The Demon Lord's Lovers (4)
The kitchen was so busy that no one had a spare moment to think, overwhelmed by the endless stream of dishes. It was the height of breakfast service, so every member of the staff was completely absorbed in their tasks at their respective stations.
Beatrice, who had brought Hestinia into the kitchen, opened the back door and stepped outside. Hestinia, who had been watching the kitchen’s almost combative level of activity with interest, followed Beatrice out through the same door.
Beatrice led Hestinia to the storage shed where she had previously spoken with Lusteria. The shed, packed with potatoes that gave off a musty, earthy smell, felt rather messy for a serious conversation. Still, it was the only suitable spot near the dining hall for a private discussion.
“Hmm. For a storage shed, it’s surprisingly well organized. I can feel how thoroughly you manage everything, Lady Beatrice.”
Though it was a place where sacks of potatoes were stacked, the shed was neatly arranged in its own way. The potato sacks were piled according to harvest date, and it appeared they cleaned regularly, because the overall maintenance was exceptionally clean.
Hestinia displayed the same curious gaze she had shown while observing the kitchen staff. She took out her cigarette holder, inserted a cigarette, and placed it between her lips. Just as a small flame sparked at her fingertip to light it, Beatrice snatched the cigarette from the holder.
“This is a storage area for food ingredients, so smoking is obviously prohibited here.”
“Hmm. Is that so? What a shame.”
Beatrice did not become particularly angry with the shameless witch who had tried to smoke in front of the sacred ingredients. Likewise, Hestinia did not become particularly angry with the rude maid who had abruptly taken her cigarette. Yet a subtle current flowed between the two powerful beings, resembling the uneasy atmosphere before a storm.
After a brief silence, Beatrice returned the cigarette to Hestinia. To anyone observing only this moment, it might have seemed that Beatrice had composed herself for conversation and extended the first olive branch. The problem, however, was the manner in which she returned it—by slipping the cigarette into the deep valley between Hestinia’s breasts.
The small cigarette rested upon breasts so large that even grasping one with both hands would fail to cover it completely. Hestinia’s chest was so enormous that “massive” felt like the only fitting word. Beatrice had pushed the cigarette deep into the plump cleavage rising above the black off-shoulder dress, sinking her fingers into the soft valley in the process.
This was clearly a provocative act.
“Are you offended?”
Beatrice maintained an overbearing attitude, stripping away every ounce of courtesy toward her counterpart. Her eyes were icy enough to send chills down the spine, and the hostility within them was so fierce that the slightest increase in intensity would have qualified as killing intent.
Even for Hestinia—known as the Witch of Eternal Life and possessing immense power—she needed to be cautious before the cold killing machine once called the “Killing Machine” in the old Hemonigent. Of course, quite apart from any power dynamic or atmosphere, Hestinia was not one to anger easily, so a dangerous collision was avoided.
“My, my. There really is all sorts of things stored between these breasts, isn’t there? Since this cigarette came from between them, how could I possibly be offended? Hohohoho.”
“Tsk.”
As if disappointed that no clash had occurred, Beatrice clicked her tongue and slid a cold, contempt-filled glance to the side. She had hoped the opponent might lose some composure if provoked, but the black-hearted witch’s solid reason refused to be shaken so easily.
Though she deeply regretted failing to crush the opponent’s arrogant nose, she decided to set the small talk aside and move on to the main topic.
“Are you aware that recently many residents have been complaining of fatigue, unable to work properly, which is disrupting operations?”
“My, is that so? Oh dear… Lady Beatrice, you should prepare some nourishing dishes for them! Those poor people working so hard day and night. Fufu.”
The contempt filling Beatrice’s eyes began transforming into disgust. She had subtly probed the underlying incident to provoke the other party, yet the opponent clearly understood Beatrice’s intentions. By deliberately mentioning words like “nourishing” and “night,” she was instead irritating Beatrice’s nerves in return.
“If you go to the Taego Forest, you’ll find black eels and plenty of wild garlic growing there. It would be good to gather some.”
“…It would bring Lady Hestinia great joy if those people’s stamina increased. If you desire it that much, would you bring it yourself? The dining hall is not leisurely enough to take responsibility for the stamina of certain personnel.”
