"But no matter how you look at it, this head of white hair of mine..." I painfully rubbed my wet, long hair, then had to smooth it out. This hair color... well, it’s practically a trademark.

Pain... ah—

"Ahem, Your Majesty the Demon King, do you know a magic called disguise magic?" Clock cleared his throat lightly.

"Disguise magic... it’s common sense that all magic emits magical fluctuations. Besides, due to the aftereffects of the previous seal, my magic flow is painfully slow now. A perfect disguise is nearly impossible." I sighed, gazing out the window. Morning light streamed in, shattered by the window lattice into fragments scattered across the table.

This otherworldly life isn’t as comfy as I imagined. I just wanted small quests—grind goblins, raise slimes—and level up slowly. Then challenge a dragon, defeat the Dark Lord, marry the Princess, grab a fortune, reach life’s peak, storm the divine realm, and reunite with my parents...

That’s the life I wanted!

But now? The system dumped a dragon-slaying blade and piles of wealth on me—no training needed. Then it said, "You’re the final boss. Wait for players to kill you." I spawned only to find crowds camping the boss spot, ready to farm that blade...

This isn’t the otherworldly life I wanted!

"Actually, Your Majesty the Demon King, just change your hair color and hide those little horns. Problem solved." Clock tapped the table lightly. "Don’t forget your detection immunity—it blocks magical fluctuations too."

"That powerful?" I’d never realized its usefulness.

"Of course." The Hero lifted his chin slightly, pride flashing in his eyes. "I used this to fool guards before. Don’t they know Battle Aura disguises? That’s the most detectable method."

"How dare you mention earlier!" Just thinking about it made me furious—my first kiss—ugh, never mind. Too emotional. All tears!

Hearing my icy tone, Lott flinched, instantly docile. "Rui Jing, bear with hiding here a while longer." Outside, chaotic noises echoed—who knew which house the Imperial Guard had ransacked this time. The Church had truly gone all out; the whole city likely knew the Dark Lord escaped. Panic would spread soon.

After all, the Dark Lord’s legend always sinks deeper than my five-minute speech.

"So how exactly will you get us out?" I questioned Clock’s plan again.

"A human trafficker." Clock smiled. "One watch movement as payment to smuggle you out."

I frowned. Why does this filth exist everywhere? Yet it’s just part of this world. No era ever fully eradicates dark trades like human trafficking.

"Human traffickers should be beaten to death! Imperial law—"

"Enough." I cut Lott off softly. "You know it’s unstoppable, right? And nobles are often involved."

"(⊙o⊙)... Probably... I guess." He dodged the truth, clearly ignoring it.

"Don’t worry. Tight controls mean only four or five others besides you are being moved. For my sake, you could save them—I’ll give coin to buy them free. But I advise against it. Ordinary people are burdens."

The Hero snapped back, "What’s wrong with ordinary people? They deserve saving too!"

"Why did you even come out this time?" I asked.

"To flirt with you." "What the hell! Want to die?!" I smashed him with an Oxford dictionary. "Fine. Follow your plan."

"But—"

"Save who you can." I was too drained to argue. His reaction was normal, wasn’t it? Had being the Dark Lord made me selfish?

"First, change robes." Clock pointed to two tattered gowns nearby. "Perfection requires it."

After my hair dried, I wore Clock’s rags. We stored our old clothes in personal treasure vaults, packed minimal travel funds. No real prep—we’d only crashed at Clock’s overnight, no sleep, pure stamina.

Heard this cultivates immortality? Yeah, right. Most just drop dead.

A casual magic veil hid little; my delicate features still showed. I’d muss my hair later. Clock’s hired carriage waited downstairs. We left unarmed.

Clock stood on the balcony, watching us go, lost in thought.

(Who knows—is this a beginning or an end? What does the Dark Lord and Hero’s alliance truly seek?)

Honestly, this carriage was comfy. I napped against someone’s shoulder. But the trafficker’s wagon, though roomy, reeked of filth.

A scruffy-bearded man, decently dressed, greeted us warmly. Then he turned to the ragged slaves—and words failed.

"Swine! Move faster, lazy scum!"

"Hurry up, deadbeat!"

This alley scene drew no stares from neighbors. Many probably took part.

"Don’t act rashly." I gripped Lott’s hand to calm him. "Saving many may cost a few. Endure now. You’re the Hero—you can change this later."

"I know..." he whispered. "Let me hug you, and I’ll ignore it?"

"Leave. I don’t need you." I yanked my hand back and kicked him.

"Impossible. You’re sweet-faced here but turn demon behind my back. If carnage follows, I won’t bear that blame." He spoke solemnly.

"Do you have the ‘Void Thinking Time’ divine skill?"

"What’s that?"

"Blabbering nonsense seriously~ I’d prefer an older sister."

"You dangerous freak! Drop the scissors! Talk properly!" He retreated step by step. "Why does your vault hold such weird junk?!"

"Well, no finished items—just half-mades, materials, tools. This? A magical dragon-tendon cutter. One snip on your bits—even Battle Aura won’t save you~" I licked my upper lip. "Behold: one slash for purity. I’ve mastered the Six Roots Purification Slash. Experience it with me."

"Hey! Yandere isn’t a joke—put it down!" He believed those scissors could slice Battle Aura. And they could. In skilled hands, it might become a weapon—say, the "Widowmaker."

"You two, sorry for the trouble..." the scruffy man barked.

"Behave." I pocketed the scissors, yanked the Hero’s belt, and dragged him into the filthy wagon. The three battered captives wisely shuffled aside.