Bang!
In the imperial office.
Bang! Bang, bang!
The sound of fists pounding the desk echoed violently through the room.
So it’s come to this, thought Lilien, standing blankly in front of the furious Empress.
What now…?
After hearing the name Beatrice from Lilien, Tia had frozen momentarily, her face dazed. But the very next second, she was overtaken by rage.
And now, she was slamming her fists against the desk repeatedly.
“Your Majesty, please…!”
Seeing blood drip from her knuckles, Lilien hurried forward, trying to stop her.
Thud!
Tia slammed her hand down one final time, then glared at Lilien with burning eyes.
“Lilien.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“How is it that Beatrice, one of the former Demon King’s Four Generals, is walking freely near our borders? Does that make any sense to you?”
It was an accusatory question.
But that wasn't Lilien’s responsibility. She wasn't the one meant to answer for such matters. Still, she didn't speak back.
No—she couldn’t.
“…It doesn’t make sense.”
“Then why,” Tia’s voice was sharp, her tone cold, “Why is it happening?”
Lilien couldn’t answer.
Tia was furious, but she was also shaken. Beatrice’s sudden reappearance had thrown her completely off guard.
“Do you truly have no idea how she managed to make Clay walk again?”
Tia’s question suggested that she was finally trying to think logically about the situation.
Lilien swallowed hard and nodded, “No, I don't know. Your Majesty.”
“So all you can say is that you saw him walking,” Tia pressed her hand to her forehead. A dark shadow clouded her expression.
“…Whether he’s undead or not, the fact that she took his body means she has a plan. Assemble a search team immediately.”
“Your Majesty,” Lilien spoke hesitantly, “With all due respect… Beatrice is not someone I can handle alone. Perhaps we should entrust the task to Lady Nael…”
“Nael?” Tia frowned in obvious displeasure, “This is my affair.”
“We’ll make sure we recover the Hero’s body,” Lilien said.
“!”
Tia was about to lash out again—then suddenly bit her lip.
She’d understood Lilien’s implication: use Nael.
“…Nael is incredibly powerful,” Suppressing her temper, Tia let out a slow breath, “If you say ‘we make sure—then you must succeed.”
“If Your Majesty could assign a priest skilled in divine magic to accompany me…”
“Not one from the Holy Alliance.”
“I understand. I’ll handle it, even if I have to bribe someone into obedience.”
“I’ll have someone arranged.”
Finally, Tia took a moment to assess Lilien’s condition.
“You’ll need to recover before setting out. Go rest. I’ll need time to make preparations anyway.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Lilien bowed deeply.
Tia waved her hand, dismissing her. Lilien turned to leave, dragging her aching body out of the office.
Is this really the right thing to do? she wondered.
She had taken on the role of Royal Guard Captain to protect the Empress.
But with the commander of the Royal Knights absent, she had no choice but to handle even these serious matters.
“Huff… Huff!”
It was then she spotted someone sprinting toward her from down the corridor.
A maid?
No one would dare run near the Empress’s office unless it was something urgent.
“L-Lady Lilien!”
The maid stopped abruptly when she saw her.
“Th-There’s trouble!”
“Trouble?”
“Yes! Lady Yuru froze the attendant and prevented him from sending the messenger hawk! Then she disappeared somewhere!”
“…What?”
It was the first Lilien had heard of it.
“What do you mean? What hawk?”
“I—I don’t know the details. But the thawed attendant said to inform Her Majesty immediately!”
Lilien’s eyes widened, then she let out a slow sigh.
Don’t tell me…
Creak…
The office doors opened behind her.
As Lilien turned, there stood Tia, having just stepped out.
“…What did you say?”
Her face had gone pale with shock.
♧
Tap, tap…
Barungenia. Inside the Demon King’s Castle.
Clay walked slowly through the silent halls, glancing around him.
From the moment I stepped into the office, I noticed it—there’s nothing here. It’s almost uncomfortably empty.
The inside of the Demon King’s Castle felt hollow. While its purpose as a refuge might’ve explained some of the starkness, it was also clear that the Demon King had little interest in grandeur or wealth.
The other castles were like this too.