The long, slippery fish that secretes slimy mucus—the eel. The pungent, spicy garlic used as a spice. Their common trait was that they were food ingredients; more specifically, ingredients known to be good for “stamina.” In particular, the freshwater eel was said to be exceptionally effective for vitality, a rare delicacy that many men could not resist.
“That’s right. Since you are the one making people who work hard during the day suffer at night as well, Lady Hestinia, naturally their stamina would become your pleasure.”
“Fufu. I’m curious where you heard about that.”
“What are you talking about? Ah, are you referring to the fact that Lady Hestinia invites dozens of men to her quarters every night for lewd orgies? Or that those men are worked so hard in Lady Hestinia’s messy sex parties that they collapse from exhaustion, causing delays in the Demon Lord Castle’s reconstruction schedule?”
In the end, Beatrice laid out every fact. With a sharp sneer, she openly mocked her opponent in order to scratch at her pride and dignity. Yet Hestinia simply brushed it off lightly, as though it were nothing of importance.
“Of course it brings me great pleasure as well. Sexual intercourse is the greatest pleasure granted to living beings, after all. Naturally, sex filled with abundant love is even more ecstatic. Receiving the love of many men every night bestows a very deep happiness.”
Faced with Hestinia’s almost proud attitude, Beatrice realized none of her verbal attacks were landing and erased her sneer. Hestinia was even exaggerating her gestures while singing the joys of orgies. Her attitude—intoxicated with pleasure and showing not a shred of shame—was so grand that it resembled a priest revering and exalting a god, almost evoking a sense of sacredness.
“I would like to share this pleasure with you too, Lady Beatrice… but with such a cold and frightening maid standing before them, wouldn’t any man lose his vigor?”
“I have no need for such things.”
A wave of killing intent surged from Beatrice’s blue eyes toward Hestinia. The powerful, piercing aura was enough to make ordinary people clutch their hearts and lose consciousness.
Even if Hestinia’s invitation to an orgy had been nothing more than a joke meant to tease Beatrice, to Beatrice it was a rude statement that denied her very existence. She was an Ego Doll created for Neromeltia, meant to serve only Neromeltia and love only Neromeltia. Suggesting she have sex with unspecified men she barely knew was an aggressive remark that negated her entire reason for being.
“I misspoke. I’m sorry, Lady Beatrice. I apologize so earnestly—please quell your anger.”
Hestinia slightly lifted her skirt, lowered her body, and bowed her head. At the opponent’s polite apology, Beatrice withdrew her killing intent. However, her mood had not improved, so her attitude toward the other woman remained less than kind.
“If it is so difficult for you to endure your lust, I shall take care of it, you lewd witch. Shall I poke that unprincipled hole of yours?”
Beatrice thrust a kitchen rolling pin forward with cold eyes. It was open mockery. She was coldly condemning the witch who enjoyed messy nightly romps and thereby disrupted her master’s important plans. Beatrice had no desire whatsoever to treat Hestinia politely. Even though the opponent had spoken words of apology, Hestinia’s attitude remained arrogant, showing no sign of genuine remorse.
The kitchen rolling pin taken from the equipment box in the corner of the shed was quite long and thick. Simply thrusting a wooden pin thicker than an arm at someone could itself be taken as an insult. It carried the feeling of saying, A slut like you wouldn’t be satisfied unless it was something this thick, right?
“Hohoho. You intend to block the pleasure circuits and do it one-sidedly? That wouldn’t be any fun at all.”
“It is more than you deserve.”
Yet once again Hestinia flexibly deflected Beatrice’s hostility with her characteristic gentle demeanor. Rather, as if Beatrice’s suggestion was very welcome, she licked her lips and displayed a seductive pose.
Hestinia’s beautiful green eyes reminded one of brilliant peridot. However, her unclear gaze and the heavy dark circles beneath it adorned those lovely eyes in a dark, gloomy fashion. Since she was even revealing blatant lust toward Beatrice within such a dual appearance, her eyes carried a vulgar atmosphere that fit the word “decadent” perfectly.
Hestinia had spoken playfully as if it were a joke, but Beatrice could tell it was sincere. This lewd witch, not satisfied with playing with dozens of men every night, was even coveting Beatrice herself.
