At the ruins of the Demon King’s castle, everything was in the planning stage, and the planning was basically complete.
As for materials, it was finally decided to source them locally.
Although this would significantly slow down progress, Sieg merely patted his empty wallet.
He didn’t need to explain; even words felt particularly hollow at this moment.
Inside the temporary wooden hut, a man and a woman sat together.
Lord Sieg, lounging on the double bed with his legs crossed, held a newspaper like an old man.
From time to time, he glanced at the silver-haired girl frantically working nearby.
After much hesitation, he finally made up his mind.
It wasn’t peeking—it was outright staring.
“Let me show you something good, Emilia. Take a look. Don’t worry, it’s not flowers or a slap this time—it’s a newspaper. I thought it over and decided to tell you. Check it out yourself; you might like it.”
With a sly smile hinting at a successful scheme, he handed over the newspaper reporting the hero’s death.
Everything was going according to plan.
Even though he knew the hero was still alive—how well the hero was faring, though, he had no idea.
Why not just say it outright?
Suddenly, he felt a sharp pang in his head.
Let me ask you, are we the kind of people who can talk about anything?
No, right?
So let me ask you, what’s wrong with a little probing?
It’s harmless.
If I don’t probe, I feel uneasy, uncomfortable.
Call me twisted if you want.
You ask if this won’t hurt our relationship?
Did we even have a relationship to begin with?
Yes, we did, brother.
But now, all that’s left is hatred and distrust.
Under these circumstances, I haven’t laid a finger on you, set traps, or sought revenge.
I’m practically a saint.
Let me play the saint’s corpse in the next season of JoJo.
Talk about feelings?
What a load of nonsense.
He couldn’t help but recall the conversation at the ruins of the Demon King’s castle.
Just thinking about it gave him goosebumps, a memory he couldn’t shake for a long time.
For some reason, he sighed at this thought, but a response came to his ears without a hint of hesitation.
“I understand. Let me see, Sieg.”
In the midst of her busy work, the silver-haired girl set aside her tasks.
Her delicate hand gracefully took the newspaper, showing no trace of impatience—more like a wife welcoming her husband home.
With a glance from her blood-red eyes, she knew what he was thinking.
She responded softly, without interest, showing no emotional fluctuation.
After all, who would get upset over a stranger?
“So, Gerald is dead. I see. That’s what you wanted me to see, right, Sieg? I understand.”
With that, seeing no further intent to continue the conversation, Emilia smiled faintly, returned her focus to her work, and resumed her tasks with swift, practiced movements.
Her tone was light, as if it had nothing to do with her.
It wasn’t that she was cold or heartless; she simply understood that emotions were precious.
Seeing this, Sieg shrugged with disinterest.
He didn’t care much either.
This outcome was within his expectations.
He wasn’t sure if she truly felt nothing or was pretending… but either way, it didn’t change his deep-seated aversion to Emilia, both physically and mentally.
Even though she caused him inner turmoil, making his thoughts wander from time to time… here he was, overthinking again.
Time to find something to do.
“Alright, I’m going to check things out in the distance. You keep working…” He paused, muttering to himself, his eyes narrowing as if confirming something.
“Those people look ragged, gaunt, and malnourished—probably refugees. I can sense over a hundred of them. Are they heading here, or are they lost? Too bad, without some skills or abilities, they can’t even get past the outermost area. Even if they manage to slip in, this complex environment will likely finish them off. I’ll go take a look and see if I can recruit them. It’d make up for the losses from the earlier rebellion.”
As for the current state of those escaped slaves?
He didn’t care, nor did he want to bother.
If they wanted freedom, fine, have your freedom.
After all, you were born free, weren’t you, Alan…?
He cleared his throat, realizing he was getting off track.
Those runaway slaves wouldn’t escape anyway—they’d be tormented to death by this environment.
Did they think this was some ordinary place?
This was demon territory.
Or rather, former demon territory.
As if sensing something, his expressionless face revealed a trace of intrigued amusement.
It’s him.
It’s him.
Our little hero, Gerald. Judging by his appearance, he hasn’t been doing well lately—disheveled, filthy, clothes tattered and full of holes, barely covering a body covered in scars.
If Sieg wasn’t so familiar with his aura, even he wouldn’t have recognized the hero at first glance.
It’s only been a few days, and he’s already in this state?
Why so familiar, you ask?
Haha, we’re practically brothers forged in life-and-death battles.
During the final showdown at the Demon King’s castle, we danced on the edge of life and death repeatedly.
Back then, it was like a revolving lantern of memories.
And in that lantern, Emilia was still haunting him like a lingering ghost.
Standing up, he stomped his feet, hands in his pockets, spat on the ground, and cracked his neck, preparing to welcome the other party with the highest honors.
After all, this was a joyous occasion.
What could excite a Demon King more than the hero walking right into his trap?
Not to mention, he’d had similar thoughts before—why not take the hero away back in the empire?
Wouldn’t that have saved time and effort?
But the imperial capital was full of barriers and skilled fighters.
If he were at his peak, dealing with them would’ve been no issue.
Unfortunately, compared to before, he was pathetically weak now.
But compared to before, he was also ridiculously handsome now.
Seriously.
Back then, he played it safe, thinking caution was the better approach.
Slow and steady wins the race, right?
Crashing and burning wouldn’t be fun.
Otherwise, the headlines might’ve read: Shock! Hakimi the Demon King, After Years on the Run, Attempts Deep Bonding with Hero, Only to Be Caught and Arrested.
Or maybe: Shock! Hakimi the Demon King Uses Fish-Out-of-Water Move on the Gallows, Spouting Mad Claims: ‘I’ll Be Back Next Life, Just You Wait, I’ll Dig Up Your Graves One by One.’
Stealing your offerings—don’t underestimate a broke kid!
…
How to deal with the hero?
Killing him was out of the question.
Maybe lock him up, completely imprison him, cut off his limbs, and just keep him alive?
But what if he pulls some protagonist power-up, spouting nonsense about being a man born between heaven and earth, or love and justice?
To play it safe, just put him to work.
He might still be useful later.
No free lunches here—Sieg was working too.
What kind of work?
Don’t ask; it’s state secrets.
He reached out, grabbing Emilia’s small head, her long silver hair slipping through his fingers.
With a gentle shake and a friendly smile, he spoke mysteriously.
“Emilia, let’s go together.”
“Sure, let’s go. I’m fine with that.”
She didn’t refuse—rather, she welcomed it.
Standing up, she wished she could spend more time with him.
Her delicate hand rested on the hem of her skirt, lightly gripping it, recalling the moments when they’d held hands before.
Those moments had built a lot of goodwill.
It seemed her strategy of close contact was working.
She enjoyed it, loved it even.
But… their relationship and interactions were problematic, especially after this conversation… things had gotten worse.
“Let’s go. Time waits for no one. That group looks like they’ve got something to offer. They might help with the Demon King’s castle reconstruction. Who knows, you might even run into someone you know.”
He spoke meaningfully, signaling that the reconstruction of the Demon King’s castle was about to officially begin.