I Became a Childhood Friend With the Villainous Saintess

Chapter 75: Imperial Capital Edelmarion (3)

Fortunately, the restaurant’s reputation was well-deserved.

Sirien seemed quite satisfied.

As for me, I enjoyed the venison, and even Isha, who usually kept her reactions reserved, showed a bright expression of surprise.

You could call it the benefits of the luxurious noble culture.

Every little decorative detail had clearly been crafted with care.

And the taste? It went without saying. There’s always a reason when something satisfies the picky palates of the upper class.

The only one who couldn’t enjoy the delicacies was Dersian.

Judging by his blank look, he probably couldn’t even tell if the bread was going into his mouth or his nose.

Surprisingly, that was him doing better than usual.

Isha wasn’t accustomed to the formal dining culture of nobles.

Noticing this, Dersian had taken it upon himself to teach her proper utensil etiquette and the order of eating.

It was a kind of small victory for him, and the confidence it gave seemed to smooth out his otherwise awkward demeanor.

“Come to think of it, you two are remarkably well-versed in etiquette. It’s impressive,” Isha commented.

“Looking as brutish as I do, I figured I’d better learn proper manners if I wanted to be treated like a human.” I replied.

“Brutish? Who on earth said that to you?” Sirien snapped, turning her head sharply.

The cold glint in her eyes was enough to betray her rising anger.

She seemed ready to hunt down whoever had said such a thing, though even Sirien wouldn’t actually go that far.

With a small chuckle, I responded, “My father.”

“Hm. That makes sense. He probably meant it in a good way,” she said, trying to sound casual.

“Pfft,” I couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“Hey, cut it out….”

Sirien’s energy deflated a little.

Her gaze briefly dropped before she looked back at me with a mix of irritation and helplessness.

That expression was so endearing I couldn’t help but smile.

Bringing up my late father in such a light tone might have seemed inappropriate, but it didn’t bother me much.

I’d long since come to terms with it, after all.

It was Sirien who had helped me swallow my grief.

Teasing her was one thing, but it didn’t feel right to keep the conversation on this subject.

Fanning herself, Sirien quickly changed the topic.

“Enough of this gloomy talk. Let’s discuss something fun instead.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“How about ideal types? Let’s start with Isha. What kind of person do you like?”

Wow, bold move.

Dersian, sitting in front of me, swallowed hard.

Just as the tension in the air was easing, it wrapped around us all again.

The only one oblivious to this atmosphere was Isha.

Her head tilted slightly as she fell deep into thought.

“Hmm… Ideal type. I can’t think of much,” she began.

“Never thought about it? Like, what kind of traits you prefer or dislike?” Sirien pressed.

“If I had to pick, maybe someone who doesn’t lie. Someone who keeps promises, repays trust,” Isha replied after a moment.

“So, someone dependable?” Sirien clarified.

Dersian clenched his fists tightly.

What was it in the original story again? Dersian’s defining trait leaned more toward refinement than dependability.

Among all the characters, he was perhaps the most quintessentially noble.

Ironically, his personality was strikingly open and progressive, almost to the point of being uncharacteristic for a noble.

It was a fascinating contradiction, though not entirely surprising.

After all, this world’s source material was a typical romance fantasy.

Making Dersian a rigid and stuffy noble would’ve been counterproductive to winning over the readers’ hearts.

Still, he certainly wasn’t the type to go around lying.

The “noble demeanor” he displayed naturally included keeping promises and fostering trust.

I didn’t think Isha had considered all that when she spoke, though.

Her words seemed to be a straightforward expression of her thoughts.

“They don’t have to be overly dependable. Just honest and trustworthy would be enough for me,” she added.

“And anything else?” Sirien asked.

“Hmm… I’d prefer if they weren’t too intimidating. Not that I dislike it, but… scary is still scary, you know?”

Isha’s eyes seemed to glance at me.

Was it just my imagination?

When I looked back at her, her gaze was focused on the foie gras.

That dish was delicious. Maybe I should ask for another serving too.

“So, what about you, Dersian?”

“Ahem. I… I’m not sure yet.”

“Really? You’re really not sure? That sounds like a lie.”

“L-Lady Saintess…?”

Sirien emphasized the word “lie,” cornering Dersian completely.

Just earlier, Isha had said she preferred honest people, so it was impossible for Dersian to blurt out a lie now.

I could almost hear Sirien snickering internally.

Poor Dersian must’ve felt like he was dying inside, but for me, it was a sight to behold.

