“Mr. Augustus, what’s that, D—Da☆Ze?”

Nivifar pointed at the opposite rock, where a sun-warmed beast lay like a wingless dragon, half its hide washed in the stone’s color.

Shh. Keep it down, Nivi. Lower. Don’t spook it. That’s a Veilblood Huntscale. About six meters long. It shifts its skin like cloud-shadow to hide. They usually haunt the Blood War Plains out west. Rare here. This way—its nose is sharp. If we want it, we swing downwind.

Augustus flattened to the earth with Nivifar, then slid through the grass like a shadow slipping under water, a technique so precise it felt pointless.

Vega followed, camera raised, her lens glinting like a hawk’s eye in the reeds.

Like other monstrosities, the Veilblood Huntscale’s got a mouth like a saw. It loves human flesh. Don’t be fooled by its blend-with-the-world trick. It runs faster than most common beasts. It’s a chaser by nature. Here—yes, from this angle. We rush it. Knock it out with this stick.

Augustus handed Nivi a small wooden stick, barely eight inches long, probably snapped from that tree like a twig off a bone.

No, no—there’s no way something this tiny can take down a six-meter monster! Ah—Da☆Ze!

Good. It turned its head! Now! With me!

Augustus hooked his fingers into the dirt like claws, then drove forward. He launched toward the beast like a loosed catapult.

Hearing the rustle behind it, the Veilblood Huntscale whipped around to counter, not to flee. That reflex—to attack instead of widen the gap—is what cleaves monsters from common beasts.

But a thick skull, crisscrossed muscles, and a face bristling with stubby horns don’t mean a thing to a small wooden stick.

Because the hand on that stick belongs to the mightiest mortal alive, the former Hero—Augustus Saya.

The little stick rose and cracked up, and the huge head burst like a water balloon filled with night.

If those liquids were colorless, I’d feel a bit better.

Nivifar spoke in defeat first, even dropping her catchphrase. Her face scrunched like crumpled paper as she stared at her front, splattered with black blood and white brain.

Cut.

Vega calmly wiped clots from the lens, then plucked a chunky piece of brain off her shoulder like pulling gum from hair.

It still doesn’t work?

Your movement’s natural now, but there’s still acting in it. We brought you in to shoot Magical☆Nivi’s Idol Wild Adventure Da☆Ze. It’s a day-in-the-life for Idol Nivi, aimed at youths twelve to twenty-four. A cultural infiltration—uh, an emerging culture campaign. Please go gentler. Make it all feel more youthful.

I think I heard something ominous… forget it. You’re Demonfolk. Bad ideas are normal. But I’m not great at holding back. That’s on me.

Our permits, broadcast review, secondary cuts, and slot reservations all passed government offices. We’re a lawful business, one hundred percent. If I recorded what you just said, I could sue for defamation.

Please forget it, Ms. Vega. I already owe too much…

Then please be more professional, so you can face the salary we’re paying with a clear conscience.

Whew… you’re tougher than the Demon King.

Don’t call your temporary superior “you.” Also, I am my master’s hand and foot, his power extended. What I do is within my master’s reach, though he plays a different role. Back to filming—next time, go lighter. Don’t mash a monster’s head into paste.

Yeah, yeah, you’re the employer. Your call… Augustus pulled a paper from a pocket of thin air and checked the notes Vega gave him. You want me softer because it needs to match this line: “Once the head’s off, the rest is edible, and it’s triple the nutrition of beef,” right?

Follow the script if you can. But the key is, our brainless variety show airs in public, to young people. Too much blood and brain won’t pass review, and it’s bad for them.

Humans aren’t that fragile. It’s fine to let kids learn early how cruel the world they live in is.

That’s for the Council of Sages and the kings to decide. Not the Hero or the Demon King. Please rest. After lunch we’ll find the next beast. And please do as I say then.

Polite to a fault, Vega lifted her skirt hem and gave a small bow. Her steps quickened a shade.

Gin.

Camera in hand, she headed for the field tent, already tasting her favorite juniper-bite on her tongue, when Nivifar yanked out her hair clip with a sigh and hurried up to complain.

