An Archdemon's Dilemma: How to Love Your Elf Bride: Volume 18 E-Book

Fuminori Teshima

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Club
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: An Archdemon's Dilemma: How to Love Your Elf Bride
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 253

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Zagan is making moves to resolve the many problems on his plate when his old friend and enemy, Marchosias, suddenly shows up and calls for a gathering of all Archdemons at the ends of the earth. Zagan decides to go, and since he’s going out anyway, he takes everyone on a sightseeing trip! Meanwhile, Barbatos appears to be plotting something involving Zagan and Nephy...

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover

Color Illustrations

Characters

Prologue

Chapter I: The Better You Know Yourself, the Clearer It Is What You Must Do

Chapter II: Victory Goes to He Who Makes the First Move, but That Doesn’t Always Work

Chapter III: Losing Your Memories Is Like Losing a Part of Yourself

Chapter IV: Even a Hero May Seek Salvation

Epilogue

Afterword

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

Landmarks

Color Images

Table of Contents

Prologue

“Master Zagan, I’m so happy.”

Nephy smiled, a pure-white dress adorning her body. Her hair was equally white, sparkling like silver under the light. It gave her an air of divine solemnity. She was like a spirit of the moon. The chest of her dress and her elbow-length gloves were embroidered with a crest of a laurel tree using gold thread. Her skirt went all the way to the floor and was adorned with frills and lace. She held a bouquet of pale pink and white flowers in her hand. Atop her head was a silver tiara and a thin transparent veil, hiding her face as if to protect a bride’s purity.

Zagan let out a sigh of admiration. He could do nothing but stand there, desperately attempting to suppress the pounding of his heart.

How beautiful...

No matter how hackneyed and overused a word it was, Zagan’s mind was incapable of coming up with any other way to describe her. Yes, right here, right now, his beloved was wearing a wedding dress.

Zagan looked down at his own clothes. He was dressed in a white tailcoat. This was the moment of their wedding ceremony.

Aaah, this must be a dream.

Perhaps it was Lilith’s doing. He’d brought her along on a vacation, so maybe she was being considerate. It really hadn’t been necessary, but still, it wasn’t a bad dream.

If he could allow himself to be a little greedy, Zagan would’ve liked to have seen Nephy in this outfit only after he’d proposed to her. Seeing what came afterward in a dream felt like a waste. In a sense, it would detract from the experience when he eventually got to witness the real thing.

Regardless, she was so beautiful that he couldn’t peel his eyes away from her.

“Um, Master Zagan,” his adorable bride said, her pointy ears bright red and quivering. “Are you not going to say anything...?”

“Oh! Sorry! You’re so beautiful that I lost consciousness!”

“Hyah?!”

His beloved was wearing a wedding dress.

Huh? Isn’t this a dream?

The sight was straight out of a dream, but this seemed to be reality.

“Hic... You really are beautiful, Nephy. I have no more regrets now that I’ve seen you two on your wedding day.”

“Hey! Don’t go kickin’ the bucket on your own!”

“Th-That was just a figure of speech! You already know, don’t you? I have no intention of dying and leaving you alone...”

“Haaah? What kinda embarrassing crap are you spoutin’?!”

Maybe this really is a dream.

Now that he took a closer look, Chastille was dressed as the officiant, having an idiotic lover’s quarrel with Barbatos. Zagan couldn’t distinguish this from dream or reality, but either way, he really wanted those two to choose the right time and place to argue. However, punching Barbatos might splatter blood on Nephy’s wedding dress, so Zagan mustered the full force of his willpower and endured the urge.

“Aaaaaaaaagh!”

“Zagan! It’s our fault, so please let him go! Barbatos’s head is going to pop!”

Chastille screamed as she heard Barbatos’s skull creaking. It seemed Zagan had resisted the urge to punch him, only to unconsciously grab him by the face. Well, that didn’t really matter. Barbatos’s eyes rolled back as Zagan chucked him aside.

