The Demon King's Scheme

The Demon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠King. Or rather, Demian had always been compared to me ever since we were children. Of course, the comparison wasn't about ability but appearance. Demian was an unapproachable existence in more ways than one, while I was the perfect son and a total social butterfly. So it was only natural that he became an outcast at the Demon Realm Academy.

The world's ugliest face combined with the untouchable status of being the current Demon King's son. No one dared approach him lightly. Yet while everyone else found Demian burdensome, I thought he looked incredibly pitiful. Status aside, most of the academy students came from high-ranking demon families anyway—what did that matter? And no matter how hideous and unattractive his face was, was it really okay to treat him like he didn't exist, shunning him at every turn?

I was overcome with a sense of justice. I wanted to become the one and only friend to Demian as he ate his meals all alone so pathetically. So during physical education, when he was once again reading a book by himself to kill time, I cautiously approached and asked him bluntly.

"You're not some loser, so why are you hanging out alone? Are you an idiot?"

"...?"

Demian looked at me with an innocent, pure expression, so I spoke to him again.

"Loser. Go buy some bread."

I pressed a gold coin into his hand and told him to keep the change as a tip. Maybe good deeds really are rewarded. Demian, who had already noticed my kindness, opened his heart to me without hesitation. That's how we quickly became best friends.

He was ugly and stuttered when he spoke, but Demian was a good friend who couldn't be judged by such superficial things. He was so kind that, even without me asking, he would always offer me bread during every break. Thanks to him, I got to eat my favorite apple pie to my heart's content right up until the day Demian became the Demon King.

Happy ending.

This was just one fragment of our past that let us stay close without any barriers, like true best friends, right up to now. Anyway, let's set that touching backstory aside and get back to the main story.

With Merda's death, Demian's wedding fell apart, and he withdrew into seclusion. In short, he became a shut-in hikikomori just like me. It didn't matter for me since I was handsome, but it was different for Demian. With the wedding canceled, it was obvious he would never marry in his lifetime.

I felt sorry for Demian, who couldn't get married because he was ugly. He was already seventy-six years old, yet he'd never even dated, let alone gotten married... Ah, what a pitiful soul. In the end, I decided I was the only one who could comfort him. After all, he didn't have any friends besides me.

So I headed to the Demon King's castle with liquor bottles clutched in both hands, intending to console him. Entering the castle in my position as Olga of Condemnation, one of the Four Heavenly Kings, was successful. But the door to Demian's room was shut tight and wouldn't open.

Still, I had one final trick left.

"Open the door before I break it down, Demian."

"Ah, okay..."

Threats. Primitive, but still one of the most effective persuasion methods even now. Sure enough, he yielded to violence. He hadn't let any of the other demons who'd come looking for him inside, but I—his best friend—was allowed into Demian's room.

I'd come fully prepared to smash the door, but it had gone more smoothly than expected. What a shame.

A rotten stench wafted out through the gap. I pinched my nose and stepped inside. The smell grew even worse once I entered. The odor of a loser vibrated from every direction.

"Ugh. I feel like I'm going to throw up, Demian. Please live with some ventilation at least."

"..."

Simply saying it smelled like a loser probably doesn't paint a clear picture, so I'll explain it simply. The closest comparison I could make was the smell that came from the old fossils in our family. In other words, the musty stench of a five-hundred-year-old elder.

I couldn't endure it any longer. If I kept smelling this, my mind would dive straight out the window. I rushed over to the window and opened the room's only one.

"Whew... Now I feel like I can live again. I almost died."

"..."

After that, well. There wasn't much to it. Drinking with Demian and offering him words of comfort was the end of it. That's what I'd come to do in the first place.

"You okay, loser?"

I tried using his old nickname for the first time in a while, but no answer came. It was embarrassingly awkward. Still, I'd let it slide just this once. Those rotten, dull eyes of his were genuinely terrifying.

"Sigh..."

A sigh slipped out. Well... of course he wouldn't be okay. He must have been devastated that Merda had killed herself because of him. If he was fine already, he wouldn't even qualify as a demon. He'd be a devil.

In my heart, I wanted to find a solution and help him. But that was out of the question. The Demian before me needed empathy and comfort from his only friend far more than some textbook answer. All I could do was spout empty words and harshly badmouth Merda. Fortunately, it worked. Demian, who'd kept his head down the whole time, finally lifted it to look at me.

As always, those pitch-black eyes like an endless abyss gleamed with a sharp intensity that seemed to pierce straight through my heart.

