Three years after defeating the Demon King. In a village in Greze Forest, Central Countries.
"…Wake up."
A voice calls me. My mind's hazy. Something good happened, but what? Consciousness stirs—I was sleeping. I drifted in and out, now recalling yesterday.
"Wake up."
A familiar, childish voice shakes me. Not Aura—she's sleeping in the same room, not bothering to wake me. It's Linie, checking on me after my two-week absence. I can't look weak as her master. Travel fatigue? Gone. I resolve to rise refreshed, but—
"Wake up, scum!"
"I'm not scum—!?"
Himmel's worst wake-up call in history is set.
"You're up, Himmel. Linie's wake-up works."
"That's a wake-up!? What're you teaching her!? Nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"I didn't teach her anything."
I rush downstairs, breathless, as Aura replies over her shoulder. Deja vu, but probably nothing. My heart attack claim isn't far off. Stopping a hero's heart would be a demon's pride, but the reason's too trivial—embarrassing for the Demon King.
"Stroh said you're scum. And a woman's enemy. The village agrees."
"That brat… he's done for next time."
"Totally scum."
Linie, descending leisurely, spills the source. She leaks secrets like water, despite warnings. Stroh never learns. Nor does the scum hero, spewing things best kept quiet. No excuses.
"Stroh flipped my skirt too. He's scum."
"Come out, Stroh! I'll kill you!"
"Quiet down, it's morning. You'll disturb the neighbors."
"Nothing but scum."
Ignoring Himmel's morning outburst, I prepare breakfast. More noise, more rumors. He's mad about Linie's skirt, though she doesn't care. He calls it master-disciple duty, but there's more—something we demons don't grasp. Linie's the same, or just bored, using her new words to help me. I should warn Stroh to steer clear for a while.
This is our new daily life with Himmel and Linie.
"Let's eat."
Breakfast begins. Linie dives in eagerly—growing kid or just hungry? Her eating's messier lately, but I've given up.
Munching apple pie, I scan the room. New kitchen, table, chairs for three. Our house, finished six months ago. It started with Himmel's wild declaration:
"Let's build our house."
Insanity sparked it. He'd planned it long before. Tired of inn life, sure, but there's more. He just wanted a home. Linie's arrival helped. Humans build or move when paired or with kids, I hear. Rumors about us didn't faze him—he charged ahead. No one stops Himmel's action. The house was built, and we moved in.
(It's convenient…)
Sipping tea, I reflect. Far better than the inn. My own room's a blessing—no more constant Himmel. My books pile up, half a study now. I buy some, but Himmel brings weird grimoires from trips. Only that elf would love them.
"Your Luf omelet makes me feel home."
"Exaggerating. It's just two weeks."
Himmel, oblivious, eats eagerly, rivaling Linie. Like having two kids. His dramatics make it seem like years away.
(He's been leaving more…)
Since the house, Himmel's often gone—royal summons, probably from our audience days. He can't ignore them; it was the condition for my acceptance. Linie's presence plays a part. I stay, rewriting Azerliese's orders. Himmel uses us to dodge marriage proposals, Heiter said. When confronted—
"I'm relying on you guys."
Smirking, he admitted mimicking Eisen. Despicable, but I let it slide.
"Linie, don't you think so?"
"I like apples better. Shopping for your return was a hassle."
"…Linie."
"What, Lady Aura?"
"Nothing. Eat."
"You two never change. Glad you're lively."
Linie speaks thoughtlessly, like Stroh. I can't scold her—she's following orders. Himmel watches, smug, as if he's got me. Annoying.
"By the way, Aura, more love letters arrived."
"Huh?"
Washing dishes, I yelp. Who reacts calmly to that?
Glancing at the "love letters"—mail—I get it. His sarcasm's clear.
"From the Holy Capital. Just a few visits, and this nonsense."
Mail from the Holy Capital started six months ago. Never had any before. That monk's fault—my trial stints during visits.
"Your power's useful. I'm proud."
"Why're you proud? Only that monk's thrilled."
He knew this would happen. A year ago, after I stopped a false conviction, Heiter saw my value. Annoying, but useful for rewards and proving my worth. It's excessive—last visit, they called me "Scales" and "Lady." That monk's doing.
The letters beg me to return, prove innocence. Send them to Heiter! They know I'm here—humans love rumors. Love letters? Not entirely wrong, but a nuisance.
"Who's the smelly monk?"
"Heiter. The candy-giving guy you met."
"Candy monk?"
"What's with that monster-like name?"
"Fits him, right?"
Heiter's gone from smelly to candy monk in Linie's mind. Just the candy guy to her. Candy's better, somehow.
"Do what you want. Any real love letters, Hero?"
"As you see. Will the Era Meteors come first?"
"Wait and see. Pray that heartless elf remembers her promise."
Teasing about Frieren, he's unfazed, as if it's obvious. Even I'm stunned by his nonchalance. Post-Eisen, he's off—freed or rushed? But—
"Himmel, give me candy."
"What? Why?"
"Useless."
"Wait, Linie, let's talk. You're breaking my heart…"
Linie bests him. Candy talk filled her head. No demon lives so purely, unlying, undeceiving. She's mastering heart-crushing words—where from?
I resume washing, eyeing the half-defeated master.
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