Chapter 13: The Demon Lord’s Scheme and the Grandfather’s Counter-Plan

“Husband, you suddenly lying next to me gave me quite a fright! I thought some villain had broken in. Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

Seeing Wade’s pained expression, Lamia quickly feigned a look of concern, covering her mouth in a show of surprise. Though her words were full of worry, inwardly, she grumbled:

‘[Hah! Serves you right! For hitting me so hard! I should just tie you to the bed and ravage you! I’ll drain all your magic, just like the Arch-Succubus taught me! Then, while you’re weak and magic-less, I’ll care for you every day, making you utterly dependent on me! Hmph! White Knight! You’re finished!]’

“……😨”

‘…Huh…?’

‘What… what is this woman even saying?’

The Demon Lord’s wicked scheme sent a shiver down Wade’s spine. Paralyzed by a throbbing pain in his waist, he sat on the floor, mentally dissecting Lamia’s finally revealed intentions.

‘But—but what?’

‘Which part is this? What is she talking about? 😨’

‘Has the Demon Lord’s wickedness reached a level I can no longer comprehend—?!’

Wade’s ingrained stereotype of Lamia, the Demon Lord, was that she must be an utterly evil demon. As the ruler of all devils, she had to be the embodiment of all malevolence.

Even before his birth, humanity had been locked in a struggle against the demon race, a conflict that had been recorded for two or three centuries.

The mutual animosity between their two races was deeply ingrained. Knights were meant to eradicate demons; this truth had long been etched into the heart of every individual.

No one would ever consider themselves the evil party. As knights, they were righteous warriors, and the demon race they fought against was, by definition, wicked.

Therefore, no one would ever believe a Demon Lord possessed a kind heart. Even if her recent protection of a lesser demon had momentarily stunned him, making him feel a sense of ‘guardianship’ from her, it did not mean he could acknowledge her existence or easily alter his perception of demons.

“It’s nothing… I’m fine.”

Despite the turmoil in his mind, Wade rubbed his aching back and waist, intending to stand up and return to the bed.

Yet, in the very next second, Lamia hurled something at him. It moved with such speed, a mere blur in the dark night, that Wade instinctively raised an arm to block it.

He even swiftly transitioned into a defensive, kneeling posture, ready to react instantly if it proved to be something dangerous.

Instead, with a soft ‘thud,’ a harmless, fluffy object patted his arm.

He glanced down. This item was all too familiar. Wasn’t it his pillow?

Though Wade usually slept alone, his double bed always held two pillows. Returning home was for relaxation; even a superhero might sleep with one pillow under their head and another to hug.

With Lamia’s arrival, she had immediately claimed the pillow he typically embraced. Fortunately, Wade had been sleeping rather tensely; otherwise, he might have instinctively rolled over and pulled Lamia into his arms.

Now, however, Lamia had thrown his pillow back at him.

“…This is…?”

“Your pillow.”

Lamia still appeared to be smiling cheerfully, but her inner thoughts told a completely different story.

“Husband, your back and waist must be hurting from that fall, right? If it hurts, then don’t move around so much. Just lie on the floor and sleep there.”

‘[You wretched White Knight, my back hurts now because of your hit! Normally, someone so helpless should be dragged out, head and hands locked in a stockade for the entire night. But since there are no torture racks here, you’re getting off easy. Go sleep on the cold, hard floor!]’

“…Huh? Isn’t that my bed…?”

“Isn’t this for your own good, Husband? Sleep soundly~”

‘[Hmph… You annoying man, just wait until I love you so much you can’t leave me. But I’m angry today, so no love today! I’ll love you tomorrow! 😡]’

“…😧…”

With each word from Lamia and her accompanying inner thoughts, Wade remained frozen in place. By the time he regained his senses, Lamia had already laid down.

She had even deliberately turned her back to him, pulling the thin blanket—which hadn’t been needed due to the mild weather—over herself. In a fit of pique, she even buried her head beneath the covers, clearly intending to ignore Wade completely.

“…”

‘She… she’s angry?’

‘What…? Should I… should I try to appease her?’

“Um… Lamia—?”

“I can’t hear you!”

He tentatively called Lamia’s name, but her palpable anger was so overwhelming that Wade swallowed the rest of his words.

“…”

He sat on the cold floor, the moonlight casting a chill upon his face. He found himself utterly at a loss for what to do.

*Tap, tap.*

As he sat in bewilderment, a faint knocking suddenly came from the adjacent door, followed by the soft inquiry of the night maid:

“Master, I heard some movement in your room. Is everything alright? Do you need any assistance?”

Wade whirled around, and his subconscious thought was, ‘My wife threw a tantrum, kicked me onto the floor, and now expects me to sleep here.’

‘But… what kind of situation is this?’

‘The White Knight and the Demon Lord had a fight and he’s forced to sleep on the floor? Can these words even be strung together?’