"Why?"

"..."

Fuck. Isn't this much comfort enough? Is he still not satisfied?

Yes. Demian wasn't satisfied with just this. So the consoling continued afterward. But despite my one-sided comfort, Demian didn't smile even once throughout our conversation. Smile a little, damn it. It's making this demon feel awkward just watching you.

I said that, but the truth was I was genuinely worried about him. Ever since the previous Demon King Clarkson died at the hands of the previous hero Descartes and Demian ascended the throne, he hadn't shown a single smile. As his friend, I couldn't help worrying whether any heart remained in him at all.

"Ugh... I don't know anymore. Bottoms up!"

I raised my glass. That was all the current me could do to comfort Demian.

Demian silently clinked his glass against mine. By the time we'd both grown fairly drunk, Demian—who had kept his mouth shut the entire time we drank—finally spoke.

"Olga, I... probably won't ever get married in my lifetime, will I?"

"What? Who cares about marriage? Let's just drink and mess around together forever."

"You really won't say I might be able to, huh... Well, I suppose that's obvious. I'll probably never get to hold my own child before I die..."

"Hey! Why are you thinking so negatively? Demian, don't make me laugh. Marriage is something only life's losers do."

After that, my lecture on life philosophy continued. Demian silently listened to my lesson. Even as I spoke, cold sweat trickled down my back. Brushing off his self-deprecation with laughter had been nothing but an act.

I knew from experience that going along with this kind of atmosphere would only make him more depressed. Conversations like this needed proper ventilation. But there was a limit to making things up. Saying marriage was for life's losers? Then were the ones who couldn't even manage that nuclear waste? That kind of ridiculous bullshit logic had clear limits. It was best to cut the conversation here and leave.

"Urp... Oh no, we're out of alcohol? Look at me. I'll go get some more drinks. While I'm at it, I'll bring some snacks too. I heard the triton they caught at this hunting competition is supposed to be delicious."

I made up an excuse and naturally rose from my seat. At that exact moment, Demian grabbed my wrist.

"Hic. Fuck!"

Shit. A curse had slipped out instinctively. I'd thought I'd abandoned this filthy swearing habit when I graduated from the academy, but it was still there.

Still, it couldn't be helped. When a guy—not even a woman—with a face like that grabs your wrist, there's no way a curse wouldn't come flying out. The silver lining was that Demian had strong immunity to my swearing. The verbal abuse sandbag who'd been thoroughly trained throughout our school days accepted my curses without issue.

But two problems arose anyway. One was that I felt like I was about to puke, and the other was that Demian still hadn't released my wrist.

"After hearing what you just said, I've made up my mind... I was a little shaken, but not anymore."

"About what? More importantly, could you let go first and then talk, Demian? This feels really fucking gross."

"Listen carefully, Olga. If there's no woman who will marry me, I just need to make one myself. Right?"

My head filled with question marks.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Even with my erudite brain, I couldn't understand Demian's words at all.

"It's exactly as I said, Olga. You're a very attractive man."

"What?"

"That straight nose, that compact face, those sharp eyes that always gaze coldly at others, and the slender eyelashes that contrast so beautifully with them."

What is this guy even saying?

"Every time I look at you, my heart pounds and my breathing grows heavy. This is love, right? It is, isn't it?"

The moment the word "love" left Demian's mouth, goosebumps erupted across my entire body.

What the fuck is this bastard babbling about?

I shook off Demian's hand with a look of pure disgust and shouted.

"Get lost, Demian! I knew since our academy days that your head was retarded enough to break through the galaxy, but to think you even had gay tendencies... You disgusting piece of shit!"

Yet he seemed delighted as he listened to my insults. Was he a masochist? Once the disgust faded a little, fear began to consume my mind. The space suddenly felt terrifying, and before I knew it I was inching toward the door.

At that moment, the ugliest man in the demon realm stood up from his seat with a sly grin. He spread both arms wide and shouted in an exaggerated manner, as if delivering a grand speech.

"It's fine, Olga. The preparations are already complete. The ancient spell embedded in the castle will transform your body into a perfect woman."

"What? You fucking bastard, stop talking nonsense!"

"Haha. Why are you acting like that? It's killing two birds with one stone. You get to become beautiful, and I get a wife. This is a dream utopia where everyone becomes happy!"

"Who said I wanted to become pretty? You're just running your mouth however you please."

I liked being a man. It was convenient because I didn't have to wipe after using the bathroom, and I didn't have to worry about water splashing onto my privates when I took a shit. But contrary to my opinion, Demian's will was firm.

