Such astonishing news, as expected, quickly spread across the lands north and south of the great river. The Empire, too, gradually began to recover from its deathly stillness.
After all, Amelia’s return represented hope—it meant that everything from the past would be restored, that the days of misery and desolation would be no more.
This astounding news, naturally, soon reached Demon King Castle, whether far away or close at hand. This place was no longer any kind of ruin or relic.
Under Amelia’s guidance, everything was orderly and structured, with the beginnings of a proper city taking shape.
The most troublesome Black Mist had been isolated, and lately she had been busy liaising with foreign merchants, drawing grand plans, and selling off antiques from the Black Mist Ruins to raise funds for Demon King Castle.
With this, many problems were resolved, and she became increasingly adept in every sense of the word. Yet, even as she focused on her work, her blood-red eyes would now and then glance toward the leisurely Sig below.
There was no need for him to worry about any other matters now.
He lay lazily in his lounge chair, simply enjoying comfort. Dappled sunlight fell across his face through the leaves. When the newspaper fluttered down from above, he didn’t even bother to lift his eyelids; making use of his Demon King traits, he simply reached out, catching the edge of the falling page with casual precision.
He flicked the newspaper open carelessly with his fingertips, his gaze drifting indifferently across the headline. A faint, almost invisible smile tugged at his lips. His other hand rested on the armrest, tapping out a gentle rhythm—his entire manner was soaked in laziness, even when reading.
After all, he was living the leisurely life now, doing nothing all day, not a care in the world. At night, all he needed to do was fulfill his “public duties.”
The wind ruffled a few more pages, and suddenly, as if he’d realized something, Sig snapped out of his languor. His once-lazy gaze sharpened, pupils contracting. The newspaper slipped from his fingers, but he didn’t even notice. He jolted up from the chair as if electrified.
He didn’t even have time to put on his slippers, standing barefoot on the floor.
He looked sharply toward Amelia, who was directing things from the platform above. The headline from the newspaper overlapped repeatedly with the scene before him—it looked, it really looked too much alike. For a moment, even he couldn’t tell the difference.
On the newspaper, a bold headline spelled everything out, direct and to the point, not a single wasted word—quite nice.
[Amelia Returns to the Empire—Hope for the People, the Empire’s Final Chance at Revival]
But… He gazed at all this and felt not the slightest suspicion toward Amelia’s intentions. Why would he doubt her? The thought didn’t even occur to him.
He trusted his beloved completely, holding her close to his heart. At this point, would it make any sense for the two of them to be suspicious of each other? Would it?
No, it wouldn’t. They were both adults now… Silently, he withdrew his gaze, shelving the idea of calling out to his beloved. They could chat leisurely later; there was no rush. She was busy right now, directing things like a commander at war—busier, perhaps, than any battlefield.
He couldn’t help but keep thinking, but there was nothing urgent, nothing that couldn’t wait.
Thinking thus, he lay back down in his chair, yawning contentedly as he sprawled out. His golden eyes fell once more on the newspaper in his hand, only now Sig was far more focused than before. He was at least a little concerned, hoping to spot a flaw in the story.
Soon, he found some answers, though he still wasn’t entirely sure. Brow furrowed, his mood soured… He understood—most likely, the Empire had found a woman who resembled Amelia, almost without flaw, as if they’d been cast from the same mold. Even the face was familiar.
This inexplicable sense of déjà vu made him uneasy, and his expression grew increasingly odd. Only after coming up with a reasonable explanation did he force himself to relax a little. It must be because the other woman looked so much like Amelia… Yes, that must be it.
But then again, someone had to be behind all this. As for who it was, he hardly needed to guess—it had to be that Duke Oray up to his old tricks.
That guy really never gives up. If he couldn’t have Amelia, he’d settle for a substitute. But this wasn’t just any substitute—he would have to deal a heavy blow… Let the Empire feel the might of Demon King Castle. Heh heh heh.
Unwittingly, he drifted off into fantasy, lost in daydreams…
And as he dreamed, he fell asleep—after all, even a Demon King is still human and needs rest. If a person doesn’t sleep, they’ll die. That’s just common sense.
Who knew how much time passed before the sunset faded, leaving only a trace of afterglow. The silver-haired girl, her figure alluring, was bathed in the dying light. She bent over gently, her fingertips brushing across the man’s handsome face, caressing every weathered scar. She whispered in his ear.
“Wake up, Sig, it’s time to eat. If you don’t, I’m afraid you won’t be able to satisfy me tonight…”
Her voice was honey-sweet, but her words were terrifying—a true nightmare for any man. She was still the juice-extracting machine, not an ounce of manliness left to him. Or perhaps this was what it meant to be corrupted.
Truly, she was quite a handful, in every sense of the word.
Her words yanked Sig from his sweet dreams, and as he opened bleary eyes, he stared at the unfamiliar sky, working to clear his mind. His body was syncing with his brain, desperately keeping himself from blurting out something outrageous.
Amelia happened to notice the newspaper that had slipped down to his chest. As she read the headline, her crimson eyes narrowed, the hand pinching his cheek instantly going stiff.
She couldn’t help but bend down to pick it up, her delicate fingers trembling ever so slightly—as if she’d seen something unbelievable.
“What is this about? It’s really…”
Her sweet voice still lingered on her lips, but her gaze had turned ice-cold.
Just awake, he rubbed his eyes and smiled lazily and helplessly, slowly sitting up from his chair. He gently took hold of the girl’s cold, stiff wrist, the familiar sensation soothing as ever, his fingers stroking lightly.
His voice was still hoarse from sleep, but there was a calming steadiness in it—the very charm of a confident man.
He spoke his guess without haste. Though he had no proof, he was almost certain.
“It must be Duke Oray up to no good. You don’t need to worry, Amelia. I never took this thing seriously.”
He paused, hoping to put her at ease.
“It’s just a little trick. You really don’t need to worry about it or explain anything. With our relationship as it is, it’s impossible for me to doubt you, Amelia. Rather than dwell on these things, wouldn’t it be more fun to sit with me for a while and chat?”
“I know, Sig. Thank you.”
A warmth flowed into the girl’s heart, and she was touched, smiling faintly, nearly unable to contain her feelings—if only there weren’t so many people around.
But what needed to be said, still had to be made clear.
“I’ve never done any of these things, nor do I plan to return to the Empire. Sig, in my eyes, there’s only you…”