Reinhild had not died.
Judging from the circumstances, he must have been saved by the human lying beside him.
His body was warm, his stomach full, proof that he had received far more than mere rescue.
Good. That much he understood.
What he could not understand was…
Why am I resting my head on this human… why am I sharing a bed with him?
He could not even bring himself to think the words held in his arms.
Such a scene was disgraceful for a Demon King.
Any other demon would click his tongue and declare Reinhild finished.
Reinhild quickly checked his condition.
After the reckless escape from the castle, his remaining mana had dropped to zero, and for some reason it now replenished at a snail’s pace but physically he was sound.
My body’s better than expected. I should escape while I can.
It was a moon-dim, dark night. It was his favorite time, perfect for a Demon King to move.
In return for sparing me, I shall leave you your life, human.
Reinhild carefully sat up, preparing to slip from the bed and out of the room or so he tried.
“Ah? Wh-whoa—!”
“It’s dangerous to move suddenly after lying still for so long.”
Thump.
In the blink of an eye, Reinhild was back on the mattress.
To be precise, he had been laid there by the very human who had been sleeping beside him moments before.
“See? You’ve toppled from dizziness.”
Nonsense.
He hadn’t fainted. The man had yanked him down!
Reinhild wanted to snap at the babbling human but could not.
Not because he feared someone who had subdued the Demon King so casually.
Only because that man smiled so gently, tucking him in, patting the blanket with such bright warmth that Reinhild could not speak.
That smile is dangerously dazzling to one as steeped in malice as I am.
Convinced he had taken a critical blow, Reinhild curled beneath the covers, trying to muffle his pounding heart.
Am I actually afraid of this human? Me?
Unacceptable. Calm down, heart.
The Demon King cannot quake before a mere human.
He hadn’t felt like this even with death at his throat.
“Your face is flushed. You seem feverish…”
“Don’t touch me.”
Reinhild slapped away the hand reaching for him and decided: this human was dangerous.
Yet the man’s smile never wavered. That composure surely came from strength, the confidence of someone who could subdue a mana-less Demon King with one hand.
Such a foe had to be the Hero or one of his companions.
Putting on his most dignified expression, Reinhild asked in a tone of breezy indifference:
“Where am I? An underground cell?”
“This is my room.”
“I see. Are you the Hero of this era?”
“Hardly.”
“N-not the Hero?”
Apparently, the man had no idea Reinhild was the Demon King.
Come to think of it, even an ordinary human in this age might be strong enough to terrify him.
“Then what is your occupation, hu— person?”
“I’m a farmer.”
He really was a passing farmer.
Reinhild’s pride cracked.
To be overpowered… by a farmer… I…
Watching Reinhild blanch, Xion spoke with a smile.
“And my name is Xion, not ‘person.’ ”
He can’t think I used that as his name. I merely avoided saying “human” to hide I’m the Demon King.
Perhaps the ruse worked; Xion seemed oblivious to his identity otherwise he wouldn’t wait so calmly for Reinhild to introduce himself.
“I am Rei—”
Wait. Giving his real name was risky.
Reinhild might still appear in some record. If the Hero heard it, trouble would follow.
“…Rein.”
“Rein. A fine name.”
Praise from a lowly human did not please him.
“You look nice when you smile.”
“I did not smile.”
Xion pulled the blanket up to Reinhild’s chin and patted it again.
“Now, time to sleep.”
“Let go. I’m nocturnal…”
Mumbling some protest, Reinhild soon found his eyes drooping under the steady rhythm of those pats.
Though he frowned in resistance, the blanket’s softness won; before long he drifted off.
I’m a pathetic Demon King who can’t withstand drowsiness, let alone the Hero…
❖ ❖ ❖
Reinhild awoke several hours later because Xion had called his name over and over.
“Just… five more minutes…”
“It’s time to rise, Rein.”
“Ugh…”
What empire decreed a set “wake-up time?”
This Xion was surely a liar.
All right. Today I kill him and flee.
Grumbling inwardly, Reinhild followed Xion out of the room.
A breakfast spread waited on the table: slow-simmered corn porridge, lean roasted duck, buttered scrambled eggs, an array of fruits and vegetables.
He must have worked hard on this. I’ll stay one more day and leave tomorrow!
It wouldn’t be polite to kill him right after he’d prepared such a meal.
Reinhild was a Demon King who knew etiquette.
❖ ❖ ❖
Even after Reinhild’s recovery, Xion did not return to the fields for some time.
When more than a week had passed, villagers began visiting.
“We worried you’d collapsed from illness! Living alone will do that. My cousin’s friend’s daughter in the next town is marriageable. How about an introduction?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“If you change your mind, let me know. Here, take this. When you’re sick, you must eat well. Health first, all right?”
Perhaps because Xion lived alone, every neighbor brought something.
What a backwater.
Food gifts like eggs, milk, fruit—fine.
But firewood? Cotton stuffing for winter quilts? That was excessive.
Reinhild had never so much as bought such things, let alone received them.
Even the Demon King’s castle five hundred years ago wasn’t like this.
With magic you could heat an entire village, yet some places still burned wood.
Though human mages had increased in number and rank, their influence clearly hadn’t reached hamlets like this.
Indeed, Xion’s house held no magical devices at all.
All the better.
Hidden in such a rural spot, the Hero would never come.
It was distant from the capital, filled with elderly folk. It was no place to recruit party members.
The Hero’s group probably didn’t even know this village existed.
At most, it was known for fresh produce and tasty fruit.
Even if the Hero received periodic hints of the Demon King’s location, he’d search big cities first.
While they waste time elsewhere, I’ll gather mana, regain strength, and flee.
A perfect plan. Reinhild almost applauded himself.
Until my mana’s back, I’ll exploit this soft-hearted human thoroughly.
If word got out that Xion had aided the Demon King, he’d be beheaded.
Reinhild felt a tiny pang of guilt, but a Demon King does not apologize, especially to a human.
“If you need anything, just tell me, all right?”
“Yes.”
“And if you decide you’d like to meet my cousin’s friend’s daughter, say so anytime.”
Didn’t she used to be a “friend’s cousin’s daughter?”
Reinhild craned his neck, trying to see this matchmaker at the door, but Xion blocked the view entirely.
So he won’t let me see outside?
Suspicion crept in again.
Who was out there? Slave traders? A dark mage needing test subjects?
Maybe he’d realized Reinhild was the Demon King and called the Hero. Otherwise, why hide the visitor so thoroughly?
While Reinhild narrowed his eyes at Xion’s back, the neighbor eyed Xion just as suspiciously.
He won’t even open the door properly—what’s going on?
Usually he’d swing it wide and chat, but today he stood blocking the entrance as if concealing something.
Did he hide a bride?
A reasonable guess, explaining why he’d refused the introduction.
“If there’s good news, be sure to tell us, okay?”
With a grin the neighbor left.
As Xion shut the door, Reinhild, eyes blazing, darted over.
“Who was that?”
“A neighbor.”
“What did you get this time?”
“Some fruit perfect for fresh juice.”
Reinhild promptly seated himself at the table.
Fresh juice from newly picked fruit, an adequate compensation for making the Demon King wait.
Indeed, the juice was delicious.
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