Chapter 59
On the bed, curled up on her side with her back turned, was indeed Idwild. But Della couldn't finish her sentence because of what she was wearing. A thin black string crossed the completely naked back of Idwild. The string connected to her chest, tied in a butterfly knot at the center of her back. The same string ran over her dramatically curving hips, where a bit of side fat folded at her waist. From both pubic bones, the strings met near her tailbone, merging into one and disappearing between her buttocks. At a glance, they were so thin and precarious that one might mistake them for lines drawn with a pen on Idwild's bare back.
"Uh... what... what is that...?"
"Hehe... you came quick..."
Idwild chuckled awkwardly and slowly sat up. Seeing her turn her body, Della clamped her hand over her mouth as if about to scream.
The strings from her back precariously supported Idwild's overflowing breasts. But the nipples, which should have been covered by fabric, were instead framed by mere triangular strings. Her nipples were blatantly exposed, and the strings continued upward, meeting and tying at the nape of her neck. No need to guess what the bottom looked like. It was utterly indecent attire, like loosely tying long strings over an otherwise naked body to pass over the important parts.
"Idwild... what... what on earth is that...?"
"This... it's underwear... I bought it new and was trying it on to see if it fits..."
Idwild smiled awkwardly, snatching the blanket from Della's hand to cover herself.
"Where on earth does that count as underwear...? It doesn't cover anything!"
"Hehe... sorry... could you turn around for a sec...? Let me change..."
"No, that's not clothes, I said!"
Della flushed with embarrassment and turned around. From behind came the rustling sound of Idwild changing out of her "clothes."
"Okay now..."
Turning back, Idwild was in normal loungewear, just finishing packing the strings back into a small box.
"Idwild... you're not planning to wear that under your work clothes, are you...?"
"No... I'll wear this separately later..."
"Oh? Now I'm curious what situation you'd even wear that in."
Idwild, shoving the box deep into the wardrobe, turned to Della.
"Wanna try it on...?"
"No?! I'm good. No need for me."
"Okay... got it..."
Idwild closed the wardrobe door, lay on the bed, and pulled up the covers.
"Night, Della..."
"Good night."
Della finished drying her hair and sat at the desk. As she opened her book to study, the image of Idwild's body from moments ago kept popping into her head. Gods... with a figure like that in underwear like that, any man would lose his mind. If I wore it, I probably wouldn't look like her... She seems to treasure it, hiding it deep in the wardrobe... But she offered it to me, so maybe not that much...? Hmm... But I have no reason to wear something like that.
Della shook her head vigorously to clear the stray thoughts and focused on studying. Maybe later I'll ask if I can try it on. If she's buying stuff like that, it must be comfy or have some other purpose. Purpose? Obvious. But what if the boss catches me trying it on? Nah, doesn't matter. What does he care what underwear(?) I try? As long as I don't wear it to work. And no one's stripping me to check anyway, right? No big deal.
Realizing she'd spiraled into more stray thoughts mere seconds after vowing not to, Della ruffled her hair wildly.
"Ugh... focus!!"
"You got this, Della..."
"Oh... sorry!"
The official announcement from the capital guaranteeing safety on the northern road to Rosens had been out for a while now. Before long, the city was swarming with incoming settlers like a flood. Housing filled up around the city center, and facilities like restaurants, shops, and barbershops sprang up one by one. Even a mercenaries' guild, something you'd expect only in a big city. As a hub linking the kingdom's north and south, all sorts of requests would pour in. Day by day, the city seemed to reclaim its former glory.
All the buildings I'd bought were now rented out. They were prime spots the city couldn't do without, so vacancies would be weirder. I picked the highest bidders among those begging for leases. Blacksmith, mill, brewery, weaving workshop, bakery. More competitors would pop up eventually, but I wasn't running them—just collecting rent. Monthly income already dwarfed my pension. Honestly, I could ditch the inn and live off this easy.
