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CHAPTER 18
The current King of Alcyone reread the invitation from Tartarus with a heavy heart.
He had already responded that he would send his second son, Deucalion, as a hostage.
But he couldn’t tell if that had really been the right decision.
“Surely they suffered some losses from the war as well… So why is it only our divine nation that’s in such ruins?”
He, who was once called an Emperor, had been demoted to a mere King.
The morale of the people had plummeted, and the kingdom’s finances were in dire straits.
Naturally, the people now cursed the complacent royal family with every breath they took.
King Alcyone glanced nervously at Talos.
“Priest Talos, I followed your advice… but are you certain this was a wise choice?”
To be honest, the king had never liked the capital temple’s priests.
Especially that Talos—he’s always been difficult to deal with.
Talos, with his piercing eyes and silver hair.
He came from a prestigious noble lineage within the divine nation.
Handsome, polished, and utterly refined—he was the perfect man in every respect.
And yet, every time the king looked at him, a shiver ran down his spine.
Still, he’s useful. I can’t just cast him aside.
“Thanks to your suggestion, at least I get to keep my firstborn son here… I’m grateful for that.”
“You flatter me, Your Majesty.”
“But what if sending Deucalion only brings more shame upon us? He’s… a bit strange, you know.”
“Please don’t worry.”
Talos bowed deeply in a respectful gesture.
“We priests will take care of His Highness. There will be no trouble.”
All of it was a lie.
He had no interest in the illegitimate prince, even if trouble did arise.
Talos was focused on retrieving the 13th High Saint’s soul from the den of demons.
King Alcyone sighed.
“Well, at least now the Empress—no, the Queen—won’t have to get upset every time she sees that boy…”
“…”
Talos looked at the king with thinly veiled contempt.
If you’re so stupid, just follow orders and shut up, you fool.
How long did the Holy Church have to keep cleaning up after this pathetic excuse for a king?
Well… I’ll let him keep sighing like a fool for now.
Talos had far more important things to focus on.
Recently, the Church had overworked dozens of its most sensitive priests to detect traces of divine energy.
Finally, a result came in.
“A momentary burst of strong divine power was detected… beyond the eastern border.”
“Beyond the border? How strong are we talking?”
“It felt like dozens of priests had activated their divine energy simultaneously, but it lasted only an instant.”
“What…?!”
Only one person came to mind who could manage such a feat.
The 13th. So your soul truly still lingers in the mortal realm?
His heart pounded with excitement.
Only she could stir this frozen heart.
At that moment, one priest hesitantly spoke up:
“But… given the distance, it seems to be… from Tartarus.”
“From Tartarus? That’s where the divine energy came from?”
“Y-Yes, Your Eminence.”
“That’s absurd! How could that be possible?!”
As if in some farce, the High Saint’s soul was wandering in the very lair of demons?
Could such an absurd possibility really be true?
And if I could possess her soul…
Even while she was alive, he had longed for her.
That infuriating commoner who made years of priestly training look like nothing.
And yet, she shone like the autumn moon—radiant and unforgettable.
Standing before King Alcyone, Talos clenched his fists.
If I find you first, 13th… I won’t give you up to anyone.
Not to the old High Priest Yuliphos, nor to that idiot King Alcyone.
Talos’s eyes flashed with a dangerous glint.
The king, oblivious to it all, continued speaking.
“Anyway, it’s fortunate that the 13th named a successor before passing.”
“Yes, truly fortunate.”
“And now we have to send the 14th into the demons’ lair right after being appointed… I’m sorry for that. I trust you’ll take care of the new High Saint.”
Talos simply smiled without replying.
The 14th? Just a filthy fake.
As soon as the 13th’s soul was found, that child would be discarded.
Satisfied that his plans were going smoothly, Talos turned his back on the palace.
Soon, the chaotic birthday celebration would begin.
* * *
Is this what birthdays are usually like?
I never really had one to compare it to.
When the Demon King ordered a birthday celebration for the princess, chaos erupted in the palace.
First, Lethe revised her plans several times a day.
She kept changing my outfit combinations, again and again.
Her face was etched with such solemn determination that anyone who tried to stop her would be seen as a villain.
“All sorts of delegations from various kingdoms will attend. The princess must look perfect from every angle, under every lighting. If not, I won’t be able to forgive myself!”
“Lethe… these are just baby clothes… Never mind. Here, eat this chocolate and hang in there.”
All I could really do was prepare her snacks.
Meanwhile, Minte, even while training Ares, received an escort proposal for the ball.
From none other than Ares’s older brother, Drakon!
Ares and I watched with great interest as Drakon approached Minte with a dramatic expression.
“Sir Epikus. If you don’t yet have an escort for the princess’s birthday ball, would you consider me?”
“I plan to make my entrance alone. Or, more likely, escort someone else.”
“I-I’m fine with you escorting me or vice versa! Or both! Just… enter with me!”
“In that case, I’ll be escorting the princess.”
“Uuurgh.”
I’d never seen grown-up romance back in the divine nation, so all this was new to me.
So this is what they call an “impenetrable wall,” huh?
The steel wall of the Mad Dog Knight.
But Drakon was persistent.
“Then… as dirty and underhanded as this might be—could I beg you as your senior from the former Kore Knights?”
“Duke…”
“I’m two years your senior—even older than Lord Erebos!”
“…”
“Please, have pity on your poor, pitiful senior!”
Watching this, Ares covered his face with both hands.
A muffled groan of embarrassment slipped through his fingers.
“So humiliating…”
Without thinking, I gently patted Ares on the back.
He should’ve just used his noble rank to persuade her. Why beg using their knight order history? Weird demon.
The more time I spent with these demons, the more I saw a different side of them.
The duke who burned Charon. Minte who blasted away a mountain.
They seemed so violent and frightening—but in truth, they were just normal people.
They smiled, they were kind, they were good.
Minte stared for a moment, then shrugged both shoulders.
“I actually can’t accept an escort because I’ll be guarding the princess.”
“Oh…”
“If you really want, we can share the first dance later.”
“Yes! That would be wonderful!”
Drakon looked so happy at that—honestly, it was a little…
I hate how genuinely sorry I feel for him.
Ares, too, looked heartbroken watching his brother.
Then he made a solemn vow to himself.
“I’ll never, ever humiliate myself like that.”
“Ares, you’re not even at the age to care about stuff like that.”
“What? Come on… Hey, Shion. What about you? Are you going to dance?”
“…Huh?”
Dance? What dance?
Don’t tell me they expect this tiny body to dance?
“Ares, how old do you think I am? I’ve never learned to dance.”
“Eek—you just have to cling to someone and sway!”
“Nope. Not dancing.”
What do they expect me to do with these stubby little limbs?
Besides, I’ve never danced in my life. I’d be terrible—and that’s embarrassing.
Inside, I’m still an adult, and dancing terribly would be mortifying.
“…Tch!”
Ares genuinely sulked at my answer.
No matter how many times I poked him or offered his favorite fig pie afterward, he ignored me.
Weird. I used to be good with kids, didn’t I?
But this child’s moods were as unpredictable as the wind.
Of course, the one I understood the least was—without question—the Demon King.
“At this lighting, Elysion’s hair won’t reflect the light properly.”
“Y-Your Majesty…”
“With that kind of chair, the child will be in pain within an hour. Replace it immediately.”
He gave detailed instructions on every decoration to suit me perfectly.
Then, as he surveyed the completed ballroom, he muttered:
“With this overall color scheme, Elysion will blend into the background…”
No one dared to respond.
