Disclaimer: I do not own That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, High School DxD, or any other referenced properties. All characters depicted are consenting adults aged 18 or older.
Chapter 9
Samael POV
Slash.
I finished the last monster that tried to attack the caravan I was guarding.
An easy job for someone like me — not that I'm complaining about.
Today is the day Sirius is taking Shizu on a date, and I don't have anything else to do.
The corpse dissolved as thin red mist curled around my hand — Gluttony, the evolved form of Rimuru's Predator, responding to my pull like muscle memory. The mist wrapped around the body, drinking it down, storing it neatly in the Dimension.
Convenient. Clean. Efficient.
I brushed the dust from my coat. The road ahead shimmered under the late sun, dry and quiet.
The caravan master stared a second too long — the usual look humans get when they realize the thing saving them is not exactly normal.
I gave him the smallest nod.
He took it like a blessing from a cathedral and scrambled to get everyone moving.
With a sigh, I stepped back into the slow rhythm of travel.
The wheels creaked. The oxen huffed. The merchants whispered about me behind their hands, thinking I couldn't hear.
I could. I didn't care.
My thoughts were elsewhere.
Sirius. Shizu.
Their date.
He pretended to be relaxed this morning — leaning against the doorframe, flipping cards — but he had burned through three shirts trying to decide which one did not look like he was trying.
Shizu had stood very still, hands folded in front of her, breathing slowly like one wrong inhale might shatter her entirely.
They'll be fine.
Probably.
And I…
I have two days before Rimuru holds me accountable.
Two days to find:
A date location for Rimuru (bright, lively, a place with laughter and music)
A date location for Sage (quiet, contained, book-lined, gentle lighting)
A date location for Milim (sweet food, excitement, and ideally no catastrophic property damage)
And Rimuru, in a moment of pure tactical cruelty, banned me from using teleportation, foresight, map analysis, or Sage's assistance to pick places.
"Because you need to learn how to choose with your heart."
My heart chooses structural stability and predictable outcomes, but apparently that is not romantic.
The caravan resumed movement. Dust rose behind us like a slow sigh.
Just as I settled back into silence—
A voice cut the peace in half.
"HEEEEY— SAMAEEEEEEEL!!"
I didn't turn around; I did not need to.
Only one person in this world shouts my name like it is being launched from a party cannon.
A streak of pink light crashed from the sky, hit the road, and bounced — BOUNCED — three times before landing directly in front of me.
Milim.
Beaming, vibrating at frequencies known to cause earthquakes.
She threw both arms up.
"I FOUND YOU!!"
I looked at the sky in silent plea.
The sky did not answer.
"…Why," I asked.
Milim clasped her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels like a child presenting a war declaration.
"Because you're going on dates soon! And I decided—"
"No," I said.
She continued as if I hadn't spoken a language she recognized.
"—that I'm going to HELP you prepare!!"
The wind went still.
The caravan guards froze.
Somewhere, a bird reconsidered existence.
I inhaled.
Slowly.
"Milim," I said carefully, "your help could level a nation."
She sparkled. Sparkled. "Thank you~!"
"That was not praise."
"It sounded like praise!"
I closed my eyes.
Monsters, I understand.
Dragons, I tolerate.
Rimuru, I adore.
Sage, I trust.
Sirius, I survive.
Milim… is an act of God.
"Okay!" she declared, clapping once. "Step one of date training! We need—"
She paused.
Her eyes widened.
She gasped like someone discovering gravity.
"CLOTHES."
No.
No no no no no—
"We are going to pick outfits together!!"
I would rather fight a Demon Lord.
Correction:
I am about to.
And I will lose.
"Caravan," I said, turning to the merchants, voice perfectly calm, "continue without me. I will return later."
One of them nodded. The other saluted. One fainted.
Milim seized my wrist with both hands.
"LET'S GO SHOPPING!!"
And then we were airborne.
Launched.
At terminal enthusiasm.
I regretted surviving the monsters.
I start to remember how I got into this situation.
Flashback — 4 days earlier
We had just finished dinner.
Everyone was relaxed, full, and minding their own business.
Of course, that peace lasted exactly seven seconds.
Sirius stood up from the table like he was about to announce the weather.
"I will be indisposable for the next three days," he said, very calmly.
We all stared.
Shizu blinked.
Rimuru tilted her head.
Veldora froze mid-bite, like a statue of disappointment.
Sage slowly lowered her cup, expression unreadable.
Sirius cleared his throat. "I meant unavailable."
Ifrit covered his face with one hand.
Then he continued like nothing happened.
"I've finished preparations. I will be taking Shizu on a date."
He said it so proudly. So confident.
Like a hero announcing victory.
Like a man unaware of the landmine, he was about to step on.
Everyone looked at him.
Then, he looked at me.
I already felt the headache forming.
And then, That traitorous bastard.
Smiled at me.
"So, Samael," he said, bright and casual, the way someone smiles while tossing you into a pit, "when are you taking Rimuru and Great Sage on their dates?"
The silence in that room could have killed a god.
Rimuru slowly turned her head toward me.
Sage paused mid-sip, eyes glowing softly, like she had just bookmarked a new category of my failure.
And Milim—
Milim's chair scraped back.
She stood up.
Her eyes sparkled like she was about to either laugh or destroy the continent.
"WAIT," she said, pointing both hands at her chest. "Does that mean EVERYONE is going on dates??"
