Two years after the Demon King's defeat. In a village nestled in the Greze Forest, Central Countries.
Morning sunlight streams through the window, warm and dazzling. The scent of frying bread and eggs fills the air. I prepare breakfast as usual, wrapped in these familiar sensations. When did I stop feeling out of place in this apron? I've given up trying to remember. The truth is, I've grown far too accustomed to this life.
"How long are you going to sleep, Himmel? Get up already," I call out.
The culprit behind this routine is still buried in blankets on the top bunk, motionless. I'm slaving away over breakfast, and he has the nerve to keep snoring. I didn't sign up to be his wake-up call. But if he doesn't get up, this meal will go to waste. I give the bed a shake.
"Mmm… Mom…" he mumbles.
"Who're you calling Mom?" I snap.
What is he blabbering about? What even is a "mom"? The woman who birthed you, I suppose, but humans are obsessed with the term. For demons, it's just a plea for mercy, a magic word that works better when you're young. It's supposed to soften hearts, but to me, it's just irritating. Fine, then. I'll use the one magic word that does work on this hero.
"If you don't get up, you'll end up a freeloader, Lord Himmel."
"Good morning, Aura!" he chirps, springing awake as if he'd never been asleep. "Nice weather today, huh?"
That phrase works like a curse on him. "Freeloader" isn't much different from "jobless," but it hits harder, especially after the villagers started whispering it. Even for a hero like Himmel, it's a humiliating title.
"Honestly," I mutter, setting the table. "This is what you get for staying up late scribbling."
Last night, he was hunched over, writing letters or something until the wee hours. No wonder he can't wake up. It's his own fault.
"No choice," he says, grinning. "I'm a hero. The love letters from my fans never stop."
"Oh, really? Lucky you," I reply dryly, handing him a stack of letters from this morning. "Plenty to choose from."
There are at least a dozen, no exaggeration. Fans or not, it's not unusual. A hero's a hero, even a washed-up one. He's got connections, and it's not just letters—people show up in person, too. Sleeping in aside, he's probably swamped.
He sifts through the stack, then pauses. "This is…"
"What? Finally got a letter from your imaginary girlfriend?" I tease.
"N-No!" he stammers, holding up a letter. "It's from my comrades—Heiter and Eisen."
So not a delusion after all. He shows me the letter, his face a mix of relief and excitement.
"Oh, the priest and the warrior," I say. "Didn't they write before?"
"About once a month," he boasts, striking a pose. "We're bound by unbreakable bonds of friendship, even from afar."
I roll my eyes. He was panicking over his reputation a moment ago, and now he's preening. But he's right—Heiter and Eisen send letters regularly. The priest and warrior of the Hero's Party, my former enemies. Which means they know about my current situation. Dealing with Himmel is bad enough, but this is a headache. How do I escape this mess?
"Whatever," I say, changing the subject. "What about that elf? I've never seen a letter from her."
The last member of their party, that elven mage. Not once have I seen her name on an envelope. Why?
"She's… a bit peculiar," Himmel says, his tone soft. "To her, it probably feels like we just parted ways."
"What?" I frown.
What's that supposed to mean? If Himmel calls her peculiar, she must be something else. Maybe she just hates him.
"By the way," I say, sitting down as breakfast is ready, "sometimes you're writing something other than letters. What's that about?"
I've caught him scribbling in a book late at night, sneaking glances at me. It's annoying, so I've ignored it, but curiosity gets the better of me.
"You finally asked!" he exclaims, practically bouncing. "This! My autobiography!"
"Autobiography?" I echo, unimpressed.
He's been waiting for this moment, hasn't he? What a child. He waves the book at me, beaming.
"Yup. I started one during our journey, but I lost it. This is my revenge! Gotta pass down my legacy. Wanna read it?"
"No thanks," I say, pushing the book away. "Waste of time."
Why would I read that? It's probably a record of my humiliation since he bound me. If he's doing this to rub it in, he's bolder than I thought. More likely, he just wants to show off. I'd rather spend my time reading at the village chief's house.
"Fair enough," he says, undeterred. "You're living my legacy firsthand. Maybe I don't need an autobiography. A diary might be better."
"Why's that?" I ask, confused.
"Because you'll outlive me by centuries," he says, winking. "You can tell my story better than any book."
I'm speechless. Is he seriously planning to keep me under his thumb until he dies? And then have me spread his tale? The audacity. Cold sweat trickles down my back.
"No way," I snap. "Why would I do that?"
More baffling is how he talks about his death so cheerfully. For demons, death is the end—nothing matters after. Why do humans, why does Himmel, care about a world they won't see? What's the point?
"That's a shame," he says, digging into breakfast with a satisfied grin. "Let's eat."
I join him, muttering "thanks for the meal" as we start. Just another day in this routine I've fallen into over the past year—
"It's already this late?" Himmel says, glancing at the clock. "I'm off to work."
He calls out as I wash dishes. Work, huh? Perfect timing—I was planning to clean the house. With him gone, it'll be easier. But then—
"I'm off to work," he repeats, emphasizing the word with a pointed look.
As if I didn't hear him. The "freeloader" hero, desperate to shed that label. He's been working hard to prove himself, probably because I'm pulling my weight too. Competitive idiot.
"Fine, fine," I say, waving him off. "Go earn something."
"Leave it to me," he replies. "Don't forget dinner!"
He waves cheerily and heads out, leaving me to the quiet end of a hectic morning.
I finish the dishes and shed the apron, standing in the stillness. I'd love to relax, but there's no time. Like Himmel, I have work—mostly housework. I've taken on most of it lately. Partly because I'm used to this life, partly because farming's gotten easier, and there's no year-round fieldwork. But mostly, I got tired of Himmel's way of doing things clashing with mine. So, I handle the house, and he handles the rest—namely, earning money. Though lately, even that's been shaky. Why?
