So Cute Demons Do Exist

I had what you might call fierce eyes.

It never did me any favors. I'd merely glance at someone, and they'd pick a fight, snarling about why I was glaring at them. Because of that, I always kept my eyes lowered whenever I stepped out of my goshiwon room.

And then, without so much as opening my eyes properly, I'd woken up dropped into the Demon Realm with a large-scale massacre unfolding right in front of me. Not exactly the circumstances for averting my gaze.

And yet here I was, scaring demons into submission.

Well, it worked out in my favor, either way.

The demons who'd been chuckling over their victory now bowed their heads the instant my eyes landed on them. Like students caught by the teacher about to call on someone, they shut their mouths and desperately looked anywhere but at me.

So this was the reaction a mere sharp glare could get, when paired with the title of Demon King.

So I won't die right away, huh.

The fear that had gripped me—the terror that my identity as a fake Demon King would soon be exposed and my head would go rolling—dampened, if only the tiniest bit.

Huh? But why isn't that one looking away?

Among the countless demons, there was a single one who didn't avert their eyes from mine. If everyone else had kept staring, it would have gone unnoticed. But with every head lowered except one, my gaze ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠snagged on it without meaning to.

That little... he's not backing down to the very end?

Back down? Me, at this point? And then what, if he figured out I wasn't the Demon King? A single bead of cold sweat trickled down my spine as this trial descended the very moment I'd let my guard slip.

"My King!"

A childlike voice, utterly at odds with the atmosphere until now, cut through the silence.

I heard the voice, but couldn't see anyone. Freed from the staring contest by the interruption, I made a great show of searching for its owner.

"My Kiiing... my dear Demon King...!"

At the end of that moaning little call, a tiny palm came into view. A small, snow-white hand squeezing its way out from between hulking, muscular demons.

The little hand, wedged between walls of muscle, wriggled and squirmed while whimpering "Demon King" over and over. Just when that pathetic squirming started to tug at my heartstrings—

"Hyaah!"

With that tiny cry, a girl with purple hair finally poked her head out from among the giants.

"You're awake, my King! I am Kira, attendant to the resurrected Demon King!"

A purple bob, mystical violet-tinged eyes, and cute little horns and a tail—far too adorable to belong to a demon. Kira smiled up at me.

Right. So this world does have someone like this.

Demons or not, did it really make sense that they were all monstrous brutes like those guys? With Kira's appearance, the perpetually gloomy Demon Realm seemed a shade brighter.

That alone made her a hundred times more useful than those demon louts.

And the cute Kira's abilities didn't stop at bringing a measure of peace to my despondent heart.

"Everyone! What is this disgraceful display before the resurrected Demon King?! If Lady Lzerbe sees this, you'll all be torn a new one!"

Scuttling her small body this way and that, she whipped the scene into order. To my human eyes she looked like nothing more than a mewling kitten, and yet—so there was some semblance of a hierarchy after all—the demons who'd heard her words began hauling away the corpses and scrubbing at the spattered blood.

"Honestly! We prepared a whole welcome ceremony for the Demon King's revival and now look at it, a complete shambles! You there—clear away the rubble from that broken pillar! And someone count how many chairs got smashed while you're at it!"

Then Kira, still busily scolding away, turned to me and raised her thumb.

And beside her beaming face, a Status Window popped up with a cheerful ding.

And what was I supposed to make of these vague numbers?

A groan escaped my lips as I peered at Kira's status window.

Her magic seems weak for a demon. Is that why she's so cute?

It was plausible. Every single one of the demons who'd been hurling magic around in that massacre had been horrifying to look at.

A normal-looking person finally shows up, and she's weak. Disappointment was unavoidable.

Setting that aside, what's with that ambiguous loyalty score?

A demon's loyalty would presumably be directed at me, the Demon King. Judging by her behavior, I'd expected it to be high, but apparently she was just the diligent, good-at-her-job type.

Still better than my own stats, at least...

No sooner had I thought it than that dismal status window from moments ago resurfaced in my mind. Level 0. Forces 1.

As I brooded over those despairing numbers, a question occurred to me.

What's the "1" in Forces?

Forces should mean the same thing it did in games—my retinue, my power base. So what on earth was a 1, a number too small to count as "something" yet too big to call "nothing"?

"My King!"

A purple head popped up right in front of the status window.

"Is there anything you need?"

With that hehe little giggle, it clicked. A one that was neither something nor nothing.