"No," I said instantly.
"Yes," Rimuru said at the same time, smiling like the devil wearing lip gloss.
Milim gasped.
Her eyes got shiny.
Deadly shiny.
"I want a date too!!"
"No," I repeated, louder.
And then it happened.
Every girl in the room turned toward me.
Not angry.
Not disappointed.
Just staring.
The kind of stare that says:
If you break her heart, we bury you.
Milim's lip trembled.
Just slightly.
That was enough.
End of the world.
I instantly regretted being alive.
"I—" I tried to correct myself, salvage something, anything. "Milim, I did not mean—"
Too late.
Rimuru crossed her arms.
Sage set her cup down with the quiet finality of a death sentence.
"You have three days," Rimuru said.
"Three days," Sage repeated, confirming the contract.
Milim sniffed loudly. "So, I can have a date too… right…?"
I sighed the sigh of a man who knows Fate personally and hates her.
"Yes." Rimuru responds before I can.
Milim cheered like she had just conquered two nations.
And then Rimuru delivered the finishing blow.
"And you can't use teleportation, scouting magic, detection magic, Great Sage, or any dimensional mapping to find the date spots."
Sage nodded. "To ensure sincerity."
I stared at them.
I have fought dragons.
I have walked through hell.
I have consumed monsters.
But this was death.
"Wait," I said, realizing the trap, "Sirius planned this."
Sirius sipped his drink.
Did not deny it.
Just smiled.
I had been played!!!
Return to the Present
And that is why—
Right here, right now—
I am being dragged across the sky at Mach 7 by Milim, to go shopping for date outfits.
And I don't know how my life got here.
…Actually, I do.
It was Sirius.
It is always Sirius.
"Milim? Shouldn't you shop with the girls? Shouldn't this be a surprise for me or something?"
She came to a full stop in mid-air.
Literally mid-air.
Suspended there like a guilty balloon.
"Aaa, you see…" she said, hands behind her back, rocking on her heels in the air. "I want to find the best outfit and… I… thought that the best way is to ask for your help. UmU."
I stared at her.
She did the UmU face.
The ultimate weapon.
Developed to bypass logic and defenses.
…Not today.
"So," I said slowly, "you decided to not ask Rimuru or Sage for help… and you came to me… without telling them."
Her body froze like someone had pressed pause.
Even her hair stopped.
"…Yes?" she tried.
Oh no.
No, no, no.
This was not just a simple, cute idea.
This was betrayal of the House Treaty #4: No Secret Girl Maneuvers.
Rimuru introduced that law herself after the "kitchen incident."
"…Milim," I said carefully. "Did you sneak out?"
She smiled.
Not normal smiling.
The "please do not be mad I already did the bad thing" smile.
"I might have exited quickly through a window while Sage was reorganizing the spice drawer and Rimuru was explaining to Shizu how to emotionally threaten a boyfriend."
"Through a window."
"Yes."
"Second floor."
"Yes."
"With no shoes."
"Yes."
Silence.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"So, they don't know where you are."
"…Correct."
"They are going to notice in about thirty seconds."
"…Yes."
Another pause.
"…We are going to die," I concluded.
"Only if they catch us before we get the outfit!!" Milim said, grabbing my wrist with the desperate determination of a toddler who decided the floor is lava.
And before I could answer—
WHOOM.
The air shifted.
The temperature changed.
A presence appeared behind us.
Two.
Rimuru and Sage.
Rimuru hovered in the air, arms crossed, smiling like she was going to enjoy the punishment part.
Sage's gaze glowed just faintly.
The kind of faint that means destroy respectfully.
"Milim," Rimuru said sweetly. "What are you doing?"
Milim immediately pointed at me.
"He kidnapped me."
I was betrayed faster than I could inhale.
"Milim—" I started.
But Rimuru held up a hand.
"No, no. I want to hear this story," she said, floating closer, voice soft like a floral knife. "Explain."
Milim tried to speak.
Realizing she had zero plans.
Turned into pure panic fluff.
Sage, meanwhile, looked directly at me.
"Statement: There is a one hundred percent probability you attempted to be responsible."
"Thank you," I said.
"However," she continued, "you allowed the escape to progress for more than three seconds before intervening."
"…Do I not receive partial credit?"
"No."
Rimuru tapped her cheek.
Then pointed at Milim.
"Punishment."
Milim went pale.
"Shopping, With, All of us."
"Rimuru, can I go?" I asked, keeping my voice steady because if I looked even a little guilty, she would use it. "I left the caravan because I didn't want Milim recognized. I should finish the job. It's the last one I accepted before Sirius decided to vanish into romance."
Rimuru's cat ears twitched.
She was far too amused.
"So, you left your employer," she repeated, "because you were worried someone might see Milim and panic so hard they'd soil themselves?"
"…Yes."
Milim made a proud little UmU sound, which did not help.
Rimuru smiled—the smile. The one, that means the trap had been set hours ago and I had walked directly into it on my own feet.
"Okay," she said lightly. "You can go. But remember—you have two days left to prepare the date plans."
"Two days," I echoed.
Before I could step away, she caught my collar and pulled me down just enough to kiss me—soft, smug, hers.
"Have fun," she murmured against my mouth, "but not too much fun without me."
Heat settled somewhere behind my ribs, familiar and grounding.
Sage closed her book with a gentle click and stepped close.
