That night, Delkira contacted Iruma again through the mirror.
Iruma was lying on his huge bed, nervously picking at the edges of the magical contract on his wrist while the tiny Kalego-familiar slept, curled up on the pillow next to him, surprisingly peaceful.
Delkira's image, looking tired but focused, appeared in the reflective surface. "Poro saw something today, Iruma," Delkira's voice was serious, losing the regal tone. "He recognized... me. Not the King, but the idiot who bought that embarrassing pink apron."
Iruma sat up, his brow furrowed. "The apron is fine, Dad! But... wait, you mean he noticed I act like you?"
"No, not 'act like.' You are a part of me," Delkira corrected gently. "But your ability to make people cooperate without yelling—that's a huge, flashing sign in this world.
Most demons just order people around. Poro noticed you're different. You have to understand, that kindness, that honesty... it's your greatest strength, but it's also your biggest weakness here. We have to use it."
Iruma sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So... how do I win this Royal One thing without actually using my real power? I don't even know what to tell them to do! They're all crazy!"
Delkira chuckled, a warm, genuine sound. "Exactly! They're crazy, they're Misfits. And that's the point. The Royal One isn't about the strongest demon; it's about the demon who can handle the worst problems. Your task isn't to give orders, Iruma. It's to get them to want to do what you need. Remember what I told you Kyoko could do with a single cake?"
"Yeah, she could make grumpy people happy," Iruma muttered.
"Right. You have to figure out what each of those Misfits really wants. The big brute probably just wants to smash something safely. The rock demon probably wants everyone to leave him alone while he gets to feel important. You need to find the desire in the chaos and give them a role that fulfills it. That's what a true leader does. You show the judges that you can take the most volatile, disorganized group in the school and turn them into a cohesive unit."
Delkira leaned closer to the mirror, his gaze intense. "This is where your empathy comes in. It's what makes you so different from the other demons. You're not trying to take from them; you're trying to help them shine. Show them your mother's kindness, Iruma. And let the sheer, quiet force of your presence—the part that scared those bullies—do the rest. Don't worry about being perfect. Just be you."
Iruma looked from his father's image to the sleeping miniature Kalego beside him, a tiny pink scarf wrapped around his neck.
The task still felt impossible, but his father's words had cut through his anxiety. He wasn't supposed to be a terrifying demon lord; he was supposed to be a good friend, a good negotiator.
"Okay, Dad," Iruma said, a spark of resolve in his eyes. "I think I get it. I'll make them a team. And I'll try not to turn anyone else into a fuzzy pink familiar."
Delkira laughed again, relief evident in his voice. "That's my boy. Now get some sleep. And don't let the homeroom teacher bite." The image in the mirror winked out.
Iruma lay back down, feeling the heavy weight of the demonic world's expectations, but now also the light warmth of his parents' love guiding him. He knew what he had to do. He had to lead the Misfits to the Royal One.