“Some things are better left unexamined,” Rean said with a gentle smile. Half-insistently, he pressed the dress back into Olga’s arms, then dumped the rest—heels, necklace, earrings, cosmetics—straight into her grasp.

“Go upstairs. Change. Then apply the potion to your wings.”

Beneath Rean’s mild expression lurked a quiet darkness that silenced further questions. Olga promptly abandoned the urge to ask more; prying deeper felt like stepping toward something unpleasant.

Arms full, Olga climbed the stairs. Rean stretched with a sigh, easing stiffness from hours in the alchemy workshop. A crisp series of cracks echoed through his bones.

He stepped to the window. The sky glowed with a golden rim. Below, the street softened under the burgundy sunset. Faces once shadowed by the Citadel War now shone with peace and joy. Their unburdened smiles brought Rean a quiet flicker of warmth.

*Not a waste,* he thought. *Even as a side effect… seeing ordinary people smile isn’t so bad.*

A crimson magic circle flared. His casual clothes vanished, replaced by an elegant black tuxedo. In its refined grace, any stranger might mistake him for a human noble.

*Drifting further from the “proper” Demon King image…*

*But it doesn’t matter.*

He remained himself—every choice his own, unswayed, unblocked. As long as that held true, he was still the rightful Demon King Christine.

Next: use the banquet to speak with Tyler. Prepare for Mammon’s inevitable return. Not just to protect this city… but to advance his own plan.

“Rean… um… could you come here?”

Olga’s slightly tense voice came from the stairs. He turned. She stood at the top in the white gown, face flushed crimson, fingers twisting nervously before her.

“What is it?”

Rean studied her. The dress fit flawlessly, tracing her silhouette like a goddess in a masterpiece.

“I can’t reach… Will you help me apply it?”

Her pleading, conflicted gaze made Rean instinctively look away.

*You’ve got to be kidding me… Me?*

He nearly thought she’d lost her mind.

“Figure it out yourself.”

Wordlessly, Olga unfurled her wings. Fully spread, the four white wings spanned nearly two meters—impossible for her to coat alone.

*Seriously… how much more?*

Dizziness washed over him. He’d chosen a backless gown *specifically* to spare her wings. Which meant… standing directly behind her. Staring at that bare, porcelain skin.

*Does she really trust me? Or is this part of her scheme?*

*Perfect. Time to teach her a lesson. Make her see I’m a threat.*

“Ugh… fine. I’ll help.”

Rean smiled gently, eyes crinkling into a soft arc. He climbed the stairs slowly, fingers twitching with mischief.

Olga shrank back.

“W-wait! I’ll try again! I can use magic—just don’t come closer!!!!”

“Too late.”

She bolted. He cornered her into an open room and kicked the door shut.

*Time skip to the present.*

Olga’s unusually vulnerable expression snapped Rean back.

*Even as a lesson… I went too far.*

As a well-bred noble of the Demon Realm—a gentleman—crossing that line against her will was beneath him. And if it continued… he couldn’t guarantee restraint.

“Sigh… alright. I only meant to teach you a lesson. Sorry for overdoing it.” He gently hooked the slipped strap back onto her shoulder. “You should’ve said your wings were sensitive. If I *had* wanted to take advantage… you wouldn’t have escaped.”

*Please… value yourself more.*

“You already did it… Eep!”

A cold splash on her wing made her yelp. Rean was already smoothing the potion across each feather with his palm.

*(So… ticklish…)*

Olga ducked her neck, fighting the sensation.

This was nothing like his earlier lewd touch. His palm glided gently, warmth seeping from his skin into the cool liquid, spreading from wings to core.

*(Like he’s touching my whole body… even worse than before…)*

Stimulation and shame had softened—but a sweeter, sharper allure flooded her. Mind blank. Nerves humming. All she wanted was to melt against him.

“Why’s your face still so red?” Rean set down the bottle, frowning. Her upper wings—and his right hand—were now fully invisible.

“Want to do the rest yourself?”

“No… I still need you.”

She reached back, grasping his wrist. Her hazy eyes, veiled like twilight mist, left Rean momentarily flustered.

“Alright. As you wish.”

His hand returned to her bare back.

For fifteen minutes, the room filled with Olga’s breathy sighs. Rean almost wondered: *What if an angel fell through means like this?*

“Done. No one will see your wings now.”

He conjured a water orb, rinsing the residue. His hand reappeared.

“But stay cautious. Keep distance. They’re still *there*—a bump would be hard to explain.”

Olga only nodded weakly, slumped against the windowsill, breathless.

“Hah… hah… Why are you so *good* at this? How many others…?”

Her back was smooth as polished jade—flawless, human. Suspicion flared before relief could settle.

“I learn fast. Similar to oil massage. You were the test subject. First one.”

Rean lounged on the table, smiling. *My first massage from someone else… I reacted worse than her.*

*First one…*

Olga’s trust shattered. If he was truly a novice, he was a born playboy—not even the sternest Archangel Uriel could reform him.

“‘First time’? You think I’d be *happy*?” She covered her burning cheeks, glaring. “If it’s true, this embarrassing state is *your potion’s fault*!”

“You may question my character,” Rean said, tone sharpening, “but never my craftsmanship. Seventy-five trials perfected this. See? Wings invisible.”

“Name the ingredients!”

“Fine. Powdered wings of the Phantom Butterfly—rare even in the Demon Realm. Water Spirit Grass to neutralize toxicity. Purple Allure Flower to erase the odor from blending them…”

“Wait—*what* removes the odor?!”

Her face flushed red, then pale green.

“Purple Allure Flower. Petals make invigorating sachets…”

“It’s also an a-aphrodisiac! A-aphrodisiac! YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE!”

Her face burned sunset-red. She leaped up, shouting.

Rean blinked. Then let out a dismissive “Hmph.”

“Endure the tiny side effect. I thought you’d noticed. Can’t you metabolize it? *I’m* fine.” He paused. A knowing smile spread. “Ah… so earlier, you were…”

“SHUT UP! TAKE THAT TO YOUR GRAVE!!!!”

Tears of shame glistened at her eyes. She snatched the empty bottle and hurled it straight at his face.