Her kiss was quieter—a press to the corner of my jaw, warm and deliberate.
"Be careful," she said. No inflection. No force.
Which meant it carried.
Milim, vibrating with emotion, threw her arms open and leaned in—
Only for Rimuru to catch her forehead mid-flight with one hand.
"Nope."
Milim froze mid-air, betrayed.
Rimuru didn't even blink. "You only get the kiss if he says yes to being your boyfriend first."
Milim gasped like she had been struck by lightning.
"But—but—negotiations take so long!"
Sage poured tea like this was a lecture.
"Patience is a skill," she said.
Milim puffed out her cheeks. "But I'm cute!"
"Correct," I said. "And that is exactly why you are dangerous."
She glowed like I'd given her the sun.
Rimuru nudged me toward the exit with a small flick of magic. "Go. Before the caravan thinks you've run off to join a cult."
She turned—about to leave with Sage and Milim—when I paused.
"…Rimuru."
She looked back.
"The ears?"
Her grin sharpened to pure mischief.
"No reason," she said, winked, and sauntered off—tail swaying like she knew it was working.
Milim followed in a sugar-powered skip.
Sage in calm orbit behind them.
The lamplight stretched after them as they disappeared deeper into the house.
I let out a slow breath.
Rimuru POV
I stared at Milim.
My Milim.
My traitor-to-the-sisterhood Milim.
The Milim who had run away to spend private time with Samael, as if:
I wouldn't notice.
Sage wouldn't notice.
The Dimension itself wouldn't report it like an excited neighbor.
Absolutely not.
Consequences were going to happen.
So, I added another outfit to the pile.
Silk.
Red.
Dramatic slit.
The kind of dress that says:
"I could destroy nations with my hips."
Milim gulped.
"Rimuru," she said—voice thin as a violin string that really didn't want to snap.
"Yes?" I asked sweetly. The way saints sound right before committing war crimes.
"Why… is there so much clothing?"
"Because" I said, hands on hips, "you ran away to have private Samael Time without telling me."
"That wasn't— I didn't— I just—"
"Oh no," I cooed, lifting her chin like a villain revealing Act III.
"No excuses. Only fashion. And maybe sexy underwear."
She looked at the mountain.
There were:
Elegant demon lord coats
Casual travel sets
Soft date dresses in every pastel known to man,
Underwear sets sorted by how much can break a man,
Swimwear that could kill a saint,
One backless dress that could wipe out an entire bloodline,
And three outfits Sage labeled 'emotionally hazardous.'
Milim stared like she was witnessing her own funeral.
"Rimuru…"
She whispered.
"Are these… for dates?"
"Yes," I smiled—shark-like, magnificent, inevitable.
"These are your date outfits."
Milim lit up—hope, sunrise, joy blooming—
…until my smile shifted.
"But" I said, gently cruel,
"You only get to wear them if Samael acknowledges you as a romantic candidate, first."
Her soul left her body.
"But— but Rimuruuuu—!!"
"No crying," I said, patting her head with the exact amount of sympathy that counts as emotional battery.
"We don't bargain with emotional nukes, and if we push Samael too hard, he pushes back. So, we ease him into it. Strategically. Relentlessly."
She pouted so hard the room pressure changed.
Shuna passed behind us, took one look at the pile, and whispered a quiet prayer for Milim's future.
I continued—because villain arcs do not pause:
"And for the record, Sage and I already finished the outfits for my date and her date."
I gestured at the couture disaster zone.
"These are just your… punishment try-ons."
Milim collapsed onto her knees.
"…You're terrifying."
"Correct," I said proudly.
Sage stepped in, serene as the moon, placing a clipboard on the table.
"Wardrobe rotation schedule prepared. Emotional destabilization probability: high. Drama scenario risk: acceptable."
"Thank you, Sage," I said.
Milim pointed at her like a betrayed knight.
"SAGE! WHY ARE YOU HELPING HER?!"
Sage placed a calm hand over her heart.
"I support optimal narrative structure."
Milim screamed.
I smiled, deeply satisfied.
Because yes—Samael likes strong, elegant women.
He can deny it.
He can fight it.
He can pretend to suffer.
After all, I have already accepted the truth:
He will have a harem, not because he wants but because I want.
If Samael will not build the harem, I will.
And everyone will be happy.
Even if they don't know it yet.
Samael POV
Slash.
The last monster dissolved into mist as Gluttony pulled it away, leaving only the scent of iron and cold night air.
Easy work. Routine. The kind of job I could do half-asleep.
Which was convenient, because mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, I was exhausted.
I wiped the blade and sheathed it. The caravan master—a broad-shouldered merchant with the look of someone who has seen enough strange to be cautious, but not enough to be wise—approached me.
"You disappeared earlier," he said, voice polite but edged. "Everything all right now? You looked… stressed."
"Yes," I said.
"No," I corrected.
He waited.
I sighed.
"I have," I said slowly, "been assigned three dates."
His eyebrow lifted. "That sounds like a good problem."
"With three different women," I clarified.
"…Ah," he said.
"In three days."
"…Ah."
"And I must plan each one individually," I continued, "to suit each of their personalities, interests, emotional needs, pacing expectations, and implied romantic trajectory."
The caravan master stared like I had explained a curse.
"And" I added, because honesty was already killing me, "one of them is the one who tried to kidnap me this morning because she didn't want to be left out."
