Chapter 287: A Taste of Suspicion

While I can’t definitively say cuff buttons are tools for concealing magic, it’s clear he’s using something to hide it. A little observation should reveal the truth.

Deon roughly concluded that the Demon King’s magic power had diminished. He left the terrace, and Lirinel, who had been watching Dan and the legion commanders gamble from afar, quickly noticed him and started to approach. But she soon stopped in her tracks.

Someone was already there.

“Greetings, Sir Deon,”

He hadn’t been out here long, and already people were approaching to speak with him. Deon silently observed Commander Myers of the 12th Corps and his adjutant standing before him.

Myers seemed uncomfortable under his gaze and flinched. In contrast, Adjutant Dahar gave a slight bow and calmly continued.

“Offering my regards after a long time, Sir,”

“……”

“…Sir Myers?”

Dahar nudged Myers in the ribs. Myers immediately bowed deeply.

“It’s been a while, greetings!”

“…Alright.”

What’s going on? I feel like I’ve been through this before…

Deon nodded, a bit awkwardly. Myers, having received a response, glanced at his adjutant, Dahar, as if asking, ‘We greeted him and got a reply, isn’t that enough?’ Dahar suppressed a sigh that was threatening to escape.

“…Sir Deon, actually, aside from Sir Myers, there’s something I wanted to ask. Would it be too presumptuous to request a moment of your time?”

“Is that so?”

As Deon’s attention focused on him, Dahar gestured for Myers to leave. Myers, looking relieved, quickly scurried away, disappearing from the edge of his vision.

He briefly considered whether he should nag him later, but then thought about the hunting competition today. Myers had worked hard, so maybe he should let it slide this time. Pushing too hard could backfire, and besides…

‘…How did I end up with a superior like that?’

Suppressing another sigh, Dahar lifted his head. He immediately met Deon Hart’s gaze, who seemed to have been watching him intently. Deon was smiling, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

It was then that Dahar felt a strange unease.

‘…Wait a minute… did I actually get a yes…?’

He hadn’t. There was only the question, ‘Is that so?’

Facing that relaxed smile, as if Deon saw right through Myers’ rudeness and his own flimsy excuse, Dahar felt a cold sweat break out on his back.

Was coming here a mistake?

‘…Maybe I should have come alone and left Myers behind.’

…But today, Myers couldn’t just slip away from the banquet like he usually does.

It was important to clearly show when, how, and under what circumstances Myers had left. Aware of the subtle glances in their direction, Dahar pushed aside the pointless thoughts swirling in his mind and quickly bowed his head.

“I’ve been very impolite in many ways. I apologize.”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough about that. You said you wanted to ask something, right?”

“…Yes.”

Red pupils gleamed from his narrowed, smiling eyes.

“I thought it was just my imagination that I kept locking eyes with one particular guy today, but I guess it wasn’t.”

“……”

“You saw me before the competition started, didn’t you?”

And even after I returned.

This wasn’t really a question, more like a statement of fact.

After a moment of studying Dahar’s silent face, Deon nodded.

“Alright, come with me.”

He hadn’t been off the terrace for long, but it seemed he’d have to go back. It was the only place nearby that offered any privacy.

Without looking back, Deon strode forward. From nearby, they could hear Dan’s slightly excited voice.

“I won, didn’t I? The wish was the prize for this bet, right?”

“…Damn it.”

“I believe it was a promise made with magic as collateral. And I understand that all Sir Trober has left is the magic that sustains his physical form, so if you break your word…”

“Fine, fine! I get it! Just tell me what you want!”

“Well…”

Swish—

The sound of the curtain being drawn snapped his attention back. They had arrived at the terrace. Deon, who had been briefly taking in the view, turned to see Dahar standing there with two glasses and a plate of snacks, as if he’d been waiting.

As if answering the unspoken question in Deon’s eyes, Dahar set the plate on the railing and spoke.

“I thought you might be hungry, so I brought some snacks.”

“…Alright.”

Without hesitation, he reached out and picked up a cookie.

The cookie was crisp and perfectly baked, crumbling delightfully in his mouth. Surprised by how good it was—as if the Demon King’s chefs had been personally coerced into baking them—Deon ate a few more, then glanced at Dahar.

He had been looking away, sipping from his glass, but when their eyes met, he straightened up. As if reading the unspoken ‘get on with it’ in Deon’s gaze, he finally spoke.

“The Demon Realm is currently enjoying an unprecedented golden age, all thanks to your leadership, Sir Deon.”

That was a rather abrupt opening.

But you had to hear him out. Deon didn’t respond, just took another bite of his cookie. The sweet taste filled his mouth.

“And no one can deny that it’s all thanks to you, Sir Deon, can they?”

What’s he buttering me up for?

Golden age, huh? Golden age…

‘I don’t know.’

He lowered his eyes, hiding the sneer that threatened to surface.

Could this really be called a ‘golden age’? To me, it just looks like a full moon. A precarious full moon that’s only moments away from waning.

With so many legion commander positions still vacant, calling it a golden age felt like a stretch. If anything, it was somewhere between a full moon and a waning crescent.

“Of course, the inevitable sacrifices and defeats along the way are regrettable, but…”

“……”

“Still, it’s undeniable that the conquest of the Human Realm is within reach.”

This preamble is dragging on.

With a disinterested expression, Deon picked up another cookie. Sensing Deon’s lack of interest, Dahar finally got to the heart of the matter.

