After breakfast, Hernán tried to approach Karine.
He thought that if he simply explained what had happened the night before, perhaps her anger would subside.
"Later. I'm tired," she said.
Claiming she hadn't slept well, Karine returned to her room without looking back.
As he instinctively began to follow, the saintess reached out and gently held his arm.
"It's better to wait for now," she advised softly.
"But..."
"She might truly be tired, Hernán. And speaking to someone while they're still angry rarely ends well—it'll only upset you too."
Ashamed and disheartened, Hernán spent the rest of the morning in an awkward daze.
By lunchtime, another round of the demon king's familiar hometown fare had arrived. Just as before, Hernán remained seated next to her, unable to move elsewhere.
And once again, Karine excused herself as soon as the meal was over, retreating into solitude.
When Hernán glanced at the saintess, she responded with only a bitter shake of her head.
To pass the heavy afternoon, Hernán busied himself chatting with the others—trying to keep the mood light, stave off the tension, and distract from the lengthening hours. He found himself wishing nightfall would come quickly.
Only then could he try to speak with Karine again.
"I'm very satisfied with today's meal," Sharpie declared cheerfully over dinner, savoring the flavors of home.
"No more sweets or cakes?" Potty asked gloomily, clutching the dried fruits in her hands like meager treasures.
The sorceress, who especially adored anything sweet, looked crestfallen that no dessert appeared on the table.
"Do you want to try this?"
Sharpie offered a strange, black stick of food while sipping from her so-called coffee.
Potty recoiled instinctively at the demon king's gesture, pulling her body away.
"Still afraid of me?" Sharpie sighed dramatically. "That's a shame. This is incredibly sweet."
She snapped the stick in half and passed a piece to Hernán.
"Why are you giving me this?"
"Just try it. Hernán."
She had nearly called him "darling" again, but caught herself just in time under the wary eye of the hero.
"I'm not into sweets," he replied curtly.
"Just try one bite. You'll change your mind."
He didn't particularly want to—his head was far too preoccupied with thoughts of Karine.
But when he noticed Potty sulking over her dried fruit, he sighed and took the offered treat.
"What's it called?"
"Chocolate."
Hernán placed the slightly melted chocolate into his mouth.
It was intensely sweet—more than enough to satisfy someone like Potty.
"Potty, you'll like this."
Her golden eyes shimmered, caught between curiosity and caution.
Sharpie offered her the other half with a smirk. "It might not show up again tomorrow. Sure you want to pass on this chance?"
Eventually, temptation won out.
Potty hesitantly removed her gloves—her delicate white hands now bare—and took the chocolate. She studied it carefully, sniffed it, and then, after glancing at Hernán for reassurance, finally nibbled a piece.
"See? No poison. No harmful ingredients. Nothing bad for humans."
Satisfied, Potty devoured the rest with wide eyes, licking even the melted chocolate from her fingers.
Her little tongue glistened against her pale skin, her lips parting in delight.
The soft smacking, the wet sounds of indulgence, the sight of her small hands stained with dark sweetness—all of it momentarily captivated Hernán.
It was hard for a man to look away from something like that.
"Hernán."
"Uh—huh?"
Karine's voice cut into his daze.
Her eyes were narrowed, lips tense.
"Sleep with me tonight."
"Tonight?"
He hadn't stayed with her the previous night. And now...
"Hernán?"
The saintess tapped him under the table with her foot, murmuring his name again like a warning. He realized she'd been watching him the whole time.
Snapping out of it, Hernán turned back to Karine.
"Of course. I'll come to your room tonight."
Karine gave a small nod and looked away.
All he could do was quietly suggest to Potty that she stop licking her fingers.
After that, unlike during breakfast and lunch, Karine engaged in light conversation with the others.
It seemed her earlier aloofness had been nothing more than fatigue—or so Hernán hoped.
Sharpie, perhaps sensing the shift in mood, stopped her usual teasing.
She contented herself with sipping coffee and quietly watching Potty enjoy her discovery.
"I'll give you more tomorrow if it comes," Sharpie promised. "Back when I was the Demon King, I had plenty."
"Really?"
Potty beamed so brightly it was hard to believe she had once trembled in fear of Sharpie.
She was simple—but perhaps that simplicity was what made her endearing.
"Potty, you're not a child. Stop acting like one," Silnia muttered, scowling.
"S-Sorry..."
"No, don't worry," said the saintess, patting Potty's head. "You didn't do anything wrong."
She gave Silnia a subtle wink, a quiet plea for restraint.
"Hmph... everyone's already forgotten why we fought so hard to get here," Silnia muttered, slamming her cup down and draining it.
"Ack! Too fast—kgh!"
She pounded her chest, coughing violently from the gulp.
As Marina rubbed her back soothingly, Sharpie cheerfully chimed in, "There's an old proverb from Dream Village society."
"Don't."
"Come on, just listen!"
Sharpie cleared her throat theatrically.
"A broad chest holds a broad mind. Just like a healthy body holds a healthy spirit."
"Why now of all times?"
"I think it's relevant to our party."
Hernán prayed that Silnia hadn't heard—but she had.
Her ears twitched, and her face flushed a dangerous red.
"You horny bitch. Come here."
Sharpie blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting Silnia to have overheard.
"I-I was just—"
"I'm still eating!"
Sharpie downed her coffee in a panic and darted around Hernán for cover.
"Help me, Hernán! I'm pregnant!"
He froze.
"What...?"
"Don't let her hit me," she whispered, clinging to his back. "For the baby's sake."
"Are you insane?" he hissed.
"Move!"
Silnia's snarl was deafening. When she used the word "human," it meant she was truly enraged.
Before Hernán could move, something flashed past him and struck Sharpie's side.
"Kyaaaagh!"
She crumpled to the floor, clutching her side.
"You're dead, bitch," Silnia growled, yanking her up by the hair.
"Please stop!"
Sharpie screamed as Silnia kicked her knees out, dragging her down again.
The saintess and Potty rushed to intervene, but Silnia was too fast. Fists rained down on Sharpie's arms and shoulders.
It took Hernán—faster than anyone else—to finally restrain her.
"Enough! Stop now."
Silnia thrashed against him.
"What's the point of keeping her alive?! What has she ever done for us?!"
But Hernán was still fixated on what Sharpie had whispered.
Was it real?
Trying to steady himself, he replied, "That's not your decision. It's ours. And especially... the hero's."
Silnia's eyes burned as she looked toward Karine, who still sat silently at the table.
Marina and Potty helped Sharpie away while Karine finally stood.
"I'll make it clear," she said, her voice sharp and unflinching. "The Demon King will live until we leave this place. That's final."
"Why?! Did she bribe you with her body?"
"Watch your words, elf," Hernán warned coldly.
"Ugh..."
Karine stepped forward, speaking quietly so only the three of them could hear.
"Don't forget who took you in when you had nowhere to go, dying in a back-alley inn."
Silnia flinched. Hernán felt the tension in her limbs slowly unwind.
"You can't return to your homeland without a letter of pardon. That journey of repentance? It's not just symbolic."
Her ears drooped.
"Don't blame Hernán either," Karine added. "None of this is his fault."
"...Okay."
At last, Hernán released her arm.
Silnia glanced his way one last time, then turned toward her room without a word.
But Karine wasn't finished.
"And stay out of my business with the demon king."
Silnia didn't reply. She just lowered her head and closed her door behind her.