Chapter 50: The Curse from the Demon King
Lance’s expression was calm, as if he were asking the most ordinary question in the world.
But his casual tone was enough to make Misha break out in a cold sweat, realizing he had reached a critical moment of life and death.
If he didn’t handle this well, he would definitely expose his identity as the Demon King.
And this annoying Hero… he liked to pinch the Demon King’s tail.
Misha: “…”
No. Even if I die, I can’t let my true identity be exposed because of a stupid mistake I made.
But having spun so many lies recently, it felt like every excuse had been used up. Misha racked his brains, but he really couldn’t come up with anything.
Lance was still quietly waiting for his response. A long silence would only deepen the other party’s suspicion. Even if he couldn’t think of anything, it was time for Misha to say something.
He swallowed, looked up at the calm Lance, swallowed again…
He decided to stall for time first.
“Eyes?” Misha looked innocent. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”
Lance: “…”
Misha raised his hand, pretending to touch his eyes nonchalantly, then put on an even more innocent expression and asked in confusion, “Is there… something in my eyes?”
Lance: “…”
Beads of sweat formed on Misha’s forehead. He whispered, “Maybe it’s because I didn’t sleep all night…”
He couldn’t say he stayed up so late his eyes turned red, right? That excuse was too lame. No, no, he couldn’t say that.
Lance sighed softly.
He got out of bed, pulled the nervous Misha into the room, and then positioned Misha in front of the mirror, holding his shoulders. “Look at your eyes.”
Misha was, of course, very familiar with what his eyes looked like.
Even so, he had to feign shock, saying in panic, “H-how could this be!”
After speaking, Misha immediately turned to look at Lance beside him, trying to find some inspiration for his bullshit in Lance’s reaction.
Lance: “…”
Misha: “Th-this looks like…”
Lance: “A demon.”
Misha: “…”
Misha stiffened, almost thinking Lance was about to see through his disguise.
He recalled carefully. Lance seemed to have seen him reveal these eyes twice. Once when Lance fell into the volcano; to withstand the lava hot enough to melt dragon scales, Misha had no choice but to reveal part of his Demon King form. But that was only for an instant. Lance shouldn’t have seen it clearly, otherwise he wouldn’t be asking this question today.
The other time was… that night when he manifested his Demon King form in Lance’s room, got caught, played a game of cat and mouse all night, and had his tail pinched several times.
That time, Lance definitely saw it clearly.
Today Lance said his eyes looked like a demon’s; he must have been influenced by that incident. Misha could only rejoice that Lance hadn’t realized his eyes were exactly the same as the Demon King’s that night. But as for an excuse—
Lance: “Did you touch something strange?”
Misha: “Eh?”
Touch something strange? What strange thing could I touch?
Lance sighed again and patiently explained, “For example, tattered, heavy books, suspicious-looking ancient artifacts. Oh, or maybe dark lights floating in mid-air, or even shadowy figures at midnight.”
Misha: “…”
That sounds… a bit scary.
It sounded like a scene from those weird human horror novels: a human accidentally entering an old mansion, inadvertently touching a sealed ancient object, and releasing a dark spirit symbolizing fear and darkness—
Wait.
Misha suddenly had a direction for his bullshit.
Although it still sounded like a made-up lie, at this point, it was the only excuse he could keep spinning.
Misha swallowed nervously.
“I… now that you mention it…” Misha whispered. “I seem to have seen something strange in the courtyard…”
He wasn’t good at lying and felt guilty. He carefully watched Lance’s expression. Seeing no strangeness or suspicion on Lance’s face, Misha continued his fabrication.
“It seemed to be a strange shadowy figure,” Misha said with certainty. “But I didn’t see clearly who it was.”
“Wow,” Lance said in a flat tone, almost devoid of emotion. “To appear within a sanctuary, it must be a very strong demon.”
Misha: “…Yeah, and it was a phantom. It must be a demon’s clone.”
