Chapter 112: A Throne of Fate

“Lady Elina I, you’ve changed quite a bit. You look far better than you used to, and for all the right reasons.”

“Thank you. I’m just beginning to be cherished as a celebrity, so I still have a lot to do.”

“I still have a long road ahead, too. That’s why I thought this proposal could benefit us both.”

Hmph, after clearing his throat, he spoke in a serious tone.

“Would you consider becoming our exclusive model? Your approachable image fits our company perfectly.”

“Of course, it would be an honor. After all, Black Brand is known for its healthy products made from black rice, black beans, and black sesame. I’ve heard you’ve also released plenty of wellness diet foods for women.”

“You’ve done your homework—haha. Now, before we seal the deal, shall we discuss our future direction and advertising strategy?”

They parted ways after a strictly business conversation—neither as the Male Lead nor the Female Lead, but as corporate figures and public personalities. There was no romance, only a greater win-win partnership.

Under a high red moon, fierce battles erupted in Demon King Castle. It had been less than a month since young King Elina V took charge of the Demon Realm, and the sudden assault came precisely when all rebel forces were thought to be crushed.

Though enemies had not yet reached the upper floors, the situation was precarious, with the defense line at risk of breaking at any moment. Amid the din, Lady Elina IV quickly gathered the key magical treatises.

She made her way to the king’s office at the very heart of the top floor, where her sister awaited.

“Elina V, we don’t have time. We must escape before the fortress is completely isolated. I’ve already scoped out the secret exit…”

“No, I’m not leaving.”

Seated alone on the throne, Elina V turned to face Elina IV with a gentle smile.

“Then you must be the one to run.”

“No, your judgment is flawed. What if I leave you behind? If the fortress falls, I can’t guarantee your life. If you, as queen, crumble, the rebel forces will seize the throne. Is that the foolish outcome you want?”

Despite Elina IV’s logical plea, Elina V remained resolute, as if her decision were final. A soft, enigmatic smile graced her face as she gazed over the Demon Realm.

“This fortress will not fall—I will hold this position. And if I flee, who will defend the soldiers left behind? Who will protect the people of the Demon Realm?”

Her words carried the calm authority of a former saint. Elina IV bit her lip, suppressing her emotions to regain composure, then exhaled a heavy sigh.

“Understood. If that’s your will, then I will stay.”

“…Elina IV.”

“If you speak with such confidence, it’s because you believe in yourself. And your Sacred Power is nothing to scoff at. It’s worth the risk.”

This time, Elina IV left her calculations aside, trusting only her sister, Elina V.

The long night eventually gave way to dawn. Covering the sleeping Elina IV behind the curtains, Elina V rose from her seat.

Footsteps from afar soon halted right at the door. With a resounding clang as a heavy metal door knocker fell off, both doors burst open, and armored enemies flooded in. Yet Elina V merely smiled serenely.

“Who is the ruler here?”

The leader, clad in black armor and holding a crumpled metal mass, shouted. Despite the unfamiliar weapon, Elina V remained unruffled and replied calmly,

“Step back. I’m not one for violence.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!!”

“Surrender the throne immediately!”

“Seize that woman!”

Just as the enemies raised their weapons in unison, a blinding flash erupted like an explosion.

In an instant, the spot where the enemy had stood became a scorched wasteland. Thick smoke billowed, and burn marks etched the floor where the flash had struck. The sight of the charred door left the enemies visibly shaken.

It became clear they were poorly trained. As Elina V advanced slowly, some of them dropped their weapons in sheer shock.

“D-don’t come any closer!”

“If you want to surrender, hand over your leader. I have no desire for further bloodshed.”

At her firm yet gentle words, the enemy forces faltered. Amid the murmuring chaos, the leader in black armor began to stride forward slowly.

“These men are innocent. It was I who led them… Spare them when you kill me.”

Overwhelmed by the terrifying display of power, the leader’s knees buckled in despair.

