"Here it is—our new home starting today!"
"…What?"
I can only stare, dumbfounded, as the hero makes his grand entrance, striking a pose as if he's been keeping me waiting. He's undeterred by my reaction, barreling through the door with unabated enthusiasm. It's just an ordinary room in an inn, by human standards—bare-bones, devoid of luxury or grandeur, a shabby space with only the essentials. And yet—
"What do you think? It's a bit small, sure, but plenty for the two of us, right? Thanks to the village chief's kindness, we get to use this unused room. Though, it's a little sparse… Alright! We'll need to buy some things to—"
The hero—Himmel—dashes around the room like a child with a new toy, practically buzzing with excitement. What is this? What's so thrilling about it? This has nothing to do with me being a demon; even humans would find his behavior bizarre. To put it bluntly, he's unhinged.
"…Hey," I manage.
"Oh, sorry, sorry!" he says, misreading my tone. "But don't worry! There's a bunk bed, so we've got two spots to sleep. I'd prefer the top bunk, if that's okay—it's more exciting that way. Sound good?"
He climbs the bunk bed's ladder as he speaks, grinning like an idiot. Is this really the hero? The one who defeated the Demon King, feared by all demons? To think I lost to this guy—twice. The humiliation is unbearable.
"Do whatever you want," I snap, my face twisting as if I've bitten something sour. "But seriously, are you actually planning to live with me?"
I ask to confirm the nightmare unfolding before me, a humiliation worse than defeat itself. It's also a test of this self-proclaimed hero's sanity. And—
"Of course," he replies, his confident smile unwavering. "I told you, didn't I? You're going to be my friend. Unlike you demons, I don't lie."
His words carry the pomp of absolute certainty, laced with a jab about my kind's deceit. No human has ever irritated me this much.
(This guy is insufferable…! How did it come to this!?)
I think back to just half a day ago. A fatal lapse in judgment led to my defeat, and now I'm enslaved to this human—this hero. I'd already accepted that fate; I should've died back there, so this is a lesser evil. But I didn't yet grasp the sheer absurdity of the man before me. Who in their right mind would choose to live with a demon? A naive human, maybe, but not him. As a hero, he knows better than anyone what demons are. Living together is impossible. Even a demon couldn't monitor another demon around the clock. That's where I saw my chance to escape. But there was an exception.
(To think Azeliyuze could be used like this…!?)
The Obedience Spell, Azeliyuze.
A spell that enslaves its target, turning them into a puppet. Through it, I'm bound to the hero. But his use of it is entirely different from mine. The key distinction: he allows me a degree of free will. I can move and speak without his explicit permission—otherwise, I couldn't snap back like I just did. Not that I'm free to do whatever I want.
"You must not eat humans."
"You must not harm humans."
"You must not stray too far from the hero."
These three rules—commandments, really—bind me. As long as I obey them, I'm free to act. The first two are obvious, meant to protect humans from me, a consequence of my own desperate pleas during my defeat. The third, though, caught me off guard. Without it, escaping would've been trivial, but he saw through that. He's a hero, after all, rotten as that may be. Other minor rules apply, but they're inconsequential.
In short, I'm a pet. Like a dog or cat to humans—fangs filed, claws clipped, voice silenced, and neutered. That's all I am. I don't care about the role itself; I don't even understand it. It's pointless hassle. If rebellion's a risk, why not make me a complete puppet, like my undead army? It'd be far more efficient.
"Why go through all this nonsense?" I taunt, dripping with sarcasm. "Why not just make me a total puppet? Or is this some weird fetish of yours?"
I know I should play submissive, bide my time. It's reckless, but I can't help it—whether it's my demonic instincts or genuine curiosity, I don't know. Either way, I need answers.
"I told you," he says. "I want you to atone for your sins. If I just order you, it defeats the purpose."
