Chapter 68: Lamia’s Virtues and Wade’s Sweet Strategy

Lamia’s Virtues

Despite his inner teasing, Wade’s demeanor turned subtly serious.

Among the demon race, praise was regarded as a form of “recognition.” This, of course, was merely Lamia’s perception.

Wade now found himself thinking of her as a donkey with a carrot dangling before its nose. Those empty praises served as that very carrot, an ethereal lure that kept Lamia relentlessly, endlessly moving forward.

And Lamia? Despite a flicker of annoyance, her brows furrowed slightly. Still, Lamia remained quiet, her cheek nestled just beneath Wade’s collarbone, where a soft, rhythmic tremor accompanied her breathing.

Why the silence? Naturally, it was to prompt him to praise her!

[My shining qualities are simply too numerous to list, aren’t they? Hmph. A person as exceptional as this King is impossible to find, even with a lantern.]

Lamia, however, brimmed with pride, utterly oblivious to the subtle hint of awkwardness that flickered across Wade’s expression.

[All the ministers of the demon race praise me. They commend my diligence, my self-control, my keen ability to listen—especially Orlan—he—]

As this thought crossed her mind, Lamia paused, and Wade, who was privy to her internal monologue, inadvertently paused as well.

[He doesn’t seem to have praised me much…]

‘I knew it!’

The moment Lamia’s somewhat downcast thought surfaced, Wade understood perfectly! That fellow clearly wasn’t a good demon! He must be an oppressive old tyrant who never gives her a break!

As Wade listened to this inner monologue, he found himself huffing with indignation, his chest rising and falling even more dramatically than before.

Wade gently rubbed her head. Her core values, he mused, were actually quite sound—not in an imposing, righteous way, but in a profoundly “normal” sense.

Under the tutelage of his grandfather, Osias, he had learned to discern right from wrong, good from evil.

He never mentally categorized people by class or status, nor did he ever define good or evil based solely on outward appearance.

When good things occurred, everyone deserved to enjoy them. When bad things arose, the White Knight, the superhero, would find a solution. He knew he couldn’t purge the entire world of evil, yet he consistently strove to do all within his power.

He was a man who embraced romantic justice, yet he understood that humanity would never achieve a true utopia.

He was powerless to tip the world’s scales; where light existed, shadows inevitably followed, a truth immutable by anyone. Yet, for the small matters, those within his personal control, he would always strive his utmost.

For instance, at this very moment, he was championing Lamia’s cause—albeit entirely within his mind.

After all, he couldn’t exactly march to the Demon Lord’s castle gates, sword in hand, and bellow, “Orlan, come forth! How dare you mistreat your own Demon Lord?!” could he? And even if he did, the probable outcome would be Orlan summoning Lamia from some unknown location, forcing her back into her black armor, and making her fight him once more.

This kind of oppressive life simply won’t do, Orlan. If she were to encounter genuine warmth, her entire worldview might be irrevocably shattered.

Pondering this, Wade shook his head, not in resignation or sorrow, but with an implicit message to Orlan: ‘You’re utterly doomed.’

‘After all, it played right into his hands, didn’t it?’

His grandfather’s objective was to make Lamia more enamored with him, wasn’t it? Excellent! The enemy had just handed him a perfect weapon!

Bitterness and sweetness always present the starkest contrast. To drink medicine after savoring candy is pure torment, but what if the order is reversed? Medicine first, then candy? You see, it transforms into a reward. Children respond this way, as do adults—and the Demon Lord, of course, is no exception.

Now, this bitter draught had already been administered by Orlan.

What followed would be Wade’s own sugar-coated cannonball.

‘Ha, Demon Lord, you intend for me to be softened by your presence? No, no, no—that’s utterly impossible. The one destined to truly fall captive should be you!’

Listening to Lamia’s inner sorrow, Wade felt a sudden, profound clarity.

She lacked concern, lacked affection, resembling a child who could be swayed with a single toy. Wade, of course, understood this feeling intimately, for he himself had once been precisely the same.

From an underage enforcer, perpetually made to shoulder blame, to his current role as the White Knight, his experiences, though profound, spanned only a little over two decades, shaped by just two distinct groups of people. The first was the ‘board’ [of his former life], and the second was his Pope grandfather, Osias.

Precisely because he had once teetered on the precipice of survival, when his grandfather extended a hand, young Wade unhesitatingly reached out, tightly gripping that large palm. He did so for no other reason than—a lifeline.

He had grasped the right hand, and Osias had guided him onto the righteous path.

Lamia was equally fortunate, for Wade’s refreshingly normal perspective could also guide her onto a righteous path—or so he hoped.

But… praise…

To be honest, it posed a certain challenge.

Wade wasn’t adept at crafting eloquent words; this task would have been better suited for his system brother. Yet, this was undeniably his stage now, so…

“You… are very beautiful, Lamia. You are more beautiful than any woman I have ever seen.”

‘In any case, let’s start with appearance.’

Her exquisite features, a figure of superior grace, a perfectly proportioned height, and the added allure of fair, delicate skin.

Purely on appearance, Wade would award Lamia full marks. While such a sentiment might seem superficial, and even more so given their current intimate posture, it was undeniably true. Wade had to concede that Lamia had truly invested effort in her looks. After all, this was the handiwork of a Great Succubus; surely, those succubi conducted thorough market research.

[Hoo-hoo…!]

At Wade’s undisguised praise, Lamia’s eyes immediately sparkled. This was, after all, a source of profound pride for her, and a quality she believed to be exceptionally useful.

For the crucial art of “public attraction,” appearance was, after all, paramount.

[You praise my beauty… it must be because you’ve fallen for me!]

“And also… you’re very confident.”

This remark was delivered almost as an aside, a subtle jab. The Demon Lord’s confidence bordered on excessive, even veering into outright arrogance.

Only a few days have passed, and you already expect me to fall for you? What a fantasy.

“Hmph… indeed, I must be confident.”

[As a King, how could I possibly lack confidence!]

“And… you always make me very happy.”

Wade pursed his lips, finally uttering these words.

“Very happy?”

Lamia blinked once more, a faint smile gracing the corner of her lips.

“Yes, indeed.”

As Wade spoke, he realized he had unconsciously broken into a smile. It was a smile he instinctively mirrored after seeing Lamia’s own, which was why the words came so naturally.

Happy. Joyful. It was the truth.

‘I am truly happy that you can be my wife.’

This was the truth.

While Lamia’s constant presence seemed to invite a peculiar brand of trouble, he had to admit that these past few days had been undeniably enriching. Though the feeling was subtle, seeing her nestled there brought him an inexplicable joy.

He couldn’t pinpoint the reason… but in this singular moment, he was, at the very least, profoundly content.

In any case, he would simply leave it at that for now.

After all… I have to praise her. I can’t let her live under Orlan’s oppression forever, can I?

Wade’s words made Lamia blink. Her cheek rubbed upward against him, as if she, too, wanted to clearly see his smile.

Then, she smiled.

There were no extraneous thoughts, just a smile, one that even revealed her sharp fangs, which she called “canine teeth.”

‘See, I knew it.’

‘It’s not me who should fall, but you, isn’t it? This smile is proof that you’re about to be softened by me, Demon Lord.’

‘You… just smile. It’ll make you happier. Now that you’ve left the Demon Lord’s castle, left that sour-faced leader, don’t wear that repressed expression anymore.’

Perhaps smiles were contagious. The moment their gazes met, Wade found himself smiling along with her.

He didn’t know why, but a wave in his heart simply curved his lips upward.