If he could help it, Roy wouldn’t want to huddle with Isabella in some shadowy alley like a streetwalker haggling with a client.
The real problem was… he seemed to be playing the streetwalker here.
While Isabella was the high-paying client???
After all, the young boy looked far too delectable—so tempting it stirred an instinctive urge to cherish him.
Compounded by the dim alley atmosphere, Isabella’s gaze lingered on Roy with unguarded hunger.
“Juno… I see.”
The boy’s expression turned thoughtful.
As he’d suspected—this was a long-planned revenge.
Aisha and Airi’s parents, if Roy recalled correctly, had been heroes of the Grey Kingdom Campaign.
Demon General Juno had narrowly escaped their hands, only to face defeat and lose all military honors.
In that state, promotion was out of the question. If Juno dared return to the Demonfolk’s Seventh Stronghold, “Radiant City,” he’d be tossed to the hellhounds as worthless trash by that woman.
Bitter over his ruined future, Juno fixated his hatred on Aisha and Airi’s parents.
He blamed them for stripping him of everything.
Hence the farm incident years later.
A retired S-rank adventurer couple, dead while protecting their family.
Demon General Juno vanished once more.
Perhaps he’d gone into hiding to heal again.
Anyway, he’d cursed Airi.
She couldn’t escape his grasp.
“Thank you, Isabella.”
“Isabella?”
Only when Roy called her name again did the daydreaming elf snap back, ears twitching sharply.
“Yes, Master!”
“I was thanking you, little bunny~”
“…”
That childhood nickname, dredged up now, flooded Isabella with grown-up embarrassment. She didn’t know how to respond.
Roy simply reached up, affectionately ruffling her silver hair.
Succubi matured slowly—he’d keep this youthful form for decades.
By then, even Isabella—a long-lived elf—would have long since blossomed into full womanhood.
Years ago, they’d been nearly the same height: a boy and a little girl.
Now Isabella stood head and shoulders taller than Roy, a fully grown woman.
In curves, Aisha might be more… *generous*.
But Isabella’s elven beauty held a dreamlike loveliness.
When Roy touched her hair, it felt like holding captured starlight.
Worried he’d notice her melting under his touch, Isabella quickly looked away, a trace of panic in her eyes.
“Sh-should I help you find this demon general, Master?”
“You can do that?” Roy asked, mildly surprised.
He knew elves excelled at tracking magic—but curses weren’t like scents or magic residue.
Tracing that kind of “presence” was impressive, even to a magic prodigy like him.
“If Master could introduce me to the cursed girl…”
“I believe I can try.”
Her words were cautious, but her eyes shone with quiet confidence.
Roy considered it.
Isabella would meet Airi eventually anyway.
Or rather—she’d form a close yet competitive bond with both Aisha and Airi.
No harm in an early meeting.
“Alright. I’ll take you.”
“She’s Aisha’s sister. Her name is Airi.”
“I guessed as much.”
“You’ve seen her?”
“Mhm. Last night, when I came to find you… I passed her room.”
He’d glimpsed a girl clutching a knight plushie, tear-streaked cheeks glistening in sleep.
That plushie—with its black hair and violet eyes—had caught Isabella’s attention.
“I see.”
Roy nodded, leading Isabella out of the alley.
Suddenly, he raised a hand, stopping the elf beside him.
His voice turned weary.
“Classic. But expected.”
“Wherever sunlight doesn’t reach, vermin in the shadows always stir.”
As his words faded, two thugs slunk out from a nearby corner—faces twisted with malice.
A red-haired scarred man and a hulking, pig-faced brute, both gripping gleaming blades.
They’d expected the defenseless elven bard and pretty boy to cower.
Instead, the pair stood unnervingly calm.
It was unsettling—maybe these two were dangerous.
But who could resist an elven maiden and a gorgeous youth?
“Boss, after this score, we can hit Dreamland Village for real fun!” drooled the pig-faced thug, vacant-eyed.
“Heh. Elf to the nobles, boy to the Church—we’ll have bright fu—”
His world flipped violently before he finished.
What happened?
His body felt distant, numb.
The last thing his bloodshot eyes saw was filthy dust.
Or was he becoming dust himself?
The final voice echoing in his skull belonged to the boy—who shouldn’t sound so commanding.
“Let’s go, Isabella.”
“Yes, Master.”
They stepped around the two lifeless corpses, walking toward the sunlit street.
The violet glow in the boy’s eyes dimmed, his gaze softening back to harmless innocence.
………………
“An elven ballad!?”
“How am I supposed to make one up on the spot…”
“But *you* chose the bard disguise, Isabella~”
“Airi will be disappointed if you can’t sing.”
“Ugh… I should’ve pretended to be an adventurer!” Isabella whimpered, twisting her skirt.
Roy knocked on Aisha’s door, already rehearsing explanations:
*A kind-hearted elven bard. She might know how to cure Airi’s curse. Cost me three vials of magic potion to get her here.*
But after his knock, only silence answered.
No warm welcome from Aisha.
*Sense Presence.*
Roy cast the spell wordlessly.
An invisible ripple spread from him, bouncing back upon touching living beings.
The rooms held no one.
But where would Aisha and Airi be at this hour?
