Jon tried to find the source of the scent.
Soon, his gaze settled on Lia.
Being stared at by her own mortal enemy, whom she had killed with her own hands, Lia panicked.
Instinctively, she wanted to run.
Unfortunately, before she could even start wriggling away, the Hero gently picked her up and brought her close to his nose.
He sniffed.
“So this little one smells this good…”
Lia felt as if she had been struck by lightning.
Her already rosy face grew even redder, turning from pale pink to a watery red.
“Jon? Jon? Are you there?”
A voice called from outside the door.
Jon reacted quickly, stuffing Lia into his chest pocket.
She was cold to the touch, and a dampness slowly spread across his chest.
Lia quietly poked a small gap in the Hero’s collar, revealing her peach-pink pupils to secretly peek outside.
The visitor was the elf from before.
She leaned lazily against the doorframe, like a graceful feline freshly awakened from sleep.
Lia guessed she must be the external member of the Hero’s Party, the Silvermoon Ranger, Ailita.
According to intelligence gathered by Succubus Shops in various regions, the Hero’s Party consisted of four people.
Excluding Jon himself—a classic orphan commoner—the other three each had formidable backgrounds.
An imperial princess born at the pinnacle of human nobility, Margaret, who had the empire’s destiny in her grasp from birth.
Yuna, the current Saintess of Light, jointly appointed by the Four Great Holy Sees, famed for her benevolence and influence.
And the Silvermoon Ranger, appointed as this generation’s “Guide” by the elven conclave, who had traveled from the Titan Lands to guide humanity’s development and aid the Hero in eradicating evil.
However, this great Guide currently looked sleepy and disinterested.
She spoke lazily:
“Jon, the big-breasted lady is back. She asked me to call you.”
“Okay.”
Jon nodded.
Leaving the inn designated for imperial envoys, he turned left and directly entered the requisitioned City Lord’s Mansion.
Inside, the Holy Army and Royal Guards patrolled the grounds.
Even when passing by the Hero, they didn’t stop, simply brushing past Jon.
Before even reaching the council hall, he heard a female voice telling a Demon Lord joke from afar.
“…Demon Lord Lia was at her wit’s end, raising funds for the army from the Four Great Families. But the families stalled and haggled, and in the end, they only managed to scrape together sixteen hundred gold coins.”
“How much? Sixteen hundred? That pitiful? Pfft.”
“Yeah, in the end, even Demon Lord Lia’s queen couldn’t save face, went back to her parents, and managed to get thirty-four hundred more, just enough for the first military fund.”
“So how much did you confiscate this time?”
“Two million.”
Jon suddenly felt his chest heat up, and the faint scent returned to his nose.
Strange… Why did my pocket get hotter?
As he wondered, the pure, white-clad Saintess, Yuna, graceful and possessing two generous, magnificent peaks, saw Jon through the window and waved him in with a bright smile.
“Jon, come in. Margaret and I have been waiting for you.”
The swordswoman—Princess Margaret—sat on the other side of the long table, absentmindedly playing with the gem-encrusted scabbard.
She didn’t speak to the Hero.
She remained as elegant and aloof as ever, her spotless skirt almost otherworldly.
Yuna stood up with a gentle smile and cleared her throat, her chest trembling.
“This time, I’ve gathered everyone for a small celebration—to commemorate the defeat of Demon Lord Lia.”
Suddenly, she bowed deeply to Jon.
“Jon, your efforts in this campaign were invaluable. On behalf of all the people of the empire, I thank you.”
Jon blushed, not knowing where to put his hands.
Lia, still huddled in the Hero’s pocket, complained silently:
That’s it? Just thanks? Where’s the money? The jewels? You confiscated two million and didn’t give the Hero a single coin?
Thinking of the two million, she was filled with grief again.
She wanted to howl at the sky: My money—!!!
While she was lost in anguish, the Saintess continued:
“Secondly, upon learning of the Demon Lord’s demise, His Majesty immediately sent an Imperial Decree from the capital.”
She looked at Jon and blinked.
“Congratulations, Jon. From now on, we should address you as the ‘Duke of White Wolf.'”
Jon received the noble patent sealed with golden thread, his heart pounding.
It felt unreal.
Until now, he had never imagined he could become a noble responsible for his own domain.
White Wolf Territory…
That was supposed to be a vast land in the frigid north.
He wondered if people there were cold, or hungry, and what would happen if he failed as their lord?
Jon’s mind spun with joy, anxiety, confusion, and a faint fear that he wasn’t worthy.
All kinds of emotions surged in at once.
Listening to the Hero’s quickening heartbeat, Lia couldn’t help but roll her eyes.
How nice.
The Demon Lord is vanquished, the Hero is ennobled, peace returns to the world, and the Hero and princess live happily ever after…
But why was the Demon Lord me???
Lia’s damp face grew increasingly gloomy.
At the same time, Jon carefully put away the noble patent, then looked at Yuna expectantly.
“What is it, Jon?”
Yuna was puzzled.
“Did His Majesty only mention this?”
Jon asked hopefully.
“About the Abyssal Gate area, the people displaced by war, and the destruction of the Norda River Dam—twelve villages were flooded. Did His Majesty say anything about these?”
Yuna chuckled and shook her head.
“So that’s it. You’ve been worrying about this for so long. But His Majesty has no time for such minor issues.”
“Minor issues?”
Seeing Jon’s confusion, Yuna patiently explained:
“Jon, these matters are the responsibility of the local lords. They don’t really concern us. Our priority now is to return to the capital and participate in the triumph ceremony with His Majesty.”
“Is that so?”
Jon replied blankly.
“Yes.”
Yuna nodded firmly.
Ailita yawned in boredom.
Jon still had many questions, but Yuna sent him away.
After he left, Margaret sneered.
“Honestly, he doesn’t understand this, doesn’t understand that—it’s like dealing with a child.”
“Be patient with him. He’s never even been to school.”
Yuna sighed, glancing at Margaret.
“When we return, His Majesty will probably bestow marriage. After all, he’s your future husband—you should learn to love him.”
“I’ll persuade His Majesty to rescind that order! Don’t bring it up again!”
Margaret’s face turned crimson with shame, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
“He shouldn’t even think about it! I will never, ever, marry an uncultured, vulgar, lowborn commoner!”
She stood up angrily, glared at Yuna, and strode off, lifting her skirt high.
Ailita lay sprawled on the table, chin in her hands, staring slyly at Yuna.
“You humans are really strange.”
“Are we?”
Yuna’s eyelid twitched, sensing something bad was coming.
“So you knew that nose-hole girl would marry the Hero? When I saw you flirting with him, I thought you didn’t know. Wuuuuuuu”
Ailita didn’t finish before Yuna pounced and clamped her mouth shut.
“Don’t spout nonsense!”
She glared.
“I’m not talking nonsense! Fairy Speech told me! Fairy Speech is way more accurate than your unreliable ‘intuition’!”
Ailita protested.
“So confident?”
Yuna smiled, then sat down gracefully again, curiosity in her eyes.
“Then tell me—between us, who do you think the Hero would choose?”
Ailita pulled out a handful of green magic crystal shards, tossed them into her mouth, and crunched away.
She answered leisurely.
“I think the Hero wouldn’t choose either of you.”
“Fairy Speech told me that he doesn’t have the physiological responses of a human male in love towards either of you—like increased heart rate, nervousness, body temperature rise, or impaired nerve judgment.”
“Oh—though there is a bit of primitive lust. Sometimes when he wakes up in the morning, that thing of his gets engorged. Seeing you both does make his heart rate go up.”