The moon hung like a silver hook.
The banquet hall of the Second Prince’s residence was like a cage built from gold and perfume.
A thousand night-lamps hung from the high, vaulted ceiling, pouring down a dizzying brilliance, as if even the dust motes were gilded with a dazzling golden edge.
The air was thick with the cloying, mellow aroma of ambergris and aged wine—a grand, blooming rot that served as the most exquisite footnote to power.
Joen, clad in a deep black formal suit, stepped into this bizarre, garish territory precisely on time.
He was neither early nor late, like a precise yet incongruous iron ruler, forcibly thrust into this soft, greasy pile of powder and rouge.
“Brave One, this way, please.”
Ananna lifted the hem of her skirt slightly as she came forward to greet him.
Today, she had completely abandoned her usual plain and low-key maid attire.
Her makeup was elegant, her gown magnificent, yet she couldn’t hide the flicker of lingering nervousness in her eyes.
She guided Joen to his seat, quickly briefing him on banquet etiquette and introducing important guests along the way.
Her movements adhered to the strictest court protocols, but her fingertips trembled ever so slightly.
“Oh, right. This is a gift His Highness specifically prepared for your little pet… friend.”
Ananna presented a delicate velvet box, opening it slowly.
The silver-white necklace inlaid with pink Demon Crystals flowed with a dreamlike, moonlit radiance under the lights.
“Elf craftsmanship. It can bypass the defensive arrays targeting non-humans at the banquet. Please be sure to have her wear it.”
She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes, like a mask barely clinging to her face.
Just as Joen was about to thank her, Liya, who had been resting against the side of his face, opened her eyes and held her breath, staring at the brocade box.
Her pink eyes narrowed slightly as she examined the necklace carefully.
‘Something’s wrong. Nine parts out of ten, something is wrong.’
A high-and-mighty princess and the Second Prince—one a spoiled young lady, the other a pure-blooded ‘celestial dragon’—would they really be considerate enough to pay attention to a “Pupu”?
If it were a servant in charge of the guest list who happened to notice this oversight and made a correction, that would be plausible.
But to specifically say they “personally prepared” it…
Liya extended a small hand and took the necklace.
The chain felt warm and smooth to the touch, the Magic Power circuits flowing seamlessly.
It appeared to be a perfect piece of defensive jewelry.
But as an old hand at toying with Magic, Liya keenly detected a trace of discordant, obscure fluctuation.
Using Joen’s ear for cover, she stealthily extended a wisp of Magic Power from her fingertip.
It slithered like a snake into the interior of the Demon Crystal, inspecting every single detail meticulously.
The next moment, her heart sank heavily.
‘A Joyful Delight brand?’
That mark, lurking deep within the crystal, was in a dormant state.
Like a sleeping beast of prey, it awaited a specific condition to awaken it.
Fine beads of sweat began to seep from Liya’s soft, gelatinous body again.
She hadn’t had much contact with the power of the God of Demons, but she remembered this brand vividly!
The Seventh God of Demons—the “alternative” God of Demons that everyone spoke of with a change in complexion.
The Mother of Pleasure did not grant power.
She granted only joy, and a body capable of feeling ultimate pleasure in any circumstance.
For example, you are defeated in battle, captured, and scheduled for execution in the autumn.
Pray to the First God of Demons, and he will grant you the brutal power to slaughter your enemies, but the price is being dominated by that power, unable to stop killing.
Pray to the Second God of Demons, and he will grant you an undead body that can live even after decapitation, but the price is enduring the pain of a severed head for all eternity.
But pray to the Seventh God of Demons… she will turn you into a Succubus that perfectly matches the preferences of the enemy army.
You will be doted on by the enemy forces from top to bottom, day and night without rest, until you max out their favorability, then become their “public darling wife.”
Moreover, throughout this process, your spirit will become increasingly depraved, your body increasingly adapted, your personality increasingly wanton.
You will gradually become infatuated with the twisted Happiness of uniting with your sworn enemy, eventually willingly becoming the enemy’s Succubus wife.
—How utterly terrifying!
“To stick this on a Pupu! Deranged! Absolutely deranged!”
Outwardly, Liya remained impassive, but internally, a storm of shock and fury raged.
Who? Who exactly?