"You like women too!"

"I like men, I said! You gay bastard!"

I was horrified to see Demian smiling. How could a face be that ugly? Even if someone punched my face two hundred times, it would still look more handsome than that.

I glanced at the now-nearby door, then immediately kicked off the ground and fled. I threw the door open and sprinted down the corridor.

I have to get to the human realm.

No matter how I thought about it, Demian wasn't in his right mind. Was it the alcohol? I'd take refuge in the human realm until his intoxication wore off and his reason returned. If I sealed all my mana and demonic energy and hid for about five years, Demian would never find me in the vast human continent.

I was spinning that happy scenario in my head. But such a dream never came true. Reality was cruel.

Demian was the Demon King, and the place I stood in was the Demon King's castle. In other words, within this location, no demon could possibly defeat the Demon King. And being unable to defeat him meant being unable to escape.

That fact was soon proven by what happened next.

The feet that had been racing down the corridor gradually slowed, and the hallway I was running through suddenly reversed. After blinking once, I found myself back inside Demian's room.

"Peekaboo? Nice to see you again, Olga."

He smiled in a way that sent chills down my spine. With an already hideous face smiling like that, I couldn't maintain a sound state of mind while looking at Demian.

"Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

My scream became a signal flare. A signal flare ringing alarm bells nonstop in my brain. If things continued like this, I would turn into a woman. If so, there was only one solution.

Kill him.

Demon King or not, I'd think about the aftermath later. Friend? First I had to stab him to protect my chastity.

I spun the circle situated beside my heart. Bluish mana flowed from the rapidly rotating circle. I channeled it throughout my body to strengthen my physique, then condensed mana in my hand to manifest a sword. Next, I converted pure mana into attribute mana and imbued the manifested blade with lightning-attribute mana. Swinging the mana sword toward the Demon King's neck took less than two seconds.

But it was useless. Demian cast the multi-spell in a light tone, as if casually choosing a menu at a restaurant. Demian was the ugliest man in the world and the biggest loser in the demon realm, but his skill with mana was the real thing. Among all the Demon Kings in history, he was undoubtedly the greatest. His innate magical talent was evaluated as nothing short of genius.

In the end, my mana sword only dug halfway through Demian's shield. Even that would have failed if not for my unique ability, Delusion Cut.

With my mana sword caught in the barrier, I couldn't respond immediately to the follow-up attack. I had no choice but to abandon the sword, hurriedly manifest a new one, and slash apart the incoming binding spells one by one.

But Demian seemed tired of my continued resistance. In the end, he even used the Demon King's castle's unique magic to pressure me. Gravity crushed down on me. The muscles throughout my body refused to move as I wished.

"Kuh..."

I dropped to my knees on the carpet. My face as I looked up at the approaching Demian was twisted in disgust.

"Your resistance ends here, Olga. Now I'll turn you into my lovely little kitten."

Goosebumps rose at that repulsive line. Did he seriously think that sounded cool? Maybe the reason Demian had never dated wasn't simply because of his face.

Demian muttered to himself and began chanting an unknown spell.

Damn it.

At this rate I would become a woman. That could never happen. I couldn't lose my precious thing that I'd never even used once.

Please think, brain. A way to escape from here.

I closed my eyes and racked my brain. Then one method suddenly came to mind.

The Lord's Ring.

I'd forgotten about it because it was a useless object, but it came to me now. The ring embedded with the Lord's seal that my father, Berks Louis, had tossed to me like a parting favor before abandoning me.

I didn't trust my father, but I trusted the Lord's Ring. It contained the Louis family's unique spell passed down through generations—an emergency teleport spell that would seek a path to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠survival once when the Lord's life was in danger. It activated when mana was infused. Whether my father had registered my mana in it, however, was unknown.

I don't know... It's do or die.

I decided to try it anyway.

God, please let me escape.

But it seemed my prayer as an atheist hadn't reached any god. At the worst possible timing, Demian's spell completed.

No, correction. It seemed God hadn't abandoned me after all. The moment his spell completed, light began to shine from my body like a miracle.

Seeing me like that, Demian shouted in rage.

"What? What magic... Teleport? How can someone incapable like you use teleport? No. That's not what's important right now. Stop it immediately!"

His flustered appearance was quite unsightly. A face like that could only have been seen in the past.

Well, whatever.

I gave my farewell to someone I would never see again.

