Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Ulstro Kingdom - Martial Tournament (3)
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Of course, even if he harbored such thoughts deep in his heart, his mind had to coldly envision a fierce battle.
Shiiik—
He first dodged Etilene's boasted thrust. The key was pulling a face like it had been a close call, while letting the blade just barely graze his shoulder.
Unexpectedly, Etilene didn't falter there and unleashed a barrage of follow-up attacks.
Even though she'd dismissed him verbally, she'd anticipated he might dodge this strike too.
'Ho, better than her old man.'
She was probably more skilled with the sword now than the last time he'd seen the current Marquis Profilene. Of course, superior swordsmanship didn't necessarily mean greater overall strength—but factoring in how her father had grown through wartime experience, her talent was astonishing.
"Tch!"
Growing frustrated with her relentless offense yielding no solid hits, Etilene clicked her tongue.
Valdes found the sight amusing, but he had something far more important on his mind.
'Gotta imprint myself on this crazy bitch.'
He still didn't know if Beatrice truly loved him after all these years.
She hadn't remarried since losing her husband eighteen years ago, but that didn't necessarily prove lingering love.
With two heirs already and the nobility weakened by war, she might simply be seizing the chance to bolster royal power.
What mattered was the intense obsession she'd once shown him.
That's why he'd deliberately employed sword techniques reminiscent of his Pedro days—even if in a severely downgraded form. There was no way Beatrice wouldn't notice.
A boy resembling her possible first love, the Hero Pedro, wielding techniques akin to those the Hero had used.
She couldn't help but take interest.
They'd announced Pedro's death, but without a body, doubts would linger. Naturally so—he was alive, after all. He might have been buried under the castle walls without even a corpse left amid countless assaults, but this was the Hero who'd single-handedly defeated the Demon King.
The traitors surely wondered if he might have survived.
Of course, his current whereabouts and age didn't match, but Beatrice wouldn't want to miss even the slightest chance that this boy named Valdes was connected to Pedro.
Because she herself had been complicit in his assassination.
'She must be uneasy.'
Worried that maybe Valdes was linked to Pedro and had come for revenge.
The appearance of a Pedro lookalike just as she'd started to relax after eighteen years.
Instead of approaching them himself, Valdes planned to draw them to him first.
He dragged it out for about twenty minutes like that, then feigned deploying a trump card technique—only to "fail." He took Etilene's strike and collapsed to the ground.
'Almost there.'
As the tournament wrapped up, Valdes headed back to the inn he'd been staying at these past few days, lost in thought.
'Easy.'
Everything had gone according to plan.
He'd safely secured his first goal: becoming a squire in the Pedro Knight Order.
The Royal Pedro Knight Order was one of the three major orders based in the capital, deeply intertwined with the royals. Especially since First Princess Mercedes served there as a regular knight. It was the perfect position to entangle himself with his three targets.
'And the biggest wildcard's been handled nicely.'
Queen Beatrice had assigned him not just to any order, but as her daughter Mercedes's personal squire.
To have her most trusted daughter keep tabs on him.
Beatrice wasn't foolish enough to let a suspicious, unidentified figure who wandered into her sights slip away unchecked.
And that was exactly what he'd aimed for.
"Your gambit will backfire on you."
Irina and Bilma were waiting for him in his room.
The demonkin Irina had slipped in using magic to conceal herself, while Bilma had simply rented the room next door.
"Welcome back."
"Oh, you're back."
"Was the festival fun?"
While he'd competed in the tournament, Irina and Bilma had enjoyed the festivities.
As the event grew over time, the capital hosted its own festival during the tournament. Since he could handle today's task alone, he'd told them to have fun.
"I wandered a bit, then watched the tournament."
"Huh? Wasn't it boring?"
It was a martial tournament, sure—but at heart, just young knights brawling. Fierce enough in its way, but most would drop to one of Irina's spells. He doubted it'd entertain her.
"Your match was fun to watch, young master. The Queen and princesses were intriguing too."
"Right! I knew it was acting, but I still found myself cheering for you, Lord Valdes!"
"I've done plenty of that kind of acting before."
He'd spent over ten years as a mercenary before becoming the Hero.
Naturally, he couldn't stumble over his words or curse around nobles and royals as the Hero. But refining speech and etiquette doesn't happen overnight. So he'd played the Hero role deliberately.
He meant his Pedro days, but Bilma—unaware—thought, This Demon King's son was a rascal in his youth too, and nodded.
"It was a bit risky at first, though."
"Urgh, yeah, I know... Seeing Beatrice's face after so long got to me a little."
To think even Irina had noticed. His emotional control still needed work.
"Anyway, I'm safely in the Pedro Knight Order now—as Mercedes's squire, no less. Not a lifestyle squire since I'm male, but we'll still spend plenty of time together."
"Then, as we discussed..."
"Yeah. Contact might be tough for a while, but if it's urgent, use that method. And you two handle what I mentioned."
"Investigate the rift between old nobles and upstarts, and sow discord... right?"
"Good memory."
Using the tournament to swiftly rebuild national strength had been smart—but it birthed new tensions in Ulstro.
Conflicts between the pre-war entrenched elites and the war's nouveau riche nobility.
"Alright, that about wraps it up. Everyone, rest up."
"Sure~. Man, they really milk the Hero here."
"...Yeah."
He'd been shocked himself, seeing all the Hero merch on his way back post-tournament.
