Chapter 307
Chapter: 307
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>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 307
>Chapter Title: Demon King No. 2 (5)
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Mores received Amelia's visit request almost at noon.
He was in the middle of reviewing reports from the Magical Beast Response Team, pondering a few minor exclusive deals held by the Milo Merchant Group.
'The decent ones... maybe I should just snatch them up through Bertrand & Lee....'
Normally, he would pass them along to the administrative offices for review of new applications from other merchants, but delegating to them would only mean they'd end up in the hands of high priests through connections or become pretexts for bribes anyway.
In that case.
'...No.'
But Mores quickly changed his mind.
They were from a middling merchant group at best, and nothing truly appealing anyway. Snatching them might bring no real gains while inviting rumors.
'If I'm going to make a play, I should wait for something worthwhile and grab it properly.'
On top of that, right now all spare funds needed to pour into the northern ventures—securing the distribution network safely alongside the sockeye salmon business!
[How long are you going to cling to that pathetic venture?]
'Shut up! Bertrand & Lee's first business is a sockeye salmon specialty shop, no matter what!'
After snapping at the Demon King, Mores gathered the documents neatly and sank into thought.
'Come to think of it, this deal will ultimately need Amelia's approval too, won't it?'
He'd heard she'd been taking on more of the Holy Emperor's miscellaneous duties lately. In that case, bypassing the administrative offices and sending it straight to the Silver Rose Palace might be better—letting her exercise authority from the start.
She seemed eager to expand her influence within Delcross these days, after all.
"Lord Mores. If your schedule allows, Princess Amelia requests that you visit briefly."
Just then, a maid from the Silver Rose Palace came looking for him. Delighted, Mores grabbed the documents to show Amelia and left the Magical Beast Response Team office.
"...Hm?"
But upon arriving at the Silver Rose Palace, Mores encountered an unexpected person in the reception room—Isabella Scarzapino, who had been Sigurd Sigurdson's puppet.
"Eek?"
Isabella, spotting Mores, let out a deflating wheeze with tea still in her mouth.
'No, why the hell is that bastard in the Silver Rose Palace?'
As Mores glared murderously, Isabella paled and hastily spat the tea back into her cup—a thoroughly undignified act unimaginable from the queen of high society.
*Cough cough!*
Mores furrowed his brow slightly at the ensuing fit of violent coughing.
'What kind of reaction is that?'
Noticing his displeasure, Isabella cried out desperately without even wiping the tea from her lips.
"M-Misunderstanding!"
"Misunderstanding? What misunderstanding?"
"W-Whatever it is, any misconception! Whatever you're thinking—it's a misunderstanding!"
"What, you punk?"
You know what I'm thinking right now?
Mores stepped forward with a chilling smile, and Isabella trembled violently, pressing herself against the sofa's backrest.
"Y-You're not thinking I'm trying to do something to Princess Amelia, are you?!"
"...Aren't you?"
"No! That's what I'm saying—it's not!"
"Then why are you here?"
"I have unavoidable circumstances!"
Her jaw chattering as she desperately shouted, she didn't even seem capable of scheming.
What the hell was with that speech pattern anyway.
"You punk, didn't I tell you to at least pretend to be Isabella Scarzapino if you had to? Huh? You think that's funny now?"
Reminded of his past warning, Isabella's face fell into an "oh no" expression before turning pitiful.
"...Hic!"
"......"
"Hic! Sniff! Hic! Heave!"
It was an explosive bout of hiccups.
'...What the hell is this guy doing?'
Too absurd to even react, but fortunately for Isabella, Amelia entered the reception room right on time.
"Ah, sorry for calling you and then stepping out, Mores. An administrative priest came by with an urgent approval...."
"Ah, sis."
Mores relaxed his scowl and turned to her.
"It's fine. I just got here."
"I didn't pull you away from busy work, did I?"
"No. I had something to discuss with you anyway."
"That's a relief. But...."
Amelia, approaching with a smile, suddenly sensed the odd atmosphere in the room and halted.
"...Did something happen between you two?"
"Princess Amelia!"
Whoosh!
Isabella shot up from her seat and darted behind Amelia like she'd found her lifeline.
"L-Look at this. Prince Mores...."
"Hm? Mores?"
"Uh...."
Isabella opened her mouth as if to say more, then froze solid. Mores was eyeing her with narrowed gaze.
"Ugh... Hic! Hic!"
"......?"
"...I-It hasn't been long, but hic! Y-You've become so overwhelmingly handsome, haven't you? I was just so overcome... Hic!"
With teary eyes, Isabella stammered her excuse. She couldn't exactly admit to being threatened, after all.
Of course. Unless she'd lost her mind, she couldn't badmouth another royal without proof in front of royalty.
The question was whether her flimsy excuse would fly with his sharp sister.
"Hehe."
It was all in Mores's head. The princess, who had tilted her head while observing them, broke into a radiant smile the moment Isabella finished.
"As expected of Lady Scarzapino! Your eye for talent is as renowned. Asking for your help was definitely the right call!"
"......?"
"Our Mores does have rather excessively striking looks. Hehe."
Now it was Mores and Isabella stealing glances at Amelia.
Is she serious right now?
