The Discomfort Brought by Misconceptions
Neromeltia left the basement with Nella in her arms and made her way to the dining room. She had assumed that since Hestinia had offered to prepare cookies for Lusteria, everyone who had not descended into the basement would be gathered there.
“Aung!”
“Oh my, our little secretary really does enjoy her treats! How adorable!”
When Neromeltia entered the dining room, she found Lusteria with both cheeks puffed out, happily munching on cookies. The sulky expression she had worn earlier—complaining that her master had abandoned her—was nowhere to be seen. Only pure delight remained as she savored the sweetness. Hestinia, unable to contain her affection for the sight, kept offering more pastries while clasping her hands over her chest in admiration.
Beatrice stood quietly beside Lusteria, pouring tea and maintaining the dignified bearing expected of the Demon Lord’s personal maid. Even so, the sight of Lusteria enjoying her snack seemed to amuse her, and a faint smile played on her lips.
“Lust, you waited so well. I’m proud of you.”
“Uuu… Master, you’re treating me like a child again……”
The moment she arrived, Neromeltia patted Lusteria’s head and offered praise. Being commended simply for waiting obediently was not entirely pleasant. It implied she was the sort of child who could not even manage to wait quietly, leaving Lusteria feeling somewhat conflicted. Of course, Neromeltia meant nothing by it; she simply found Lusteria adorable and harbored no ill intent.
“You have returned earlier than expected. I thought you intended to finish your work in the basement first.”
“That was the plan, but it seems they can handle things perfectly well without me. Beriberi looked quite furious about the humans, and with Cadistella there as well……”
Neromeltia had never imagined that Beriberi, usually the picture of a benevolent and dignified noble, could harbor such intense anger. In the basement he had shown the Demon Lord the utmost respect and courtesy, yet his eyes had burned with deep-seated venom and fiery rage. He had kept his emotions in check only because the Demon Lord and his precious younger sister were present. Neromeltia, sensing this, had tactfully taken Nella away, and she could well imagine how relieved—and how merciless—he must have become the moment they left. As for Cadistella, her reputation was legendary; the screams and wails of the prisoners needed no description.
“When I saw Lady Cadistella immediately embrace and kiss you the moment you returned, I assumed you would prioritize spending time with her.”
“What did she say again? Something about the roast not being done yet?”
“I believe I understand the meaning. After all, you only faced a single lizard……. I heard you even released it after going easy on it, keeping your own plans in mind.”
“…Ah, um…… My plans, yes… I see……”
Neromeltia felt a twinge of awkwardness, wondering what her executives had been discussing in her absence. Occasionally, those around her would misinterpret her actions. She would merely devise a few simple plans, yet they would inflate them into grand schemes, fitting every circumstance to their assumptions and marveling at the results. The conclusion was always the same: “The Demon Lord possesses unparalleled foresight.”
“I was truly astonished to learn that even Kerdihak’s attack was part of your intended plan. When I heard you had already mentioned the Ego Doll development to Lord Crawford so we could act according to your will, my emotion sensors nearly malfunctioned. I am a truly inadequate subordinate for only realizing it after being confronted with everything.”
“No, Beatrice. You are always an outstanding talent who amazes me. I heard you devised the optimal strategy under your own leadership during this war as well. Thank you for handling things so well while I was away.”
“I merely grasped the smallest fragment of your vast stratagem.”
In truth, Neromeltia was deeply impressed by Beatrice’s strategy. While Lusteria tended to ramble when the topic turned to sweets, Beatrice had formulated an optimal plan during the time it took to discuss a blueberry parfait recipe. There was almost no reliance on luck; every detail had been calculated with meticulous precision. Cadistella had contributed significantly with her own brilliance, yet Beatrice had taken the lead, and she was undeniably a remarkable individual.
The problem lay with Neromeltia’s own position. ‘There was only one reason: I simply wanted to hide my resurrection……’
The dignity of a Demon Lord and the pride of a superior would not permit her to speak the truth. There were no profound schemes such as her executives imagined—only simple plans with straightforward goals, a truth only Neromeltia knew. Of course, judging by the way Hestinia kept chuckling while watching the exchange, she too seemed to have a rough idea of the reality, though officially it remained Neromeltia’s secret alone.
Crawford had been the same in the past, and so had the people of Hemonigent a thousand years ago. Those around Neromeltia were so fiercely loyal that they often fell into excessive misunderstandings. There is no one in Terraris who can rival the Demon Lord in wisdom! At times, the atmosphere created by such sentiments placed a heavy pressure on Neromeltia. At the very least, she did not wish to shatter their illusions and disappoint them, so once again she chose the path of glossing things over plausibly.
“I am simply glad that you followed my plans so well! I am truly fortunate to have you!”
“Pfft.”
Glossing over matters had become second nature to Neromeltia. Hestinia, watching the scene, could not suppress a small laugh. Neromeltia shot her a pointed look laced with mild displeasure. She knew full well that Hestinia understood the truth about her, so the glare was a silent rebuke: please do not give anything away.
“Kuhuhuhu… Indeed… Simply following the Demon Lord’s lofty foresight is already a great achievement for Lady Beatrice…? Pfft…!”
Hestinia was practically choking back laughter. Normally Beatrice was quick to notice such things, yet she was so moved by her beloved master’s praise that she merely lowered her head, oblivious to the exchange between Hestinia and Neromeltia. It was fortunate that her excessive loyalty to the Demon Lord blinded her to the meaning behind Hestinia’s laughter. Nella, gazing up at Neromeltia with radiant reverence, and Lusteria, her eyes sparkling with pure trust, were equally unaware of what Hestinia’s smile signified.
A lavishly decorated room adorned in brilliant gold. While it was understandable that historically significant masterpieces hung upon the walls, even their frames were encrusted with gold and jewels, embodying the very pinnacle of extravagance. The pristine white teacups on the table were crafted with such refined technique that light passed through them delicately, and even they were rimmed with golden borders. The tapestries on the walls were woven entirely from golden thread, depicting the long-lost World Tree embroidered in multicolored fairy silk. Windows, tables, chairs, carpets, decorative swords and armor, chandeliers—every single object was drenched in gold. This was the reception room used by the ruler of Esteronan, the last human city of the Humians.
“So, it seems you were thoroughly defeated.”
“Who are you claiming was defeated! I merely withdrew temporarily because the situation was unfavorable!!”
The speaker was a figure with long blue hair wearing a crown and a scholar’s robe embroidered with golden thread. The golden crown atop his head bore a raised apple motif hanging from a branch, symbolizing the fruit of wisdom. His blue scholar’s robe was embroidered with serpents and deer, both creatures representing wisdom or scholarly dignity. His attire alone revealed his tastes clearly.
The blue-haired guest, though appearing as a young man with a slender build, showed no respect whatsoever toward the middle-aged man with an impressive beard. The middle-aged man, master of the reception room, possessed sharp eyes and a hooked nose. His long golden hair was tied back, and his neatly trimmed beard curled sharply. Despite the gold-drenched reception room, the rapier at his waist was conspicuously free of any gold. It was forged from Mithtrill, a metal said to be mined only on the divine continent of Odbollis—an indication that even amid a thousand years of Humian peace, he continued to prepare for war.
The blue-haired youth was Kerdihak, the dragon who had taken human form. The golden-haired middle-aged man was Maverick Duke Esteronan, the lord of Esteronan.