It's her.

Guess I have no choice but to keep up the act.

Not-something-not-nothing it may have been, but it beat having absolutely nothing. To protect that precious little 1, I consciously curled the corners of my mouth upward.

"Thanks to you, all is at ease. My gratitude."

It was neither specific nor sincere—a hollow compliment no different from telling a friend's baby, "What a handsome little one~"

"R-really...?"

Kira's face flooded with emotion in an instant. And at the same moment, the numbers floating beside her began to move.

Her loyalty doubled?

All I'd done was hand out one compliment.

I barely had a moment to gape at the sudden stat spike before beads of tears, tiny as chicken droppings, welled up in her violet eyes.

She was a demon with a measly 13 magic, and she cried this easily?

That wasn't all. Even her sniffling—her little hee-hees and hnnghs—was so faint and pitiful it could have passed for a small child's sobbing.

Suddenly I felt like some cruel adult who'd made an innocent little kid cry, and my thoughts tangled into knots.

Should I just pretend not to notice? I was the Demon King in name, at least—surely I didn't need to go comforting her.

I deliberated briefly, but the choice had really already been made for me.

Because I still had no choice but to keep up the act.

"Why the tears? I spoke out of admiration, you know."

"I-I'm just... so happy..."

Kira said, sniffling back her tears.

"The Demon King I've worshipped since the day I was born—the Demon King so mighty and magnificent he could bring the whole world to ruin—praised me! I'm Kira, and I'm so happy I can't hold back my tears...!"

Heeng, hngg.

"Every time I heard the legends of the Demon King, I tried to imagine how incredible you must be, and even in my imagination you were overwhelmingly cool and awe-inspiring...! But the real thing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is so, so much more. The resurrected Demon King is truly..."

I tensed, bracing for some adjective better suited to a mere human than a Demon King—something like kind, perhaps—when Kira's eyes went sparkle-bright.

"...Perfect!"

She gazed up at me with eyes so full of adoration and devotion it was almost overwhelming.

Both her stubby little thumbs thrust up to their fullest.

In other words: her loyalty had sat at 50 because she'd admired the Demon King without ever laying eyes on him, and upon meeting the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠real thing and finding it satisfactory, it had shot straight up.

Lucky break, I suppose.

Overwhelming as it was, she was already part of my Forces, and with loyalty like that, betrayal wasn't something I'd have to worry about under normal circumstances.

With a girl like this at my side, the odds of anyone finding out the resurrected Demon King is actually some guy teleported in from Earth go down a notch, too.

She'd handled the cleanup earlier well enough, so she seemed reasonably competent. One way or another, she could cover for me.

Kira was a perfect ally.

Watching her, I began to slowly grasp what the Forces stat on my status window actually meant.

Ding!

Kira's status window vanished, and in its place popped up a window I'd never seen before.

A privilege?!

My eyes flew open at the unearned windfall.

Randomly? That was unnerving, but I figured it couldn't be all bad. Whoever was near me would have to be one of the demons who'd just been tearing each other apart, so at worst, they'd be strong.

My expectant eyes swept over the demons busily carrying out Kira's orders. One wore the world-weariest expression imaginable as he swept the floor, while another pair had already lost patience and started another brawl.

Who's it gonna be? Please let it be that little guy over there. No wait, maybe the one who was having a staring contest with me earlier would be better—he was already eyeing me with suspicion, so it's good if he becomes my ally, right?

The wait wasn't long. Finally, a cheerful ding! rang in my ears.

And what is this supposed to be...

Ambiguous again. Again.

Even the stats it displays are random, apparently.

Forces, loyalty, magic, wisdom, stamina—the system did whatever it pleased.

Objectively speaking, the numbers are better than mine or Kira's, at least.

But what was with that Stamina, so low it made every other stat look despairing by comparison?

You could tell yourself his Wisdom was high, so he'd be helpful in some way or another. But still.

What good is Wisdom for keeping my real identity from getting exposed?

Thanks to the system's authority, he was now part of my Forces, so betrayal was off the table. But there was still no way I could ask a demon—any demon—to help me find a way back to Earth because, surprise, I wasn't actually the Demon King, just an ordinary human.

"Hooooh."

A long, deep sigh welled up from my core.

Well, first things first—let's get a look at his face.

The moment I lifted my head with that complicated heart, our eyes met.

Before me stood a white-haired old man leaning on a walking stick, beaming a wide, warm smile—at me.