Lance: “Could it be an Archdemon?”
Misha thought about it. The only Archdemons Lance hadn’t met were the Black Dragon Gil and the Banshee Nova. They definitely couldn’t beat Lance. He was worried Lance would actually go trouble them, so he’d better take the fall for this mess himself.
Misha lowered his voice and, using his perfect acting skills, whispered a description of the non-existent phantom in the courtyard.
“I don’t think it was an Archdemon,” Misha pretended to be nervous. “The feeling he gave off was different from an Archdemon.”
Lance: “Hmm?”
“He looked stronger than an Archdemon. His eyes were red too, and he had horns and a tail.” Misha touched his face nervously. “Could he… have turned me into his likeness?”
“Oh?” A hint of a smile touched Lance’s lips as he nodded seriously. “The person you’re describing sounds like a Demon King I’ve met.”
Good. The guidance is heading in the right direction.
Misha widened his eyes. “Demon King?”
Lance: “Yeah.”
Misha: “The evil, terrifying Demon King who destroys the world?”
Lance: “Yeah…”
Misha shuddered forcefully. “Could I have been cursed by him?”
Pretending to be cursed by the Demon King, Misha obediently held Lance’s hand and followed him to find the Bishop of Sky City.
Upon seeing Misha’s eyes and hearing Lance’s account of the events, the Bishop acted as if facing a formidable enemy.
He wanted to summon all the holy clergy in the church to brainstorm a way to lift the curse so Divine Envoy Misha could return to normal. He even tried to pray for an oracle, hoping the Goddess could tell them the solution.
As another Divine Envoy, Arlo was naturally invited to the scene by the Bishop.
They hoped Arlo could come up with a solution. Arlo pondered for a long time, then simply took Misha’s hand, looked solemn, and said, “There are some questions I hope you can answer.”
Misha nodded.
Arlo signaled the Bishop to prepare a separate room for them to talk. Lance slowly stood up, intending to follow, but Arlo stopped him.
“I would prefer a private conversation,” Arlo said gravely. “This might concern whether the Demon King’s curse can be successfully lifted.”
Lance simply waved his hand, indicating he understood.
Lance didn’t insist on following Misha, which made Misha breathe a sigh of relief. He followed Arlo into the empty room and closed the door. Arlo finally took a deep breath and said, “Why did you use that excuse?”
Misha also took a deep, aggrieved breath. “Why did you run so fast?”
Arlo: “…”
Misha whispered, “I really couldn’t think of any other excuse.”
Usually, he might have been able to fabricate a reason, but at that moment, he was too preoccupied with the shocking revelation that the Hero came from another world to focus on anything else.
Regardless, at least the Hero believed it. They just needed to weave the lie a bit more to smooth things over.
Arlo sighed. “If the Demon King’s curse is lifted too easily, won’t that raise suspicion?”
Misha: “…”
Misha felt Arlo had a point.
“And that’s a curse. How could it only turn your eyes red?” Arlo rubbed his forehead in thought. “Generally, demonic curses have some strange negative side effects—”
Misha felt he understood.
“Ashby and Zebrun must know a lot about this,” Misha said. “Let’s call them over to discuss it!”
“Wait a moment,” Arlo stopped him. “Did you… see clearly what the magic on the Hero looked like just now?”
Misha: “…”
Misha hadn’t decided whether to tell Arlo yet.
A Hero from another world.
This was unheard of, and… definitely not a good thing.
Otherworld Stones were rare; only a few of the God Race had the authority to use them. So… where did the Hero get the Otherworld Stone used to cross the Gate?
Arlo had said that for a failure like a disqualified or god-betraying Hero, the Superior Gods might wipe them out directly. That was just one possibility. But something as inconceivable as “Another World” would definitely increase that probability infinitely.
Misha could only proceed carefully, continuing his lie. “The magic had almost dissipated. I could only tell it was dark purple.”
