A light tone, as if simply asking about the lunch menu. It was so casual and nonchalant that I nearly answered without thinking, but I quickly clamped my mouth shut and took a step back.
The Demon King raised an eyebrow at my reaction, but now wasn't the time to worry about that.
Someone's life hung on every word I said. Even after entering the Demon King's castle, I'd never once opened my mouth without care, but this moment demanded even more caution than usual.
Really...
"This is driving me insane."
"Pardon?"
"I already told you, it's a done deal."
The Demon King muttered something about hearing strange words, then focused on what came after.
"So, what did you decide?"
"We're not growing that plant."
"It's too weak."
"Pardon?"
Dissatisfaction crept onto the Demon King's face.
"It attacked you. That's not something that just ends there. You're an important talent, and you can't afford to look weak to anyone. Even if it doesn't happen, what if you'd let your guard down and gotten hurt? Your reputation would plummet—from unbeatable to maybe-beatable-if-you-try. And you just let it slide? Even if I respect you, this won't do. We need to at least lop off a few limbs."
I didn't even know where to start correcting him. Telling him to cut off the gardener Hien's limbs, calling me respected—it was all absurd.
After hearing such ridiculousness, my blood pressure was rising.
...And judging by the nosebleed, it wasn't just my imagination.
"Demon?!"
The startled Demon King tossed Hien aside and rushed over.
Hien, who had tumbled to the floor...
"Demon, sir!"
Why you? Just stay down.
Determined to reach me, he rolled once on the ground like some acrobatic feat, sprang up, and charged this way.
The ground seemed to shake. ...Come to think of it, that damn plant had me hanging upside down earlier. No wonder the blood rushed to my head.
I pressed a hand to my probably wrecked lower face, steadying my crumbling balance with a wobble.
My fragile skin burned, my eyes stung from the fire, my vision warped, and my ankle throbbed belatedly where the vine had grabbed it.
Wow, this body is really...
"Pul...l yourself... together!"
"Demon... Can you... hear my... voice?"
A new kind of record, then. Damn it all.
Amid the faintly heard voices, I cursed my frail body and slowly closed my eyes.
Just before shutting them, I thought I heard Ben's voice from behind, but darkness claimed me before I could confirm.
Eh, probably my imagination. His room is far from here—how could he know? Even if someone called him via communication, he couldn't arrive that fast.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The moment I opened my eyes, a very familiar ceiling came into view. Rolling them a bit to scan the walls, I saw massive puzzles perfectly fitted into frames hanging there—definitely my room. Hm.
I tried to sit up without thinking, only to curl up with a short groan as dull pain rippled through my whole body.
Then a familiar voice came from what I'd thought was an empty room.
"You'll be quite uncomfortable for daily activities for a while."
"...Ben?"
"Yes, Demon sir."
Ben, who had been seated at the table in the middle of the room mixing medicine, pushed back his chair and stood.
He approached, checked my eyes, let out a faint sigh, then demonstratively grabbed my arm and lifted it. White bandages were wrapped meticulously right to my fingertips.
"See? You have minor burns over your entire body."
"..."
"Your eyes are a bit damaged from staring at the fire too long. Lucky it's self-healing, or it could've been permanent."
"...Uh, yeah."
"Someone whose skin reddens after just twenty minutes in sunlight—why'd you go messing with fire? If you were mad, just kill the culprit."
Was he always this aggressive...? He seemed milder before.
But the atmosphere didn't lend itself to arguing. Look at those eyes—burning fiercer than the garden flames. And the emotion in them... anger?!
A bit wronged, but better to steer away from this topic fast. Desperately racking my brain, I brought up the nagging memory.
That faint voice of Ben's I'd heard.
"Ben. That time, when I was bleeding from the nose in the garden—were you there?"
"Pardon? Why ask now? You even talked to me."
"...Pardon?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Only after talking with Ben did I piece together what happened. In short, I'd lost my mind.
Half out of it, I'd faced the Demon King—and Hien survived intact.
According to Ben, I'd boldly declared in front of him:
If he respected me, couldn't he respect me just one more time?
"More precisely, you said, 'You respect me, right?' When His Majesty affirmed, you replied, 'Then, can't you respect me one more time?'"
The Demon King asked, "What?" And I cheekily pointed at Hien with, "What do you think?"
Ah, the "cheekily" is my addition. Ben wouldn't say something rude like that.
Still, the fact remained: I'd dared speak and act that way to the Demon King.
Unable to openly despair, I forced a twitching smile at Ben's puzzled gaze.
"...Good memory you have."
"Thank you. No one present will forget that scene, no matter how much time passes."