Elina V reached for his helmet as he collapsed, determined to verify the identity of the rebel leader who had dared challenge her authority.

Expecting a demon, she was shocked when, as the black helmet was removed, a cascade of long brown hair tumbled out. Beneath the armor was a human woman—Monica, once a maid of the Schmord Viscount.

“Why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to serve Lara?”

“Maid? Hah… The seat you occupy was originally mine! It was meant to be that way!!”

Tears streamed from Monica’s eyes.

She had come to the Demon Realm as the bride of the Demon King, yet the master of Demon King Castle had long been replaced. The Demon King, the Male Lead, had vanished without reclaiming his title, forcing her to return to the Human Realm alone. But without her role as a maid, she had nowhere to turn.

“You have no idea how many sacrifices it took to get here… It was all that man’s fault! He promised to place me as the Demon Queen… sob.”

It wasn’t about trusting men; a Cinderella story where meeting the right man turns one’s life around is nothing but an empty fantasy. Power meant nothing unless seized by oneself.

Monica decided to claim the Demon King’s throne instead. If her rightful place had been lost, she would reclaim it. Using all the connections from her maid days, she assembled a corps determined to change her fate.

They called it the Frying Pan Brigade—a unit of veteran chefs with 20 to 30 years of experience. Their lifetime of kitchen work had honed their strength and stamina to rival that of any soldier.

Despite establishing the brigade and striving to retake Demon King Castle by force, Monica’s grand dream ended there.

“Strike my neck! I have nowhere to go… I’m ready to give up on this life!”

Monica dropped her grotesquely warped frying pan onto the ground. A clear, ringing clang echoed as she waited for a blade to end her life. Instead, a warm, gentle voice whispered at the back of her neck.

“I commend you for coming this far—defeating demon soldiers with an all-civilian force to reach this place. Though I can’t grant you the throne, I hold you in high regard.”

Elina V was genuinely impressed that the commander of such a formidable force was a civilian woman.

“I have no intention of ending your life. But releasing you is too dangerous. So make your choice.”

Bowing slightly, Elina V met Monica’s eyes and extended her hand.

“Join me as the commander of my exclusive guard unit defending the fortress, or remain confined in Demon King Castle for the rest of your life.”

“What… do you mean…?”

“If you pledge your loyalty to me, I will pay you 200 times the salary you earned as a maid each month, granting you rightful power and wealth to use for my cause.”

At these words, Monica lowered her head to stifle rising tears. In that moment, her struggles were acknowledged, and she gripped Elina V’s hand tightly.

“I pledge my loyalty.”

Thus, Monica ascended—from a humble maid to the exalted commander of the exclusive guard unit.

* * *

On thawing ground, tender green shoots emerged. Spring had arrived—a season of blossoming flowers and festive celebrations for couples across the empire.

Even the Schmord Viscount had a bride-to-be in the making, none other than Lara Schmord—once an extra, now the leading lady. Standing before the mirror, Lara scrutinized the wedding dress chosen by her designers.

Daily dates with Rahi and a penchant for indulging in delicious food had led to considerable weight gain. Skipping the corset out of annoyance left her side curves noticeably pronounced.

“Just increase the waist measurement by a couple of inches.”

Lara would never admit that she needed to lose weight. Having once endured the misery of strict dieting, she never wanted to experience it again.

As she reached for the measuring tape once more, the door suddenly swung open. The designers’ attention shifted toward the entrance as Lara casually eyed the uninvited guest in the mirror.

“Hey, Lara Schmord. I’m about to grab some spaghetti…”

“You cook it yourself!!”

“No, listen up. Want me to cook yours as well?”

Scratching the back of his head awkwardly, Lawrence spoke up, causing Lara’s lower lip to tremble in surprise.

“Are you… Lawrence Schmord? A fake, right?”

“I thought I’d whip up some spaghetti as a wedding treat for you, but if you don’t like it, that’s fine.”

“No, no. I’ll just change out of my dress and come down—so make sure you cook a batch for me, too! Mine as well!!”