The Demon Lord’s Domestic Woes and Albert’s Devious Plans

Unbeknownst to her, a month had already passed since Freya arrived in Green Village.

Each morning, at the first crow of the rooster, she would open her weary eyes, dragging her numb body to wash vegetables, cook meals, and tend to household chores. All the while, she would subtly urge Roland to recall his past memories.

To earn the Hero’s trust, the young Demon Lord Freya diligently embraced the ideal of a harmonious family, centered around Roland. Her sole purpose was to serve her husband wholeheartedly, ensuring he would swiftly regain his lost memories.

From washing clothes and preparing food to warming his bed before sleep, Freya meticulously managed every task. She rigorously fulfilled her duties as a virtuous wife and loving mother.

All these preparations were made with the hope that Roland would soon recover his memories of the Holy Sword. Only then could she complete her grand mission: burying the Hero six feet under.

“The dish tastes a bit salty today,” Roland remarked, frowning as he smacked his lips at the dinner table. “Your cooking isn’t up to par, is it? Ah, if I can’t eat well, I fear many things will remain hazy in my memory these next few days. What do you say?”

“I’ll go back and remake it right away! Cough, cough!” Freya exclaimed, still chewing her food. Disregarding her meal, she swiftly picked up the offending dish and scurried into the kitchen, where a cacophony of clanging pots and pans soon erupted.

Watching Freya’s flustered demeanor, Roland found himself amused. The former ruler of the demon realm was now in a panic over a poorly cooked dish.

Roland knew, even without guessing, that this little Demon Lord had certainly never cooked before. Every time she stepped into the kitchen, she ended up covered in soot, ultimately requiring his mother to intervene and clean up her mess.

“Ah! It’s ruined, it’s ruined!” a scream echoed from the kitchen. “The pot! It’s broken!”

Roland sighed, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. ‘Should I just secretly contact the nearby church and have them send someone to eliminate this troublesome little Demon Lord?’

However, weighing the pros and cons, such an action would undoubtedly implicate many innocent people. A Demon Lord, after all, was still a Demon Lord; who knew what contingencies she might have? What if she decided to go on a rampage here?

‘Ah, I’ll just bear with it for now.’

“Ah! It’s ruined, it’s ruined!” A much louder shriek reverberated from the kitchen. “The stove has collapsed! It’s completely fallen apart!”

‘I can’t take it anymore!’

‘I absolutely must find someone to get rid of her!’

****

Several miles from Green Village stood a castle named Paimon Keep. The surrounding lands formed a barony under Baron William, and all the local farmers and artisans were subject to Baron William Smith’s jurisdiction.

Within a lavish bedroom in Paimon Keep, Albert Smith, Baron William’s beloved son, finally rose from his twin handmaidens after a night of exhausting ‘conquests’.

“Hoo—” Albert stretched languidly, pushing himself up. He spread his robust upper body like a bird unfurling its wings, then casually patted the supple buttocks of one handmaiden.

The handmaiden, having practiced this routine countless times, instinctively went to the washroom to prepare her master’s toiletries.

The other handmaiden lay pale on Albert’s chest, yet her seductive gaze revealed she was still savoring the lingering afterglow of the previous night.

“Don’t you dare slack off. What about the morning relaxation exercises I taught you?” Albert asked with a wicked grin, his hand applying slight pressure.

“Ah… Master, I’ll just take a moment…”

“You’ll have plenty of time to rest today. This young master is about to depart to—*hiss*—*mm*—inspect the properties within my father’s domain—*mm-hmm*, well done, I haven’t wasted my efforts training you two little things…”

A servant outside gently knocked on the door, speaking cautiously: “Young Master Smith, Mr. Wright has arrived.”

“Tell that fat oaf to wait a moment longer!” Albert roared towards the door, a hint of malice in his voice. “He’s just a petty market administrator; letting him wait is me gracing him with my presence.”

“Yes…”

A quarter of an hour later, Albert emerged from his room, looking refreshed after his ablutions. He deliberately left the buttons of his white shirt undone, showcasing his powerful chest muscles.

