Chapter 41: The Escape and the Grandfather’s Scheme

“Lamia… I’m so sorry, what I said just now was a complete misunderstanding, truly—!”

Upon hearing Lamia’s terrifying inner thoughts, Wade immediately capitulated. He clapped his hands together, his face etched with an apologetic smile.

‘Drain my magic? What exactly is this Demon King planning?’

‘How would she drain it? Would she use some special spell to destroy all my magic circuits?’

‘No, that would still be preferable. My magic circuits wouldn’t be so easily destroyed. Rather…’

‘These words… she couldn’t have learned them from that Arch-Succubus, could she?’

‘If it *was* from the Arch-Succubus—does she even know what she’s saying? No, does she even know what she’s *thinking*?!’

‘This is incredibly dangerous!’

‘My Lamia, please stop learning such strange things from that Arch-Succubus!’

Hearing Wade’s near-pleading voice, Lamia turned to look at him again, her lips pursed in displeasure. Seeing her expression, Wade repeated his apologies several more times.

He was drenched in sweat, utterly exhausted from trying to avoid being “drained.”

He had to keep his voice low to avoid drawing the attention of the other nobles and the Pope on stage, yet simultaneously convey enough sincerity to Lamia. Being a superhero truly wasn’t easy.

“…”

“Pfft…”

It wasn’t until Wade uttered his tenth apology that Lamia finally burst into laughter. Watching his meek, subdued demeanor, her expression shifted from displeasure to a proud smile.

[Hmph, it seems the White Knight is truly wrapped around my finger!]

“…Haaah…”

After a brief moment of stunned silence, Wade let out a helpless sigh upon hearing Lamia’s inner declaration.

‘Ha! Who’s wrapped around whose finger? Don’t be so confident. I’m merely doing this for world peace! 😠’

‘On the contrary, *you* were appeased by just a few words from me. You must have some special feelings for me, surely. You’re the one who’s truly fallen! It’s you, Demon King, who has long been wrapped around *my* finger! 😤’

“Alright, seeing as your apology is so sincere, I suppose I’ll forgive you.”

Lamia lifted her chin, gazing at Wade with a slightly condescending, yet confident smile. Naturally, Wade felt a pang of indignation at being looked down upon by the Demon King.

However, remembering the importance of maintaining a good relationship with Lamia, he suppressed his feelings. Still, it wasn’t a particularly unpleasant sensation; rather, it felt a little like playful banter.

“When will this meeting finally end?”

Lamia watched the incessantly talking Pope on stage, and Wade followed her gaze with a quick glance. Neither of them had clearly absorbed a single word of the Pope’s sermon, much like two students eagerly awaiting the end of a dull lecture.

“I don’t know. It depends on how long he decides to speak.”

Wade had no definite answer. The Pope’s sermons varied in content and length each time. Since taking office, this Pope seemed to enjoy summoning them for both grand assemblies and smaller gatherings, all apparently to solidify his position and influence among the nobility.

Yet, surprisingly, few nobles ever refused to attend. This Pope was a staunch advocate for bloodline supremacy, always delivering speeches that high-ranking aristocrats loved to hear.

He clearly understood that within the Church’s overall system, the support of commoners wouldn’t fluctuate significantly. Commoners typically visited the church for prayer or events at the cathedral; their focus was on the divine and the sacred space itself.

As long as the Pope wasn’t so corrupt as to sever their right to pray and communicate with the gods, the common people would raise no objections.

This current Pope neither stole, nor plundered, nor demanded tribute of young boys. The internal workings of the cathedral remained largely unchanged, with everything proceeding as usual. Naturally, the commoners had nothing to complain about, content to remain in their familiar surroundings.

Once the commoners were appeased, the next step was naturally to engage with the nobility.

Unlike the common folk, nobles, while also paying lip service to “obeying divine teachings,” were fundamentally driven by their own interests. Their primary contact was with the Church’s upper echelons—the Pope and other leaders. This, therefore, required the Pope himself to put on a good show.

And it seemed this Pope was rather adept at flattering these nobles; these old figures were quite willing to attend his sermons.

Essentially, however, this Pope wasn’t bad. He was willing to use the funds donated by nobles to renovate cathedrals for commoners’ prayers and to support orphanages, even distributing gruel to the poor.

He hadn’t embezzled a single coin of the money nobles donated for public facilities merely to save face; sometimes, he would even pay out of his own pocket for necessary repairs.

It was precisely because he performed such useful deeds that Wade’s grandfather had never voiced any opposition. Instead, he contentedly lived out his retirement as the former Pope, enjoying his golden years in the Church’s back garden.

“Even if we leave now, no one will truly care, will they?”

Lamia couldn’t absorb a single word of the Pope’s pronouncements. She was inherently uninterested in such pompous speeches, and even less so in those from the human faction.

She tugged on Wade’s sleeve, subtly gesturing with her chin to indicate they should simply leave together through the small back door.

“…Huh? Leave right now?”

However, Wade was still a rather proper individual. After all, he bore the title of a Knight, and he dared not act too brazenly.

“Of course. Let’s go. He’s only spouting meaningless drivel anyway.”

Seeing Wade hesitate, Lamia took the initiative.

As a sovereign, she wasn’t one to dither over such trivialities. She simply reached out and pulled Wade up, intending to lead him stealthily out while hunched over. But then—

“You two in the back! Sit down properly!”