Which damned ruffian dares to plot against this Demon King?!
The Elf Ailita? Wants to see me make a fool of myself?
Or that fool Margaret? Wants revenge?
It can’t be Yuna, can it? What would she gain?!
Wait… perhaps…
Liya stole a glance at Joen’s slightly reddened earlobe.
Considering motive, this silly boy Joen was actually the most suspicious!
Had he finally wised up?
Could he not wise up in such a strange place!
—Dammit!
A monster girl fan, are you?!
Could you not wise up in such a strange place!
Stop it right now!
Suspicion grew wildly in Liya’s mind.
She calmly accepted the necklace, her little face still innocent and cute: “Thank you, big sister~ Lily really likes this gift~”
However, she wasn’t in a hurry to put it on.
Instead, she secretly enveloped the necklace with her gelatinous body, raising her guard to the utmost.
—Heh, you ruffians.
This Pupu will eventually pull out your fox tails!
At the same time, a commotion arose at the banquet hall entrance.
“Your Highness!”
“Your Highness? Your Highness! You’ve finally arrived!”
“Your Highness, please take your seat!”
Gibran, dressed in a dark green formal suit, arrived a few minutes late.
Standing at the front, he had completely shed his previous gloomy, frail demeanor, becoming even more amiable, cheerful, and composed than Joen.
He responded to every bit of small talk offered to him, his words smooth and flawless, leaving Joen, watching from a distance, with a sense of admiration and envy.
Soon, he arrived before Joen.
“Welcome, our Empire’s hero!”
Gibran warmly grasped Joen’s hand, giving off a feeling of instant rapport.
He very naturally guided the conversation; despite it being their first meeting, there was no sense of awkwardness.
Upon learning of Joen’s recent troubles and his desire to visit the Privy Councilor, Gibran immediately acted as a bridge.
He led Joen to a secluded tea room next door, where two elderly men were chatting away.
“Come, Joen, let me introduce you. This is the pillar of our nation, a veteran minister who served my father for forty years across two reigns—Privy Councilor Huo De Hua.”
“As for this gentleman, he is my Teacher, the Empire’s current expert on magical theory, the legendary mage Ao Si Gu Ting.”
The latter cupped his hands towards Joen with a smile.
“Before the Brave One, I dare not claim such titles, I dare not.”
As for the former, Privy Councilor Huo De Hua, he did not respond to Gibran’s words.
It was unclear whether he was hard of hearing and didn’t hear, or was too dizzy and weak to respond.
He sat in a high-backed wheelchair, aged and decrepit, his beard and hair long since dry and white.
This appearance, as if he might breathe his last any second, left Joen stunned.
“Councilor Huo De Hua is… this year…” Joen’s lips felt dry.
“He’s ninety this year,” Gibran answered for him.
“Eh? What?”
The old man tilted his ear, his cloudy eyes filled with confusion.
“Speak up, won’t you? Young people these days have no energy in their speech.”
Joen smiled wryly and stepped forward.
“Elder, I wanted to ask about the matter of the disaster in River Territory…”
“What?”
The old man asked again.
Ao Si Gu Ting, who was clearly in much better spirits beside him, hurriedly reminded him: “Duke of White Wolf, we’re old, our hearing isn’t good. Please bear with us. Why don’t you get closer and speak to him?”
Joen had no choice but to lean close to Huo De Hua’s ear and repeat himself.
Only then did the old man seem to understand, sighing and indicating he was powerless to help.
He said, “Young man, you can see the state I’m in. To put it bluntly, winter might not even arrive before you have to attend my funeral. Down there, they haven’t been my men for a long time now.”
With a few sentences, he kicked the ball right back to Joen.
Joen couldn’t do anything about it either.
He couldn’t very well grab a ninety-year-old man by the collar and threaten him to get things done.
Otherwise, disaster relief funds might not arrive before the old man keeled over.
“Please, point me in the right direction. Elder, who should I go to?”
“The disaster relief office’s superior is the Ministry of Agriculture. Young man, you might as well go find the Minister of Agriculture and have a clear talk with him.”
“I see… then the Minister of Agriculture is…”
“Currently on an inspection tour of the various Directly Administered Territories, overseeing this year’s autumn harvest.”
Joen put on his mask of pain once again.