He blinked once.
Then twice.
"…Sir," he said, very carefully, "are you in danger?"
"Emotionally? Constantly," I answered. "Physically? Depends on whether I choose the correct dessert."
The entire caravan went silent in the way that means everyone was listening.
One of the guards whistled under his breath. "You poor man."
"Thank you," I said. "Someone understands."
I leaned on my sword like I needed the support.
"They gave me two days to find, inspect, and prepare locations for three separate dates," I said. "One needs to be cozy and warm and slightly dramatic. One needs to be quiet, refined, book scented. And the last one requires sugar, chaos tolerance, and possibly earthquake insurance."
The merchant nodded slowly.
"You require," he said, "a city?"
"Yes," I said heavily, "I require a city, preferably one that if things go badly can be evaluated fast." I said the last part under my breath.
He stroked his beard. "We're heading toward Rostvale. You can find about anything; I suggest that you at the very least look around."
I blinked.
That… solved the impossible.
He gestured ahead. "We'll be there by nightfall. You can scout the whole city tomorrow."
I exhaled in relief so real it practically bowed my spine.
"…Thank the stars. Or Veldanava. Or whichever cosmic force decided not to torment me further."
The merchant clapped my shoulder in brotherhood and suffering.
"Son," he said with solemn nod, "I've planned dates before. Not with someone like that girl—but still. I know the burden."
I looked at him like a man seeing another survivor.
He squeezed once. "We'll get you to the city in one piece."
I nodded, grateful.
Then one of the young guards piped up:
"So, which one tried to kidnap you?"
Milim, sensing the question across space, probably sneezed glitter.
"Not discussing that," I said.
"Is she cute?" the guard asked.
I stared at him with the eyes of a man who has seen the sun detonate.
"She is adorable," I said, voice hollow. "And that is why I am suffering."
The guard understood everything at that moment.
The caravan rolled forward.
Tomorrow: Rostvale.
Three dates.
Three days.
Zero sanity.
And I—fool, lover, strategist, idiot—would survive it.
…Probably.
The city gates loomed just ahead, lanterns flickering to life one by one like someone coaxing stars out of hiding. The caravan rolled to a slowing stop, wheels creaking, oxen snorting warm breaths into the dusk.
The caravan leader — broad man, beard that had seen too many winters and not enough rest — stepped down from the front wagon and walked toward me. He carried a small leather pouch in both hands, respect written in the gesture as much as in his posture.
"A deal's a deal," he said, offering it up. "Payment for protection. You earned it."
I shook my head before he even finished.
"No," I said quietly.
He blinked. "No?"
I tugged my own coin pouch free — not heavy, but full enough. I held it out so he could see the weight without mistaking the intent.
"I didn't take this job for the pay. And I didn't carry you here to collect coin."
My voice softened, not out of effort — just truth.
"You gave me something more valuable."
He looked confused — until I continued:
"You told me about the city. The districts. The festival grounds. The tea houses. That was worth more to me than a purse of silver."
A slow sigh escaped me. "I'm working with a deadline. And… the stakes are emotional."
The leader's expression shifted — amusement first, then understanding, then sympathy deep enough to be painful.
"Ah," he said. "Women trouble."
I closed my eyes. "Three. Three women trouble."
There was a silence that felt like shared war history.
Then he laughed — not mockery, but the laugh of a man who has stood in my exact grave.
"Boy," he said, wiping the corner of one eye, "you'll need blessings. Not coin."
"I know," I admitted.
"You'll need luck."
I nodded.
"And sleep," he added, tone grave.
"…I am aware," I said.
He clapped my shoulder — firm, grounding, brotherly.
"Well then."
His smile was lopsided and warm.
"Take your leave. Go chase your joy while you still have the legs for it."
Something loosened in my chest — tension unwinding the way trust can, when offered simply.
"Thank you," I said.
"Anytime." He tucked the pouch back into his coat. "And if you remember us, remember us kindly. That's all the payment needed."
I took one step back, then turned toward the city.
The first lanterns reflected in the river. The streets stretched open, alive with evening brightness. Laughter drifted somewhere ahead. Music pulsed faint and warmth.
I let myself breathe it in.
Rimuru's laughter.
Sage's quiet half-smile.
Milim's impossible brightness.
If I was going to survive three dates in three days…
This city needed to cooperate.
I stepped forward, boots striking stone.
The path opened.
The night waited.
And for the first time all day—
I let myself smile.
Let's find what I need.
The streets of Rostvale were gentle in the evening.
Not loud.
Not hurried.
Just alive enough to breathe alongside.
A lamp flickered above me as I walked, and I reached into my coat, fingers brushing the folded slip of paper Rimuru had given me before I left.
Not instructions, Hints. Because she thought that was cute.
I unfolded it slowly.
Her handwriting was good now — steady, playful, round letters.
— Something that makes you smile without trying
— Something that tastes sweet but isn't sugar
— Somewhere you can hear people laughing without needing to speak
Rimuru's mind works in emotional landscapes, not directions.
So of course, this note was not a map.
It was a feeling.
I breathed out and kept walking.
The air carried warmth — grilled food, flower oil from bathhouses, and something faintly citrus. Street vendors were closing their stands, sweeping the last dust from their stones. Families walked together in loose groups, not rushing anywhere at all.