But I'd retired young, and the years ahead were too long for aimless lounging. Even play gets boring without purpose. Besides, the inn was my modest dream since hero days. And with three employees now depending on me, closing shop irresponsibly wasn't an option.
My staff were busting their asses. Della and Idwild dashed up and down the hall and stairs, serving food and checking rooms. Pelle shuttled between the pantry, basement, and ledger, helping the hall when free. With her handling accounting, I had more downtime. She'd prep exact ingredient amounts per the monthly menu, releasing the preservation ritual beforehand. I'd saunter in, cook with them, done. Her meticulous planning ensured no shortages or leftovers, scaled to guest numbers.
If I could snag a head chef, I'd oversee the inn, handle external stuff, expand the business. Damn, I've got a real eye for people...
"Hey."
Lost in fond observation of my employees, chin on hand, Pelle approached and dropped bluntly.
"Boss."
"Head to city hall now?"
"After lunch. They're eating too anyway."
With guest numbers exploding, delivery was impossible, so Hildeva ordered from the new restaurant near city hall. Big-city halls like Bue had cafeterias, but Rosens wasn't there yet. Come to think of it, there was that old city hall building downtown—maybe time to move back? Eh, Hildeva'd handle it.
Inquiries for inn deliveries came from elsewhere too—guilds, businesses—skipping other eateries for ours. Our food was just that good. Other owners had skill, but I had battlefield-honed technique plus no skimping on ingredients.
Just need one dedicated delivery girl... Quick on her feet, silver-tongued, personable. Perfect. Job ad? Tempting, but past hires scarred me. Who knows what crazy bitch might show up next. My current crew passed my "vetting" at least...
Anyone decent out there?
Lunch over, Pelle left the inn. Bertrand offered to come, but she declined. No desire to walk alone with that hero on purpose.
Exiting the yard, two signs stood at the entrance.
Inn Lodging Includes Holy Healing: 5 Silver (Beautiful Saintess)
Inn Run by Super Cute Horned Girl! (Good Demon)
Pelle glanced expressionlessly and headed downtown. She had business at city hall.
As a demon under special oversight, she had to register with local authorities. Bertrand said take it slow, but she disagreed. She, Ammugar, and Orkog were registered as a group—issues with one could drag down the others. She didn't want those two demon uncles suffering for her sake. Clueless idiots or not, they were her lifesavers.
After that mad hero solo-wiped the demon army, razed the Demon King's castle, they took in the barely surviving her. Dodging human haters, scraping by on crumbs, saddled with scam debts—they never abandoned her. Traitors who'd betrayed and fled their Demon King, sure, but they were all she had.
No guarantee Ammugar could've saved the king anyway. His clan loyalty thawed her heart a bit. Cold as she was, Pelle never repaid kindness with betrayal. That's why she'd boldly propositioned that mad hero, sacrificing herself to give Ammugar and Orkog a shot at recovery. She got room and board at the inn—no cash needed. Just hoped those dumb uncles wouldn't starve or get beaten down by humans without fighting back.
Deep down, she'd love to slit the hero's throat in his sleep and torch the inn. But not now. With her life as collateral on the debt, she had to stay quiet.
Downtown, people eyed her horns and edged aside. She wore no hood on purpose. Better to show boldly from the start than cause trouble later. Rumors of a demon at the inn existed, but seeing beat hearing. Some muttered curses under their breath, others spat. Most just avoided her—no direct harm.
Pelle walked on, impassive.
City hall was chaos. New settlers queued for residency registration. They'd set up outdoors by the warehouse lot. Officials at makeshift desks processed lines sequentially.
Pelle scanned and joined one. The woman ahead turned at the noise and screamed.
"Kyaaah! A demon!"
All eyes turned. Whispers rippled.
"Heavens... a demon...!"
"The one working at the inn?"
Gawkers disrupted lines; officials stood to restore order.
"Straighten those lines! Mix 'em up, no registration today!"
People grumbled at Pelle but reformed. An official approached her.
"You work at the 'Crossroads Troll' inn, right?"