I don’t want to be an idol! It’s such a hassle. Singing, dancing, practicing signatures—it’s harder than fighting!

If you’re too willful, it puts me in a bind. The Demon King Army wants good terms with humans. First, we need mutual recognition. So we need a woman who fits four traits—basic human morals, a lovely look, a smile from the heart, and allegiance to the Demon King Army. She’ll be our idol, the point of cultural diplomacy.

But didn’t Andor propose joint idols at the SkywardCity peace talks, and the Council refused?

Only the joint idol plan got shut down. To leave a good impression on a new teammate, Vega rubbed her eyes and forced her spirit up. Idols were already on the schedule. You showed up right when the role fit.

Joint idols were refused, so we go first. Let every nation see how wide this new cultural industry reaches. Even if they won’t work with us, they’ll have to step in to curb the Demon King Army’s idol monopoly. We’re a legal business, so they can’t use force. The best way to shape opinion is to build their own idols. And idols cross over with idols. That’s normal, right?

Those were Andor’s words. Vega skimmed off the chatter and gave Nivifar the core, neat and clean.

So… Andor needs me?

Yes. You’re the only one who fits all four.

Really! Nivifar burst into joy, then caught herself and cleared her throat. But I’ve got my deputies, Ms. Berenz and Ms. Dulan, they—

Right, neither is exactly a treasure. But blossoms need green leaves to shine. Berenz’s madness and Dulan’s sloth frame you, the positive lead. That’s salescraft. Also, we’re considering a rebellious-Berenz subplot. But Nivifar as main lead must stay righteous, so we can stage a tear-streaked, grand repentance later—

Vega! Ms. Vega! Your eyes went dark. It’s awful!

Ah. Right. Sorry. I haven’t slept these days. My mind’s lagging.

Vega rubbed harder, but the fog stayed. So she just pulled her eyeball out.

Haa. Pain really clears the head.

Uh… but ripping out your eye looks… not normal…

Exactly. Good. Humans trust those who feel “like themselves.” That sense is a precious part of you. Keep it. Don’t let that maniac Berenz rub off on you.

Ah… okay.

Also, remember your set catchphrase. It doesn’t need meaning. It just needs to feel cute. Keep it natural. Don’t forget it.

Mm. Got it…

And… Vega poured out her pent-up gripes in tidy order, then noticed the other girl’s face falling. Ms. Nivifar, is something bothering you?

Just… a little.

Seeing the fidget of a first-love girl, Vega curled her lip. She knew the shape of that problem.

Back in the Demon Realm, she’d neatly resolved countless post-bed entanglements for her master.

Lithe tongues are born with Demonfolk. Most choose fists anyway.

Vega just happened to like the tongue more than the fist.

My master’s very busy lately. Like I am.

Mostly busy drinking and dining with the Sword Saint. Vega muttered that in her heart, then defended her master aloud.

He hasn’t slighted his feelings and vows to you. He’s simply… occupied. Please have more faith. He’ll balance love and work.

At night I keep hoping he’ll come! I do what he says and grind idol chores, but he’s only grown colder!

Warm crushes ebb. You’ve hit a low, setting up the next crest. As for you hating idol work…

Vega found the lever.

But the master thinks idols feel better in bed.

Perfect. Problem solved. Nivifar ran off, beaming, to practice her lines.

A pure maiden is easy to handle. Vega sighed and hurried back to her tent.

Gin.

A high-grade bottle worth a hundred fifty-six gold, and scarce even at that.

The chill was perfect. Before any more work hit—quick—

Ms. Vega, the crystal ball’s got a new link request. Likely Mr. Victor. A mid-ranked retainer sprinted up with the message.

Master sent over a stack of designs too. Supposedly exclusive gear for a new class. Said to leave it to you. Dulan cracked her sleepy eyes and tossed over a roll of schematics.

Vega glanced at the bottle. The ice at the bottom was almost gone. Wait longer, and the window of perfect taste would pass like dusk.

She clenched her teeth.

Work!