I liked the serious side of Sirien, but her playful, sunny demeanor was even better.

And frankly, Dersian and I weren’t close enough for me to bail him out yet.

Good luck handling this on your own!

This isn’t my problem!

“Ahem. Ahem. Agh—cough, cough.”

“Oh my, are you all right? Did I ask something inappropriate?”

“No, no… I just… I suppose there’s an instinctive pull. Someone who seems distant yet has a delicate side—I think such qualities are appealing. Matters of the heart are hard to explain. I’m not sure.”

“That’s a good answer.”

Oh, for once, Sirien’s response sounded genuine.

She seemed genuinely pleased with Dersian’s answer, her gaze toward him softening noticeably.

Because of that, Sirien decided not to tease him further.

As if to give him a break, she picked up her silver utensils and sliced into her perfectly cooked steak.

The moment that tender pink meat reached her lips, Dersian took the opportunity to steer the conversation elsewhere.

He must have realized he wouldn’t last much longer if the topic continued.

Feeling a bit sorry for him, I decided to let him off the hook as well.

He handled that well enough.

“I heard you two were active on the northern front. So, you’ve fought demons directly?”

“Yes. We were stationed at the Actania Gate,” Dersian replied.

“Did you ever encounter a Demon King?”n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

“We’ve fought one before. Sirien… I mean, Lady Saintess was there with me.”

“You can speak freely. I’m not one of those overly rigid nobles.”

“Very well, then.”

Before I knew it, everyone’s attention had shifted to me.

Even Isha, who had been focusing entirely on her meal, looked intrigued.

Given the times, Isha seemed particularly fascinated by any story related to battles or Demon Kings.

She reminded me of Sirien when she caught sight of something sweet.

It might have been a bit much for her age, but as a fellow swordsman, I could understand.

Sometimes, the drive to break through walls was all that mattered. Enlightenment could come from unexpected places.

But honestly, the story wasn’t all that grand.

“You seem to have high expectations, but it’s actually not that uncommon. Lower-ranking Demon Kings aren’t much different from strong demons.”

“Is that so? That’s not what I’ve heard. I thought Demon Kings were all monstrous beings.”

“That’s true for the western territories. But as a rough estimate, those ranked below 50 aren’t particularly remarkable. Of course, there are exceptions.”

The constant battles in the Empire’s north stemmed from one of the gates to the Demon Realm being located there.

But that didn’t mean all Demon Kings were confined to the north.

There wasn’t just one gate, and high-ranking Demon Kings like Eligor mostly settled elsewhere on the continent.

Conversely, most Demon Kings lingering near the gates were of lower rank.

I once killed a demon who claimed to be the 70th-ranked Demon King, only for another to appear days later and introduce himself as the new 70th-ranked King.

They often killed each other off, so it wasn’t surprising.

“What do you mean by exceptions?” Isha asked.

“Rank 69: Decarabia.”

Sirien, chewing her steak, was the one to answer.

As I mentioned, lower-ranking Demon Kings weren’t particularly threatening. That was why the Empire didn’t station Swordmasters in the north.

Even I, officially, had yet to reveal my sword aura.

However, Decarabia was a Demon King who had maintained his position for an exceptionally long time.

For a 69th-ranked Demon King, typically deemed unworthy of even recording their name, he was effectively treated as mid-tier or higher.

“Decarabia? I’ve never heard of him. Is he a particularly strong Demon King?”

“Not exactly strong—more like unique.”

Decarabia wasn’t a Demon King known for his raw power.

The problem lay in his parasitic nature.

“Think of him as a parasite. Decarabia is a Demon King that inhabits other demons.”

“Ugh, couldn’t you have picked a better time to explain this? We’re eating.”

“Sorry.”

Sirien scolded me, but no analogy described Decarabia better than “parasite.”

A Demon King that invades a demon’s body and takes control of its mind.

Just when we thought we had him cornered, his host’s magic erupted in a wild frenzy, causing destruction everywhere.

Even with Sirien’s support, it was impossible to get close.

Even if I’d used my sword aura, I wouldn’t have wanted to step into that hellish chaos.

Only if there had been no other choice. Otherwise, the risk simply wasn’t worth it.

After losing his host, Decarabia didn’t appear before us again.

That was about one or two years ago.

By now, he would have found a new host, maybe even moved to a different territory.

Or perhaps he was avoiding Sirien and me altogether.

Well, we’ll probably cross paths again someday.

He seemed to hold quite the grudge as he fled.

For all I know, he could be plotting something sinister even now.

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