They had been standing for barely half a second. Their presence was far too obvious, and the preaching Pope immediately noticed the two figures at the very back.

But having already stood up, what was the point of sitting back down?

So, Lamia pressed down on Wade’s back, making him hunch lower. As an outsider who had barely interacted with the Pope, she positioned herself in front of him, then whispered conspiratorially into his ear:

“I’ve prepared lunch for you. It’ll get cold if we don’t eat soon. Do you want to stay here and listen to that old man’s boring lectures, or choose the loving lunch your wife made for you ❤️?”

“…!”

‘It was practically the whisper of a demon.’

‘Choose between a boring lecture and his wife’s lunch?’

‘Was that even a choice?!’

“I said, you two! Sit down! You—you scoundrel!”

Under the Pope’s increasingly urgent shouts, the hunched-over Wade, in turn, grabbed Lamia’s hand. Without a backward glance, he led her slipping out through the back door, even remembering to close it behind them, effectively shutting out the Pope’s voice.

Although Wade appeared to be a law-abiding knight, in truth, he had used this small back path countless times.

In his youth, this had been his grandfather’s domain. His grandfather often came here to preach, though the topics were somewhat different.

However, Wade never paid attention; he always found it boring. So, he would frequently sneak out through the back door.

Back then, his grandfather had tacitly allowed his “skipping class” behavior as a child. For a youngster, his profound sermons truly held little practical use.

More often, his grandfather simply wanted him to become familiar with the atmosphere and recognize the people there.

As he grew older, he ran away less often.

For one, he had established his own identity and was now a person of standing, so simply running away wasn’t appropriate. Secondly, the Pope had changed, and the new one wouldn’t indulge his escapes.

Adulthood was far more troublesome than childhood; even the desire to skip class had become a luxury.

But—look, it wasn’t that he stopped running; it was just that he hadn’t had a reason, hadn’t had an opportunity.

Even as the superhero White Knight, he occasionally wished to do something against the rules.

One couldn’t be bound by rules and regulations their entire life… that would be far too exhausting.

Wade and Lamia both possessed incredibly high stamina. They burst out the back door without even a hint of breathlessness.

He pulled Lamia along, running until they reached a populated area, where he then casually stopped, trying to compose his expression to avoid being seen as strange.

—Of course, they couldn’t maintain it.

Merely seeing the excitement sparkling in each other’s eyes, both Lamia and Wade failed to suppress their smiles.

“Puh-ha…”

“Hahahaha.”

The two exchanged a glance, and then uncontrollable laughter erupted from them both.

Though they mentally urged themselves not to draw too much attention, their laughter simply couldn’t be reined in instantly.

Their hands remained tightly clasped, making them look like a young couple recalling a cherished, happy memory.

Wade was the first to realize that he and Lamia were holding hands. Sensing the warmth and softness of her palm, he didn’t release her; instead, he squeezed her hand a little tighter.

‘Have you heard of the suspension bridge effect?’

‘When people are nervous or excited, their hearts race. This normal physiological reaction is often misinterpreted as romantic attraction towards the person nearby, amplifying any existing fondness.’

‘For Wade, this very moment was surely a suspension bridge effect in action.’

He held Lamia’s hand tightly, knowing full well she was the Demon King, an enemy, yet he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

****

“Hohoho… this is precisely how it should be.”

From a nearby building’s upper floor, Wade’s grandfather still meticulously observed Wade and Lamia below through his binoculars.

During his recent communication with Lamia, the old man had learned that in this unusual romance, Lamia was the proactive one, while Wade harbored some resistance. After all, in his heart, dating a Demon King felt somewhat peculiar.

Now, seeing Wade’s smile and the way he held Lamia’s hand, the old man knew—’It’s a go!’

‘Perhaps within a year or two, I’ll finally be able to hold my grandchildren!’

‘Hohoho, ideally one grandson and one granddaughter! Oh, I’ll definitely be the happiest among all the retired old men. I’ll show them our wonderful grandchildren; they’ll certainly be a hundred times cuter than theirs! 😋’

‘Wait, Wade calls me grandfather, so they’d be my great-grandchildren, wouldn’t they? 🤔’

‘Never mind! As long as they exist, that’s what matters! 😋’

‘Oh, by having Wade win over Lamia, I can solve the problems between humans and demons, find Wade a wife, *and* get to dote on my grandchildren! I truly am the cleverest Pope of my generation! 😙~🎶’

“…”

Listening to the old man by the window cackle strangely, Zelin, who had been brought here, felt utterly bewildered.

Still, the blueberry pastries on the table were indeed delicious. While the old man was preoccupied looking outside, Zelin quickly devoured several of them.

“Where did you buy these pastries? The taste is truly—”

Before he could finish his sentence, he suddenly felt a wave of icy dread wash over him.

“👿 Who gave you permission to eat the pastries my granddaughter-in-law gave me…?”

“…Eh? Eh? 😨—Ngh?! 😱”

Before he could even turn his head to look at the old man who had appeared beside him unnoticed, Zelin’s world spun. He was sent flying across the room with an over-the-shoulder throw.

“Hmph… 😠”

Glancing at Zelin, who lay sprawled to the side, the old man clapped his hands. He then picked up a blueberry pastry, declared it delicious, and returned to the window, binoculars in hand, to observe Wade and Lamia once more.

‘Heh… youth truly is wonderful. 🥰’