“But Sir Deon, the 12th Corps hasn’t exactly been in the spotlight during this war. Even my superior, the legion commander, is hardly ever deployed.”

“…Ah.”

Watching Deon, who seemed to grasp his meaning and had let out a soft sound of understanding, Dahar asked…

“In your future plans, Sir Deon… I’d like to know if there’s any role for my superior to play.”

“…Not entirely, no.”

No, there definitely will be. There’s no way there wouldn’t be.

Especially considering the battles still to come…

“Correction, there definitely will be.”

“I…is that right.”

Lost in thought, picturing one of the few possible futures, Deon didn’t notice the slight tremor in Dahar’s voice.

“That’s really… a relief.”

The brief hesitation vanished in an instant, and Dahar smoothly curved his lips into a smile, as if nothing was amiss.

“My superior isn’t the type to actively seek out opportunities. I was worried he might end up with no achievements by the time the Human Realm was conquered.”

Myers is certainly timid by nature. But…

Deon silently lowered his gaze to the glass Dahar was offering. As if sensing the unspoken question in his eyes, Dahar offered a gentle explanation.

“You’ve just been eating cookies. You might get thirsty. Have a drink with them.”

…Something only mad dogs or the old Dan would pull.

He took the glass. He raised it to his lips casually, about to drink, then paused. Just before the liquid touched his lips, Deon stopped, his eyes flicking up to Dahar. He snorted softly.

With a smile that suggested amusement, he took a sip of the drink.

“…You know what?”

His voice was calm, almost nonchalant.

He habitually rubbed his fingertips together, then clenched and unclenched his fist before wiping it on his pants. Performing these actions slowly, Deon finally spoke, his gaze fixed on the demon before him, who was watching him with undisguised hostility.

“That a Hero’s physical abilities also include an enhanced ‘sense of smell’.”

“……”

“No matter how obscure the ingredient, I can immediately tell if something other than alcohol has been added to a drink. So, about that—”

Why did you do that?

His voice was soft, almost conversational, yet it carried an unexpected weight.

“Considering our earlier conversation, I have a pretty good idea why, but I need to hear it from you.”

“……”

“Why would you do that?”

The glass contained poison.

Even as a Hero, I already feel sick. This isn’t just any poison… Come to think of it, wasn’t this demon’s ability ‘poison’?

Deon’s red gaze dropped to Dahar’s pitch-black fingernails.

Just as ‘Heroes,’ fragments of the Heroic Spirit, can wound the ‘Demon King,’ it stands to reason that ‘demons,’ born from the Demon King’s power, could also harm a ‘Hero.’

“……”

Silence descended. Deon studied Dahar’s face, which remained impassive. It was a face that seemed prepared for anything.

“Well, if you’re not going to answer…”

“The legion commanders associated with you, Sir Deon…”

“……”

“They’re being killed off, aren’t they?”

That was exactly the answer he’d been expecting. So that’s why he’d asked about his superior’s role.

‘And he offered the glass after hearing a positive answer… Does that mean if I’d said no, he would have just dropped it?’

Deon swirled the glass of poison in his hand.

In other words, as long as his superior is safe, he doesn’t care what happens to the other legion commanders. Typical demon mentality.

He wasn’t surprised at being found out. It was only a matter of time before someone pieced things together. One person already knew. But was he imagining things, or was there someone else pulling the strings behind this demon’s little scheme?

‘Develania.’

The name of one demon readily came to mind.

Then Dahar reached out. As if deciding to go all in since he’d been found out, his long, black fingernails hovered over the glass in Deon’s hand, dripping beads of ominous liquid.

Deon watched him calmly, then lifted his gaze. His eyes met Dahar’s, which hadn’t wavered for a moment since he’d started dripping poison into the glass.

“I was prepared to be discovered from the start.”

Anger, betrayal, grief, hatred… and resolve.

His eyes, brimming with a torrent of suppressed emotions, trembled with the strain, but they were far from weak.

“…Really?”

After a beat of silence, Deon’s lips curved into a smile.

He wasn’t oblivious to the implication—this was a fight to the death, one way or another. Perhaps the poison of suspicion was already spreading, and killing him wouldn’t change anything.

He slowly swirled the glass, ensuring the poison mixed thoroughly with the drink. Then…

“First off, I get that you think I’m behind the legion commanders’ deaths.”

“……”

“And in response…”

Deon tossed back the rest of the poisoned drink. He set the empty glass on the railing, meeting the wide-eyed gaze of his stunned opponent, and smiled thinly.

His hand, which had been toying with the empty glass, suddenly flicked it over the edge.

“You hit the nail on the head.”

“……!”

“But you’re the one who’s going to die, not me.”

Crash—!

The sharp sound echoed ominously.

Did you really think I’d be stupid enough to kill you right here and now? A blatant sneer escaped his lips.

Even as commander-in-chief and head of the 0th Legion, he couldn’t just kill an adjutant from another legion. Not especially now, with so many capable demons already dead.

He needed a justification. A reason to kill this demon that no one would question, a reason everyone would accept.

‘This sensation… it’s been a long time.’

Maybe it was demon poison; it seemed to be taking a while to detoxify. A burning, nauseating sensation was rising fast.

Cough—

It had been a while since he’d coughed up blood.

“Sir Deon!!”

Ben, his face ashen, burst onto the terrace.