The Loophole in the Treaty
The place where Death had led Rayegar was the back garden of the estate. Perhaps thanks to its diligent photosynthesis, the weeds that had shot up all vacation long were practically encroaching on the swimming pool.
"Tsk, tsk. The garden's a disgrace. You're supposed to be a servant—doesn't managing this fall under your duties?"
"I only just arrived."
"Ah, fair point. I suppose I never gave you time to clean."
"Spare me the nonsense and get to the point."
"Still sharp-tongued as ever."
Only at Death's barbed reply did Rayegar finally tear his gaze from the garden and face him directly.
"So what business brings you here all of a sudden?"
"You haven't heard? Something about Duke Randert or whatever his name is keeping tabs on me. Thought I'd give you a warning."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
The corners of Death's mouth curled into a smirk.
"Whether he watches you or not, it changes nothing for you, does it? You simply needed an excuse."
"An excuse?"
"Yes. Something to pressure me with."
"Oh-ho. So it is pressure, is it? You seemed so brazen I assumed you didn't care at all."
"That was true—until I came here in person."
"So you've been holding out well, without your identity being discovered?"
"As you know, I have a rather special talent."
"A talent?"
"Shall we say... an uncommon gift for cleaning?"
"...What?"
The unexpected answer took a beat to register. Rayegar frowned in puzzlement for a moment—then burst into raucous laughter.
"Hahaha! That's hilarious! So the ability that won over the heart of my son's friend is... cleaning skill?"
Technically, it was Rita whose heart he'd won, but Death saw no need to correct him.
"You're aware of it too, aren't you? The commander-in-chief leading the Demon King's army, doing housework in the human realm. I'm told I'm hardly in a position to be away from my post this long."
"Are you worried about me?"
"As if. If I were worried about anything, it would be quite the opposite. You haven't forgotten what I'm actually here to do, have you?"
Rayegar's eyes sank lower than they had all day.
"So the time has come, has it?"
"Glad you understand. Then I won't need to give separate instructions about what you do next."
"Instructions?"
An extraordinarily grating choice of word. Who, exactly, was issuing orders to whom here?
"I came all this way myself, excuse in hand, so take it as me telling you to quietly get lost—before your identity gets exposed and everything turns into a mess for no reason."
"Wouldn't it become just as big a mess for you if your identity came to light?"
"Why would it? I couldn't care less."
"You're Eli, aren't you? That boy might care a great deal......"
"I'd rather you not speak of my son with that filthy mouth."
Rayegar's long hair whipped about the way ripples spread across still water. In an instant, he seemed to become a different person entirely. The humor vanished from his face, leaving it cold enough to raise the hair on one's neck.
And more than that—the very flow of the air changed. Everything in the world seemed to converge on him, as if Rayegar stood at its very center.
"So you do keep a son around, after all."
Far from being frightened by Rayegar's sudden transformation, Death only needled him further.
"And he's not even your own flesh and blood. You must be quite attached."
"I told you to stop."
"He disgusts us just as much, you know. So watch your mouth too. This attitude right now is the last courtesy I'll extend to the Lord."
A red glimmer stirred once more in Death's black eyes. A heavy, viscous bloodlust flooded the space between them in an instant.
"You mean to attack me in that state?"
"Someone of your caliber hardly warrants my true power."
Half of it would be more than enough, Death taunted.
"Hah. Is that it—you've climbed to ninth in the ranks? Last time, you were nothing but a whelp."
"And losing to that whelp must sting terribly."
"Of course I remember. And I haven't broken the treaty."
"...What?"
"Amon."
At some point, Amon had been waiting at a respectful distance. At Death's command, he rushed over at once and handed something to Rayegar.
"What's this?"
"Read it."
"This is the agreement we negotiated between your kind and ours."
"The key provisions have been marked. I'd like you to look them over, and then we can talk again."
There was something deeply suspicious about Death's confident tone. The very presence of demons in the human realm was itself a violation of the treaty—it was shameless beyond reason, laughable even.
"What exactly are you getting at with this treaty?"
He had read it many times and knew its contents well. Rayegar went over the sections Death claimed to have marked twice, but found nothing unusual.
"You really do live carelessly. Amon."
When Death called again, Amon recited the provision in question.
"Article 2, Clause 1 of the Treaty: for the next five thousand years, no one in the Demon Realm may descend to the human realm to deceive or harm humans. Should any such act occur, then pursuant to Article 3, Clause 3, the offender shall be summarily executed, regardless of circumstance."
"You heard it?"
"...That's exactly as I remember it. What's different?"
"If you can't catch on to this, how on earth did you ever become the Lord?"
"Must I ask you again?"
A clear crease formed between Rayegar's brows. He glared at Death as if demanding a proper explanation.
"No one in the Demon Realm may descend to the human realm to deceive or harm humans. Does that passage truly tell you nothing?"