How’d it end up like this again...?

It had all started several days...no, about a month ago.

Chapter I: The Better You Know Yourself, the Clearer It Is What You Must Do

“So you’re Thunder God Furfur?”

The morning after repelling Lord of Murder Glasya-Labolas in the ancient city of Aristocrates and failing to protect Puppetmaster Forneus, a boy and girl stood before Zagan. The boy trembled. Having been unable to hold back a sigh, Zagan’s voice ended up coming across as somewhat overbearing.

The boy was dressed in a simple uniform and had a Sacred Sword on his back. This was practically the first time Zagan was meeting him. The boy wasn’t a part of Chastille’s faction. The reason he wasn’t wearing Anointed Armor was because it’d been pulverized in the recent battle.

The boy had only just turned sixteen. He looked rather weak to be an Archangel, and also very timid. To sum it up, he had very plain features. Zagan wasn’t confident he could remember the boy’s face the next time they met. Well, considering the fact that he’d been no more than a farmhand only a year ago, that was understandable.

The boy’s name was Micca Salvarra. He was Sacred Sword Haniel’s wielder. He wasn’t the one Zagan was addressing, however. Zagan had spoken to the girl next to him. She had jet-black hair and violet eyes. She wore a headdress and apron, both of which were lavishly adorned with frills. She wore a dress that went all the way down to her ankles and white gloves that covered her elbows. Combined with how little her expression changed, she somewhat reminded Zagan of Nephy back when they’d first met.

Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen Nephy in her maid outfit for a while.

Now that Nephy was an Archdemon, she was always in more formal clothes. That was dignified, beautiful, and dazzling in its own way, but he missed her maid outfit.

No, now’s not the time for that.

His attempt to make contact with the founder of alchemy, one of the foremost Archdemons, Puppetmaster Forneus, had ended in failure. While Zagan had sent Shax and Kuroka to negotiate with him, Marchosias had sent the Lord of Murder to assassinate him. As a result, Forneus had died. Zagan hadn’t lost any of his subordinates, but he hadn’t obtained what he’d wanted. That didn’t mean he was empty-handed, though.

One thing he’d gained was this girl before him. Furfur lifted the hem of her skirt and curtsied. Zagan could hear something creak like a wooden door being opened.

“Yes. Artificial soul-infused lightning-powered armored puppet, Thunder God Furfur.”

This girl was the late Archdemon Forneus’s greatest masterpiece, his beloved daughter who’d inherited his Sigil of the Archdemon.

She’s necessary to free the seraphs from the Sacred Swords, but first, I need to decide how to handle her.

Forneus had lost his ability to convey his will to others. And so, it was doubtful Furfur had inherited his knowledge. Nevertheless, there was plenty of knowledge to be gained from investigating this puppet’s body.

However, Shax and Kuroka wished for this girl to be treated as a person. And as their king, Zagan couldn’t handle her harshly. Seated atop his throne, Zagan crossed his legs and addressed her in an overbearing tone.

“Furfur, I present you with two choices,” he said, lifting a finger. “First, you can let go of the Sigil of the Archdemon right here and live a quiet life as a normal person. You may even take that brat with you as a companion. So long as I live, I can at least guarantee your safety.”

It was questionable whether it was possible for her to live among normal people in the body of a puppet, but Zagan had no obligation to go that far for her. If it didn’t work out, she could do as Orias had and seclude herself in a forest or something. Zagan was at least capable of protecting whatever peaceful life Furfur desired.

I still need a Sigil of the Archdemon to give Barbatos, after all.

During the matter with Chastille the other day, Barbatos had been made into quite the plaything. Zagan figured a Sigil would be the least he could do to reward him. The question was whether Barbatos would accept a Sigil from Zagan under such circumstances. Either way, it was better for the peace between Angelic Knights and sorcerers if that man was an Archdemon.

So, what did it mean for Furfur to abandon her Sigil? The boy next to her had to have an idea. Micca tightly pursed his lips. Giving him a sidelong glance, Zagan held up another finger.