“Oh, Young Master,” Wright said, patting his round head and wearing an apologetic expression. “My sincerest apologies, I arrived a bit too early and interrupted your morning exercises.”

“It’s quite alright,” Albert replied, waving a hand dismissively. A vibrant aura emanated from his strong physique. “I mustn’t forget my duties as the lord’s eldest son, either.”

“Ah! Ah! This, this is!” Wright’s greasy face contorted into an expression of twelve-fold surprise. “Congratulations, Young Master, congratulations! To reach level 10 immediately after awakening your magical power! Such a formidable magical aptitude, I daresay it rivals even the Baron himself! May this humble one be so bold as to ask… what Divine Mandate did the Church bestow upon you?” Wright’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.

“Is that for you to ask?” Albert scoffed, casting a disdainful glance at him, then smiled smugly. “But I suppose telling you won’t hurt. A Pugilist, naturally.”

“The Young Master’s future is limitless!”

****

A small town, a few miles from Green Village and the closest to Paimon Keep, served primarily as a transit point for many, making its name rather insignificant.

The town boasted a sizable market where farmers from nearby villages came to purchase goods. Consequently, it drew a multitude of vendors.

“Come one, come all! Feast your eyes on Paimon Beef Burgers, packed with succulent meat, juicy goodness, and fresh vegetables!”

A food stall owner flipped vibrant red beef patties on a sizzling griddle. The steaming meat hissed enticingly as he added a few green vegetables and two soft buns, completing a Paimon Burger.

“Paimon Instant Noodles—essential emergency provisions!”

Another vendor presented a jar filled with dehydrated noodles, though its connection to Paimon remained a mystery.

Surrounded by an array of tantalizing foods, Freya found tears involuntarily streaming from her mouth.

‘I truly crave something delicious…’ she thought. ‘I’ve been playing the good woman for so long at that idiot Hero’s house, and that scoundrel hasn’t bought me a single good thing to eat! I’m practically going insane eating those terrible scraps every day!’

Thinking of that scoundrel filled Freya with indignation. Hadn’t she just accidentally broken a pot? And now he had forbidden her from even touching the kitchen! He had even haughtily ordered her to sell the harvested wool, a journey so far her feet would surely be worn raw.

She glanced down, a pang of regret in her heart, at her delicate toes, now stained with yellow mud from the long trek.

As a Demon Lord, she certainly didn’t neglect her hygiene like common monsters. She used to bathe twice a day, maintaining her pristine and noble appearance.

One of her favorite pastimes was to soak in a bath, sipping a cup of demon blood-wine, while watching monsters perform brutal combat before her.

‘Alas, I never thought this Demon Lord would see such a day. Now, I’m destined for a life of toil…’

‘Forget it, forget it… I’ll just sell this wool first…’ Finding a spot to sit, Freya unfurled a straw mat as Roland had instructed.

She placed a thick bag of wool upon it, with a sign in front that read: “Fine Green Village Wool, 10 copper coins per pound.”

‘Hmph, wool of this quality can’t even compare to the fur of the Thunderlight Sheep from my demon realm,’ she scoffed internally. ‘No idiot would actually buy this, right?’

After her silent derision, Freya couldn’t be bothered to hawk her wares like the other vendors. She stretched, then lazily began to doze off.

After an indeterminate amount of time, she heard someone calling her name.

“Hey! You stupid woman, where are you from? Don’t you know the rules? Where’s your vendor’s permit?”

A rotund figure loomed before her.

“Hmm?” Freya shook her head to clear it. “What is it?”

“No permit, no vending!” The plump man before her snorted, a puff of air escaping his nostrils. “Hmph, a country bumpkin who knows nothing of proper conduct! You’re operating illegally, so I’m confiscating all your goods. Hand them over!”

With a practiced motion, honed through hundreds of repetitions, Wright swiftly snatched the bag of wool from Freya’s stall.

‘Damn it!’ Freya instantly sobered up. She had forgotten Roland’s stern warning to process the necessary paperwork at the administration office before setting up her stall. She had actually forgotten!

‘No, I can’t let this fat oaf take the wool. If I mess this up too, that idiotic Hero will mock me endlessly, let alone trust me!’

