The black‑haired young woman stepped out like a raven feather against fresh snow; she hadn’t lied.

Once Rafi named herself the Demon King and her aim, the woman brushed aside soldiers like reeds in wind and led Rafi into Elusen’s royal hall.

The monarch Rafi sought sat within, like a still moon behind carved doors.

The current King seemed to have been waiting like a crane on a riverside rock; the instant Rafi crossed the threshold, Dorado rose from the throne to greet her.

Rafi hadn’t noticed Dorado on the throne; the sudden voice rang like a bell through mist and made her jump.

Guest or not, Rafi felt etiquette weigh like a stone in a stream; making someone stand while you sit felt like sand in the teeth.

So Dorado guided her to a parlor where sunlight pooled like honey; they would talk there, with little pastries like clouds on a plate.

She meant it, surprisingly; sincerity felt like warm steam from the kettle.

Dorado took a small sip; she set her cup down with a clear ding, like a chime tapped by a pin.

The sound pricked Rafi’s nerves like a fishhook; her shoulders twitched.

“So then, Miss Demon King, what brings you?”

“Ah— um—”

The air felt odd, like silk stretched too tight; the strangeness made Rafi’s skin itch.

She’d come to negotiate about “invasion,” a word like thunder beyond the hills.

War hadn’t started, but daemons under the gate lay still as stones, and the soldiers watched like cats before a storm.

It was the eve of war, drums in the distance, breath held.

Yet the mood here was tea‑sweet and light, like spring rain; this Elusen King felt miles from the last one, a different wind entirely.

Why could she sip black tea and nibble pastries, calm as a pond, with the Demon King who commanded the daemons sitting across?

This wasn’t a war council; this was a little girl’s afternoon tea, lace and sugar, wasn’t it?

Dorado noticed Rafi’s unease, like a sparrow puffing its feathers; though she didn’t know the cause, she offered comfort like a soft shawl.

“Little— ahem— Miss Demon King, no need to tense up. Our people talk easily here.

Even meetings or state affairs run in this relaxed afternoon‑tea style, like shade under a willow.

They say it helps the mind loosen, so whatever you came to discuss, just breathe and relax.”

— It’s this afternoon‑tea style that’s making me tense!!!

Rafi screamed inside like a kettle about to whistle, yet she pulled her mouth into a not‑quite‑natural smile, a petal set on water, and lifted the cup.

Daemon tastes were different from human ones, like night and noon; what humans called delicious tea hit her tongue as bitter bark.

She took one sip and set it down, like placing a pebble; she doubted she’d touch it again.

“Let’s get to the point.”

She gathered her thoughts like threads, tying them tight so the room’s odd breeze wouldn’t tug them loose.

“First, a self‑introduction. My full name is—”

Rafi · Steel Scaffold 98 · Infusion Tube 28 · Redstone Engineering Module 7 · Heavy Engineering Module 35 · Steel Fence 104 · Steel Plate Block 112 · Light Engineering Module 20 · Steel Scaffold 40 · Silver Block 10 · Treated Wood Plank 60 · Steel Plate Block 35 · High‑Voltage Capacitor 5 · Redstone Engineering Module 1 · Heavy Engineering Module 28 · Generator Module 8 · Cooling Module 4 · Steel Block 12 · Steel Plate Block 35 · High‑Voltage Capacitor 5 · Solar Thermal Tower 7 · Solar Mirror 10 · Steam Turbine 1 · AC Generator 1.

“If you don’t mind, you can just call me Rafi.”

Start with something baffling, like fog rolling in, to gain an edge— that’s what “Learn Self‑Introduction in Three Minutes” said.

Lie or act strange if needed, like a magician’s flourish; Rafi had learned it from Nina, so she felt steady.

It worked, in a way; Dorado froze like a lantern in a gust, then seemed to delete a line of chalk in her mind, and finally nodded.

“Th— then… Miss Rafi— ahem. I’m Dorado Elusen. Just call me Dorado.”

Rafi smiled back, like a ripple over clear water, secretly praising Nina’s book; Dorado’s baffled look didn’t seem faked at all.

“No problem, Ms. Dorado. First question— you saw the daemons outside, right?”

The topic slid back onto rails like a train at dawn; Dorado’s face turned serious, smooth as stone, as if confusion had never existed.

“I did. I saw them clearly, like ink on paper. How do those daemons tie into our talk?”

“Closely.” Rafi’s voice steadied like a drawn bow. “You know one command from me, and the daemons begin the attack.

Likewise, one word, and they fall back like tide. I suppose they’ve troubled you for a long while.”

Dorado lifted her head and met Rafi’s gaze, eyes playful like a cat’s in lamplight.

That look made Rafi feel as if the board and pieces were in Dorado’s hands; she prayed it was only a trick of light.

But was it?

Dorado smiled like someone holding the winning ticket.

“Is that your leverage to negotiate ‘Beastfolk slavery’?”