“Second, you can inherit Forneus’s Sigil and live on as the next Archdemon. I desire Forneus’s knowledge. If you cooperate, I’ll provide you with an education as a sorcerer. However, you’ll have to give up on that brat. You’re far too weak a sorcerer to be with an Archangel.”

She was a former Archdemon candidate, but still too weak to be an Archdemon now that Marchosias was scheming something. She would get killed and have her Sigil stolen in no time. She needed a patron in order to live on as an Archdemon. That was why Furfur had to make a choice: give up on Forneus’s will and live with Micca, or give up on Micca and inherit Forneus’s will. Furfur looked straight at Zagan with her glassy eyes and gave him a clear answer.

“I don’t like either. I refuse.”

“Hmm...?”

Zagan gave her an amused look, whereas Micca went pale and grabbed Furfur’s hand.

“F-Furfur! You can’t,” he whispered. “This person is way stronger than that Glasya-Labolas guy. We have no chance against him.”

He had a surprisingly accurate grasp of the situation. And yet, Furfur remained undaunted and looked down at the Sigil on her right hand.

“This Sigil is the last thing my master entrusted me with,” she said. “I won’t hand it over to anyone. It’s precious...necessary. But Micca is equally precious...important. My master chooses...chose, Micca’s life over his own. He’s just as precious...necessary as my master’s will.”

The puppet put a hand to her chest, closed her eyes, then raised her head with determination.

“I want to know,” she said. “I want to know why my master died with a smile.”

“Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is by far the best ending for one.”

Those were the great founder of alchemy’s last words. Zagan couldn’t even begin to guess the meaning behind them.

“To find that answer, I believe I need both the Sigil and Micca.”

“Furfur...” Micca muttered.

Zagan planted an elbow on his throne, then burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“So hand over both of them, you mean? The depth of your greed knows no bounds. I see. Well, such avarice certainly can’t come from a puppet. How utterly human.”

Puppets had no desires. They didn’t have wills of their own. Ignoring the boy who was growing paler and paler by the second, Zagan whipped forward a finger and pointed at Furfur.

“Very well. I’ll work things out with the Angelic Knights. You shall learn to be an Archdemon.”

“H-Huh...?” Micca mumbled, his mouth popping open in shock.

“He’s saying you can stay with the little lady,” Shax said, plopping a hand on Micca’s head. “And she can keep Forneus’s Sigil.”

Before, Shax had always hunched over and favored an unreliable worn-out doctor’s gown, but now his back was straight and he wore a fine robe. He now possessed the dignity of an Archdemon—except for his usual stubble.

Kuroka wasn’t here. This was her first time back in town for a month, so she had several people she needed to see and speak to. If Zagan remembered correctly, she was currently on her way to the church.

“Boss, try not to tease them too much,” Shax added.

“I’m not,” Zagan said. “I don’t know them. I’m not so soft that I’ll provide protection to complete strangers.”

That was why he needed to be sure of it.

“Well, I’m relieved to see they live up to your standards,” Shax replied, smiling wryly.

“Hmph. A puppet who can’t even make a proper choice would’ve just ended up on the research table.”

That said, Shax and Kuroka had appealed to Zagan to protect her. He already knew that she wasn’t such a puppet. What made a person was the existence of a will. Anyone without one was no different from a puppet.

Furfur had made her choice. Not only that, but she’d chosen an option that Zagan hadn’t presented to her. She wasn’t a puppet. That was why he was taking her under his protection. Not choosing and being unable to choose were different matters, after all.

“Um, I don’t really get it...” Micca said, disbelief and bewilderment clear in his voice. “What do you mean by ‘work things out’ with the Angelic Knights?”

Well, considering his profession, it made sense for that to be the first thing on his mind.

