Chapter 15: Can’t Collect

The sun was setting in the west, and the sky gradually darkened.

Inside the Conservatory of the town’s Governor’s Hall, Dalinan sat upright at her desk, diligently reviewing piles of official documents that had yet to be dealt with.

As darkness slowly enveloped the room, a maid silently lit a three-branched candlestick.

The faint orange-red glow cast soft light on Dalinan’s delicate profile, smooth and pale like fine porcelain.

While Dalinan sorted through the documents she had already reviewed, the door to the room was gently pushed open.

Perhaps due to age and neglect, the wooden door emitted a low creak.

“Darlian-sama.”

Documents.

Upon hearing Ailus’s voice, Dalinan merely raised one brow slightly, keeping her head down as she continued her tedious, monotonous examination.

The sound of a plate being gently set down reached her ears, prompting her to shift her gaze toward it.

It was a white plate filled with cookies.

“Darlian-sama, these are freshly baked cookies. The dough was made using tea brewed from high-quality Pu’er Principality black tea leaves.”

“Is that so.”

Dalinan responded with a faint tone, then put down the documents and took a cookie from the plate, placing it in her mouth.

“Do you like this new recipe?”

Savoring the fragrant, crisp cookie infused with the aroma of black tea, Dalinan pressed her lips together and nodded gently.

“If you like it, I will instruct the servants to make this dessert more often.”

Dalinan picked up another small cookie from the plate and brought it to her nose to sniff.

“The tea aroma is really rich,” Dalinan said, taking a bite. “No wonder Pu’er Principality’s black tea is so popular across the Human Nations.”

As Ailus poured tea from the pot into Dalinan’s cup, her eyes glanced over the heap of documents on the rosewood table. Then, with a hint of concern in her voice, she spoke.

“With such a heavy workload, Darlian-sama, why don’t you let Laili-sama and the other officers help you share the burden?”

“They certainly do,” Dalinan tilted her head, looking out at the night sky cloaked in a deep, dark veil. “But for documents this important, I only feel assured when I review them personally.”

“Thank you, Darlian-sama, for your concern for the future of our Demon Race.”

“No, this is only for myself.” Dalinan withdrew her gaze and quietly looked at Ailus’s fiery red hair flickering like flames. “I’m tired of endless conflicts sparked by ugly desires.”

“But it is precisely because of Darlian-sama’s sense of justice—”

“No need to flatter me.”

Before Ailus could finish, Dalinan cut her off.

Her lowered eyes fixed on the dimly lit black tea cookies under the faint candlelight. Suddenly, as if recalling something, she looked up and instructed Ailus.

“Have them bake another batch of these cookies and send them to that human Saintess.”

“Yes.”

***

A gray manor.

A marble fireplace. Walls shimmering with a black sheen, and in the corners, art glass sconces.

In this room, colorless as if sketched by black ink, Finihiya stood silently by the French-style window, quietly watching the lively scene not far below.

Several dozen Beastmen gathered around a campfire.

Holding cups of wine, arms linked, they jumped and circled the fire while singing folk songs incomprehensible to her.

The burning flames illuminated the night.

Watching this jubilant, joyful atmosphere, Finihiya’s cherry-like lips curved into a faint smile of contentment.

No matter the race, joy and sorrow are shared emotions.

She brought the dried jerky in her hand to her lips, biting off a small piece before slowly chewing.

The taste wasn’t particularly pleasant.

This piece of jerky was something she had bought outside.

After all, the Demon Race hadn’t overly restricted her freedom, so she bought a small piece from a street vendor to try.

Though she preferred sweets like cakes and cookies, she couldn’t find any such delicacies in the nearby area.

Perhaps the Demon Race simply didn’t favor desserts like cakes or cookies.

And maybe this was a so-called racial cultural difference.

As she took small steps wandering through the streets, she saw many foods she found hard to accept.

This jerky was one of the few things she could somewhat tolerate.

However…

She honestly didn’t know what animal this jerky was made from.

If it was something too unpleasant, Finihiya hoped she would never find out.

After all, sometimes ignorance is bliss.

The money for the jerky came from selling some jewelry.

Even as a captive of the Demon Race, money was sometimes needed. So she hid a few pieces of jewelry in her suitcase to use when necessary.

Knock, knock…

While watching the Beastmen’s merrymaking, a soft, gentle knock sounded at her door.

This quiet, gentle knock made her tilt her head slightly, her eyes showing a hint of puzzlement.

Those outside weren’t Atena or the maids “serving” her — their knocks were always rough.

Treading softly on the light gray carpet, Finihiya approached the door.

Sure enough…

When she opened it, standing in the corridor was not Atena or the maids responsible for her care, but Ailus, whom she had seen once before.

Ailus’s hair was long and fiery red.

A vivid, passionate crimson like flames.

“Good evening, Miss Saintess.”

“Good evening.”

Finihiya placed her hands before her abdomen and bowed politely.

While wondering why Ailus had come, she suddenly noticed a brocade box that Ailus had somehow produced.

“This is something Darlian-sama asked me to deliver to you.”

“De…”

Upon hearing Ailus’s words and seeing the wooden box similar to the one before, a stiff, bitter expression flashed across Finihiya’s delicate face.

Perhaps noticing Finihiya’s unpleasant expression, Ailus asked with some confusion.

“Is something wrong, Miss Saintess?”

“No…” Finihiya lowered her gaze, biting her lip a few times. Then, as if summoning courage, she bowed apologetically and responded as gently as she could, “I’m sorry, but I cannot accept this.”

“Please kindly convey my refusal to Darlian-sama.”

“Of course.”

Though confusion flickered on Ailus’s face, her professional demeanor prevented her from questioning Finihiya’s reason, and she silently accepted her answer.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, Miss Saintess, you don’t need to apologize.” Ailus bowed. “Then, I will take my leave.”