Despite rumors claiming the Demon King sought to dominate and possess everything in the world, his castles had remarkably little treasure.
The storage rooms were mostly filled with weapons. Looking back, it seemed the Demon King was utterly obsessed with war.
Clay paused in front of a portrait hanging along the hallway wall. In the dim corridor, the face in the painting was obscured by shadow.
But he knew that face.
He remembered the look the Demon King had worn when the Holy Sword pierced his heart.
Those black wings stretching from his back, the horns curling atop his head—people called those his trademarks.
But not Clay.
That expression—the one he always wore, even before he’d been stabbed—was what marked him.
Death.
The Demon King’s face no longer belonged to the living.
—Clay.
A voice echoed in his memory.
—Are you still alive?
Clay turned his gaze away from the portrait and continued walking.
He was heading to the Workshop on the second floor of Barungenia. Beatrice had told him it was time to prepare the basics if he was going to become the next Demon King.
She’d said he needed proper attire first.
Is appearance really that important? he thought.
But if he were going to stand above the former minions of the Demon King, then how he looked would matter.
And even if Beatrice handled everything else, he had to make an effort himself.
If I’ve decided to do this…
He paused mid-step.
He’d found it. The Workshop. A plaque on the door marked it clearly.
Clay knocked gently.
“May I come in?”
There was no answer.
Just as he considered entering on his own, the door creaked open.
Creak.
The rusty hinges groaned—but that noise faded the moment he saw who—or what—stood before him.
“…You’re…”
Boing! Boing!
A blue, droplet-shaped monster.
A slime.
“…A slime?”
Caught completely off guard, Clay tilted his head.
The slime puffed up as if to declare: This room is mine!
“…I see.”
Around its jelly-like form, a neatly tied necktie hung from its front.
“So you’re the tailor here.”
The slime bounced once and nodded, affirming his guess.
Clay had never seen a slime tailor before.
“…Do you work alone?”
He peeked inside and spotted scissors, measuring tapes, and other tools arranged neatly.
No other assistants.
When he glanced back, the slime began bouncing angrily.
“…So you really do everything by yourself.”
Clay stepped inside.
His eyes immediately fell on a series of outfits hung on mannequins.
“Did you make all these?”
From noblewoman’s gowns to camouflage cloaks to merchant uniforms—they were flawless. The variety and craftsmanship defied belief.
“If you made these, you’re incredible. Honestly, I’m shocked.”
『Bo-yong!』
The slime let out a strange chirp of pride.
Clay didn’t know if it counted as “speech,” but he could tell the slime was pleased.
“Alright, I’ll entrust this to you.”
Clay bent down slightly and spoke.
“Beatrice told me to have a proper Demon King’s outfit made here.”
『Bo-yong?!』
“She said you’re the best for the job.”
Startled at first, the slime quickly swelled with renewed determination.
It slithered into the workshop, and Clay followed.
Standing still at the center of the room, he watched as the slime returned—now holding a measuring tape.
Two tendrils stretched from its body like arms, wielding the tape expertly.
Clay gave a nod, signaling he was ready.
Shfft!
It didn’t take long. The slime finished quickly and formed a ring with its tentacle to say: “All done!”
“That’s it?”
『Bo-yong!』
“That was fast.”
Clay chuckled. “So, when should I return to pick it up?”
The slime pulled out a calendar and marked a date—three days from now.
“You can make it that fast?”
『Bo-yong…!』
The slime handed him a sketchbook filled with past designs.
Each outfit had a listed production time. None took more than a week.
“Alright. I’m officially impressed.”
Then—he spotted it.
“…This one…”
A familiar design.
There was no mistaking it.
The Demon King’s robes.
A sketch of the previous Demon King’s garments was carefully preserved among the designs.
Clay turned to the slime.
It tilted curiously, as if asking, “What’s wrong?”
“…It’s nothing.”
He handed the sketchbook back and turned to leave.
“I’ll tell Beatrice you’re handling my attire.”
『Bo-yong!』
“I’m looking forward to it.”
He stepped out of the atelier and let out a sigh.
Then, turning slightly, he saw her.
Beatrice was already standing beside him.
(End of Chapter)