Why aren’t they out yet? I’ve waited so long my patience feels like a candle guttering in the wind.

I want to lie on a bed cobbled from desks, speak from a room in a dark, abandoned school, like a voice echoing through a ruined corridor.

It would feel cool, like moonlight on steel. If I ever build a Demon King Castle and a Hero storms in, I’ll say it in that tone at least once.

But this time Anna is the Demon King, and we’re the Heroes. That line slips away like mist at dawn.

“Speaking of it, we didn’t run into anything on the seventeenth floor.”

Raven breaks the heavy quiet, like tossing a pebble into a still pond.

This floor is vast, wider than sixteen, like a valley sprawling under cloud. It must be the Sorcerer Emperor’s testing ground.

The Shadow Realm whispered back to me: the monsters on these floors withdrew to the top, like fish fleeing upstream. Yeah, I shouldn’t know that.

A top-tier villain sees what protagonists don’t; knowledge falls like rain. But it’s dull. I can’t feel that rush when enemies flood in and the leader crows, “Give up, you’re surrounded,” and panic bites like frost.

I never tasted being cornered by a perfect scheme. Head was just nudging me, letting me think I was the thunder rolling the sky.

All I felt was a thin thrill, like a countdown tapping glass: nine seconds, eight… then done. “What a troublesome bunch,” and the wind moves on.

You could say I’ve lived easy, like a hawk riding warm currents.

But being too strong hollows you out, like a gourd dried in the sun.

“Ah, invincible and lonely… Forget it, don’t mind me.”

“That’s what I mean. With a personality like smoke and mirrors, how would a girl ever like you? What about Elina…”

“What about Elina? Interested in me?”

So what. If she’s sent by Head, it’s a chess piece, not a spring blossom.

“Don’t listen! When a girl mutters that last whisper, you’re supposed to act like you didn’t hear.” She drives a Construct at me, silver limbs whirring like cicadas.

Too bad. I’ve already read her line of attack, like footprints in wet sand.

“You know this world, right? Common sense and theorems mean nothing, like paper charms in rain.”

“Say it slick all you want—what use is it? That’s enough!”

Raven blushes, turns her head away, cheeks like apples under sunset, and refuses to look.

I like Raven’s tsukkomi spark; it’s a lantern in a quiet shrine. No monsters here, so I play a bit.

“Girl, haven’t you noticed you’re not ordinary?” I put on my most solemn face, a temple mask.

“What game are you playing?” She rolls her eyes, sharp as a knife flick.

I still keep going, words flowing like a river over stones.

“The law of large numbers grips the crowd, but are you merely one more grain of sand? Does your pride agree? Does your dignity agree?”

“You… make sense. What should I do?”

“Girl, you were born a king, a transcendence carved from jade. Know your greatness. Stop binding your spirit with mortal rope. Your heart is as wide as the sky; your future as vast as the sea. You’ll end this chaotic world like a storm, and let it bloom anew like spring.”

“Oh!” Good. That leaping pulse—like a bird taking flight.

“Our King above, pluck away the thorny shackles. Wear this crown of gold. Stand atop ten thousand, hold the scepter, and rule the earth like dawn.”

“Oh… I’ve had my fun. You done?” Raven fakes a spark for a heartbeat, then tosses me a fresh eye-roll.

“Why not enjoy it? Does your shyness tie you up like ivy?”

“I’m not shy. I just feel… feel—uh—childish, yeah, childish!”

“In the end, that’s shyness. Because of it, you call constant joy foolish. Pride hums under that, like a hidden drum.”

I slip into that affected tone again, silk over iron.

“Arrogance… yes. Pretending my view is everything, letting the first thought rule, shutting my ears like a closed gate. I am arrogant…”

Raven looks up, thinking with eyes like deep wells, chasing philosophy that’s mist on a river.

After a moment, she grows serious. She stops, face pink as peach skin, yet her gaze stays steady, like a candle that doesn’t flicker.

“Andor, do you really like me?”

So after all that, the conclusion is this. What a slow millstone.

It’s fine. I rehearsed this answer a hundred times. I’m a flawless villain. To a girl facing her feelings for the first time, I say:

“Of course. I like you. I want to date you.”

My eyes stay firm, never drifting, like stars locked in place. A small, warm smile rises, like tea steam. Surprise is allowed; delay is not.

Vega drilled me, many times. A girl questions your heart? A stranger exposes your identity on the street? A Demon King earns his crown through practice, like sword forms at dawn.

So my reply is—

Her face scrunches slowly, mid-laugh, mid-tears, like rain on a sunny day. She covers her face, turns, and squats with her back to me, a small hill under cloud.

What’s that? Acceptance or refusal, like a coin on its edge?