"It tells me that you wretched demons are forever preying on humans. Born so base, everything you see and learn turns out that way. Lying every day, betraying your own kind, stealing lives. Demons are the garbage of this world."
"...Did something happen to you at the hands of a demon? That's not dislike, that's outright hatred."
"Given the chance, I would wipe them out to the last."
"Funny—that sounds rather like my own thinking."
"What?"
"Never mind. And I have never deceived a human. Nor harmed one."
"......?"
"Yes, Commander. We have not so much as squashed a single ant since arriving in the human realm. We have remained solely at the young master Bayul's side the entire time."
"You heard him? That's how it's been, ours."
Ah, how satisfying this was. He had worried and worried over how to weather a meeting with Rayegar. How many grueling hours had he spent trying to devise a way to persuade men who despised the mere presence of demons in the human realm to the point of revulsion? The treaty was the astonishing result of all that suffering—a loophole he had finally unearthed.
"So... you've done nothing, and therefore you're innocent?"
"What I mean is that we have not violated the treaty."
Amon politely corrected Rayegar's phrasing.
"And if we haven't violated the treaty, then you have no authority to sanction me."
"Aha-hahaha, forgery only goes so far! Did you really think I'd believe that?"
Rayegar, who had been momentarily dumbfounded, burst into incredulous laughter. He already knew they had spent a considerable amount of time here. The notion that not a single minor incident had occurred in all that time was absurd. Demons were simply incapable of it.
"If you don't believe me, then verify it yourself. With your ability, that much should be possible, no?"
But Death remained utterly confident. Rayegar's eyes narrowed.
"...You're serious?"
"Suit yourself. Go inside and look around—you'll know soon enough. You're the Lord, after all. Surely you can tell at a glance whether demons have been dominating anyone."
That much he had already confirmed. At least within this estate, there was not a single person under demonic control.
"And if they've caused trouble elsewhere, I can find that out the moment I wish to."
"Then don't just talk—go and check already."
Death fervently hoped he would. He had lived rougher than anyone in the Demon Realm, but here, and here alone, he had been keeping his nose clean. Because that was the only way to keep eating Rita's cooking.
"Why are you so confident about all this? Is there some other reason?"
"A reason for what?"
"For sticking to Bayul's side. You claim you've done nothing and will do nothing—so why hide as a servant and stay close to him?"
"...Do I really owe you an answer to that?"
"Could it be because of the spirit?"
Rayegar asked, gesturing to the right with his chin. At that, Death's face scrunched up in disgust.
"Absolutely not that."
"That child certainly is persistent."
"He's rather stubborn about it, yes."
Amon nodded as if in agreement with Death's assessment.
"Can't you do something about him?"
"I doubt he'll give up."
"He's insufferable."
Rayegar turned an irritated gaze toward Tempesta, who had been straining with all his might for some time now to breach the barrier raised around the area.
"It must be frustrating for him too, I imagine. He can see us, but he can't make out a word of what we're saying. He's probably on the verge of losing his mind right about now."
Ever since tailing Derek Kein and developing a taste for shadowing and eavesdropping, Tempesta had grown fairly skilled at it—but this time was a failure. They were not the kind of opponents a spirit could sneak up on to spy on.
Rayegar in particular had come here under the guise of the Academy Chairman. If his identity were exposed, then Eli, his son, would have his own true nature dragged into the light with it—and then there would be no escaping the boy's ferocious wrath.
And so, the moment they stepped into the back garden, a barrier had been erected to deny Tempesta even the chance to approach. It was a wall so sturdy that not even a ninth-circle mage could break through it.
―Hey! You lot—what are you doing over there!
Tempesta, sensing their eyes on him, bellowed at the top of his lungs.
―What is this? What even is this, that I can't get in? Take it down right now! If you come out here, I'll blow every last one of you away! Huh?!
His hot-blooded temper had flared again. The moment things didn't go his way, his eyes had clearly started spinning.
―Open it up, you rotten bastards!
"Wind spirits—well, I knew they'd have vile tempers, but this is worse than I expected."
"That's nothing. He's being tame right now."
"That's tame?"
When Death nodded solemnly, Rayegar's jaw dropped open.
"And you've just let him carry on like that?"
"As I said, I've been keeping quiet and staying out of trouble."
"You—a demon, no, the commander-in-chief of the entire Demon Realm—genuinely did that? Why? How do you stand it?"
"Rita's cooking. There was no other way."
"...You eat what?"
Death finally laid his true motives bare. To help Rayegar understand, Amon once again stepped in with courteous patience.
And a short while later.
"You understand now, don't you? That's how it came to be."
Having heard every last word of the explanation, Rayegar was left too dumbfounded to respond.
"Only until Bar finishes learning to cook. After that, we'll vanish quietly—so just bear with us until then. And if you interfere with us......"
"If I interfere, what then? You mean to fight me?"
"You think it'd stop with just you? At that point, it's war. Demons versus dragons. I might as well sweep you all away while I'm at it."
Death meant every word. His eyes ran red with blood once more.