Corps Commander Deon Hart of the 0th Legion (6)
"...Are you experiencing any inconveniences staying here?"
"Not particularly."
Even if I were, I shouldn't say so.
Recalling the Demon King's remark that all the corps commanders were somehow off, I responded without embellishment. At that, Zeikar examined my expression closely, his face subtly stiffening.
"'Not particularly,' you say... so there is something, then?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're human, after all. It's only natural there would be some discomfort. So don't hold back—speak freely. I'll accommodate you as much as I can."
What is this? Consideration...? Is it because I'm someone personally brought in by the Demon King, so he's showing special concern?
Even as I thought that couldn't be it, a faint hope sparked in my mind—until Zeikar spoke again.
His voice became even more cautious, as if he was treading on thin ice.
"Just… don't go flipping the palace upside down again or anything…"
"...Your concern is appreciated."
Of course not. Ughhh, I want to die.
That was definitely a roundabout way of criticizing what happened in the garden. He's clearly scolding me for setting it on fire for no reason.
At the same time, it's a warning: if I pull something like that again, I won't be let off the hook.
I forced my clogged throat to open and pushed out a strained reply. Only then did he turn his attention back to his food. Sitting nearby, Ashild had been quietly waiting for the conversation to end and now opened her mouth.
Or at least, she tried to.
"Oh my, Lord Damon. It's been a while, hasn't it?"
If only the 4th Corps Commander hadn't suddenly butted in.
A furrow formed between Ashild's brows. I nearly mirrored her expression, but thankfully managed to control my face in time.
'I really shouldn't have come here.'
From the 1st to the 3rd, and now even the 4th Corps Commander—unexpected people kept appearing, and my already fragile mental state was disintegrating into dust.
As I quietly stewed in regret—thinking I should've held firm no matter what Ben said—a low, cold voice pierced through my thoughts.
"Idelia, you did that on purpose, didn't you?"
The voice sounded like someone barely restraining their anger.
Even though I knew it wasn't directed at me, it still made me flinch. But Idelia, the 4th Corps Commander, simply smiled sweetly and covered her mouth with a fan.
"Did what? I don't know why you're so angry."
"Nonsense."
Ashild growled.
Right—those two never got along. I stabbed my already mangled salad with a fork, doing my best to ignore the situation unfolding before me.
Not that it helped my nerves. Honestly, I felt like hurling the food across the room... Oh wait, I already did that once.
I felt like I might get indigestion despite having barely eaten.
When I quietly set my fork down to avoid making it worse, Zeikar, who had been watching, turned his head and addressed the two.
"Enough, both of you. Have you forgotten who's sitting right here?"
"...Ah."
"Our apologies."
As if on cue, both of them turned their gaze toward me.
Flustered, I quickly shook my head to show it was fine, and Idelia took the empty seat beside me and struck up a conversation.
"I heard you set the garden on fire?"
"Idelia."
"Oh, pardon me if that was rude. I'm just… curious about what could've made you that angry, Lord Damon…"
If it weren't for Zeikar, I might've choked even though I hadn't eaten anything.
Please, can we stop talking about the garden already? She wasn't even involved, didn't witness it—why is she so interested?
...Come to think of it, isn't the 4th Legion in charge of intelligence?
'No wonder she's so curious.'
Given her duties, it made sense.
The 4th Legion, including Idelia, handled information. The 2nd Legion usually gathered the intel, and the 4th refined it—filtering the noise, extracting the essence. But that didn't mean the 4th never did their own collecting.
Which meant...
'Right now, she's the most dangerous corps commander to me.'
It was a sudden realization, but not an incorrect one.
I'm the only human in the Demon King's castle. Naturally, most of them probably dislike me.
Idelia could dig up my weaknesses at any time and sell me out.
The weight of that reality hit me hard, snapping me back to attention. I quickly pulled myself together and met her eyes with renewed resolve.
Apparently, she had been watching me all along. As our eyes met, she gave a gentle smile and said:
"I heard the rumors say it was because of the gardener…"
"…"
"If the reason you spared him was because you were reluctant to get your hands dirty, I'd be more than willing to eliminate him for you myself."
"…That won't be necessary."
As expected of demons—whenever a problem arises, the first solution they jump to is killing the source. Do they even know what mercy is…?
That thought made me pause.
Which means, thinking in reverse, they probably believe I don't have mercy either.
'No, this is dangerous.'
My future self is in danger.
I'm already walking on thin ice, but now that I'm aware of this, cold sweat runs down my back all over again.
I tightened my grip on my fork, the veins on the back of my hand bulging with the effort.
I thought I felt someone flinch beside me, but that didn't matter now. For the sake of my future survival, I need to teach the people in this Demon King's castle the concept of "mercy."
Resolving myself, I raised my head and looked at Idelia. Unlike before, her eyes were trembling, almost like she was in pain.
Did she bite her tongue? Now that I looked more closely, her hands seemed to be shaking too. A part of me felt bad seeing her like that, but for the sake of my future self, I had to say what needed to be said.
"It wasn't even that big of a deal to begin with. It's not something worth killing over."
"Y-yes…"
"Do you understand? It's not worth killing over."
"Yes, I'm sorry."