“You may wield a Sacred Sword, but nobody will complain if you claim you’re keeping an eye on a new Archdemon, right?” Zagan answered indifferently. “You can just give them arbitrary reports on how things are going every now and then. Besides, it works out just fine for me for you two to be an Archangel and an Archdemon. I’m sure the masses will rejoice at having a second source of amusement.”

In that sense, Barbatos and Chastille had been extremely useful. Thanks to the full disclosure of their love life, the church’s true authorities—the cardinals—were incapable of making any careless statements. If they lost the support of the populace, they would be overthrown in an instant. On the other hand, so long as Angelic Knights served as a deterrent against sorcerers, they would still be necessary even without the cardinals’ support. Things could change radically, but the Angelic Knights wouldn’t be completely lost.

Micca seemed to realize what Zagan was referring to, so he raised his voice in shock.

“A second source... Don’t tell me that really was your doing?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zagan replied, boldly feigning ignorance.

I mean, I didn’t think Gremory would go so far...

Even now, it scared him a little. He didn’t want to hear it mentioned if possible.

“I somewhat understand what you’re saying, but how exactly are you going to work things out with the church?” Micca asked, still not fully convinced. “I’m an Archangel, but the lowest-ranking one. My voice doesn’t exactly carry a lot of weight...”

“There’s no need to worry about that,” Zagan said. “The pope is currently absent. Nobody in the church is really in a position to make any decisions. For something of this level, we can have the Unification Faction push things through.”

Even if Chastille’s voice wasn’t enough on its own, there were several other Archangels who would cooperate. If that wasn’t enough, Zagan could even rely on Orias, using her position as Oberon. It wasn’t that complicated a matter. For now, at least.

Micca weakly fell to his rear, overwhelmed by how much influence Zagan had in the church.

“You’ve only just lost your master,” Zagan said, turning back to Furfur. “I’d like to give you time to settle your feelings, but you’re in a dangerous position—even with my protection—so, I’ll need you to build up enough strength to call yourself an Archdemon.”

“A proper...inevitable? Conclusion. I’ll comply.”

The battle with Glasya-Labolas must’ve affected her, but Furfur assented with unexpected ease. The problem was getting her a teacher...

Andrealphus...really doesn’t have the time for this right now.

That man had claimed the title of strongest as both a sorcerer and an Angelic Knight. He was the most qualified person to train these two from scratch. However, he’d gone back to Raziel, and things were extremely troublesome over there at the moment.

I never thought Samyaza would end up drifting to Raziel...

Samyaza was an intelligent demon that was an amalgamation of ten thousand entities. It was a monster even Zagan was incapable of defeating in a one-on-one fight. Or perhaps “phenomenon” was a better word to describe it. Even in his heyday, it would probably have been impossible for Andrealphus to defeat it.

For some reason, that same demon had been observed in Raziel. Zagan had figured it was still alive but didn’t know what its objective was. Was it recovering from the wounds it’d suffered in the battle against Zagan? For now, it wasn’t showing any signs of making a move, at least.

From the very beginning, it was like it was trying to test me.

It would be a poor move to prod it unnecessarily, but Zagan couldn’t just ignore it either. That was exactly why he’d asked Andrealphus to keep an eye on it. And so, it wasn’t really the time for him to be training youngsters.

He really wanted to retire too...

Even Zagan felt somewhat sorry for him. He decided that if he came across some quality tobacco, he would send some to Andrealphus as thanks.

Orias was another former Archdemon who could do the job, but her two daughters—Nephy and Nephteros—had her undivided attention. Furfur and Micca weren’t important enough for Zagan to deprive his mother-in-law of such precious time with her daughters.

In terms of simple skill, Foll and Shax had no shortcomings. They also had people at their beck and call who knew how to use swords. However, they weren’t capable of teaching others sorcery at the level of an Archdemon, especially when it was outside of their own specialties.

About the only choice left was for Zagan to teach them personally, but he was already busy looking after quite a few people. He also didn’t want to lose any more time he could be spending with Nephy instead. So then, who could serve as their teacher?

