One day, news rippled through Yethania’s Adventurers’ Guild: a man with an unheard-of name, accompanied by two equally unknown women, had swiftly cleared the top three highest-bounty quests—and returned to submit them within three hours. Yet instead of splurging their reward on revelry, they spent the entire sum buying a mansion once owned by a wealthy refugee merchant.

Amid whispers of Demon King Mammon’s imminent assault, who’d dare drop a fortune outright on a mansion? Foolish extravagance… or supreme confidence?

“Ah~ There’s just something different about owning property in your own name,” Rean mused, dangling the keyring from his finger and spinning it leisurely.

Half an hour earlier, the trio had collected 8,490,000 Sam from the twitching receptionist—including proceeds from selling the Stardust Lizard hide. After splitting the sum, Rean and Olga promptly paid the remaining 5,300,000 Sam. Signing the deed with their (fake) names, they smoothly received the estate keys.

They also earned the Crimson Feather rank badge—the Guild’s highest honor—granting priority access to services.

But honestly? Useless. He wasn’t planning to live off questing. Once this stint ended, he’d ditch the adventurer gig entirely.

Holding the gold-framed, ruby-inlaid badge, Rean almost wanted to skip it like a stone. Crimson Feather? Golden Feather? Even “Divine Wing”? Meaningless. Had *he* handled that Stardust Lizard, no shell would’ve remained to sell—heck, the mine might’ve vanished from the map.

Still… if rumors spread about “fastest newcomers to earn Crimson Feather,” the military might come knocking.

Rean tucked the badge away. *Him*, a Demon King, playing adventurer? The height of absurdity.

“Don’t forget I own half this house… though, whatever. We won’t sell it anytime soon,” Olga retorted, but the thought of moving into the beautiful new mansion softened her protest.

After fleeing Christine’s territory, she and Rean had endured days crammed in a carriage—eating, sleeping, miserable. Now, with real rest within reach, why waste energy arguing?

“…Is this really your usual dynamic?” Cang Lin sighed with a wry smile, watching them bicker again.

“No choice—he’s (she’s) always so full of himself (herself)… Hey, stop mimicking me!”

Rean and Olga shot back in perfect unison—same tone, same expression. Cang Lin couldn’t tell if it was deep camaraderie or sheer friction.

“Tch… Not worth my energy,” Rean muttered, pocketing the keys and ruffling his hair. “Cang Lin, join us for dinner? We’ll grill in the courtyard.”

*(Though two of those three hours were spent strolling back leisurely.)*

“I’m grateful,” Cang Lin replied with a regretful shake of her head, “but I have my own matters. Apologies.”

“Then it’s time to part,” Rean smiled, making no further plea. “But I feel we’ll meet again.”

“The world is round—we’re bound to cross paths,” Cang Lin waved warmly. “Farewell.”

“Mm.”

“Until fate brings us together.”

Backs to the setting sun, Rean and Olga walked one way, Cang Lin the other—no lingering words, no forced sentiment. A clean parting at the crossroads, carrying the quiet grace of seasoned wanderers.

“…Are we really done? I actually enjoyed time with Cang Lin,” Olga murmured while following Rean.

“And you’d have her abandon her path?” Rean traced the map without looking up.

“That’s not it.” Olga glanced back, worry flickering in her eyes. “She seems to carry something heavy… even her smiles feel forced.”

“So you’re not blind after all.”

“I never was!”

“Your earlier act suggested otherwise.”

Rean finally looked up, snapped the map shut, stretched his neck, and met her glare calmly.

“Noticing doesn’t mean intervening. Not everyone wants help.”

He’d sensed Cang Lin’s hidden burden back at the Mammon camp slope—and respected her silence. He never pried into others’ affairs unless invited.

“If I could help… but you’re right. I can’t force it.”

“Ask her in a few days.”

“But she’s just passing through—once she earns travel funds…”

“Think again. Coming was easy. Leaving now? Not so simple.” Rean paused, glancing southward. A sly smirk spread across his face.

“You demolished the Mammon outpost. Did you think there’d be no ripple? By now, Mammon knows. They’ll blitzkrieg Yethania. The city’s forces are thin—they’ll recruit strong adventurers. And today? We earned Crimson Feather *and* bought the most conspicuous mansion in town. If I were city lord, I’d recruit us instantly.”

“So you planned this far?” Olga stared, dumbfounded.

“Did you think I let you solo the camp out of laziness?” Rean’s smirk deepened. “Within three days, Mammon marches. We—and Cang Lin—will get the call. If she accepts, we meet on the front lines. *Then* we talk.”

“Rean…” Olga eyed his confident smile, suspicion glinting. “The Cang Lin part… you added that after noticing her, didn’t you?”

Rean fell silent.

“Annoying. I teamed up out of curiosity about her sword. She just got dragged in.”

“Mm-hmm~ *Really*?” Olga winked, gently elbowing his side. “Sharp-tongued but soft-hearted, huh?”

“You’re the blind one,” Rean scoffed. “Enough chatter—we’re home.”

He turned her shoulders. An imposing black iron gate stood before them. Beyond, a white marble courtyard held a dry bronze fountain sculpture. At the end loomed the mansion—grand, dark, casting an eerie glow under twilight.

“Spooky outside… but truly magnificent,” Olga remarked.

“You have no idea how long it’s been vacant,” Rean sighed, unlocking the gate. “Even if the Guild ‘checked in,’ they wouldn’t replace missing things.”

Stepping onto the marble path, Rean’s mood lifted. After days without a bed, nothing mattered more than a full meal and deep sleep.

He opened the front door—a dusty gust coated his face.

“Overestimated the Guild’s real estate standards,” he muttered. “No cleaning at all.”

Shaking his head, he raised a hand. Wind obeyed instantly, swirling into azure currents that swept through every room, expelling dust out the windows.

Meanwhile, Olga placed her glowing blue palm on the fountain rim. Water gushed from the statue’s vase, reviving the dry basin.

“Now we can truly move in,” Rean declared, stepping into the hall. Empty wall spots marked removed paintings, but core furniture remained—sofa, tables. Minimalist, elegant, comfortable. Worth every Sam of the six million-plus.

“…Finally, no outsiders,” Olga murmured. She undid her cloak clasp, tossed the black garment onto the sofa, and unfurled her pure white wings with relief. Days of confinement beneath fabric had left her stifled.

“I’d prefer you wait for your room… but given how cramped you were, exception granted,” Rean said. A flame sparked at his fingertips; a flick ignited every candlestick, flooding the hall with warm light.

“Dinner’s here tonight.”

“When did you buy it?” Olga, lounging on the sofa, sat bolt upright at the word *dinner*.

“A few days before you reached Christine’s territory, I hunted. Meat and veggies are stored here—frozen fresh, no spoilage.”

As he spoke, Rean pulled large cuts of meat and vegetables from subspace, arranging them neatly.

“But… they’re raw?” Olga frowned at the ice-dusted meat.

“Which is why the next part is *my* domain.”

With a proud flourish, he produced a griddle and two wooden planks, propping it across the low table.

“Feel honored. You’re the first angel to taste a meal personally prepared by the Seventh Demon King, Lein Christin.”