Something that makes you smile without trying…
I wandered toward the river district, following music I didn't fully notice until it was close enough to touch. Not staged music — no polished performance. Just strings, laughter, feet moving on stone.
Then I heard it — a crowd, soft but steady.
Light. Joyful.
I turned a corner.
And there it was.
Not a full festival — just a festival street.
Lanterns were being strung overhead — oranges, pinks, golds — each glowing like captured sunset.
Children traced chalk suns on the cobblestones.
Old men unfolded folding tables.
Women arranged flower garlands across a wooden arch.
It was… warm.
Not loud.
Not overwhelming.
Just humans.
I stepped closer to a vendor tying ribbons to a booth beam.
"Excuse me," I asked. "What's being prepared?"
She blinked up at me, then smiled.
"Oh! The Founding Eve Festival. Begins tomorrow night." Her hands kept moving, practiced and sure.
"Three days of music and food and fireworks. To celebrate the day this city became more than just a camp of refugees."
A founding celebration.
Not military.
Not religious.
Not political.
A celebration of making a home.
Rimuru would understand that immediately.
"And the festival stays in this district?" I asked.
She nodded. "Yes — river market only. We keep it intimate. The city joins, but the heart is here."
Warm. Local. Personal.
Exactly what Rimuru enjoys when she wants to just be.
"Thank you," I said.
She grinned like she had seen something she recognized in my face.
"Bringing someone special?"
I paused.
"…Yes."
"Then come tomorrow at dusk. Lanterns look best then."
I nodded once, quietly.
I stepped back and watched the lanterns sway as the workers finished hanging them.
Something that makes you smile without trying.
Something sweet but not sugar.
(The river district was famous for honey-wine tea.)
Somewhere you can hear people laughing without speaking.
Yes.
This was her place.
I folded the note again and tucked it away — slower, this time.
It felt right.
I could already see her here: arms crossed behind her back, hips rocking like she always does when she's trying not to skip, eyes bright and full of delighted curiosity.
I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
One date planned.
Two more to go.
But for a moment…
Just this moment…
The lanterns glowed.
Laughter threaded through the air.
And I allowed myself to feel the ease of it.
Because I knew her well enough to know— She would smile here.
And that was the point.
Morning came slowly.
The kind of morning where the sun doesn't rush anything — just warms the stones, softens the shadows, lets the world wake on its own terms. I walked without urgency this time. Last night something had settled in me. I knew where Rimuru's moment would be.
Now I only needed to find Sage's.
Her presence is quiet. Not shy — no. She is not someone who hides; she is someone who doesn't need to be seen to exist completely. Her silence is full — thoughtful — settled.
If Rimuru dances with the world, Sage… listens to it.
So, the place needed to listen back.
I moved through districts with intent — not scanning, just feeling for that resonance.
A quiet street opened ahead — narrow, cobblestone polished smooth by time, lined with darkwood beams and trailing purple flowers hanging from balcony gutters. The sound here changed … softened. Like the city itself lowered its voice.
A small hanging sign caught my eye:
The Whispering Pages
Library first. Café second, not advertised, was not meant for crowds.
I stepped inside.
Light fell in gentle amber through tall paned windows. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling — dark oak, polished and old enough to remember things. A pianist played near the back — soft, steady, never flashy. A piece that felt like memory, not performance.
Conversation didn't stop — it simply existed quietly, the way a sleeping cat exists comfortably, with no need to prove anything.
People here didn't glance up.
They belonged here.
This was a place where silence had dignity.
I walked to the front counter. The woman there looked like she had been carved directly from serenity — hair pinned neatly, a book at her elbow, eyes sharp but kind.
"Good afternoon," she said, voice low so it didn't break the room's atmosphere.
"Good afternoon," I returned.
"I'm looking to reserve a private reading room."
She nodded — not surprised, not suspicious — just listening.
"Is it a business meeting," she asked, "or personal?"
"Personal."
Her expression softened by a few degrees. Not noisy, just understanding.
"For someone who prefers quiet?" she asked.
"Yes."
I exhaled.
"She doesn't like being observed. Not in the… ornamental way this world tends to look at women."
The woman's eyes warmed. Not amusement, recognition.
"You care for her," she said, not as a question.
I looked away — just briefly — because the answer was obvious.
"Yes," I said quietly. "And I would prefer if… no one stared at her. If possible."
She smiled patiently, knowing, the kind of smile one reserves for a truth both simple and profound.
"We have a room upstairs," she said. "Corner window. Bookshelves on all sides. Sound-dampening enchantment. Only staff may enter. If you wish, I can ensure the hallway is not used while you're here."
Relief loosened my chest slowly, deep.
"That would be perfect."
She pulled out a small ledger and a polished wooden pen.
"What day and time?"
"In two days," I said. "Evening. After dusk."
She wrote — ink flowing like calm water.
"And the reservation name?"
"Samael," I answered. Then hesitant, I added:
"…and Sage."
Her eyebrows lifted — just barely — but her smile widened.
"A lovely pairing," she said.
My ears warmed.
I pretended they didn't.
"How much?"
She slid a small price board across the counter. The kind that makes ordinary men swallow twice.
I didn't blink.
"That's acceptable."
She nodded once — respect, not surprise.
"We'll prepare the room. Tea, or wine?"
"Tea," I said. No need to think.
"Something warm. Gentle. Not floral — something that lingers, but softly."
