then quickly withdrew her hand in embarrassment, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed.
Neromeltia pretended not to see, turning her gaze away to spare her the shame. Both women at her side were unbearably cute and lovable—the gluttonous Lusteria lost in her meal and the blushing Nella. Simply watching them brought a smile to her lips.
Yet even as she smiled, Neromeltia’s eyes flicked briefly toward the kitchen, a trace of worry in that fleeting glance. She could guess what was happening, and she could only hope nothing went wrong.