Yeah!
“Magic Club?”
“Yes, Sir Lethe. Just that Red Demon King—”
“I have a name, you know?! It’s Astaroth! Astaroth!”
“…Yes. Then, of Astaroth’s—”
“Ah! If that’s too long, you can call me Ashu! Originally I only allowed Mister and the three here, but… well, I’ll specially let you call me that too! How about it, aren’t you grateful? Hurry up and bow your head in thanks… Kyah!”
Did this kid reset whatever she got hit with every ten minutes? Lethe frowned and specially engraved two knuckle raps onto the crown of Astaroth’s head. Please stay quiet for a good long while this time.
“…Anyway, Sir Lethe. How about forming a Magic Club with Ashu as the head? If that absurd magic drew every eye in the place, I don’t think this would be a bad idea either.”
Club. A club, huh. Hmm. He stroked his chin and sank into thought.
Lethe already knew clubs existed at the Academy. Chess Club, Flower Arrangement Club, Reading Club—dozens of others had their places as well. Some truly existed for personal hobbies; others were clubs in name only, little more than extensions of social gatherings.
Whatever the case, one thing was certain. A club needed members to operate.
And they wanted a Demon King to run one? Who in their right mind would join that?
“No matter how I look at it, I don’t think students will come to that club.”
“No, Sir Lethe. On the contrary—there will definitely be students who want to join.”
Conviction even colored Michaela’s voice. Lethe’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the Hero. On what grounds was that woman showing such confidence?
“Before coming here… ahem, ahem! That is, before being forcibly dragged here by the Demon Kings!”
“We never dragged you, Brother! That’s a lie!”
“That’s correct, Master! We never did any such thing!”
“Lie. Lie.”
“Th-these Demon Kings! Then are you saying that I, a Hero, am lying?!”
In a world where Demon Kings were no longer Demon Kings, a Hero telling a lie was hardly earth-shattering. Since this wasn’t the important part, Lethe brushed it off with a rough I see. So?
“Ahem ahem! Anyway, I had a brief chance to observe the students. Of course the majority showed fear toward Ashu’s magic… but some others seemed to be watching with genuine interest.”
“Watching with interest?”
That magic would scorch the soul itself if it so much as grazed you. Even someone hoping to die would firmly refuse to go out by that spell. And yet they looked on with interested eyes?
“Ashu’s magic was certainly threatening, but at the same time it was large and flashy. I may not have much real combat experience, but I still know the danger of that magic well—the students don’t. To them it was just a very large, extremely bright red flame that soared into the air and then spread in every direction. That’s all.”
“….”
In other words, elevate this whole incident into a kind of noise marketing for a Magic Club.
As Lethe turned it over carefully, one conclusion soon took shape in his mind.
This… isn’t bad.
What was a club, really? A place Academy students joined as a hobby. Still-young students chasing interests or seeking new connections, just beginning to step forward. That was why it carried a familiar, approachable feeling—practically the exclusive domain of the students. If a Demon King showed interest there, founded a new club, and even served as its head…
I can ease even a little of the sharp gazes aimed at my kids. And if we can get a little closer to the students who are actually interested, nothing could be better.
One worry remained: they would have to keep the magic at a level appropriate for a “club.”
If they pulled out another outrageous spell like this time, a far bigger uproar was guaranteed. The first could pass as an incident; from the second onward, even cries of “The Demon King is trying to blow up the Academy!” would be justified.
“Ashu.”
“You called?”
The solution was, in truth, extremely simple.
“If you ever use such dangerous magic at the Academy again—without thinking it through or consulting anyone—”
Harden the expression. Strip the warmth from the eyes. Tense the body and put on a serious face.
“I will never see you again, Ashu.”
“A-aah…!”
“I won’t call you Ashu either. You’ll go back to being Astaroth.”
“…Hic!”
She was so shocked that Astaroth even hiccuped and didn’t know what to do with herself. Marmar, Sitri, and El looked at the Red Demon King with expressions of pure pity.
To that degree, Lethe’s anger was an unbearable, terrible punishment for the Demon Kings.
“Understood?”
“Y-yes. Mister. I-I’ll really be careful. So please don’t be angry. Your face—hurry and soften your face! I’m sorry! A-and please don’t throw away the name Ashu!”
Astaroth pleaded almost begging, her voice thick with anxiety. It was fortunate she was already being punished by holding her hands up; otherwise she might truly have rubbed her palms together and begged.
“Don’t worry.”
