The pain in his back rippled through him; at once, a blush of pleasure rose like dawn on the soldier's face.

Looks like the world just spawned one more masochist, like a weed after rain.

"Last chance," her voice like steel under silk. "Get up and listen, Mr. Pervert."

As she spoke, the elegant foot lifted from his back, and loss rolled over him like a cold tide.

Even drowning in disappointment, the soldier crawled up like a beetle; this powerful woman's order hung over him like a drawn whip.

If he disobeyed, he'd get dragged into some quick... bad business.

Seeing him finally up, Rafi ignored the hungry loss and queasy flush in his eyes.

She spoke her sole aim, her words like arrows.

"This," she said, pointing at the cage-wagon behind her, finger like a blade.

"The girl inside. I want her."

The soldier’s face stayed still, like stone under rain.

He'd guessed this, so no surprise.

But that didn’t mean he'd hand her over; no matter how pleasant the experience, orders towered first like a mountain.

"S-sorry, Your—Queen... mighty lady... this one thing I can’t do."

"Why?"

A single word, like a nail striking wood.

"She’s an offering to the Demon King," he said, voice low like ash in the air.

"No matter how strong you are, you can't beat the Demon King."

"From his side or yours, taking this girl isn't wise."

"If my lady’s interested in girls, I know softer places like warm lamps in the night. If you're keen, I can open some doors..."

Her ears skipped his last line like water off oil.

As expected, the girl was indeed for the Demon King.

But if it's for the Demon King, that makes it simpler, like a knot with the end revealed.

"Do you know who I am?"

Her question dropped like a pebble into still water.

As she spoke, Rafi set her face, sternness settling like frost across a lake.

At that, the soldier finally studied the girl, gaze sweeping like a broom across a dusty floor.

"Emmm..."

The sound hung like a mosquito in summer.

Pink hair like peach blossoms.

Red eyes like coals.

A heart-shaped tail flicking like a cat’s.

A succubus?

"Miss Succubus?"

Rafi's face darkened, a storm front over calm water.

Since when did common folk forget someone of her rank?

"Look closer..."

"Emmm," he murmured, like a stalled engine.

Pink-black clothes like a twilight bruise.

A sultry cut like incense smoke.

Eyes a touch arrogant, like falcons over cliffs.

"Could it be those... ahem!"

Words stumbled like pebbles.

Rafi drew a thread from her scant magic; a black flame coiled from her palm, its menace spreading like winter night.

"Last chance..."

Her tone fell like a guillotine.

I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead!

Panic beat like drums in his skull.

Isn't this just a street-standard succubus? What's different?

Fire up your beauty-scanning eyes. Boot the E-drive in your brain. Think!

He scratched his head, frantic, fingers scuttling like ants.

No matter how he looked, this ordinary succubus showed noth—

"Huh?!"

Suddenly his gaze locked on Rafi’s chest, like a compass at north.

That chest, flatter than logic, a barren plain no normal succubus would claim.

His brain jolted, a long-dusted memory surging like floodwater.

A figure of full authority rose in his mind, and his knees dropped like stones.

"I was foolish! I failed to realize at once—it's Lady Rafi!"

Hearing him recognize her, Rafi nodded, satisfaction rising like warm tea.

So her century undercover among humans hadn’t erased her from everyone’s memory—though an itch of annoyance lingered like a thorn.

"No need for formality," she said, voice like a soft fan.

"You haven’t seen me in a long time. Don’t fret."

The soldier thought, a dry cough in his heart: Someone nearly killed folks before for not recognizing her...

He griped silently, then lifted a smile like a lantern, facing the girl whose rank sat just below the Demon King.

"Lady Rafi, since you’ve returned, when will you announce it?"

His words drifted like incense.

Rafi bowed her head, thoughts circling like kites.

From his tone, the Demon King hadn’t told the Underworld she’d "died."

So she could keep her high post—after finishing this sentence, like iron chains clicking.

"No idea. From the Demon King's words, I should stay hidden for a while, then emerge."

"I see. Understood. Then, my lady, what do you need from me?"

"I said it from the start. I want that girl."

His face twisted, a knot of vines.

Lady Rafi’s order pulled one way.

His otaku boss’s order yanked the other.

Who to obey?

...

Was that even a question?

Who’d ignore a beautiful boss to obey a chubby supervisor who worships meaningless 2D waifus?

Besides, his superior’s power was a candle against Rafi’s sun.

Disobeying her felt far deadlier.

"Then I’ll leave her to you, my lady. After that, I need to report up. Orders are orders..."

Rafi nodded, impatience flickering like a gnat, and waved him off like wind chasing smoke.

Sensible enough, the soldier handed her the key, then turned away like a shadow at dusk.

Rafi eased open the chains binding the girl, touch light as snow.

Freed, the girl collapsed into Rafi’s arms, breath thin like a fading candle.

Left alone, she’d be gone within a day, like dew evaporating.

Rafi cradled the little one gently, carrying her like a bundle of feathers.

The girl didn’t resist, drifting and letting herself be held.

"You... you're lighter than I expected," she whispered, voice like down.

The answer was only the girl’s sleeping breath, soft as tides.

"Heh."

Rafi let a small laugh bloom, like a hidden flower.

She glanced at the girl in her arms, then at a furniture store ten minutes away, blue sign like a river.

Carrying a tiny girl to buy furniture felt absurd, like a crane in a marketplace.

"What a wasted trip. Let’s just get a hotel tonight..."

Inwardly, she scolded herself, like a stern monk: she wasn't taking an unconscious girl to book a room for unspeakable reasons.

She was a decent person!

She turned and headed for the nearest hotel, steps steady like a metronome.