"These I know."

"But the line between friend and foe isn’t so simple."

"Are peaceful civilians who only wish to live quiet lives truly our enemies?"

"Is an ambitious Autocratic Demon General truly our ally?"

"Even among Heroes… many are bound by forces beyond their control."

The youth’s deep gaze held untold histories, unreadable to others.

Isabella didn’t understand such complexities.

She knew only this: she was her master’s maid.

Thus, she would stay by his side.

Obey his commands.

Trust his decisions.

This was her unwavering duty.

After a brief hesitation, the elf maiden’s lashes fluttered. Softly, she asked:

"...May I know her name, Master?"

"I swear I won’t act until you give the order!"

...

Isabella’s wariness toward Aisha remained strong.

Understandable, really.

Heroes were the Demon King’s sworn enemies—countless Demon Kings had fallen to their blades throughout history.

The more cautious Isabella was, the truer her devotion to Roy.

Roy held nothing back.

In truth, he rather looked forward to the day Isabella and Elsa would grow close.

And nights with one on each side... *ahem*.

"Her name is Aisha. A nun at Saint Aurora Church. Gentle and kind—she’s done much for me."

The youth smiled faintly, recounting fragments of his recent days:

Meeting Aisha and growing familiar with her.

Daily life with her and her younger sister.

Mostly, though, his time as an apprentice at the Herbology Association—a branch of the Adventurer’s Guild.

Identifying herbs, gathering them in the wild, encountering monsters and adventurers, helping village elders brew medicine...

Ordinary, mundane moments.

Yet under the evening breeze, the youth’s calm voice painted such a life as something deeply desirable—a simple, peaceful existence.

Isabella listened silently, intently.

She couldn’t ignore the truth dawning within her:

Perhaps this time spent among humans, away from the Demon King’s Castle where every step in power politics felt like treading on thin ice...

Where endless toil brought no reward, only expectations that a Demon King *should* bear such burdens—if he failed, he was deemed worthless, a betrayal of his subjects’ trust...

Perhaps here, her master had been happier.

The resolve that had driven her to persuade him back to the Demon King’s Castle crumbled quietly at that moment.

Not entirely gone—but Isabella knew one thing for certain:

She never wanted to see that gentle smile fade from her master’s face.

Taking a deep breath, as if steeling herself, she spoke:

"Hearing you speak of her, Miss Aisha truly seems like a fine young woman."

"...Then I’m relieved."

"If she is indeed the future Hero, as you say..."

"Your plan to sway her to the Demonfolk’s side through charm is... quite brilliant."

...

*No, no—you’ve completely misunderstood!*

*Who said anything about charming her?!*

Though... realistically...

Roy’s actions *had* achieved roughly the same effect.

So the young Demon King’s parted lips closed again, wordless.

He wore the look of someone troubled but unable to argue.

Isabella, meanwhile, relaxed visibly.

"In that case, I should take my leave."

"Proceed with your plans, Master."

"Rest easy about the Demon King’s Castle. Yukishir and I will handle everything."

"You have my thanks."

Roy had no doubt they could manage.

Truthfully, the castle ran the same with or without him.

As the youngest Demon King in history, he lacked the authority to command true respect.

Though nobles and ministers bowed before him publicly...

Who knew what sneers and schemes festered behind his back?

*A mere boy who rose on his mother’s coattails?*

Beyond them, countless neutral officials hedged their bets, masters of self-preservation.

The result?

Demonfolk officials flooded him with petitions, demanding the Demon King’s decree on every trivial matter.

But when Roy painstakingly reviewed each one...

His orders vanished without a trace—like an ox sinking into mud.

Most nobles paid lip service while sabotaging his rule.

In his past life, Roy had maneuvered tirelessly, forging alliances to finally secure his footing.

Only when Heroes emerged and his title as "Sovereign of This Age" spread...

Did his authority within the Demonfolk truly peak.

To defy him was to defy the entire Demonfolk race!

Only then could he fully leverage his transmigrator’s knowledge to "develop the land."

But the ending proved one thing:

That path... led nowhere.

So this life, he chose to "slack off," abandoning power struggles.

The result?

Even Little Demon Sword Yukishir could now govern the Demon King’s Castle in his stead.

*A silent prayer for the diligent little sword, still poring over documents, believing she carried her king’s great expectations.*

*Poor girl.*

*Next time we meet, I’ll pat her horns twice.*

Roy hadn’t abandoned his Demonfolk foundation entirely.

He’d wait.

Wait for the Heroes’ arrival.

Wait for the Demonfolk to acknowledge him as "Sovereign of This Age."

*Then*—with rightful authority—he’d sweep away every thorn in his side: the court’s "nails," the obstructive nobles...

All except those unruly Autocratic Demon Generals who defied central command.

The youth’s eyes reflected a future not far off.

A light shimmered within them, captivating Isabella.

Honestly...

Her master, when strategizing like this...

Was incredibly handsome.

An unexpectedly mature rationality radiated from him—a stark contrast to his youthful face, yet utterly alluring.

Just watching him made her feel like...

*She might swoon.*

Though it might simply be because Roy had forgotten to turn off his "charm aura" around her.

After all, to pass as a human boy in Eoliel, he’d layered powerful enchantment spells to suppress his succubus nature.

Otherwise, the city might’ve become a den of debauchery obsessed with pretty boys.