So, Whose Child Is This?
As rumors spread that I had subjugated Princess Elysia Arten at the Ragmunt border, my stock began to skyrocket. Eyewitness accounts of me forcing the Northern Archduke to his knees were thrown in as a bonus.
Finally, whispers even began to circulate that I was the reincarnation of the mythical Demon God. Rumors are always like that. They feed on facts to grow, but once they're fully grown, they don't even recognize their own parents.
I had simply threatened her, nailed down the terms, and designated her as the official point of contact. Well, there was no need to correct them. Managing public opinion wasn't a free service, after all. At any rate, my reputation within the Demon Realm was breaking through the ceiling.
His Majesty the Demon King suppressed the human princess with just a few words. His Majesty the Demon King shattered the Northern Archduke's barrier. His Majesty the Demon King bewitched the Saintess to corner the Holy Church. Hmm. Hearing all this made me feel like some legendary figure.
But the problem, as always, was reality. The Demon Realm was still a total mess. Although the war hero Belion Vergrad had submitted, the reorganization of the Eastern Military Camp was still underway.
The Roadmia Blood Family had pledged their loyalty, but that loyalty was only trustworthy when backed by ledgers, hostages, and supply charts. The prisoners and noble remnants from Noxbell had not been fully dealt with yet. Kalen Drack was dead, but the bastards who used to feed off his table were still very much alive.
The survivors of Ragmunt had been brought within the protection zone, and the investigation records left behind by the Northern Archduke's army were sealed. That was the state of the Demon Realm.
Of course, the human kingdom wasn't doing much better. Since their territory was massive, they had plenty of nobles, which meant plenty of gossip and trouble. If anything, their situation was probably worse than ours, not better.
A few days after my departure, the kingdom's central government tried to write off the Ragmunt incident as the Northern Archduke's rogue action.
The Northern Archduke, completely ignoring the center's demands for cooperation, holed himself up in his territory, claiming ill health. Well, it would be hard for him to feel well. He was the one who summoned the Demon King, only to get bitten by him first.
The Holy Church was throwing its own fit. Once word got out that Saintess Ariane Seraphel had refused to recognize the summary execution of non-combatants as an act of mercy, the hardliners of the Council of Elders questioned her judgment and began calling for a heresy trial.
They claimed she took the demons' side, shook the principles of wartime mercy, and was swayed by the Demon King's crest. It was an absolute circus. Instead of confronting the bastards who killed people in her name, they were venting their anger on the person who had finally reclaimed her own name.
That's just how the world works. When it's too hard to catch the thief, they silence the screaming victim first. Anyway, on the surface, the kingdom and the Demon Realm remained in a tense standoff. At least, on the surface. The word "holy war" still drifted through the humans' diplomatic documents.
Some nobles insisted that they should take this opportunity to trample the Demon Realm once more. Clamors from factions demanding to break the nose of the arrogant new Demon King also reached my ears. Every single one of their slogans reeked of hypocrisy: National prestige. Wartime order. The justification of a holy war.
Still, I wasn't particularly worried. I knew those bastards couldn't strike the Demon Realm right now anyway. The kingdom's central government couldn't completely abandon the Northern Archduke, and the Northern Archduke had no intention of meekly obeying the center.
The Holy Church was too busy tearing into the Saintess, and the kingdom's military, as always, was probably running endless war game simulations with the Demon Realm as their hypothetical enemy. When the calculations drag on, it means they can't draw their swords immediately.
Therefore, my task right now was clear. Domestic affairs. Maintenance. Delegation of duties. Autoplay. Finally. It was finally here. I closed the damp report in the meeting room of Black King Castle.
"Hermoon."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"What about the kingdom's reply regarding the joint investigation of Ragmunt?"
"The first response has been received under the name of Her Highness, Princess Elysia Arten."
"That was fast."
"Rather than fast, it seems the Princess judged that if she did not act quickly, an even more troublesome document would be sent her way."
Smart girl. It makes me want to tease her a bit more. They say you should never contact your ex-girlfriend again under any circumstances, but lately, I've been thinking that this kind of contact might actually be fine.
"And the Northern Archduke?"
"Since returning to his territory, he has been delaying his official reply. However, troop movements within the archduchy have been confirmed."
"Preparing to throw another tantrum, I see."
"Indeed, Your Majesty."
"Good. Hand that over to Belion."
Belion Vergrad. Former rebel. Current vanguard of the Demon Realm. The name the humans feared most. The watchdog the Northern Archduke would hate the most. Perfect.
"The reorganization of the Eastern Military Camp?"
"General Belion and Commander Barkan of the Guards are dividing the duties."