“No, it’s nothing… We were just moving some things around. Don’t worry.”

After much deliberation, Wade decided to brush off the inquiry. Otherwise, they might have to investigate who was the first to commit domestic violence.

“Very well, Master. Please get some good rest.”

“Yes, thank you.”

The footsteps outside the door gradually faded. Wade turned his gaze back to Lamia, listening to her faint inner thoughts, which were still grumbling about him.

‘Such deep resentment… This is clearly my room.’

Wade grumbled to himself, yet dutifully patted the pillow and lay down on the floor.

‘But why am I actually listening to her? Even if I were to force my way onto the bed and kick her off, nothing would happen, right? She probably wouldn’t dare reveal her identity in front of me.’

‘…Hmm…’

‘Never mind.’

‘I’ll just let her have her way today 😤.’

****

“—In any case, that’s what happened.”

The next day, Wade sat in a room at the church, recounting the events of the previous night.

“So, you’re saying your newlywed wife is the Demon Lord?”

Seated opposite Wade was the former Pope, who was also his ‘grandfather.’

When Wade was young, this old man had redeemed him. Otherwise, due to numerous brawls, he likely would have spent years in confinement undergoing reformative education.

As a child, Wade was a formidable fighter. Orphaned and penniless, he became a henchman for various bosses.

Being a minor, he usually faced no severe consequences after a fight. However, one time, he was caught and detained for his incorrigible behavior.

The boss had countless enforcers and didn’t care about losing one. So, Wade was left in the detention center until the old man, who would later become Pope, recognized his combat talent.

He then redeemed Wade, instilled in him a proper moral compass, and equipped him with the fighting prowess to protect others. He also bestowed upon him the name ‘Wade Nairt,’ which, when translated literally from ancient tongue, meant ‘White Knight.’

“Yes, that’s right, Grandfather—I apologize for not informing you about my marriage. But everything happened so suddenly and was incredibly tricky.

I worried that if I didn’t agree, she would disrupt the lives of other ordinary people, so I had no choice but to go through with it.”

Now, the only person Wade could confide in was his grandfather.

Only his grandfather knew his true identity as the White Knight and served as his absolute superior. His work as the Grand Captain’s assistant was merely a cover for his duties outside.

As the true White Knight, he solely followed his grandfather’s directives.

“Hmm…”

The old man’s eyes were never particularly large, and with age, his eyelids had drooped further. Long retired and relaxed, he appeared to be perpetually squinting, much like a kindly old grandfather basking in the sun on a small chair by a doorway.

“She specifically chose you to be her husband?”

“Something like that. I can hear her thoughts, and she keeps talking about becoming my wife, and… making me a happy husband or something—I suspect she might be employing some softening tactics, perhaps planning to weaken my willpower, or even my hostility towards demons, through such means.”

As Wade uttered the phrase ‘happy husband,’ his voice noticeably dropped. A sudden flush of embarrassment colored his ears.

The words that followed were then shouted with increased volume, as if to suppress his shame, making it seem like nothing had happened at all.

“It’s entirely possible. After all, humans only live for decades, perhaps a century, while demons can live for several centuries. Weakening your fighting spirit would indeed benefit the demon race.”

Although this was merely Wade’s speculation, born from his inability to fathom Lamia’s true intentions—a guess he himself found somewhat implausible—his grandfather readily agreed with his assessment, nodding in affirmation.

“Grandfather, please rest assured, my fighting spirit will not be weakened. With my willpower, I can resist the Demon Lord’s schemes.”

While he wasn’t certain if his theory was correct, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to instill some confidence in both himself and his grandfather.

“Of course, I believe in you, Wade. You are a good child, and in all these years, humanity has rarely seen someone as gifted as you.”

His grandfather chuckled, his eyes narrowing further whenever Wade’s talent was mentioned. It seemed Wade’s strength was indeed a great source of pride for the old man.

“So, Grandfather, what should I do? Should I find an opportunity to kill her? But… I’m not sure if she’ll reveal any weaknesses to me while maintaining such a complete disguise…”

“No, Wade, we’ll simply fight fire with fire.”

Faced with Wade’s aggressive murderous intent, his grandfather rejected the idea this time.

“Fight fire with fire?”

“Precisely. The Demon Lord—Lamia, right? Since she wants you to be a happy husband to soften your fighting spirit, why don’t we cooperate with her?”

“What?”

Wade froze, nearly losing his composure.

“But—”

“Hear me out, Wade.” His grandfather waved a hand, motioning for Wade to settle back into his seat. “My point is, why can’t we use the same method she’s employing?”

“…?”

Wade listened, blinking, and opened his mouth as if to speak, then hesitated.

“Are you suggesting…”

“My meaning is this: if she wants to make you the happiest husband to weaken your hostility, then we’ll play along with her scheme. And, in turn—why don’t we make *her* the happiest wife?”

“…Huh? 😨”