“Uh, if I made you uncomfortable, then—”

“No, not really.” She waves me off without rising, fingers trembling like reeds. “Sorry. I didn’t face your feelings. I… I kept taking them as jokes. I’m really sorry. Very, very sorry.”

So, in truth, she’s a good kid. Tears fall like clear beads.

I’ll have to review this later. I’ll ask Vega if my joking tone misleads other girls, like fog misleads travelers.

“Then your answer?”

“Ah, um, um…” She hesitates, eyes wandering like sparrows.

Pressing now would seal it. A push, a kiss, and the door shuts like a lock.

I won’t. That cheap strat isn’t a true path. It won’t make her my retainer.

It also irks me. It denies the road I walked, like tearing up a map. I won’t do it.

“M-maybe we start as friends?”

“Friends…”

“Yeah. If you’re unwilling, I won’t force you. I believe the best love is mutual, like two strings harmonizing, not one hand plucking alone. I’ll wait until you like me.”

“What nonsense… Andor, you’re a good man.”

She smiles through tears and taps my chest with a light punch, like a cherry knocking bark.

But I’m not. I’m full of calculation, kindness as coin, intent as blade wrapped in silk.

If Raven had no talent, I wouldn’t invest a step, like a merchant passing a barren field.

This is the doctrine of advantage: love bends toward the strong, toward wealth, toward light on high floors. Every good feeling can be explained by benefit, like a ledger hidden under roses. Worst of all, we can’t judge our hearts cleanly, like water clouded by silt.

Say a commoner and a rich one fall in love. Does the commoner love only the person, with no shine of money in the eye? They shop together; the rich one buys freely. Is the commoner a slave to coin, or just warmed by generosity like sunlight?

So we ask: what is love? From what pieces is it made? Which piece is the heartwood? Strip the rest away—does love remain, like a bell without clapper?

They say the Sorcerer Emperor found the answer, or I could ask Head. I won’t. Their philosophy is a maze; I won’t follow a will-o’-the-wisp.

I believe love is utilitarian, at least relatively. It wears admixtures, like gold with copper veins. I believe in an unnameable true love, like starlight beyond clouds, but I don’t believe it will find me.

Loved for being handsome—so if I lose that shine, does love fade like paint?

Loved for being funny—so if I go stiff, am I discarded like a dull knife?

Loved for being learned—so is a goofy girl doomed, like a sparrow under hawk shadow?

Loved for being gentle—so is love just exchange, give and take like tides?

Loved for a storied past—so a peaceful youth is scorned, like plain rice beside wine?

Loved for being strong—so when someone stronger appears, hearts migrate like geese?

Loved for trying hard—so many try; why choose one lamp among a thousand?

Loved for rescuing a girl—if another rescuer stands there, does her love drift like a dandelion?

When I spoke with Vega, she told me: love and being loved are sums of all reasons, plus “it looks pleasing,” a logic that’s illogical, like a brushstroke that just works. Chasing love’s blueprint profanes it, like dissecting a swan.

I agreed, but I hid one line:

I can be all of it. Then will everyone love me?

With power, with magic, with lies, I can become that shape, like clay molded by a sure hand.

If love is won by calculation, it’s cheap. It loses mystery and purity, like wine cut with water.

Truth is, I haven’t loved anyone. None feel worth it, like stars too far to warm.

Maybe I’m chūnibyō, a boy locked in a red moon phase. I won’t change. I won’t later, either.

Up to now, I’m a vile villain, and I won’t regret it. No redemption. No dove released. No altar of light.

I’ll keep walking by deceit, like a fox through bamboo. I’ve never felt sad for being this me.

“If you can think like that, that’s best,” I say, a caring tone dressed in silk over stone, sincere as temple bells.

“I won’t fall for you. Don’t flatter yourself.” She regains her usual spark, chin up like a banner.

If Raven were a tsundere, that would be perfect. She isn’t, by her setting. Still, she sprints ahead, opens a gap, and gifts me a bright smile, like sun through leaves.

Not bad at all.

“Raven,” I shout, my voice ringing down the hall like a drum. Our companions probably hear it. “Has no one told you your smile suits you best? Stop puffing your cheeks!”

“Blabbermouth! Hah hah hah.”

Her laughter ripples like water in spring. I turn, and glare at Stini and Gloria peeking from a corner, heads like two cats around a basket.

“Seen enough? Interrupt other people’s romance and the White Whale in the sky will eat you.”

“It was—Stini decided.”

Gloria sells out her silly captain in a heartbeat, like tossing a pebble.

“Ahaha, it’s fine. We found the path up. Nothing on this floor. Let’s push to the next.”

“Call it the ‘upper floor.’ And don’t think you can brush it off.”

I brace my knuckles against Stini’s temples and twist, joints clicking like beads. Her cute yelps flutter like sparrows, and my mood brightens like clear weather after rain.