Arlo frowned in thought. “Several Superior Gods have purple magic… This is too hard to judge.”
Misha nodded nervously. “Right? Couldn’t tell anything at all.”
Arlo didn’t get suspicious. He just said, “You’d better tell Gineses about your improvisation too.”
Misha nodded vigorously.
Arlo: “But this works out well. It allows the Hero to delay in Sky City for a bit longer.”
Misha: “Mmh, mmh.”
“Call Ashby and Zebrun over first,” Arlo couldn’t hide the seriousness in his expression. “Let’s discuss the curse issue.”
The door to the small room didn’t open, and Misha was sure Lance wouldn’t suddenly barge in.
So he closed his eyes and softly called Ashby and Zebrun’s names three times. Using his Demon King power, he summoned the two of them to this place.
Zebrun maintained his usual expression, holding a heavy ancient book in his hand as if he had been reading when Misha forcibly summoned him. He nodded and said nothing. Judging by his appearance, he couldn’t even be bothered to ask why Misha had called him.
Ashby had difficulty maintaining Zebrun’s calm.
He was full of resentment, seemingly still pondering why he was the only one bullied by the Hero. He acted so aggrieved that even his gaze toward Misha was filled with a sense of injustice.
“What is it?” Ashby was physically and mentally exhausted, and a bit resentful. “Don’t call me over casually if there’s nothing important.”
Misha: “…”
Arlo coughed lightly and briefly explained the current situation to them.
They needed to arrange a reasonable exorcism process for Misha. This should include negative effects brought by the curse—obvious physical or mental changes—as well as the process and method of removing the curse.
Misha watched as Ashby’s tired eyes lit up bit by bit.
“Lord Demon King,” Ashby said seriously. “Congratulations.”
Misha: “…Huh?”
Ashby: “Congratulations on falling into the Hero’s clutches too.”
Misha: “…”
This Archdemon’s brain might be broken. Let’s swap him for a different Archdemon.
Ashby became extremely interested and earnestly began strategizing for Misha.
“I think the effect should be physical,” Ashby said. “Changes in appearance are the most obvious.”
Misha agreed that Ashby was right.
Something like a Demon King’s curse… if it stayed purely mental, it would be the greatest test of his poor acting skills. He might be able to maintain the act for a while, but over time, he would definitely reveal flaws.
Physical changes were easy.
He just needed to rely on magic and illusions to display some characteristics unique to demons, and that would convince everyone.
Arlo nodded and asked, “After being possessed by a demon or marked with a curse, what changes usually occur in the body?”
Ashby: “A heart-shaped tattoo will appear—”
Arlo: “Cough, cough!”
Misha: “Huh?”
Ashby: “It’s that—”
Arlo hurriedly interrupted Ashby: “That’s inappropriate. Next.”
Misha: “?”
Misha scratched his head, genuinely confused.
Zebrun, who had been silent, spoke up rarely. “…It’s better if you don’t know.”
Misha: “…”
Ashby: “Not wearing clothes, or a drastic change in temperament.”
Arlo: “This is a Demon King’s curse, not a Succubus curse!”
Zebrun silently raised his head: “…Becoming ugly.”
Misha: “…”
Arlo: “Hmm, that’s not bad.”
Misha immediately turned to look at Arlo: “?”
Arlo: “I remember in human legends, there seems to be such a thing.”
Misha: “??”
Zebrun: “Um… there are at least fifty variations of that story.”
Misha: “???”
“I disagree!!!” Misha shouted loudly. “I refuse to become ugly!!!”
Zebrun’s expression became even more complicated.
Ever since Arlo explained what had happened, Zebrun had worn an imperceptible look of… slightly strange emotion.
He couldn’t figure it out.
So the Demon King really doesn’t want the Hero to discover his true identity.
But based on his experience, the Demon King’s cover-ups seem a bit too forced.
He didn’t know if the Hero had already noticed something, but the Hero was bound to sense something wrong sooner or later.