“Hm hm hmm! My liege! Have you forgotten someone?! Leave it to me, and I shall raise them to possess love power that surpasses even Purgatory!”

“You go sit in the corner!”

Having eavesdropped on them from somewhere, the granny nobody had asked for came barging in, her ulterior motives on full display. She was followed by a giant young man with the face of a lion.

“Come now, Miss Gremory,” he said, an air of remonstration in his voice. “I’ll sit with you, so let’s apologize properly. I’m sure you know how delicate a matter this is.”

“Be quiet, Kimaris!” Gremory shouted. “Do you think I’m understanding enough of others that I’d just sit still when such love power is before me?!”

“Isn’t that exactly why you’re being scolded?” Kimaris retorted.

These two had been working separately as of late, but they’d returned together today. Kimaris took a seat next to Gremory, a look of relief on his face as if he’d finally returned home after a long absence.

Zagan folded his arms and continued pondering the matter at hand when suddenly, a knock came at the throne room’s door.

“Mister Zagan! I heard you came back!”

“Hang on a minute, Selphy. It looks like he’s receiving guests.”

“Huh? But Miss Gremory totally just waltzed in.”

A carefree voice resonated through the throne room, coming from someone completely incapable of reading the mood. It was the siren Selphy.

Dammit, one after the other. I’m busy trying to find someone to train these two...

There simply weren’t that many people out there who could teach both sword and sorcery.

“Selphy, my business can wait. Let’s come back later, shall we?”

And upon spotting the boy who’d entered the room with Selphy, one of his problems was immediately resolved.

“Oh, there’s one right here,” Zagan said.

“Huh? One what?” the boy asked.

It was Zagan’s father, the first Head Archdemon, the second Silver-Eyed King Lucia—or at least his Nephilim, Ain. Zagan explained the situation, and Ain agreed to look after them. With that decided, they’d need a place to live. Zagan ended up offering the old castle in the forest he’d previously occupied. Archdemon Palace would’ve worked too, but Ain had chosen to live a life separate from his previous one. It would be far too awkward for him to bump into Alshiera frequently.

And just as the meeting in the throne room came to an end, Shax added one last thing.

“Boss, before we split up, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Zagan could already guess what he wanted to discuss.

◇

“Hey, hey, you a newcomer?”

After his audience with Archdemon Zagan, Micca found himself standing inside a kitchen. Furfur had been dragged away by the girl who’d entered the throne room, and Micca had followed them here. Furfur seemed more confused than worried. She threw Micca a glance, a shocked look on her face as she was taken farther into the kitchen.

“Hmm, so your name’s Furfur, huh? That’s a real cute name. I’m Selphy! Are you a sorcerer? Can you cook? It’s A-OK! Even if you can’t, Mister Raphael will totally teach you!”

“I will try...no, do my best?”

Micca figured this girl had misunderstood things because of Furfur’s clothes, but that didn’t seem to be the case. That only made things more confusing. There was also a small girl with green hair in the kitchen who, upon seeing Furfur, began trembling. Well, Furfur wasn’t very expressive, so maybe that had frightened the girl.

And as he remained standing stock-still, a boy who looked to be around the same age as Micca casually struck up a conversation. He had chestnut hair and blue eyes. Judging by his ragged robes, he was probably a sorcerer too.

“Huh? No...? Am I?” Micca said, not quite sure himself.

“I’m Furcas!” the boy said, grinning. “Not a whole lotta people my age around here, so it’s nice to have ya!”

“Oh, hello. I’m Micca Salvarra. You can just call me Micca.”

“Gotcha. Nice to meet you, Micca.”

Micca remained distracted throughout their introductions. His focus was stuck on the old gentleman who seemed to be running the kitchen. He wore what looked like a butler’s tailcoat, but there was no mistaking the scars on his face.

“H-Hey, Furcas?” Micca said. “I have a question. Is that...?”

“Mister Raphael? He’s an amazing guy! He’s the butler and chef here!”

Micca was getting a headache.

