The Useful Demon Clerk (6)
"First off, before that, I'd like to talk to that woman named Pelle."
Ammugar pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. It was already nearing the end of lunchtime, and sure enough, Pelle was just closing the lid on her lunchbox. The woman must be awfully sensitive about working hours.
"Pelle. Come here a moment. This gentleman wants to speak with you."
Whether she heard him or not, Pelle slowly packed the lunchbox into her bag and fastened the buckle. I waited leisurely, but Ammugar was getting antsy, fidgeting in his seat. He seemed terrified of offending me.
Pelle rose from her chair and walked toward us, only to spot some papers scattered on the floor. They were the ones that had flown everywhere earlier when Orkog yelled at the human staff to leave. She bent down, picking them up one by one, then neatly tapped them against the floor before straightening up and placing them on the desk.
"Uh... um..."
Only Ammugar watched her every slow movement with growing impatience, glaring. Pelle glanced around leisurely as if checking for anything else to tidy, then finally stood before me. Her lifeless, icy gaze fixed on me.
"What is it? You have something to say?"
I pointed at the bouquet on the desk across the room. Pelle closed her eyes briefly, sighed, and turned her head toward it.
"That. Did you make it?"
She glanced at the bouquet for a moment before looking back at me.
"Why are you talking down to a stranger? Do you know me?"
"H-Hey... Hey!"
Ammugar shot up from his chair, and Orkog rushed over to cover her mouth. Pelle roughly shoved Orkog's hand away with an irritated look.
"Doesn't it piss you off when some nobody talks down to you?"
Ammugar clutched his forehead at her aggressive tone.
"This is the Hero! I apologize... Hero... She's still a bit..."
"It's fine. She can feel that way."
I met Pelle's eyes as I spoke.
"But I don't use polite speech with demons."
Pelle stared straight into my eyes with her cold gaze. But soon enough, she looked down, breaking eye contact. Color drained from her face, and her lips trembled slightly. Even a high demon couldn't handle my 'gaze'; no way a mere demon could.
"That bouquet—did you make it?"
"And if I did, what then?"
Though she'd averted her eyes, venom still laced her words. Ammugar's face twisted in horror upon learning Pelle had sneaked into the Demon King's castle to pay respects.
"Pelle... You... I told you never to go near that place..."
"He's dead anyway. What's the big deal about leaving flowers for a dead guy?"
Ammugar bowed his head to me at her sharp retort.
"I apologize, Hero... Her personality is so prickly..."
I gestured toward the bouquet with my chin.
"You made that bouquet? How?"
"The florist did."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it."
Pelle glared at me silently for a moment but soon looked away.
"Preservation Ritual."
"What's that?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. A ritual to preserve the target's state."
"Different from magic?"
"I'm not a mage, so who knows."
Pelle brushed off the question coldly. Ammugar, sweating bullets as he watched our exchange, chimed in.
"The Preservation Ritual differs somewhat from preservation magic. Preservation magic requires the caster to stay nearby, but with the ritual, once you perform the specific rite and incantation, it holds until the caster releases it."
"So it persists without the caster present? And you can undo it when needed?"
"Y-Yes... In a way, it's an upgrade over magic. Only certain demons possess this ability."
"Do they use it to embalm undead soldiers too?"
"Precisely. Quite useful, yes."
Ammugar shot Pelle a reproachful glance.
"Why didn't you say you had such a power? I thought you were just doing paperwork at the castle with no skills..."
"Figured you'd make me do annoying shit if I told you."
"You idiot! If you'd spoken up sooner, we could've distributed preserved ingredients nationwide and made a fortune...!"
I couldn't help but chuckle. I'd thought he was a clueless ex-legion commander demon, but he wasn't a total blockhead. Still, half-knowledge made him half a blockhead.
"Hey, moron. So you distribute preserved ingredients nationwide—who undoes the preservation? You gonna sell meat that won't cook no matter how you grill it?"
"Ah...?!"
Ammugar's jaw dropped at my words, and behind him, Orkog slapped his forehead in regret.
Jesus... these idiots...
"Is there a limit to how many you can apply at once? Or unlimited?"
"Most can do nearly unlimited, though there's some personal variance..."
Ammugar looked to Pelle expectantly, and she spat it out curtly.
"Just about that much."
"One bouquet?"
"Yeah."
Ammugar looked somewhat disappointed, but I burst out laughing.
"Hahaha!"
Ammugar and Orkog stared at me in confusion, while Pelle indifferently looked elsewhere.
"Ah... man... Demons always manage to entertain me, past and present..."
I wiped a tear, chuckling.
"Just to be sure, I dug under the throne."
Pelle flinched noticeably.
"Found something interesting. Someone had neatly put the Demon King's head back on his body, laid him out nice, and decorated with flowers."
"Eek...?! What do you mean by that!!"
Ammugar jumped back in shock. I described what I'd seen under the throne.
"The flowers and corpse weren't rotten at all—fresh as if alive. That your doing?"
Pelle said nothing. But she bit her lip hard and clenched her fists—she wasn't as calm as she pretended.
In her silence, Ammugar hesitantly asked,
"Pelle... Did you... make the Demon King's grave...?"
"You gonna leave him sprawled there decapitated?"
Pelle snapped back sharply.
"What were you even thinking...?!"
"Is cleaning up my old boss's body a crime? Guess from a traitor's view, it might be."
Ammugar started to yell at her but switched to bowing to me.
"I apologize, Hero...! Please forgive us!"
Pelle shot him a look like why the hell are you begging for forgiveness.
I made an uncomfortable face and rested my hand on the Holy Sword's hilt.
"Truth is... Seeing that bastard's mug again kinda soured my mood."
"H-Hero... I'll destroy the grave... Please..."
"Do whatever. But don't expect it'll fix my mood."
I half-drew the Holy Sword, its radiant light filling the office. Detecting the three demons, it blazed fiercely. Despair crossed Ammugar's face at the sight. No demon survives facing a glowing Holy Sword. Orkog covered his face and curled up; Pelle froze like a statue, trembling.
The sword's light began flowing like smoke. The demons' skin started burning under its influence. Pelle and Orkog scrambled out of range, but Ammugar didn't budge.
"Hero... Please... Forgive us..."
He even crawled toward me.
"I'll ensure it never happens again..."
Smoke rose as his skin charred.
"They're like the only family I have left... Just one chance..."
I watched Ammugar's burns worsen for a moment, then sheathed the sword. As the light faded, he bowed unsteadily.
"Thank you for your mercy, Hero..."
"Same demons, huh."
Orkog rushed to support him. True to demon resilience, Ammugar's burns healed in seconds. Pelle clung to the table edge, staring at me with terrified eyes. Her earlier icy attitude was gone. No matter the pride, fear of death crushes it all.
Ammugar, supported by Orkog, stood with hands politely clasped. He glanced at the frightened demons and spoke.
"You said you'd give me one thing I want, right?"