That intense, huh. Ugh, I want to be alone. Everyone, just leave.
I quietly buried my face in the pillow.
Me, doing something that outrageous. If I could, I'd deny reality. If I'd remembered, I'd have done anything to forget. So the memory loss wasn't incomprehensible.
Ah, no more thinking. I hate even recalling it.
At least, the silver lining was how few people in the Demon King's castle ever spoke to me. If I kept quiet, no one would mention it again.
...Or so I'd thought.
"Mm."
Sitting on the bed hugging a pillow, I scowled as hard as I could.
If he couldn't tell I was upset from this, he'd have no sense at all.
I was extremely displeased. If anyone spoke to me now, demon or not, I'd glare with all my might.
Why? Those few who did talk to me—all brought up the garden incident.
Every single one! All of them!
[As you wished, I respected you and spared him.]
Even the oblivious Demon King who visited.
[Demon sir, thank you so much for that. And sorry. It was all because of me...]
The gardener Hien, who never had any tact to begin with.
Even Ben, the chief physician checking my wounds daily, mentioned it whenever he could.
[Many must've been impressed. Standing up to His Majesty over a mere gardener.]
Are you all conspiring?! How can they all lack tact like this? Demon trait?
"Mm-hmm."
"...Is something uncomfortable?"
"No, it's fine."
Today too, Ben was changing my bandages beside me.
Eh, maybe stop there. It seems less frequent lately.
Every time I scowled, Ben flinched, but where was the boldness from when I first woke up after the garden, scolding me? Truly mysterious.
Anyway, I'd thought "full-body burns" was exaggeration, but no—mild burns everywhere. Not even jumping into flames, just brief exposure to the heat, and burns? Humiliating.
If I could forget this too, great. But with the wounds, impossible. Distort it to think I touched the fire directly? That might be less shameful.
Unfortunately, no such miracle.
Desperately trying to banish the shame with other thoughts, an old question resurfaced.
"...By the way, Ben."
"Yes."
"Isn't your room quite far from the west garden?"
"Yes, it is."
"So how'd you get to me so fast?"
Thinking back, it was odd.
Since the day I submitted my resignation to the Demon King, whenever I felt off or injured, Ben appeared like a ghost.
I'd dismissed it as coincidence, but after the garden, probably not.
I stared at him pointedly with suspicion. He blinked uncomfortably a few times, then smiled casually and removed the necklace from his neck.
"Thanks to this."
A coin-sized stone emitting an eerie glow, strung on a necklace.
At a glance, just crude jewelry, but something oddly captivating—not mere gemstone. I'd seen it before. Definitely familiar.
...Ah.
"Magic Stone?"
"Yes. It holds a few drops of your blood and His Majesty's magic. It signals if the quality, speed, or flow of blood in your body turns abnormal. We took measures from all angles to prevent a repeat of last time."
Last time meaning vomiting blood before the Demon King? Unnecessary...
It even tracks location. He pretended otherwise, but his pride showed—I couldn't even complain, just grumbled inwardly.
'This crazy bastard. When'd he take my blood?'
As I stayed silent, quiet filled the room. The potentially awkward air shifted smoothly as Ben changed the subject.
"Planning to eat in your room again today?"
"Well... always have..."
"I've never told you to stay bedridden, Demon sir."
True. Three days straight, cooped up without stepping out.
Most days in the castle were like that, but Ben clearly disapproved. Finishing the bandage efficiently, he said firmly.
"I checked today's legion commander dining hall menu. Not bad."
"I'm a patient..."
"Minor burns to begin with. Plus, I got His Majesty to approve the best ingredients for your medicine—mostly healed by now. Eyes recovered, ankle won't hurt even running."
"..."
Nothing to say to such spot-on logic.
Now I got Ben's switch. The thing turning mild-mannered him into a blunt critic.
Health.
Impeccable professionalism. Furious over health issues, nothing else.
Of course, not personal concern but obeying orders—still, touching.
Separate from that, it was annoying.
I pouted and stood.
"I'll change, so leave."
"Thank you for indulging my impertinent request."
Perfectly polite to the end, he withdrew.
Can't even hate him like that. He knows it. Grumbling inwardly, I opened the wardrobe.
Clothes hung in neat rows—all from the Demon King and 2nd Legion Commander.
Demon King, fine—but why did the 2nd Legion Commander insist on dressing me?
Spot-on taste, perfectly suited, but no way I'd comply. Once would lead to more selections and endless hassle.
Gritting my teeth, I shoved aside the 2nd Legion Commander's gifts and pulled out the Demon King's.