‘Perhaps… I should just butcher him?’

Sensing his magical fluctuations, she estimated the fat man was only around Level 6, merely a bit stronger than an average villager. Although her power had significantly regressed due to her reincarnation, dealing with such a weakling would be no problem.

However… there were far too many people around now. She couldn’t act here. If she accidentally revealed even a trace of demonic aura, the Church’s pursuit would be incredibly troublesome, and she wouldn’t be able to look after that idiotic Hero anymore.

‘What should I do…?’

Freya was burning with anxiety.

****

“Wright, wait a moment.” A tall, handsome figure appeared before Freya. “Put that bag of goods down. Our Smith family rules this land; there’s no need to be so harsh with our own subjects.”

He had neatly cut golden hair, a high-bridged nose, and perfectly white teeth.

A silver earring bearing the Smith family crest adorned one ear, and his sculpted muscles exuded boundless masculine charm.

Albert approached Freya with a hearty smile. “Little girl, it’s so hot today, there’s no need to wear such a thick hood, is there?”

With that, before Freya could react, a hand swiftly lifted her hood.

‘Hiss—what a… siren!’

Albert and Wright thought in unison.

‘My judgment was indeed correct. I had spotted that fat oaf from afar, harassing a new vendor. Initially, I paid no mind, but something about this country girl seemed different. I specifically came over to observe, and what a discovery it turned out to be!’

‘Heh heh, this woman is prey that this young master must claim!’

“Don’t get handsy,” Freya said, frowning with displeasure. “I’m new here and not familiar with the rules. If it’s just missing paperwork, I can complete it now.”

Albert exchanged a knowing glance with Wright, who, understanding perfectly, returned a subtle nod.

“Heh heh, rules are rules,” Wright declared, adopting an officious expression. “Your ignorance of the regulations is your own fault, and your illegal operation is already a completed fact. Therefore, even if you complete the paperwork now, it won’t rectify your mistake.”

“Although Young Master Albert, the heir of Baron William Smith, the ruler of Paimon Keep, has interceded on your behalf, as a market administrator, I am obligated to act on such violations! I must confiscate your goods today and impose…” Wright paused, then chuckled, “a fine of ten gold coins!”

“Ten gold coins!” Veins pulsed on Freya’s forehead. “Why don’t you just rob me?! Do you take me for a fool?!”

“Why are you shouting so loudly? Watch your tone, or I’ll have the enforcement squad arrest you.” Wright, clutching the bag of wool, walked away without a backward glance.

“Don’t you dare leave…” Freya began to pursue him, but Albert extended a hand to stop her. “What are you doing?!”

‘Just a Level 10 Pugilist,’ Freya instantly sensed, noting his flashy magical fluctuations.

“Little girl, don’t be hasty.” Albert offered a benevolent smile. “While my plea may not be very effective, I believe my father, the Baron of Paimon Keep, holds some sway. Why don’t you return to Paimon Keep with me and see if he can assist you?”

“Are you insane? A dignified Baron helping a commoner? Do you truly take me for an idiot?” Freya laughed, exasperated. “Don’t you nobles all regard commoners as livestock?”

“There’s no need to speak so harshly. Not all nobles are the same,” Albert patiently explained. “My father is a benevolent lord who deeply cares for his subjects. He will surely help you, and besides, I’ll put in a good word for you. Rest assured.”

As he spoke, Albert secretly opened a small vial hidden in his sleeve, giving it a shake. A colorless, odorless gas drifted out.

“Heh, I think it would be better if I just slaughtered you and that fat oaf… slaughtered…” Freya’s eyes slowly glazed over. “Hmm… you… can help me?”

“Yes, as long as you return to Paimon Keep with me, you’ll get your goods back immediately,” Albert promised confidently.

“Then… alright…” Freya’s expression was somewhat bewildered. “Paimon Keep… where is it?”

“Take my carriage,” Albert said, waving for his coachman to approach. The moment he turned away, a triumphant grin spread across his face.

‘Heh heh, that Soul-Snatching Water from the black market is truly effective.’

‘I wonder what this woman’s body tastes like…’

‘I can hardly wait…’