He'd known, but not that Beatrice would exploit his image this ruthlessly. It was practically a Hero industry. He'd even heard they'd built a fake birthplace in a region he'd never lived in as a tourist trap.
"Well, if they're profiting off it, time to make them pay."
They'd developed by idolizing the Hero.
Now, a half-demon boy eerily resembling him had appeared.
What would people's reactions be?
Few recognized it yet, but in the knight order, more would notice bit by bit.
They'd never peg him as the real deal—maybe distant kin at most. But that'd snag on his half-demon blood. He planned to flip it to his advantage.
"Tomorrow's gonna be fun."
"...Um, I was looking forward to today more."
"Huh?"
Wondering what she meant, he turned—only to find Irina gazing at him with a mix of shyness and desperation.
"What's up?"
"W-Well..."
Bilma wondered what was with Irina, but Valdes instantly knew what she craved.
Come tomorrow, they'd be apart for a while.
The succubus, lately hooked on sex, was perpetually pent-up. And only her master—and lover—could satisfy her.
Leaving bewildered Bilma behind, he flashed a lecherous grin.
"I told you—if you want something, say it straight."
"......"
Irina said nothing, then abruptly stood.
Eek! Irina's mad!
Bilma mistook her flushed face for anger.
From their time together, Irina struck her as cool-headed and aloof. Hard to believe she was a succubus; if not demonkin, Bilma might've even aspired to be like her. Irina was sharp even with her charge—the most secretary-like secretary Bilma had seen.
So the scene unfolding froze Bilma in place.
"...Wh-Wha?"
Her suit jacket slipped off.
Click, click—the buttons on her white dress shirt beneath unfastened one by one. Through the parting fabric peeked pale skin and violet lingerie. Finally, unbuttoned fully, her hand tugged the hem aside, baring her taut midriff.
All done by Irina's own hand.
"P-Please... bestow your Lewd Tattoo on me too... Master."
"???"
"Ho, Lewd Tattoo, eh..."
Valdes stroked his chin, amused.
She must've envied the one etched on Bilma.
With Irina's submissive streak, craving a mark of ownership made sense. For a desire-driven succubus, holding back this long was impressive.
Probably why she's acting out with Bilma right here—the backlash.
"Hmm."
He approached slowly, tracing her belly with his middle finger.
"Hngh...!"
"Jealous of Bilma?"
"Y-Yes... I envied Bilma for receiving Master's Lewd Tattoo first..."
He had his reasons too.
You don't cast unfinished magic on a loved one. He'd shared the spell with the Demon King but never applied it. Now, the version on Bilma was refined further.
"Still debating... Beg more lewdly."
"Haa, haa."
Breathing raggedly, Irina gripped her skirt's hem—mid-thigh—and hiked it to her waist with a silken rustle. Through sheer black stockings, matching panties hazily showed.
No matter how many times, this outfit's insanely hot.
Irina's suit and stockings were demonkin fashion.
Stockings existed among humans too, but only as undergarments beneath armor to prevent chafing.
Worn, not just slipped on.
Post-war surplus spread them continent-wide as fashion, but demons originated it.
Suits, though? Pure demonkin. Irina had said it was one of many masterpieces by an ancient clothier.
Humans and demons rarely met outside battlefields, and suits weren't battlewear. Unlike stockings' shared materials, suits stayed demon-exclusive.
That tailor was a world-class perv, no doubt.
He chuckled.
"Hng...!"
Mistaking his laugh for mockery, Irina whimpered softly.
Her hand formed a heart over her lower belly.
"M-Master... I can't hold back anymore... Etch your Lewd Tattoo into this lewd succubus bitch's womb...♡"
Valdes touched her mound, veiled by panties and stockings.
Two layers, yet slick and sticky.
"What to do..."
"Haa, haa...!"
The erotic display before her had Bilma squeaking oddly, hands over her face. Fingers parted just enough to peek—pointless, but her minimal defense.
Wh-What's happening?!
Unaccustomed to such things, it overwhelmed Bilma.
Demonkin or not, how could she say and do such lascivious things with someone watching?
She wanted to flee next door, but her feet wouldn't move.
Why am I still watching?
As Bilma agonized, the boy and woman advanced swiftly.
"Hng, hngh...!"
Valdes pushed Irina onto the bed, caressing her through the stockings. Teased enough, he tore precisely there and shoved her panties aside.
"Haa, haa, ahnngh...♥"
Irina's breaths quickened; heated moans spilled.
How good must it feel to melt that icy facade like this?
"...Ngh...!"
Their heat reached her too. Like when her own tattoo was etched, her lower belly throbbed, the lewd mark itching. Legs clenched and rubbed as if desperate for relief.
That instant.
Sneer.
"!!"
Valdes glanced her way—their eyes met.
Her face burned; incoherent, Bilma bolted silently to her room.
"Hngh, haa."
Panting from the sprint without proper breaths, she leaned on the wall. Then sounds leaked from next door.
"...Nngh, M-Master... Enough teasing... put it in..."
"Wh-What? What is this?"
How could next door carry so clearly?
Raised sheltered, then tower-bound, she'd never imagined such thin walls.
But this was a cheap inn. Sounds seeped inevitably—especially pressed against that wall. Vividly so.
Soon, Irina's ecstatic cries rang out in rapture.
And atop her own bed,
Squelch... squelch...
wet flesh and fingers grinding,
"Ngh... hn... haang..."
a voice desperately muffled echoed.