He had come all this way to spread rumors about the House of West only to find the rumors were already spreading.
And in a different direction than Reinhild had planned.
‘This way is much better, though?’
The content was far more detailed and organized than the rumor Reinhild had intended to circulate.
For now, only some in Audrit were voicing personal complaints, but with time the situation would grow serious.
If, as people said, the economy collapsed and neighboring domains began to suffer monster damage, chaos would erupt.
At first, they might curse the lord of Audrit for letting things escalate.
But in the end, the arrows would turn toward the true instigator, the Duke of West.
They would say this happened because the House of West bullied residents of another lord’s domain for no good reason.
That the poor lord of Audrit, too low in rank to protest a duke, could do nothing but quake and bolt his gates.
Once that rumor spread, the image of the House of West—and of the Hero—would plunge into the abyss.
‘Perfect, isn’t it?’
A ruined reputation for the Hero was precisely what Reinhild wanted.
Heroes live off their image.
Put that way, the profession might sound a bit cheap, but it was true.
The source of a Hero’s power is the god.
The more the Hero performs great deeds, the more humans praise the Hero, which amounts to praising the god.
Then the god’s influence on the world grows stronger, and in turn the god grants the Hero greater power.
Conversely, if the Hero’s image gets dragged through the gutter, the god loses the power to interfere in the human realm.
If more people start to resent the god for failing to send a better Hero, the god’s influence could drop off a cliff.
‘If that happens, the Hero won’t be able to find me.’
A Hero can track the Demon King’s traces only because the god ultimately lends aid.
A Hero without the god’s help will even struggle to pursue the Demon King.
The worse the reputation of the West ducal house and the Hero, the better for Reinhild.
‘If things keep going like this, that bastard’s reputation will get worse and worse!’
Reinhild felt so delighted at how well things were turning in his favor that he could have flown.
Five hundred years ago, even when he wasn’t happy, he could fly all he wanted just by deciding to… but now, short on mana, he couldn’t so much as lift off the ground, let alone fly.
In any case, it was good news.
If the House of West ignored the lord of Audrit’s silent protest and kept harassing the people of Root, the Hero’s reputation would fall and it would become harder to pursue Reinhild.
If they bowed their heads instead, they wouldn’t be able to touch Audrit for at least a few decades.
Either way, it meant the Hero and the House of West could not lay a hand on Root.
Root was safe now.
And every human living there.
And Xion, too!
Everyone in Root could continue their former peace.
He had to tell Xion this happy news at once…
‘Oh. I ran away.’
He’d gotten so excited he’d forgotten.
‘Even so… now that the situation is resolved, couldn’t I go back?’
Reinhild had fled in order to protect Xion.
Reinhild hadn’t actually done anything, but in any case, Xion and the village of Root had regained their peace.
Then couldn’t he go back now?
Maybe he’d still end up causing trouble in the future…
But couldn’t he be a little selfish?
‘It’ll be fine.’
Even if Xion learned the whole story, he would understand Reinhild.
He decided. He would be just the tiniest bit selfish.
He’d been stabbed in the heart by the Hero and lost so much over five hundred years—surely he wouldn’t be struck down by heaven for wanting nothing more than a spot at a single human’s side.
He would go back to Xion.
Reinhild clenched his fist and turned his body to retrace his steps.
Toward the city gate.
“Let me out! Let me out now!”
“Please, let us through!”
“At this rate we’re all going to die!”
“No. I said no, back up! If you won’t listen, we’ll use force.”
“It’s late! Go home and rest—come back tomorrow in the day!”
“Please let us out!!”
The space before the gate was still jammed with humans struggling to leave the city and other humans struggling to stop them.
“…”
It was all well and good to decide to go back—
But there was no way out.
“Sniff.”
Reinhild sniffled as he stared at the gate turned madhouse.
Once the sun set and night deepened, his body began to shiver.