"Aged leaf jasmine-mint blend," she said. "Quiet on the tongue. Clean finish."
"Yes," I said. "She'll like that."
The pianist shifted to a minor key. The room breathed.
"Your reservation is confirmed," she said, offering a receipt slip — not as proof of payment, but as a promise of care.
I slid it into my coat.
"Thank you," I said.
"Take good care of her," she replied.
"I am trying," I said — quietly enough that only we heard.
Then I stepped back into the sunlight — softer now, gentler — and allowed myself a small, private exhale.
Two dates prepared.
One left.
And the hardest one still to come.
Milim.
I was already tired.
The sky did not help.
Two locations chosen.
Now all that remained was Milim.
The most difficult one.
Not because she was complicated.
But because she was simple in the most catastrophic way.
She wants to be happy.
And when she is happy, buildings become metaphors.
So, the location couldn't just be festive.
It needed to be safe to destroy if necessary.
I walked toward the eastern quarter — the merchant district. The air changed first: louder voices, sizzling oil on hot iron, spices thick enough to taste before eating. Then the crowd thickened — travelers, merchants, adventurers, performers. Color everywhere.
Then I saw it.
A broad banner stretched across three rooftops:
GREAT HARVEST FOOD FAIR – 7 DAYS OF FEASTS & GAMES
Oh no.
Oh yes.
A food festival.
Rows of food stalls stretched down an entire boulevard:
Skewers sizzling over open coals
Fried dough tossed in cinnamon sugar
Roasted nuts glazed in honey and pepper
Ice treats shaved and flavored with fruit syrups
Chocolate fountains (plural — why?)
And stalls offering dishes from other cities and countries entirely
Smoke and spice and sugar in the air like perfume.
Milim would explode here, In joy. And possibly physically.
Perfect.
I stepped forward.
A festival worker noticed me — a tall man with flour on his apron and joy in his voice.
"Welcome! First time at the Harvest Fair?"
"Yes," I said. "Passing through. Looking for information."
"What kind?" he asked, happy to speak.
"A place suitable for… someone energetic. Someone who enjoys food. Someone who will sample many things. Quickly."
He laughed — a deep belly laugh — like he had seen this movie before.
"A girl, then."
I did not answer.
Which was answer enough.
He waved a hand toward the far end of the street.
"That area down there is the tasting district. No fighting, no vendors yelling, no pushing. Just eat as much as you want and enjoy yourself. It's meant for… passionate diners."
Passionate diners.
Yes.
That was one way to phrase Milim.
"And the stands provide sample portions?" I asked.
"Of course!" he said proudly. "We want people to try everything."
I inhaled slowly.
So, she could devour the festival without bankrupting me.
Good.
"Games are there," he added, gesturing toward a small open plaza.
Dart throwing. Ring toss. Fishing prize pools. The kind of games children and drunk adventurers enjoy for the same reasons.
Simple joys.
Milim would love all of it.
It was loud, yes — but not overwhelming.
Colorful — but not chaotic beyond structure.
It was joy with boundaries.
Which is exactly what she needs.
I nodded once.
"Thank you."
"No problem, friend!" he beamed. "Bringing someone special?"
His words were harmless.
But the realization still hit.
"…Yes," I admitted.
"Then you'll do fine," he said. "You look like someone who listens."
I blinked. Listens.
No one has ever described me that way.
But… Maybe.
I walked deeper into the festival street.
Children laughed.
Someone dropped a tray and laughed harder.
The air smelled like sugar and citrus and roasted bread.
This was a place where happiness didn't feel like a performance.
Milim doesn't want the world to look at her.
She wants the world to laugh with her.
I could see her here already:
Hands full of three different desserts. Cheeks puffed.
Eyes shining like she discovered joy was edible.
Something in me softened — warm and aching.
I wanted her to be happy.
Not because I owed her.
Not because Rimuru expected it.
But because she deserved to smile without breaking something to do it.
Yes.
This was her place.
Three dates.
Three spaces.
Three pieces of the heart I didn't realize I was trying to protect.
I turned to leave — plans forming — exhaustion already creeping into my bones—
And that's when I realized:
I had one day left.
One day to prepare three outfits.
One day to plan three timing windows.
One day to survive three emotional nuclear events.
I exhaled.
I was going to die.
Sirius POV
The world was beautiful today.
The air, the sunrise, the smell of tea brewing in the kitchen – everything felt lighter, sweeter, brighter.
Love does that.
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed behind my head like the king of life itself, humming a little tune Shizu had been humming the night before.
Yes.
Sirius had succeeded.
Not just survived. Succeeded.
As in: I held her hand.
She leaned on my shoulder.
She smiled — softly, like sunlight.
And then—
Well.
Some things a gentleman does not brag about directly.
But I absolutely would, because I am Sirius.
I let the smugness rise like a sunrise.
"Ahh," I sighed dramatically, "the world is kind to me today~ I could lift a mountain. I could wrestle a dragon. I could—"
Something thumped.
Hard.
I looked over.
Samael was face down on the dining table.
Not resting.
Collapsed.
Veldora stood beside him eating an apple the size of his head, entirely unbothered.
"Oh, him?" Veldora said, noticing my look. "He finished his third date yesterday."
"Third?" I blinked. "As in… all three? Already?"
Veldora nodded solemnly. "Yesterday evening. He has not moved since."
I walked over and leaned down.
"Samael?"
