Chapter 18

Chapter 18

When Valen turned around, he saw Argen bent over. Her nape was covered with bruises. As she straightened up, she held Enrit’s fallen glasses in her hand.

“Hey, doesn’t this remind you of something?”

Argen fiddled with the glasses’ frame. Her eyes, quiet but glimmering, looked intently at Valen’s veined hand.

“Your hands are quite harsh for someone with such a pretty face.”

“Who asked for your evaluation?”

“If you have a specific answer in mind, just tell me.”

“Sigh. Doesn’t it occur to you that the kitchen needs more hands?”

Only then did Argen notice the piled-up dishes and order slips. She nodded without any objection. Her efficiency was remarkable; by that evening, new staff had been assigned to the kitchen.

Valen headed to the kitchen to check out the new recruits. But something seemed off. Though they weren’t identical, their appearance was strikingly similar to Enrit’s. Valen, with a sense of foreboding, asked,

“Are you guys poets too?”

“Yes!”

This time, Valen didn’t hesitate as he picked up the metal club. He proceeded to beat the new recruits with all his might. The kitchen was splattered with flesh and blood, and it was the battered new chefs who had to clean it up.

Nevertheless, the reinforcement of manpower had a positive effect. The kitchen’s cleanliness improved significantly compared to when there was only one person. The walls, so shiny that even flies would slip, now had a blood-stained metal club hanging on them.

The new chefs kept their discipline in check by looking at that club whenever they felt their resolve waver. Valen would occasionally make surprise inspections of the kitchen, checking various things. If anything was lacking, the bloodstains on the club hanging on the wall would increase.

The kitchen of the Demon King’s castle underwent remarkable improvements, consistently producing masterpiece-level dishes every day.

Clatter. Valen set down his spoon. After a truly satisfying meal, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. At that moment, the door opened. He didn’t need to turn his head to know who the visitor was.

“Let’s go.”

The casual way she spoke made Valen rise to his feet, but a question suddenly flashed through his mind: why am I readily following this woman’s orders ? Moreover…

“The dining hall is bustling with demons. Many are grateful, saying it’s all thanks to you.”

What the hell?

A vein bulged on his forehead.

In his entire life, Valen had received countless expressions of gratitude, but never had it felt as unpleasant as it did now. He would have found it far more rewarding if they had cursed him to die painfully. The ones feeling grateful to him were none other than demons.

What was meant to be a simple effort to ensure decent meals for himself had ended up benefiting the demons. And it was all thanks to Valen’s efforts. A profound sense of self-loathing washed over him, snapping him back to reality from the kitchen.

“Since you came to the Demon King’s castle, the quality of meals has been excellent…”

“Shut up. I’m feeling disturbed.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Hearing words of gratitude from demons—it might as well be a nightmare. Valen massaged his throbbing temples.

The worries about reality, which he had momentarily forgotten, quickly took over his mind. He couldn’t help but think about the future when he would hopefully return to the human realm safely. There was a chance that the demons might not honor their end of the bargain, and even if they did, if the events in the demon realm were revealed, he might face a dishonorable discharge.

Unlike Valen, his younger sibling was sensitive to the opinions of others. They would be ostracized simply for being related to him. He doubted his sick brother could endure such a burden.

In the worst-case scenario, they might have to leave the kingdom. However, no place had medical technology as advanced as the kingdom’s. He needed to gather as much information as possible to avoid being abandoned by the kingdom. He had to achieve clear results.

“I’m not going to the kitchen today.”

“Taking a break?”

As if. Valen wrapped his arm around Argen’s waist and led her out of the bedroom. He could feel her gaze resting on his jawline.

Valen deliberately avoided meeting her eyes and wandered aimlessly down the long corridor. Then, he casually remarked,

“Let’s take a look around the Demon King’s barracks.”

Argen, who had been following quietly, suddenly stopped.

Could she have seen through his intentions? For the first time in a long while, tension crept up his back.

Whether it was day or night, whenever Valen made a request, she would always respond with ‘Sure,’ ‘It’s fine,’ or ‘Do as you wish.’ He had assumed this time would be no different.

But it seemed the barracks were a sensitive area for her as well. Changing his mind now would be odd. Grinding his teeth, he pondered his next move.

Just then, a pale hand, starkly contrasting with his own, tugged at his sleeve.

“It’s not this way; it’s the other direction.”

  *

“Well, well! Look who it is—Lord Argen!”

Muscular demons, shirtless and burly, crowded around. Instead of the expected smell of sweat, the training ground was filled with a strong floral fragrance. There were even full-length mirrors installed around the weapon racks. Why on earth would a training ground need full-length mirrors?

Valen had visited numerous countries and territories, but he had never seen such a lax training ground.

One of the soldiers picked Argen up and began to rock her like a cradle. Argen remained expressionless, showing no signs of discomfort, but Valen was infuriated. These demons had no sense of hierarchy.

As Valen grabbed the soldier’s shoulder, the soldier let out a scream, “Ack!”

“Is it okay to slack off during training? I’m sure your commander would love that.”

“I’m the commander.”

The soldier nonchalantly removed Valen’s hand. Valen was momentarily at a loss for words.

“This is the elite commander of the Demon King’s castle, Seinrich Zelman. His nickname is Seri.”

Argen introduced the commander, Seinrich, in her characteristic calm tone.

With bulging muscles and two intimidating horns, his hands were as large as cauldron lids, capable of crushing Argen’s head like an apple if he wanted to. Argen, however, lightly pinched his cheek as if he were an adorable creature.

“Seri, put me down now.”

“Yes, ma’am. But Lord Argen, you have a lot of bruises on your neck. It looks like you’ve been bitten by some nasty bugs. Shall I come by your quarters tonight and take care of them for you?”

“No need.”

Who’s calling who a bug? This bugger. Valen practically snatched Argen from Seinrich’s grasp and set her down on the ground. Then, he drew a sword from the weapon rack. Not a single person tried to stop him, even though an outsider was handling a weapon.

“It’s been a while since I held a sword. How about a spar to loosen up?”

Valen skillfully swung the sword as he spoke. There was no way Seinrich could refuse a challenge thrown in front of his subordinates. After all, knights lived and died by their honor.

“Oh, what a shame. It’s time to leave work.”

However, Seinrich scratched his cheek awkwardly and laughed. Valen lowered the tip of his sword to the ground and looked up. Though the sunlight was artificial, it was clearly still morning by the time.

Moreover, wasn’t this the knights’ barracks? In times like these, with wars breaking out in various places, could the concept of “leaving work” even exist? Even if one were to concede a hundred or a thousand times, leaving the training ground only after completing the designated training would be understandable.

As Valen stood there, unable to hide his astonishment, the soldiers began to leave one by one.

Argen approached Valen and naturally took the sword from him. With a thud, she placed the weapon back in its rack, and the demon in charge of maintenance bowed before hurriedly running off, adding the unnecessary comment that he had a date with his girlfriend.

“It’s unfortunate. I momentarily forgot that today is a half-day training session.”

It was the enemy’s barracks he had been so curious about… Valen returned to his quarters, burdened with a different kind of shock.

The next day, Valen chose a time when training would be in full swing and visited the training ground again. After observing them all morning, his impression could be summed up in one word.

‘I want to go home.’

Valen tried to suppress the memories of his first visit to the training ground, hoping he might gather some useful information this time.

However, what they were doing was nothing more than physical training for adolescents. There was no sign of desperate passion or the struggle for survival. They ran just enough to break a sweat, chatted incessantly, and their discipline was nonexistent.