"Haha! Take care, you idiot. And let's never see each other again."

But if I teleported somewhere inside the demon realm like this, that would be a disaster. Please go outside. Outside!

Even while thinking that, I didn't stop my farewell. I raised my bound hands, flipped him both middle fingers, and teleported away.

There was a flash of light, and a moment later I opened my eyes.

"Huh?"

The teleport destination was inside a cathedral where someone was kneeling to receive a blessing. What happened next was obvious. An old man who looked ancient at a glance saw my middle finger, freaked out, and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Intruder!"

It was instantaneous. The cathedral knights surrounding me and drawing their swords. The strongest-looking man among them twisting my arm behind my back to restrain me. I couldn't do anything.

Fuck. Why isn't my mana moving?

"Th-this is a good person!"

My nonsense scattered naturally like dust in the air.

My body won't move. And I can't put any strength into it. Is my trained body really this weak?

As I was pinned to the floor, my chest began to ache strangely. It felt like something round was continuously pressing against it. And just now, my voice had sounded odd. It had always been rather high, but that last one had truly sounded like a woman's voice.

"Your Holiness the Pope, please issue an immediate execution order. She is a woman capable of piercing the grand cathedral's barrier. She is undoubtedly a high-ranking demon."

The man restraining me reported gravely to the old man. Now I realized the old man was the Pope.

Of all places, I teleported right to where the leader of the Holy Church trash—the antithesis of the demon realm—happens to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be...

There couldn't be anything more unfair than this.

Then is the man receiving the Pope's blessing over there the new hero?

I glanced over and saw a swordsman receiving a ceremony before the altar. With that overly kind-looking face, my guess seemed correct. After all, the Pope's blessing was one of the three baptismal rites for a hero.

The old man called the Pope stroked his short beard, then dismissed the knights and approached me.

Fuck... He's not going to kill me right away, right? He'll probably torture me to extract information first, right? Please...

I didn't want to die so meaninglessly. I'd run away to avoid turning into a woman, only to have my neck cut off by Holy Church vermin and my head displayed in the square? Absolutely not.

"However, that impudent attire... she might indeed be a succubus. To guard against possible charm, restrain her with mana bindings and confine her in the empty indoctrination room."

"Yes, Your Holiness!"

Succubus? Charm? What the hell is that nonsense?

My head spun from the Pope's incomprehensible babbling.

"Succubus? What are you talking about..."

"Please wait a moment!"

Suddenly a woman jumped forward and cut my words off with a sharp voice.

What is this crazy woman?

One of the types of people I hated most were those who interrupted when others were speaking. But if it was a beautiful woman with large breasts, the story changed. Seeing her magnanimous heart, I calmed my anger and forgave her.

"Your Holiness, she is definitely not a demon! She has no horns, and I don't sense any demonic energy!"

"We are aware of that, Saintess. However, the absence of horns and demonic energy does not completely eliminate the possibility that she is a demon."

"But the demonic energy..."

"Can't demonic energy be hidden easily? The same goes for horns. Don't you remember the Cologne infiltration incident from twenty years ago? The demon then couldn't even be detected by the Holy Sword that Hero Descartes possessed."

"That was..."

Oh...

The beauty's occupation was a saintess. No wonder she seemed to have a heart as wide as one. By the way, who exactly were they referring to with all this talk of "she"?

Surely not...

I had one guess, but since it assumed the absolute worst situation, I tried hard to push the anxious thought away.

"Furthermore, she infiltrated during Sir Ian's baptism ceremony by breaking through the barrier. That alone is sufficient reason to confine her."

The Pope's words made me realize my situation once more.

Fuck... Why did I have to land here of all places... Damn god. I shouldn't have prayed to a god that probably doesn't even exist.

"Ugh... Very well. In that case, I will also attend when she is interrogated. That should be acceptable, yes?"

For a moment the Pope's eyebrow twitched upward. But it was instantaneous—an extremely brief motion that few in the room noticed. Naturally, the saintess with poor dynamic vision didn't catch it.

"Of course. In fact, I was planning to request the Saintess's assistance with the interrogation. We will need your eyes."

The saintess's expression brightened noticeably.

"Then for now, let us continue with Sir Ian's baptism ceremony. Take this one away."

"Yes, Your Holiness!"

"Wait a minute. I have so many questions. Excuse me? Listen to me—"

But my cry only echoed hollowly against the vast ceiling of the grand cathedral. And after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that, I couldn't even make another sound. The knights, finding me too noisy, had gagged my mouth.