A groan. Something between a dying whale and a man questioning existence.
So, normal.
I pulled up a chair beside him.
"Well?" I asked. "How was it?"
His hand twitched. He lifted his head slightly — just enough to look at me with the eyes of a soldier who returned from glorious war and traumatic loss at the same time.
"It was perfect," he said, voice hoarse.
"Good perfect?" I asked.
He laughed. The broken kind.
"You ever prepare three perfect dates for three perfect women, execute them flawlessly, only to be cockblocked by your own moral code?"
I blinked.
"…ah."
He slammed his forehead back onto the table.
"I made a promise. A stupid promise. 'No sex before marriage.' Just one problem. Rimuru showed up to bed in lingerie. Sage, too. Both of them. On separate nights." He raised one finger. It wobbled. "Do you know what that does to a man?"
Veldora nodded with the seriousness of a philosopher.
"It breaks the soul," he answered.
"THANK YOU."
Samael continued, voice muffled against the table.
"And then Milim. Milim is… Milim."
He inhaled sharply, remembering the smell of sugar trauma.
"She made me eat twelve desserts. Twelve. Twelve. Then she won a strength contest against a blacksmith and carried me to bed. And then this morning she declared she is sleeping beside me from now on, and I did not have the energy to stop her."
I rubbed the bridge of my nose.
"…So, all three of your potential fiancées tried to seduce you in different strategic ways… and you survived?"
"I didn't survive," Samael muttered. "I simply continue to exist."
I patted his back.
"There, there."
Samael groaned louder.
I smiled a little too proudly.
"Well," I said, letting the glory return to my voice, "at least one of us got lucky."
Samael's head snapped up.
"You WHAT."
I allowed my grin to shine like the divine revelation it was.
"Shizu," I said. "Was a virgin."
Veldora dropped his apple.
Samael stared at me like the universe had personally offended him.
"So, you're telling me," He said slowly, voice trembling, "that you got lucky… with a woman who hasn't touched a man in eighty years…?"
I shrugged.
"Pretty much."
Samael stared.
Then:
"…I hate you."
"I know," I said, radiant. "I am magnificent."
"If I go back to your original world," Samael muttered, "I'm dragging you back so I can watch you suffer."
I blinked. Once. Twice.
"…Wait."
I sat up straighter. "Go back?"
Samael didn't answer right away. He just lay there, face still pressed to the table, breathing like a man who had seen God and was unimpressed.
Then — slowly — he lifted his head again.
There was a specific look in his eyes.
The: I have been thinking too much and now the universe makes uncomfortable sense look.
"I talked to Sage," he said.
Veldora and I both froze.
Samael inhaled.
"She scanned the portal you fell through. The dimensional residue. Spatial layering. The signature left on your mana when you arrived."
He paused.
"She can rebuild it."
Silence.
Actual silence.
Even Veldora stopped chewing his apple.
"…You mean…?" I began, voice thin.
"Yes," Samael said. "We have a way to return to your world."
Something in my chest cracked open.
Hope, Fear, Relief, Longing.
I couldn't tell which one was winning.
"How long?" I asked quietly.
"Five to ten years," Samael replied. "Minimum. The worlds don't align cleanly. Time isn't stable between them. She needs to calculate everything to prevent us from being dropped into a dead universe."
I leaned back slowly.
Ten years.
"So…" I swallowed. "I can go back."
Samael nodded once.
"And you can return here. Sage can create a stable gate — a two-way door. She said she will likely base the spell on my dimensional ability."
I closed my eyes.
I could see the sky of home.
My nephew.
My sister.
Everything I'd lost when the portal swallowed me.
And then—
I could return here.
To Shizu.
To my new life.
It was too big to think about all at once.
But before I could settle into that emotion—
Samael continued.
And I immediately regretted listening.
"But—" he said, voice steadying into that tone he only uses when dropping life-altering truths, "You will not return as the same person you were."
I opened my eyes.
"Meaning?" I asked carefully.
Samael sat up fully now, elbows on the table, fingers clasped together.
"When you return," he said, "you will be king."
I stared.
"Excuse me?"
Veldora perked up. "Oho, I like where this is going."
Samael continued, merciless:
"You now have a girlfriend. Not just any girlfriend — Shizu. Rimuru's sister in all but name. Milim's closest friend. Sage's emotional equal. Which means you are tied directly to the center of power of the three most influential beings in this world."
He pointed at me.
"You are going to have status whether you want it or not."
I lifted my hands, horrified.
"Wait. Wait. WAIT."
He did not stop.
"And your original world? The way you described it — divided governments, corrupt councils, families who think blood purity determines authority—"
Samael snorted.
"Idiots. The lot of them."
I clenched my jaw.
He leaned closer.
"When we arrive, they will do one of two things: bend the knee and ask to be ruled… or challenge you and die."
I stared at him.
"…You want me to rule a nation of morons."
"Yes," Samael said without hesitation. "Because they cannot rule themselves."
Veldora nodded proudly. "You would be a magnificent tyrant."
"I AM NOT BECOMING A TYRANT!"
Samael ignored me completely.
"Also, your wife deserves a palace."
I choked on my own breath.
"She doesn't NEED a palace!"
"And yet she will have one," he said simply. "Because she deserves beauty. Space. Safety. Home."
My hands were shaking now.
He was doing this on purpose.
Then he said it.