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. No surprise there—it's a daily occurrence. The issue is who's knocking. My day hinges on that. One in three odds. And the result?
"Come in, it's open," I call.
"Good morning, big sister!" a girl's voice chirps. "I'm here with a job!"
"Morning, Lily," I reply. "Not here to play, then?"
It's Lily, the village girl. Not Stroh today, thankfully, though I can't let my guard down—he might show up later. Her tone suggests this is a rare case.
"Good morning, Lady Aura," another voice adds. "Thank you for always looking after my daughter."
"Yeah, quite the hassle," I mutter.
Behind Lily is her mother, Mira. So, it's a job request, as Lily said. The "Lady Aura" title grates, though. It started when Stroh asked how I was addressed in the past. I answered without thinking—great demons like me were always given honorifics. Big mistake. The whole village started calling me that. They don't mean harm, and it's not respect either, just habit. Himmel, of course, jumped on it, using it to tease me until I stopped speaking to him for three days. He apologized profusely, so we banned it at home. The villagers? I've given up.
Lily and Mira haul in a massive basket of laundry—days' worth, no doubt. They drag out the big table, setting up my workspace. I'm used to this now.
"Just this today?" I ask.
"No, others will come by soon," Mira says. "Mind if we help fold?"
"I wanna help too!" Lily chimes in.
"Fine," I say. "I'll discount the fee for that."
I prepare my magic as they spread the laundry on the table. With each cast, sopping clothes dry instantly, wrinkle-free, like new. They fold as I go. This is my job now, made possible by one spell.
The Spell to Dry Clothes.
I got it from a traveling merchant months ago. He claimed it was a legendary spell from the age of myths. I didn't get it—what's legendary about drying clothes? Humans and their weird ideas about magic. But I learned its value the hard way. It cuts down the tedious task of drying laundry, saving time for reading or training. Better yet, it's a money-maker. Himmel's idea, surprisingly. Word spread fast, and now villagers come daily. My income's steady, and we don't need to dip into Himmel's reward money anymore. The villagers' view of him shifted around then, too. That's when I heard the word "freeloader." His own fault, really.
But it's not all rosy. The spell's flaw is its massive mana cost—most mages would burn out after a few casts. That's why the grimoire was unsold. But I'm a five-hundred-year-old great demon; mana's no issue. Still, part of me resents using my training for this. The other part shrugs—needs must.
(The one thing you can't avoid to live in a village… Human society's such a hassle.)
Himmel's words echo in my mind. "Work or don't eat," as some human book put it. I've come to understand that this year. Money, the human equivalent of mana or strength. Those with more are powerful, respected. Even heroes aren't exempt. It's not just strength but a collective system. Yet it creates inequality, which humans claim to dislike. Contradictory. All creatures follow survival of the fittest, but humans cling to ideals like equality in their books. I'll never understand them.
"Listen, big sister," Lily says, interrupting my thoughts. "Stroh flipped my skirt again!"
"Did he? Then we'll have to punish him with Himmel next time."
"W-Wait, Lord Himmel's got nothing to do with it!" she protests.
"Joint responsibility," I say flatly.
Men's nonsense is another thing I'll never get. Next time that brat shows up, he's getting what's coming to him—along with the bigger kid.
I end up spending the day wrestling with the village's laundry alongside Lily and Mira—
"Welcome back, Aura," Himmel calls, returning earlier than expected.
"Hey, you're early," I say. "Dinner's not ready yet."
And it's not just any dinner. Tonight's a massive hamburger, bigger than my face. Why? Because it's been a year since Himmel bound me, apparently. A "celebration." What kind of harassment is this? And I'm the one cooking it. A nightmare. When I asked why a hamburger, he said, "Because of the warrior." Some dwarf custom from Eisen's hometown, complete with a recipe in his letter. If I ever meet that dwarf, he's getting an earful.
"No rush," Himmel says, practically bouncing with excitement. "I wanted to show you this."
He hands me a wrapped package. What now? Another cooking task? I open it warily.
"What's this?" I ask.
"A new robe," he says, grinning. "A gift for you. I ordered it from a merchant, and it arrived just in time."
It's a vibrant red robe, clearly expensive from its texture. So that's why he's back early—he couldn't wait. A gift for me, and he's this excited? Humans are weird.
"Why red?" I ask. "I'll stick out like a sore thumb."
"Isn't that great?" he says. "I'll always know it's you. Plus, it matches your hair."
I sigh. Functionality's clearly an afterthought. No one else would wear something this flashy. I won't get lost, at least. But my hair? It's hidden under a robe. What's he on about? I don't even have the energy to argue.
"So, it's your taste," I say, smirking. "Like that corset dress. Nice style you've got."
I recall that disaster six months ago—a corset dress from a merchant. I wore it for a day, and the village stared like I was an alien. When I admitted Himmel bought it, rumors spread that he was the one enthralled. It's buried deep in the closet now, never to see daylight.
"T-That's not it!" he protests. "The dress got great reviews in the village—"
"Save the dress-up games for Lily," I cut in. "She'd love it."
She would, though she'd need to grow into it. By then, Himmel might be arrested for something else entirely.
"But why a robe?" I ask, holding it up. "No need for one in this village."
It's finer than my old one, sure, but I haven't worn a robe in a year. No need to hide my horns or my demon nature here. The accessory on my chest is more useful.
"True," he says, his grin widening. "But that's about to change. I want you to wear it and work with me."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.
He's practically glowing, like he's been waiting for this moment. It feels eerily familiar—a year ago, when he bound me, he had the same smug look. Then he drops the bombshell.
"A monster subjugation request."
That was the day, one year after Aura became Himmel's subordinate, when she was set to leave the village with him for the first time—