His response is, as expected, incomprehensible. I understand the words, but not their meaning. Atone? Sins? I've heard humans prattle about this before, but what does it mean? Why should I have to atone? His answer is pure nonsense. The only thing clear is that he wants me to do something—not by command, but willingly.
"But you're still ordering me," I point out.
It's a contradiction. I'm already bound by his commands through my own spell, Azeliyuze. No matter what he says, I have to obey.
"It's not an order," he insists. "It's a request."
"It's the same thing."
He smiles, watching me, as if he believes there's a difference. What is this human even saying? Orders, requests—they're both about forcing compliance. What's the distinction?
"No, they're different," he declares, his smile brimming with unshakable confidence.
I fall silent. There's no point trying to understand humans. To them, demons are mindless beasts; to us, humans are prey to deceive and devour.
"…Whatever," I mutter, changing the subject. "Why this village? I thought you'd drag me to the capital or something."
Himmel's base is supposed to be the capital. I assumed he'd haul me there, so why here?
"Good question," he says. "There are a few reasons, but one is that it's too soon to take you there. Even with my protection, the capital would likely demand your execution. Unless you want to be executed?"
His teasing tone makes me scowl. I'd overlooked that possibility. Humans have their bizarre hierarchies—unlike demons, where the strongest rule. In their society, some "royalty" with no real power holds sway. Even a hero can't do as he pleases under that warped system.
"But the main reason is different," he continues. "The people of this village saved your life. That's why I think you should atone here."
His words are meant as an answer, but they're as baffling as ever.
"What are you talking about?" I retort. "You spared me, not the villagers. They have nothing to do with it."
"No, you're wrong," he says. "I was going to kill you. Those two stopped me. You owe them your life, Aura."
"That's nonsense. They only pleaded because I tricked them with my begging."
He's completely off the mark. The villagers fell for my act—my demonic cunning won that moment. Why should I be grateful? Gratitude is like owing someone, isn't it? I owe nothing.
"That's where we start, huh…" Himmel murmurs.
For a moment, his face clouds with something melancholic, only to light up with a grin, as if he's delighted. Why does he look happier now?
"What's with that face?" I snap. "It's creepy."
"Nothing," he says. "I'm just looking forward to what's next."
His bizarre enthusiasm only deepens my gloom. How long will this go on? Even a demon's long life can't endure this farce. I need to escape this prison of a charade as soon as possible.
"Oh, right!" he exclaims. "I almost forgot—I have something for you."
"For me…?"
"Clothes," he says. "Your outfit's too conspicuous for village life. I asked the villagers to spare a few pieces."
Ignoring my protests, he unfurls a bundle of clothes—plain, human garments like those a village girl might wear. Utterly dull, even to a demon. I'd love to rip them to shreds, but I hold back. I'm stuck in this village for now; antagonizing the locals isn't wise. Pretending to be human is a demon's standard tactic, after all. More importantly—
"So, I just change into these, right? An order, or was it a request?" I say, dripping with sarcasm.
Better to do it myself than be forced by his command. I strip off my current attire and grab one of the secondhand outfits. It's tailored for a petite woman, fitting me well enough. Thoughtful, if pointless. The stench of human lingers, though, making my nose wrinkle.
"…"
Himmel's frozen, eyes wide, as if witnessing something unbelievable. It's almost like Azeliyuze has turned on him.
"What?" I ask. "Don't worry, I'll wear it. Got a problem?"
"N-no!" he stammers, flustered, turning away with raised hands, his face flushed. "Why are you changing while I'm still here!?"
"…Huh?"
His reaction baffles me. Then it clicks—my current state. Naked, as I'm about to change. It's natural; I'm just swapping clothes. Demons don't feel shame changing in front of others, just as humans don't care about undressing before animals. I assumed humans were the same, but apparently not. Still—
"Oh, that," I say, smirking. "Don't worry about it. You're used to seeing women's bodies, aren't you?"