“I’m cold… and hungry…”
No matter how long he waited, the situation at the gate showed no sign of improving. If anything, the number of knights and soldiers guarding it was increasing as time passed.
At this rate, waiting until dawn would be pointless.
Reinhild had no choice but to walk deeper into the city.
He was so cold, so tired, and so hungry he could have collapsed at any moment.
Driven by the thought that he had to escape at once and save Xion, he hadn’t even felt his fatigue, but once the problem seemed solved, all the exhaustion crashed down at once.
“Ugh…”
The wind was only getting stronger.
Reinhild hugged Brownie tight.
Not as warm as when he held Xion—but warm enough.
“You’re hungry too, right? I’ll get you food soon. We have to run again tomorrow, so eat a lot and rest well.”
Neigh.
Reinhild walked with Brownie to find an inn with a stable.
“Smells good…”
Unlike Root, where the day ended when night fell, this place kept its lights bright and its drinking going even after dark.
From everywhere came the clink of cups and the smell of food.
Reinhild stopped before an inn.
From the inn with a first-floor tavern came an overwhelming reek of oil.
Five hundred years ago, Reinhild would have clapped at that smell.
But perhaps he’d grown used to Xion’s healthy, delicious cooking—his stomach heaved at the greasiness so thick it made him suspect they’d dumped in oil by the bucket.
Even so, this was no time to be picky.
Right now he ought to be grateful not just for greasy food but for a lump of grease itself.
The smell of food set his stomach roaring.
As it happened, the inn had a stable attached.
A place for Brownie, a hot meal, and a soft bed.
Everything he needed.
He could probably stay here a day.
“Wait here.”
Reinhild soothed Brownie and, as if spellbound, went inside the inn.
Inside, humans who looked like mercenaries were boisterously drinking.
It was certainly a sight you’d never see in Root.
“…”
Was it his imagination that everything suddenly went quiet?
The moment Reinhild entered, the atmosphere inside the inn changed.
Something felt off and chilly; Reinhild hunched his shoulders and looked around.
‘What is this? Looking to pick a fight?’
He felt countless eyes on him.
The stares made his skin crawl, as if bugs were climbing over him.
Were they brimming with bloodlust?
Unarmed, Reinhild had no confidence he could beat armed mercenaries, and his shoulders drew up without him realizing.
‘Don’t shrink. You can’t be looked down on by humans when you’re the Demon King.’
Reinhild decided to act with confidence.
Show fear, and they’d only dismiss him.
Act like nothing’s wrong, and they wouldn’t move so rashly.
He straightened his hunched shoulders, strode up to someone who looked to work there, and asked in a stately tone:
“I need food for myself and for my horse.”
The human looked Reinhild up and down.
Whatever he was thinking, it made Reinhild want to jab both his eyes—an irritation he swallowed because he was hungry.
“Pardon me, but do you have money?”
“…Money?”
Reinhild froze like a statue.
In all his life as the Demon King, had he ever bought something with money?
Try as he might, he couldn’t recall such a thing.
Naturally.
Reinhild had never needed to spend money to have anything.
Everything in the Demon King’s castle belonged to Reinhild. If he wanted something, he took it; if he disliked something, he broke it at will.
If he lacked something he wanted, he simply gave the order; then someone would present it before him.
It had been the same when he’d lost everything and drifted to Root.
Before he could even think he wanted something, it was already in his hands because Xion always took care of it.
‘I never even thought I’d need money.’
To flee without thinking even this far, he’d been far too complacent.
Not knowing because he was the Demon King was no excuse.
But regret wouldn’t change anything now.
“What happens if I don’t have money?”
“Why, you’re thrown out, of course.”
How could that be?
“Is there a way to pay with something else?”
“No.”
In truth, even if they did accept something else, it would be a problem.
Reinhild had nothing at all.
It wasn’t as if they’d take a worn-out straw hat or a used book.
Reinhild was penniless.
Not only without the price of a warm meal or a cozy bed… He didn’t even have enough to buy a single piece of bread.
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