Every time Argen’s head moved, something swaying near her chest suddenly caught his eye. Valen unconsciously reached out and toyed with the ends of her hair.
“They’re all reasonable people, so they’ll probably ask for something else. But if it’s dangerous, I’ll stop them, so don’t worry.”
As Valen fell silent, the loud shouts of the demonic beings outside the door came through clearly. Despite their urgent demands to send Lord Argen out quickly, Valen felt no impatience. He savoured the feel of the hair in his hand, lightly brushed her forearm, and cupped her rounded shoulder blade.
But this situation… felt somehow familiar.
When working as a mercenary escorting nobles, there was one place they visited with high probability. The opera house. Famous performances that sold out every single seat day after day ran year-round on stage. Valen had even seen the same opera six times. By then, he could silently sing along to the protagonist’s aria without missing a single note.And now. A scene he’d only ever seen in operas was playing out right here in this Demon King’s Castle, with him cast as the villain.
The scheming, wicked sisters-in-law, the naive and soft-hearted young groom, and the sly, cunning daughter-in-law. Here, the sisters-in-law were the three demon lords, the groom was Argen, and Valen himself was the cunning daughter-in-law.
In the opera, the sisters-in-law believed the daughter-in-law had only approached the young groom for his money. The daughter-in-law, to prove her love, would sing about affectionate, cringe-worthy displays of devotion…
Valen couldn’t possibly sing a love serenade in the Demon King’s castle. Nor did he want to. Besides, to Valen, women fell into two categories. Those who gave him money, and those who didn’t. He classified men a little differently. Those who gave money but he wanted to beat up, and those he just wanted to beat up.
Life was too fierce for extravagant relationships like romance to find a place, and he hadn’t actually felt any rational attraction to anyone. But if you counted only the number of lovers, he had more than the continent’s most notorious womanizer. At times, he had nineteen lovers at once.
He was currently fulfilling several requests to pretend to be someone’s lover without physical intimacy for a set period. Some didn’t even pay, yet went around proclaiming Valen was their lover.
Having lived his entire life under public scrutiny, Valen never bothered to correct the rumours people spread. But he should have stepped forward and passionately defended himself. Because two or three times a day, unknown women would show up, slap Valen’s face, or collapse on the floor crying and wailing.
The vague rumours solidified into reality and reached the ears of his clients. In an instant, Valen’s bookings plummeted, cutting his monthly income in half. After that, Valen judged that acting as a stand-in lover was a high-risk job with large income fluctuations and frequent client changes of heart. He never took on such a job again.
Anyway. During that period, there was information gained by offering his cheek. He had thoroughly learned, both mentally and physically, how to handle a lover. He was confident he could perform it perfectly, to the point where the three demons would never again be able to talk about affection or anything like that.
Dine at a nice restaurant, show interest in their minor habits and preferences, and give gifts that cost a decent amount while showing effort. And in Valen’s view, a lover was no different from a servant. Put their shoes on for them, listen attentively to what they say, respond appropriately, and gauge their mood.
It stung his pride to have to go through such trouble for a demon, but if he thought of it as a commission, it was manageable. Besides, using a wish on such a trivial matter was a bargain from Valen’s perspective. If he’d been in Argen’s position, Valen would have asked for her name.
Valen pulled her body toward him and pressed his lips to her forehead.
“I’ll try anything.”
“What are you doing? Hurry up and come here. My arm’s about to fall off.”
Even after clearly seeing what was thrust at him, Valen doubted and doubted again. What Nadol handed him was a shovel. An ordinary shovel.
Beside Valen, Argen muttered, “Thank goodness.”
“What’s so thank goodness about it?”
“I was worried they would make you jump off a cliff while shouting your name.”
“What kind of novel did you guys read?”
“I’ll never like someone like you.”
Stop talking.
Qualifications as a lover, proof of this and that… then why hand me work gloves and a shovel? Argen tapped Valen’s arm. It meant take them. Valen clutched the shovel in surprise.
“Now. You haven’t forgotten this place, have you? It’s the fateful spot where Lord Argen picked you up!”
How could I forget? The moment when defeat was instinctive, when I had to brace for death, came flooding back. I collapsed utterly, without even a chance to struggle. To those demonic beings.
The plain, once thick with blood and darkness, was now bathed in bright sunlight. Grasses trampled and crushed were sprouting anew from the earth. Dawn dew hadn’t yet dried, and light fell upon the moisture-laden leaves, sparkling brilliantly. In the middle of the vast plain, a single pear blossom tree stood tall.
“Prove your devotion—no, your sacrifice—by transplanting this tree to the Lake of Life!”
“Is manual labor the only way demons express affection?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you kidding?” Valen had never once transplanted a giant tree with a shovel during any of his dates.
Even when he went to ask his client’s parents for permission to marry, he’d been splashed with water, wine, and even cheese just because he was a low-ranking noble—but no one had ever told him to go plant a tree.
Demons were demons, after all. They were vicious.
The three demons and Argen simply handed Valen a shovel and huddled together around the tree. The four backs of their heads lined up side by side looked decidedly serious.
“We shouldn’t have planted the tree in the Demon King’s Castle courtyard in the first place.”
“Who could have known the human army would invade this often?”
Nadol turned around and beckoned to Valen. He had not the slightest desire to get involved in the demons’ worries. Standing stubbornly with both feet planted, he remained put until Nadol finally came up behind him and pushed him toward the tree.
“It’s only been planted for about 300 years, but already half its flowers have fallen. It’s not getting enough nutrients from the soil. If we leave it like this, it won’t last ten years before it rots from the roots up.”
“So?”
“So what?! Don’t you know how much Lord Argen cherishes this tree? She comes out at least once a day to check on its condition.”
Even amidst a war where flaming arrows rain down. If she intends to keep watching it, having the tree inside the Demon King’s Castle is certainly safer.
Wait.
A sudden thought flashed through his mind. So, the encounter with Argen here three months ago wasn’t a deliberate attempt to charm Valen? Argen was merely checking on this tree’s condition, and Valen had fallen for it all by himself.
“Hey, your face just turned red. You okay?”
A wave of self-loathing surged from deep within him. It was like a mouse walking straight into a trap without any cheese.
If only, that day… If he had just walked past Argen without seeing her, he wouldn’t have been raped, trapped in the demon realm, or forced to pick up a shovel at the crack of dawn.
He would have died.
Valen covered his face with one hand and bowed his head. Zephyr bent down, peering at his face. “Why all of a sudden?” “Are you crying?”
Though three months had already passed, countless possibilities flooded his mind. If only Argen hadn’t come to see the tree that day, if only the departure date had been just one day earlier, if only he’d chosen a different path among the many wide roads… The choices he hadn’t made then flooded back as regret.
His grip on the shovel tightened.
Yes. That tree is the root of all evil. If only it had been planted in the Demon King’s Castle instead of here in the first place. Valen drove the shovel into the ground with a loud thud, prompting a short gasp from Nadol. “Oh. Finally feeling up to it?”
Valen didn’t respond, rolling his shirt up past his elbows. Today, he would uproot that tree and hurl it back into the Demon King’s Castle.