[Blood tells after all. Nepotism is hereditary.]
In the awkward air, the Demon King sighed endlessly in his mindscape.
* * *
"So, Mores. I specially invited Lady Scarzapino today."
Somehow, tea proceeded amid the discomfort.
Mores radiating extreme unease, Isabella visibly shrinking, and Amelia seated happily between them.
"I've been getting all sorts of help from Lady Isabella lately. No one knows the latest salon trends or up-and-coming artists to watch like she does."
"Is that so?"
Isabella then shot Mores a wronged look.
'You said you had unavoidable circumstances!'
But at his scowl, she quickly averted her eyes and resumed hiccuping.
Hic! Hic! Heave!
She looked like a bumbling comic act. Feeling a throbbing headache, Mores turned to Amelia.
"...By the way, up-and-coming artists—looking for patrons?"
"No, just seeking a skilled painter. Better to commission someone recognized by the salons, if possible."
"A painter?"
"Listen to this, Mores. The most famous portrait artist in the capital—turns out Lady Isabella patrons him. So I invited her along with him. Custom has it to get the patron's permission when requesting work from their artist."
Portrait? Whose?
As Mores blinked, Amelia rose proudly with a smile.
"Now that you're here, no need to waste time. Shall we go see the painter together?"
"...Pardon?"
Dragged along by Amelia in confusion, Mores soon learned whose portrait it was.
He had to strike a dashing pose holding the black Henesis longsword before a massive curtain emblazoned with the Lord God's emblem—complete with a mysterious black cloak from who-knows-where!
'Why the hell am I doing this?'
Absurdly staring at the painter opposite, the man beamed and instructed.
"Please relax your expression a bit, Your Highness. Could you give us a confident smile befitting such a fine gentleman?"
"......"
"Or maybe a more dynamic pose? Mores, could you demonstrate the Banahas Five Forms again like last time?"
He had no idea what was going on.
But it was his sister's request, so.
Suppressing the rising embarrassment, Mores swung the Henesis longsword convincingly before everyone.
Cheers erupted immediately.
"That's it! Your Highness!"
"Ahh, this will make such a splendid portrait, Mores!"
"Exactly as you say, Princess Amelia!"
"Eee! So cool, Prince Mores!"
Even the Silver Rose Palace maids joined the clamor, leaving his nape burning.
The one person keeping distance from the uproar was Isabella, watching with a sour expression.
Who'd have thought he'd share a moment of rapport with her here.
Fortunately, the embarrassment didn't last. The painter, having grasped the basic composition and mood, packed up and left.
He had preparations to make for setting up a proper studio, apparently.
"Will you stop by the Silver Rose Palace occasionally from now on? Just whenever you're free. The painter will stay in the palace until the portrait's done."
At Amelia's request, Mores sighed inwardly.
Ah, right.
It wouldn't wrap up in a day.
'But as royalty... leaving one portrait behind for posterity makes sense....'
If he had to endure it someday, better sooner.
"But couldn't I just hold Walnut Splitter? Why the Henesis longsword? I gave this sword to you as a gift."
Handing over the sword, Mores asked. Amelia smiled meaningfully.
"Hehe, Mores. Do you know why I treasure this sword so much?"
...Because it's your taste?
Perplexed, Mores watched as her delicate fingers lightly gripped the black Henesis longsword.
"Because this sword suits someone I know perfectly."
With that, Amelia slowly assumed a stance with the longsword.
An angel-like girl in white dress gracefully wielding a jagged, ominous blade perfect for the title "demonic sword."
Everyone in the room held their breath, transfixed.
"I wanted to become like that someone. I resolved to grow as strong. That's why I chase that memory, always imitating him."
The beautiful girl seemed wrapped in radiant light. Even the ominous blade, barely reflective, seemed to gleam darkly.
The scene was strikingly incongruous yet harmoniously composed, like a still life the painter had agonized over.
This must be absolute beauty that captivates all eyes!
'...Wow, sis. Amazing!'
Forgetting her words entirely, Mores thought in awed wonder.
'The real scene the painter should capture is this one, right?'
He thought he'd voiced it aloud—someone murmured right beside him.
"...Wow, damn. So cool! This has to be painted....!"
"......?"
Mores stared at Isabella, who flushed beet red in panic.
"W-Why are you looking at me like that?"
"......"
"Ah! N-No other meaning at all! Don't misunderstand! As someone who pursues dramatic aesthetics that inspire epic narratives, I just mean Princess Amelia's form would inspire any artist greatly...!"
Uh, no. Calm down. I just thought you seemed genuinely like Isabella for a second there.
'Anyway, time to get what I came for.'
Resolved, Mores lowered his voice gravely.
"Enough nonsense. Hand it over."
At his sudden gravity, Isabella tensed and asked back.
"Wh-What...?"
"That painter. Turn him over to me first."
Isabella paled and whispered urgently.
"What are you saying all of a sudden? He's got nothing to do with Sigurd Sigurdson! Just a talented painter! Torture him all you want—nothing will come out!"
What the hell does she take people for?
"What nonsense? You said he's the best portraitist in the capital? Well, his next commission is from me. For sis."
"......"
Isabella stared at Mores in disbelief.
What? Why? What?