Maybe he should advise the Demon King, but… uh…
He wasn’t very familiar with the new Demon King, having only exchanged a few words…
Forget it. He wouldn’t say anything.
Anyway, there’s nothing a young couple can’t resolve between themselves.
Arlo advised tactfully, “It’s just temporarily ugly. It won’t last more than a few days.”
Misha: “Refused.”
Arlo: “Becoming ugly is a slow process. We can declare the curse lifted before you get too ugly—”
Misha: “I refuse.”
Arlo had no choice.
He could only look at Zebrun again and ask, “Besides this kind of curse, are there any other ways?”
Zebrun paused, as if surprised someone was suddenly talking to him. After a long while, he finally nodded slowly and whispered, “There are.”
Arlo asked, “What way?”
“Since it’s just…” Zebrun lowered his voice, spitting out the last few words almost inaudibly, “…a playful mood between a young couple.”
Misha didn’t hear clearly. “Zebrun, what did you say?”
Zebrun shook his head, not wanting to explain.
He took a breath, seemingly gathering strength for what he was about to say next.
“Turn into a beast,” Zebrun uttered a rare long sentence. “Just to the extent of growing ears and a tail, and the curse can be lifted.”
Misha: “…”
If it was just ears and a tail, wouldn’t that look like the Beastmen living in the forest?
Misha carefully recalled the appearance of the Beastmen he had seen.
Most Beastmen were burly and not very good-looking, but some species were quite beautiful.
In that comparison, ears and a tail were just simple decorations. Compared to becoming ugly, Misha naturally found this more acceptable.
He nodded, then shook his head, whispering, “No tail.”
He remembered the terror of being chased by the Hero who wanted to pinch his tail that day.
If he could bring himself to pinch a devil’s tail, then if it changed to a fluffy big tail… I don’t trust that the Hero could control himself.
“Very well, this method works,” Arlo affirmed, but then couldn’t help asking, “But… as a punishment for the curse, what animal would be best?”
Misha fell into deep thought.
Since it was a curse, obviously it couldn’t be an overly beautiful animal. It had to carry some implication of punishment. Hmm, for example—
Ashby suddenly spoke up, “A rabbit is nice!”
Arlo: “That doesn’t seem like a curse.”
“Of course it’s a curse!” Ashby stood up and said seriously. “Don’t you know? Rabbits and Rabbit Beastmen are really capable of—”
Zebrun interrupted him: “Ashby.”
Ashby continued smoothly: “White rabbits have red eyes too.”
Zebrun: “…Ashby.”
Ashby: “Touch them a lot, and they even experience false—”
Zebrun suddenly raised the heavy ancient book in his hand and smashed it hard against the back of Ashby’s head.
He rarely made such large movements, startling almost everyone. And his strength wasn’t light; at least in that smash, Misha finally felt he saw the shadow of Zebrun’s warlike kin.
“This is Lord Demon King,” Zebrun threatened in a low voice. “Do not bring the wild fantasies of a Succubus in here.”
Seeing Ashby gritting his teeth, Misha was worried a senseless fight would break out between the two Archdemons. He nervously stood up and blocked the space between them, saying, “You two, calm down.”
But it was hard for Ashby to calm down.
He glared at Zebrun, a monstrous anger ready to be unleashed.
Misha: “Ashby, don’t get excited—”
But Ashby suddenly interrupted Misha.
“Next time,” Ashby clutched his head, which had suffered frequent injuries lately, and shouted angrily, “Can! You! Not! Hit! My! Head!!”
Zebrun: “…”
Ashby: “Can’t you pick a different spot to hit!”
Zebrun: “…”
Misha: “…”
Ashby sat back down, huffing.
“Forget it.” He snorted, thought seriously for a moment, and reverted to his excited expression from before. “Um… look, wouldn’t a cat that likes to stick its butt up be pretty good too?”