Lethe wasn’t the sort who could be excessively harsh either. When Astaroth’s eyes even welled with tears, he grew slightly flustered, stroked her head, and hurriedly added:
“As long as you don’t cause accidents, nothing will happen. I also want to keep calling Ashu ‘Ashu,’ and keep hearing ‘Mister’ from Ashu… though hearing that ‘Mister’ is really not great. Don’t you have any other title besides that Mister?”
“…Master?”
Just keep calling me Mister. Damn it. Lethe frowned.
Creak, click—
Four Demon Kings and one Hero stepped out of the war hero’s office.
A strange silence hung among them. The first to break it was Astaroth.
“Thanks. Mika.”
“…What?”
“I said thanks. Because you brought up the club as an alternative, Mister was able to somehow deal with how awkward things had gotten, and the mess I caused could somehow be handled.”
Thanks. She said thanks. That Demon King—to her, a Hero—was offering words of gratitude.
How could she do that? Didn’t her pride get hurt? She was a Demon King in name, standing before a Hero who had set out to eliminate Demon Kings. Far from showing hostility, she bowed her head so easily.
“…It was nothing. I just mentioned the clubs that already existed at the Academy. That’s all.”
It was hard to understand. The demonkin she had imagined, the ones she had heard about until now, were nothing like this. Intoxicated by their own supremacy, they never submitted and never bowed their heads.
Yet the Demon Kings who stood at the pinnacle of those demonkin—even the Four Heavenly Kings who had literally mass-purged other Demon Kings—were saying thank you so easily. It was truly difficult to accept.
“Still, thanks. You thought of me, right?”
“What are you talking about? Why would I think of you, a Demon King.”
“I told you my name. Not ‘Demon King’!”
“…Ashu.”
“Yeah! Mika! Nice!”
Come to think of it, why on earth did those Demon Kings keep calling her by the weird nickname Mika?
She had the proper name Michaela! Anyone who heard it would recognize it as noble! Why arbitrarily shorten it and emphasize familiarity over dignity? Heroes weren’t supposed to be like that!
“First: I am not Mika—I am Michaela. And second: I have never done anything thinking of you.”
“First: you are Mika. Second: you did it thinking of me!”
“….”
Words simply did not get through. For the moment it seemed hopeless with that red-haired Demon King, so Michaela decided to ask the others standing beside her instead.
“Why do you keep calling me Mika?”
“Because it’s better that way.”
“She’s stating the obvious. Nicknames are important.”
“Nickname. Good.”
As expected, words did not get through. Protecting her real name was clearly going to be difficult. No matter how loudly she shouted “I am Michaela!”, what good was it if the people who needed to hear it had no intention of listening?
“…Anyway, I didn’t do it for you, Ashu.”
“Then?”
“What?”
“Then what did you do it for? You offered a good opinion even though it wasn’t for me! There must have been a reason! What is it? Why?! Why did you do that?”
Did these Demon Kings truly possess no dignity, no weight, nothing befitting Demon Kings? The monarchs of the demonkin she had imagined were nothing like this! What on earth was going on?!
Whether Michaela screamed inside or not, Astaroth demanded an answer to whatever she was curious about. Once she wanted to know something, she had to obtain that answer before she could be satisfied.
“Ah, right! Not for you, Ashu… but for S-Sir Lethe, you know?!”
“Hmm? For Mister?”
“For Brother?”
“You did it for Master?”
She didn’t know. She was just spouting whatever came to mind.
But it wasn’t a lie either. Unconsciously, she hadn’t wanted to see her war hero looking troubled. That was truly why she had offered the club as an alternative.
“Heh.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hooo.”
“….”
“Why—why is everyone looking at me with those eyes?!”
The moment Michaela turned to the four Demon Kings and demanded a reason, Astaroth went “Hehe!” and stepped in, slinging an arm around her shoulder.
“As expected! You are Mika! Come on! I’m Ashu! That black-haired one is Mar! The blue-haired one next to her is Sitri! And finally that one is El!”
“I know that! M-more than that, get this arm off my shoulder! We’re not even friends…”
“We are friends! We’re connected by Mister’s underwear!”
In that instant Michaela couldn’t help but scream, “Waaah!”
“I-I never wanted it! You forced it on me!”
“Ahahaha! Anyway you ended up receiving it! Then we’re friends! Looking forward to working with you, Hero friend! Mika!”
“Ashu is right. Looking forward to it. I’m Mar.”
“Action for Master—highly praiseworthy. Call me Sitri.”
“…El.”
“No, so you people have absolutely no intention of listening to a word I say?!”
To Michaela’s scream, the four Demon Kings answered with bright or gentle smiles.
“Yeah!”