The sentence that ended me.
"And your children will need land."
I froze.
"…Children?"
Samael blinked like it was obvious.
"Oh, many. Eventually. You are too romantic not to have at least four or five—"
"STOP TALKING!"
Veldora threw both arms into the air.
"NEPHEWS! I SHALL TEACH THEM THE WAY OF THE GLORIOUS DRAGON FIST!"
"No, you will NOT—!"
Samael clapped my shoulder like this was all perfectly reasonable.
"Congratulations, Sirius. You are going to be a father. And a ruler."
I stared at him, At the table, At life, At God.
At whatever cosmic force decided I deserved this.
I whispered, dead inside:
"I hate you."
Samael smiled.
Warm. Brotherly. Certain.
"I know. I love you too."
"So." Samael continue "how is the village?"
Rimuru POV
The bathhouse steam curled lazily in the air, scented with lavender and something sweet Milim brought in a jar labeled "DO NOT TASTE" — which meant she definitely tasted it.
Shizu sat with her hair down, the steam softening her expression into something warm and gentle. Sage floated nearby, towel wrapped loosely, reading a book that shouldn't be allowed in a bath, but no one would dare tell her no. Milim was kicking her feet in the water, humming happily.
Me?
I was trying not to think about last night.
Or the night before.
Or Milim's entire personality.
"So!" Milim burst out, nearly splashing half the bath onto the floor. "Dates!! How did yours go?! Because mine was AMAZING!! He took me to a food festival!! And I ate EVERYTHING — and then he looked like he was going to die! It was so cute!"
She hugged her own cheeks like remembering a puppy she had emotionally kidnapped.
Shizu smiled softly. "Sirius did well."
Sage closed her book with a quiet, satisfied click.
"Conclusion: Samael demonstrated attentiveness to individual emotional needs. He tailored each date to the partner's self-expression. Outcome: successful bonding across three trajectories."
Milim blinked.
"Translation, Sage," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"He looked at us," Sage said simply, "and understood us."
The bath fell quiet for a moment.
Warm. Full. Soft.
Then Milim leaned forward, eyes sparkling.
"But how was your date, Rimuru??"
I tried to appear dignified.
I failed.
I turned pink to the ears.
"I— We— The lantern street was beautiful, okay?! He held my hand! It was—" I sunk lower into the water. "It was nice."
Milim squealed.
"YOU'RE BLUSHING YOU'RE BLUSHING YOU'RE BLUSHING—!"
"Shut up—!"
Sage smirked — actually smirked.
Then Shizu — traitor — gently added:
"And you slept next to him afterward. In lingerie."
The steam suddenly felt too hot.
"I— It was comfortable!" I sputtered. "And elegant! And strategically romantic!!"
Milim leaned in, grinning like a demon.
"So, you were going to pounce him~"
I threw water at her. "NO—!!"
The splash only made Milim giggle.
Sage raised one eyebrow, her tone neutral but sharp enough to stab:
"You pressed your entire body against him while wearing lace. Your intentions lacked subtlety."
I wanted the bath to drown me.
I was rescued — briefly — when the attention shifted.
Because Milim leaned toward Shizu next.
"And YOU," she said with a dramatic gasp, pointing. "YOU had a date with Sirius!"
Shizu paused… then smiled.
The kind of soft smile that made the steam feel like spring sunlight.
"It was… peaceful," she said. "Gentle. He listened. He watched the way I breathed when I got nervous and adjusted how he spoke. He treated me like… I mattered."
The bath went still.
Even Milim softened.
Shizu looked down, voice warm and unbearably tender.
"And afterward… I chose to go further."
Sage's eyes widened.
Milim gasped.
I almost dropped my towel.
"…you mean—" I started.
Shizu nodded.
Calm. Confident. Entirely at ease in her own happiness.
"Yes, my first night."
Milim exploded.
"YOU WERE A VIRGIN!? UNTIL NOW!?!?"
Shizu blinked.
"…Yes?"
I slapped both hands on the water.
"YOU—?? BEFORE ME—??"
Shizu's expression turned very smug.
"You do know," she said lightly, "that if you hadn't banned Samael from teleporting home with you on your festival night, you would have been in the same situation. Possibly sooner."
My entire face turned red.
"I— THAT— IS NOT— THE POINT—!!!"
Milim threw herself onto my shoulders, laughing.
"RIMURU LOST THE RACE—!!"
"I DID NOT—!!!" I shouted, splashing water everywhere.
Sage, sipping tea she wasn't holding before, spoke calmly:
"Statistical projection indicates Rimuru will lose her virginity within a season depending on emotional pacing, wardrobe changes, and Milim interference. Unless she forces Samael to return to the village afterwards."
I stared at her.
"You're not supposed to say that."
"I only speak truth," Sage replied.
Milim raised her hand.
"So— when we lock Samael in a room with Rimuru and I block the doors—"
"WAIT—WAIT—WAIT—" I yelped.
Shizu just smiled, serene and terrifying.
"Oh, don't worry, Rimuru. He won't resist. You'd just be making the inevitable happen sooner."
My heart attempted to escape my chest.
"STOP— TALKING—!!"
Milim threw her arms in the air like a tiny warlord.
"THE HAREM WIVES CLUB IS UNSTOPPABLE!!!"
And somehow—
Even with all the chaos—
Even with all the embarrassment—
The laughter that followed was warm.