Why is Lord Hyurandell working as a butler and chef?

He was the oldest living Archangel and boasted the foremost strength among them. Micca had heard vague rumors about him getting caught up in some kind of internal discord in the church and having to hide under the protection of an Archdemon who was on good terms with the Unification Faction. Still, this situation far surpassed Micca’s imagination.

At first, he thought he was hallucinating, but this seemed to be reality. He wanted it all to just be a dream.

“Micca, are you bad at cooking?” Furcas asked, cocking his head. “It’s all right. Mister Raphael has a scary face, but he’ll teach you properly. Even I can help out now.”

“No, I’ve cooked plenty at home. It’s just...”

He’d been away from home for a week now.

I wonder if everyone is okay...

The local priest was watching Micca’s house during his absence, but Micca wasn’t sure what his position in the church was anymore. Zagan had guaranteed his safety, but it didn’t sound like such a simple matter. It was possible he was thought lost in action after the incident the other day, and given his current circumstances, it was even possible he was being considered a traitor. The anxiety was starting to give him a stomachache.

“You know how to cook? That means you know how to peel vegetables, yeah?” Furcas asked, pulling out a chair for him. “I’m pretty bad at it, so lend me a hand.”

“Oh, sure.”

Furcas handed him a knife and a potato, and Micca began peeling it half unconsciously. Curious about how Furfur was doing, he glanced her way. She’d been entrusted with making a salad while pasta boiled in a pot.

Looks like things are going fine over there.

For now, nothing seemed dangerous. After confirming that, Micca returned his attention to Furcas.

“Mister Raphael’s cooking is super tasty,” Furcas said. “You’ll cheer up once you have some.”

It seemed he was trying to encourage Micca in his own little way.

“Th-Thanks. You’re very kind,” Micca replied.

“Ha ha, everyone here has gone through hard times,” Furcas said. “I’ve been treated so well by them, so I’m just passing it along.”

Well, Furcas looked to be around the same age as Micca, and here he was...working(?) at an Archdemon’s castle. He’d had to have gone through hard times.

“Furcas, what brought you here?” Micca asked casually.

Furcas continued peeling the potato in his hands, not quite sure how to explain his situation.

“To tell you the truth...I don’t remember anything about my past,” he said.

“Huh? You have no memories?”

“Mm-hmm. I kinda wandered into a ridiculously dangerous place, and when I was on the verge of death, Zagan and Lilith saved me. Oh, Lilith is the redhead over there who’s making the soup. She’s such a beautiful and cute girl!”

Furcas pointed to a strong-willed girl. She had red hair and golden eyes and looked to be about the same age as Furcas. She wore an apron over rather revealing clothes, but Micca was more focused on her curved horns.

Races with such horns were, in general, very rare. It was miraculous for one to be alive under an Archdemon, or even a sorcerer, but it didn’t seem like her life was at risk here.

I wonder if Furcas is in love with her. Micca could guess from the clear passion in Furcas’s voice.

“She really is pretty,” Micca said. “Is she also a sorcerer?”

“Nope,” Furcas said. “Lilith is Liucaon’s princess.”

“Why is a princess making soup in the kitchen?”

Was she being forced to obey Zagan in exchange for her life?

“Ha ha ha, I asked the same thing when I first came here,” Furcas said, smiling nostalgically. “By the way, the one showing the other newcomer the ropes is Miss Selphy. She’s another family’s princess.”

And the one running the kitchen was the most dreadful Archangel.

“What’s going on here...?” Micca muttered.

“Oh, and the beautiful woman cooking the meat over there is Miss Nephy. She’s Zagan’s girl, so be sure not to be rude to her.”

“Zagan, as in Archdemon Zagan? So he’s in a normal relationship...?”

Now that Micca thought about it, he vaguely remembered a beautiful elf accompanying Zagan during the attack on Raziel’s treasury.

“Yup. And the little green-haired lady next to her is Foll,” Furcas added. “She’s Zagan and Miss Nephy’s daughter.”