"Idelia, you have nothing to apologize for. Just, before you talk about killing someone, take a moment to think. Did the person really do something that unforgivable?"
Ah, I almost forgot the most important part.
"And sometimes… showing mercy isn't such a bad thing."
"Yes, I'll remember that. I'm really sorry."
I don't know why she keeps apologizing, but still—this isn't bad.
If I keep nudging them like this, maybe one day when I make a mistake, they'll let it slide just once.
The problem was the silence that followed after Idelia closed her mouth. Looking at her downcast expression and the stiff looks on the other commanders' faces, it felt like I had scolded her or something. Now that I think about it, Idelia kept apologizing even though she didn't do anything wrong.
Only then did I realize—I had become the jerk of the century in this situation.
"…."
"…."
The silence dragged on. The more time passed, the more I felt the pressure, and my facial expression began to twist beyond my control.
Naturally, the commanders' faces grew even more displeased. Of course they wouldn't take it lightly—a human making such a face in front of them.
While I racked my brain for a way to salvage the worsening situation, I noticed that Idelia, who had been exchanging looks with the others, glanced at me and carefully opened her mouth.
"…Lord Damon."
Oh—yes!
The awkward atmosphere finally broke. Grateful, I looked at Idelia with a generous heart, ready to accept anything she had to say.
Alright, go ahead and say it. I'll let it slide, no matter what it is—this one time…
"I heard you'll be inspecting the legion."
…Let it sli—
"Ah, I also have something to discuss with you regarding that."
Damn it.
I quietly pushed my chair back, already preparing to flee—no, excuse myself if things went south.
Come to think of it, I had said something about inspecting the legion.
When was that again…? Ah—probably back when I wanted to drink, and the Demon King showed up.
[Anyway, no drinking. Do you want to cause another incident in the castle? If you're that bored, go check on your legion or at least stroll through the garden. Hien was thrilled about some new flowers, by the way.]
[I'll check on the legion.]
I had chosen to face the legion members rather than deal with that dreadful gardener.
This is so unfair. I only picked the legion to avoid the gardener, but now I have to deal with both Hien and the legion?
And since I said it in front of the Demon King, I can't even take it back now.
"Lord Damon…? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
Was my expression off? Thankfully, they didn't seem to notice me subtly pushing my chair back. If I just time it right, I might be able to slip away…
'…Nope, that won't work.'
Now that I think about it, I'm completely surrounded.
Idelia on the left, Ashild on the right. Jaekar dead ahead. And they're all commanders. The moment I try to run, one of them will grab me by the scruff of my neck.
I gave up quickly.
I relaxed the tension in my body as subtly as possible, hoping they hadn't caught on to my earlier escape attempt. Ashild, unaware of my inner panic, looked me in the eyes and began to speak calmly.
"I understand that you carry a sword when inspecting your legion."
Well, yes—I do carry one. I've never actually swung it, though. And it's not even a real sword—it's a wooden one.
That wooden sword is so heavy my arms tremble just holding it. Embarrassing as it is, I don't have the muscle strength to wield a proper iron sword, so I barely manage with the wooden one.
But why bring that up now?
"After you finish guiding the legion members, may I request a sparring match?"
"..."
I barely managed to stop my hand from shooting up to cover my ears.
I must be seriously stressed these days. I'm starting to hear the wildest nonsense.
I tried so hard to deny the reality of what I just heard, but it all crumbled the moment Jaekar casually added:
"A fine idea. May I observe as well?"
Weren't they the ones who told me to speak up if anything made me uncomfortable? Can they not see my face clearly begging for mercy?
This isn't just unreasonable—it's absurd. There's a massive gap in our physical abilities; calling it a spar is laughable. Just one glance at Ashild's hands says it all. Forget a sword—if he punched me once, my neck would probably snap on the spot.
"...Uh…."
I couldn't keep delaying my response, so I forced something out.
And, just as I feared, all eyes immediately locked onto me.
With those heavy, suffocating gazes on me, I desperately scrambled for a decent excuse.
─Tried to, anyway.
"…That would be difficult."
In the end, I failed.
I slowly lowered my head.
Is this it? With no valid excuse, they'll surely push forward with this. My lack of skill will be exposed, and I'll have to pay the price for deceiving them.
Actually, now that I think about it, I probably won't even have to worry about what comes after. The truth will be revealed the moment I die instantly during the match.
My eyes fell to the barely touched, now-cold food in front of me. I should've eaten more—at least had a full, warm meal before dying.
I waited for their response like a prisoner awaiting execution—but surprisingly, Ashild remained calm.
He was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded and spoke.
"Well, that does make sense."
"…?"
"Lord Damon excels more in real combat than sparring. If we're not careful, I might end up getting killed during the match. Of course it would be difficult for you."
"…?"
"My apologies. I was being thoughtless."
"No, it's… fine…"
Did… did that actually work?
His words sounded ominous, but the important thing is—I avoided the spar. So, let's call it a win.
"Once I've improved enough not to die easily, I'll ask you again."
On second thought, this might not be such a win after all.
I'm in big trouble.
"I won't make you wait too long."
"..."
"But today, may I at least come along to observe?"
So, I just received a formal declaration of war… from a Division Commander.