The moment the apology left her lips, the witch once again showed a rude attitude. Beatrice responded forcefully, using the words “more than you deserve.” Yet Hestinia appeared completely unconcerned by Beatrice’s firm hostility. She merely brightened her previously cloudy, dark eyes for a moment and struck at the vital point.
“That consideration is very tempting, but since you are the Demon Lord’s woman, Lady Beatrice, I’m quite scared to lay a hand on you. Have you thought about how disappointed the Demon Lord would be if the two of us mingled our bodies?”
The cold light in Beatrice’s eyes darkened at Hestinia’s few words. Beatrice had not truly intended to use the rolling pin; in fact, she had not wanted to lay a hand on Hestinia at all. Only now did she realize that this too had been a serious mistake and slip of the tongue.
It was not something a maid who must remain at the Demon Lord’s side and serve her master should say. Although it had been nothing more than a bad joke that slipped out while trying to condemn the opponent—and not sincere at all—the mere fact that she had uttered such blasphemous words filled Beatrice with enormous guilt.
“…I didn’t think of that.”
“Hohoho. Even the cold and haughty Ego Doll maid can’t help herself in front of her beloved master. How cute.”
Beatrice obediently set aside her hostility and returned to her neat, proper demeanor. A moist sorrow flowed through her words, and a poignant purity melted within them. The magical characters that flickered erratically above her beautiful blue eyes revealed her complicated state of mind.
Hestinia smiled brightly, as if she found this hidden pure side of the being known as the Killing Machine utterly lovable.
There were no further mockeries or clashes. Beatrice simply grieved her own slip of the tongue, and Hestinia simply found the Demon Lord’s maid cute.
Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to her, Hestinia added a new sparkle to her decadent eyes and changed the subject.
“By the way, it seems your beloved master—the one you love so dearly, Lady Beatrice—spent a hot night with Lady Nella as well. It must pain you somewhat, no?”
Beatrice displayed such ardent longing for her master that she even regulated her every minor word. That was why Hestinia had mentioned the appearance of a new woman for her master, Neromeltia. There was not even a speck of hostility in it; she was simply curious what kind of reaction this being—who offered such earnest reverence—would show. It was, without question, an impure intention.
Unexpectedly, however, Beatrice did not become angry. Instead, she calmly organized her emotions and gave a quiet but firm answer.
“…I have decided to stop harboring such trivial jealousy. No matter how much love my master shares with others, the love she gives me does not change.”
Hestinia’s green eyes, which were always half-closed and showing a cloudy light, widened greatly. She had lived for immeasurable years worthy of being called the Witch of Eternal Life. Even for her, Beatrice’s reaction was completely unforeseen. For that reason, an emotional fluctuation she normally never revealed came to the surface.
The iron wall of emotion that had never shaken beneath Beatrice’s cold contempt and blatant mockery—meant to stir Hestinia’s feelings—was instead shaken by Beatrice’s warm and steadfast purity.
“Hohoho. How very romantic. It makes me envious of the Demon Lord. This is sincere.”
Hestinia answered with a bright smile. This was not the fabricated appearance the black-hearted witch usually displayed; it was a pure revelation of warm sincerity.
When the witch who always showed only crafted masks revealed her true heart, Beatrice too showed a slightly surprised expression.
After that, the conversation progressed. Hestinia promised that she would restrain herself so as not to cause any disruptions to the Demon Lord Castle’s reconstruction schedule. Of course, she did not promise to stop her nightly activities entirely, but the assurance that she would avoid causing problems meant Beatrice no longer needed to concern herself.
Once the issue was resolved, Beatrice returned to the dining hall in search of her master. Neromeltia, worried about Beatrice who had left with Hestinia, had waited for her in the dining hall even though the meal had already ended. Beatrice, as if wishing to erase the fact that she had uttered blasphemous words even if false, treated Neromeltia with even greater earnestness than usual.
Neromeltia could tell that something had happened during Beatrice’s conversation with Hestinia, but she did not ask. She simply found the maid—who, unlike her usual dry demeanor, was embracing her with affection—very lovable and pulled her into her arms.
Hestinia had been watching the scene from afar. Her gaze alternated between the Demon Lord and the maid, taking them both in. Then, licking her lips slightly, she wore a smile whose meaning was impossible to read.