“They’re old enough to have a daughter of that age?”

A sorcerer’s appearance wasn’t exactly a reliable indicator of age, but one way or another, both Zagan and this elf appeared to be as young as they looked.

“Nope,” Furcas said, shaking his head. “They’re not related by blood. Foll’s a dragon and all.”

“Dragons exist?”

This was even more of a shock. Micca had been under the impression that dragons only existed in picture books.

“She’s also the strongest Archdemon here, aside from Zagan,” Furcas added.

“Isn’t it weird for a dragon to be an Archdemon?!”

“Miss Nephy became an Archdemon recently too.”

“Is becoming an Archdemon that easy?!”

How many Archdemons did Zagan have in his employ to begin with? Tiger King Shax was also one of the new Archdemons. This was all too shocking for Micca. He gasped for breath as Furcas laughed next to him.

“Ha ha ha, you’re reacting just as expected.”

“Quit using me for entertainment,” Micca complained.

“But you’ve cheered up a bit, yeah?”

Micca was taken aback.

I see. I must’ve looked really down...

That was why Furcas was half teasing him to cheer him up.

“Thanks, Furcas.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

That was when Micca noticed something. Nephy and Foll each had a crest on their right hand. He’d seen the same thing on Archdemon Zagan’s and Shax’s right hands too. And right in front of him, he saw the same crest on Furcas’s right hand...

“Furcas, mind if I ask something...?” Micca said. “That crest on your right hand...”

“Oh, this? It’s apparently called a Sigil of the Archdemon.”

Micca never imagined this boy would be an Archdemon too. Micca trembled at the thought of having spoken to him so casually.

“I’m pretty sure there are others who should have this instead of me,” Furcas said with a troubled look. “But I’ve had it since before losing my memories, so Zagan told me to hold on to it...”

“Is that so...?”

Micca was ashamed of himself. Furcas had been so kind to him despite this being their first meeting, yet Micca had gotten frightened of him just because he had a Sigil of the Archdemon. To Furcas, this could be the one and only clue he had about his own past.

Micca glanced at the pile of potatoes that’d been building up next to them. Furcas had been the one to ask for help, but he’d peeled more potatoes than Micca had. He didn’t actually need help but had given Micca something to do because Micca had seemed lost. People were capable of clearing their minds of unnecessary thoughts when they had work in front of them, after all.

What a good guy.

Micca suddenly wanted to become friends with him.

“You’re amazing, Furcas,” Micca said. “Even though I have a Sacred Sword, I’m the weakest among the Archangels, so I have no idea why I’m being treated so well here...”

“Don’t say that. I’m definitely the weakest among those who have this Sigil too.”

He didn’t call himself an Archdemon. That was because he understood the situation better than anyone else. However, there was no timidity in Furcas’s voice like there was in Micca’s.

“But even so, Zagan and Lilith saved me. They could’ve snatched the Sigil from me, but instead, they told me to get stronger and are supporting me. I want to pay back the favor they’ve granted me... You have someone like that too, don’t you?”

With that, he shot a glance at Furfur.

He really is amazing.

That was exactly why Micca didn’t want to look pathetic in front of Furcas or Furfur.

Micca nodded.

“Yeah... I want to become someone the people who’ve been so kind to me can be proud of.”

The two boys smiled. Still, even after having all this explained to him, Micca had a headache.

“Royalty, Archangel, and Archdemons... Does this kitchen have anyone normal in it?” Micca asked.

“What’re you saying? You’ve got a Sacred Sword too.”

Micca had almost forgotten about that. The tranquil and normal life Micca had long dreamed of felt so distant all of a sudden.

“Oh my, there are even more people here than usual.”

And just then, yet another girl entered the kitchen. She had blonde hair and golden eyes like the moon. She wore a pitch-black dress and seemed to be just as young as Foll, or maybe a little older.

“That’s Miss Alshiera,” Furcas said. “She’s apparently a vampire.”