His reaction is absurdly innocent. A hero's status is akin to a demon's Demon King—surely he's had countless admirers, human or otherwise. It's just a cultural difference, surprising but mutual. Or so I thought.
"…"
Himmel falls silent, a stark contrast to his earlier fluster. The quiet stretches.
"…Wait, don't tell me—"
"Anyway, I'll wait outside!" he blurts, bolting from the room like a startled rabbit before I can finish.
His escape says it all.
(Is that guy really the hero…?)
I can't help but wonder if seduction might've worked better than hostages or my undead army. Shaking my head, I resume changing alone, exasperated by the absurdity.
"Alright, one more thing I want to show you!"
As if nothing happened, Himmel returns, predictably praising my new look. It's almost admirable, but it doesn't move me. To avoid further tangents, I let the earlier incident slide—for now.
Under an unspoken truce, he hauls in a large bag, the kind adventurers carry. When he opens it in the center of the room, its contents spill out. I frown at the sheer volume—and what's inside.
"What's this…?" I ask.
"Can't you tell? Grimoires!" he says, pointing to the obvious. "It's written right there, isn't it?"
Grimoires, clearly. Some are bound books, others rolled parchment, but unmistakably magical tomes. A mage could learn their spells by reading them. That's not the issue.
"Why does a hero like you have so many grimoires?" I demand. "Don't tell me you can use magic too?"
"Nah, I wish," he says. "Magic's my weak spot. But they're cool, right? Magic's the epitome of romance—beautiful, too."
Why collect something he can't use? His answer is as nonsensical as expected. Romance? Beauty? This isn't about demons versus humans—it's about Himmel's peculiarity. Apparently, he's been collecting grimoires as rewards during his travels, amassing this many. If this is just his travel bag, what's his home like?
"I finally found the spell I was looking for…" he says, rummaging. "Here it is! The Spell to Produce Syrup! And there's more…"
Like a kid showing off toys, he thrusts grimoires at me, unprompted. I'm not remotely jealous. Why would I be?
Syrup-producing spells are just the start. Echoing voice spells, back-scratching spells, fruit-peeling spells—useless, borderline junk. So-called "folk magic," apparently. What do humans think magic is? I nearly snap at him but stop short. Because—
"…"
Himmel's frozen again, holding a single grimoire, his expression unlike any I've seen before.
"…What's wrong?" I ask.
"Nothing," he says, shaking it off. "I wanted to show you these to ask if you can use their spells. Can you?"
So that's his game. The answer's obvious. These trivial spells? Child's play. No human magic is beyond a great demon like me. But I'm not inclined to answer honestly. I didn't hone my craft for such nonsense. Magic is sacred, a demon's lifelong pursuit.
"Why don't you order me to find out?" I retort.
It's futile resistance—I'd have to answer if commanded—but it's my will. Or so I thought.
"Hm, guess it's too much for you," he says. "Frieren could do it, though."
His words hit like a slap.
"…What's that supposed to mean?" I hiss.
"Oh, just that my friend Frieren could pull it off, so I thought any mage could," he says, nodding as if satisfied. "Guess she's just special."
I choke on my breath, my vision tinting red. Impossible. This hero dares say I'm inferior to that elf mage? That insignificant creature, blessed only with good companions? It's an unforgivable insult to a demon.
"No way!" I explode. "If that elf can do it, so can I! I could master these pathetic spells in a single night—"
I stop, realizing my mistake. Himmel's grinning, as if he'd planned this all along. I fell for it. He baited me, steering the conversation to provoke me. Such cunning from a hero. Infuriating.
"…What are you scheming?" I demand, swallowing my frustration. It's the most honest thing I've said.
"Nothing grand," he says, smugly. "Just that, to live in this village, you'll need to do something essential."
"And what's that?"
With a dramatic flourish, he delivers his answer—a human necessity.
"Work."
Toyed with by Himmel, Aura's first step into human society was about to begin.