"Hand the ledgers of the Roadmia Blood Family over to Ibelin."
Hermoon immediately jotted it down.
"And the management of the Noxbell prisoners?"
"Seradin is overseeing them. He is a man of swift action."
"Good."
I leaned back into my chair. Finally, the picture was coming together. Hermoon on administration. Belion on military pressure. Barkan on guarding the palace and prisoners.
Seradin on blockades and enforcement. Ibelin on the blood family's ledgers and supplies. Elysia as the reception window for the kingdom. Mmh. Highly satisfactory. The Demon Realm's autoplay settings were complete.
Autoplay—what a beautiful word. Even if I didn't lift a sword myself, Belion would move. Even if I didn't close the gates myself, Seradin would block them. Even if I didn't dig through the ledgers myself, Ibelin would balance the numbers.
Even if I didn't personally talk nonsense to the kingdom, documents would fly straight to Elysia Arten. How civilized. A system was finally taking shape in the Demon Realm. And the one who built that system was none other than me. Am I a genius or what?
Now, all I had to do was sit on the throne and stamp documents. Of course, stamping too much would ruin my wrists, but it was still better than running around in person to threaten a princess at the border. Phew. Is a day off finally, barely, coming my way? For once, I genuinely harbored a sliver of hope.
Even the Demon King is a human being. Just a little. Just a tiny bit. A single day where no one kneels before me. A day where no one bursts in screaming, "Your Majesty, we have a crisis!" A day where no one rebels, no envoys arrive, and neither the Holy Church, the kingdom, the blood families, the prisoner registries, nor the protection lists are looking for me.
Eating a warm meal. Lying down under a blanket. Closing my eyes. A life where I hear absolutely no reports until the next morning. As the Demon King, I only wish for that basic level of human rights. Is there no Demon King Human Rights Commission? Probably not. If there were, I'd have to be the chairman. And that would just be more work. Fuck.
...Or so I once thought. That the end of this massive workload was finally in sight. That I wouldn't miss it for a second. That I could finally say goodbye to this dog-like life of being a customer service king. Yes, there was once a time when I lived with such naive expectations.
The door opened. Even as I dozed off, I spoke with my eyes closed.
"If it's not urgent, take it to Hermoon."
"Your Majesty."
It was an unfamiliar voice. Old, but with a lingering courtly accent. I opened my eyes. An old man in a worn formal robe was prostrated before the door. Behind him stood a young maid. Cradled in her arms was a small child.
A child. Very small. One who probably couldn't even walk yet. The meeting room fell dead silent in an instant. Hermoon looked as if he already knew something. What was this? I looked at the child. Then I looked at the old man.
"Who are you?"
The old man pressed his forehead against the floor.
"I am one who assisted the Lord Chamberlain in Your Majesty's former palace."
"And?" My voice dropped. "Why have you brought a child here?"
The old man took a breath before answering. It was a long, drawn-out breath. Ominously so.
"There was an order to keep the child hidden until the royal palace was stabilized."
"Whose order?"
The old man couldn't answer immediately. I rose from my chair. "Speak."
The child's tiny hand clutched the maid's collar. The maid was trembling. The old man prostrated himself even deeper.
"It is of the Vergrad bloodline."
The air in the meeting room froze. For a moment, I couldn't comprehend the meaning of his words. The Vergrad bloodline. A child. Kept hidden. Until the palace was stabilized. Wait. No. Hold on. Why is this combination of words so incredibly foul?
I slowly scanned Hermoon. Hermoon was staring at me. Barkan too. Seradin too. All of them. Why are you all looking at me? No, surely not. There's no way. It can't be.
I hadn't fully absorbed all the memories of the original Lucion Vergrad before I entered this body. This guy... had four ex-girlfriends. Four. Four of them. No, maybe there were even more.
What is this, a gacha RPG? But surely... he didn't unlock even more achievements, did he? No. Lucion, you absolute piece of shit. Are you serious? Tell me. Right now.
The Duke's daughter? When did he break up with Ibelin? Or the Saintess? No, that can't be. It's been too long since they last met, and the distance was too great. Surely not the Princess? I literally just got back from threatening her the other day! Please, please, just don't tell me it's Cardia.
The old man spoke again. "Only now have I been able to bring them to Your Majesty."
In my mind, the sweet dream of a lazy Demon King life powered by autoplay was rapidly shattering into pieces. I looked at the child. The child looked back at me. Well, technically, it had probably just opened its eyes, but to me, it felt as if a walking disaster was staring me dead in the face.
Very slowly, I asked, "So..." My voice sounded strangely strained. "Whose..."
No one dared to breathe. I barely managed to squeeze out the final words.
"...child is this?"