****
Having spent a delightful time with Hereis, Jeha was in a buoyant mood as he made his way back to the Bellarossa mansion.
Resting his arm on the carriage window, he gazed out at the lively streets of Enkarosha. But something caught his eye—an unusual sight. Groups of people were huddled together, whispering among themselves. And it wasn’t just one or two clusters.
Focusing his hearing, Jeha caught snippets of their murmurs. A common thread ran through their conversations: the Marchioness Scarlet.
“Paimon.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Paimon, seated on the opposite bench, looked up. Jeha gestured with his chin toward the whispering crowd outside.
“They’re all gossiping about the Marchioness Scarlet. Do you know who she is?”
“Of course. She is a prominent figure in the imperial social circles. Renowned as a beauty since her youth, it is said that even royalty and nobles vied for her hand in marriage. Her family was distinguished, and she brought a substantial dowry, making her the most sought-after bride.”
“Oh, I see…”
“She married the Marquis of Scarlet, the Emperor’s right-hand man and a war hero, but she became a widow within just a few years.”
“Ah, that’s unfortunate…”
“Though she became a widow young, I hear that even now, countless young men seek her hand. With youth, beauty, and immense wealth, she is undoubtedly a desirable match.”
“I see… But how do you know so much about her, Paimon?”
“I have thoroughly familiarized myself with the current state of noble families on the Central Continent, given that you are the current Marquis of Bellarossa.”
“Oh…”
Jeha marveled once again at Paimon’s thoroughness. He truly was an excellent tutor and caretaker.
“Are you curious?” Paimon asked.
Jeha glanced at the clusters of people whispering along the roadside and nodded. Paimon tapped on the window connecting to the driver’s seat. The coachman stopped the carriage.
Opening the small hatch, Paimon whispered a few words to the coachman. The man nodded, hopped down from his seat, and walked over to the roadside. After glancing around for a moment, he returned with a shabbily dressed boy of about fifteen or sixteen.
“What can I do for you, sir?” the boy asked, bowing toward the carriage window.
Paimon tossed a silver coin through the window. The boy caught it deftly, his eyes widening as he saw the coin.
“It seems a rumor is spreading among the people. Tell my lord what you know.” Paimon’s tone was businesslike.
The boy tucked the coin carefully into his pocket, then scurried up to the carriage window and began speaking in a hushed voice.
“There’s this young widow called the Marchioness Scarlet. They say she’s incredibly beautiful and filthy rich. But now the Inquisitors have found out she’s a witch. Word has it she killed young, pretty girls and bathed in their blood to preserve her beauty. The whole continent is in an uproar over it.”
“…”
Jeha immediately thought of the historical Countess Bathory. The resemblance was uncanny.
“The Marchioness denies it, of course, but the Inquisitors have already declared her a witch, so she’s as good as dead. But since she’s a noble, they can’t torture her. Instead, they’re sending her here to Enkarosha for a church trial. That news just reached the Grand Temple, and the escort has already been on the road for several days.”
The boy poured out everything he had heard, afraid of missing a single detail.
Paimon glanced at Jeha. At Jeha’s nod, he tossed another silver coin to the boy. The boy caught it like a ghost, bowed, and scurried away.
The carriage resumed its journey toward the Bellarossa mansion. Leaning back in his seat, Jeha recalled the fate of Countess Bathory. She, who was said to have bathed in the blood of young girls, was eventually walled up in a tower and met a miserable end. Her vast wealth, of course, ended up in many other pockets.
“Is she really a witch?” Jeha asked.
Paimon shook his head.
“I cannot confirm without seeing her myself. But in the current situation, whether she is truly a witch or not seems unimportant.”
Paimon was right. Whether the Marchioness was a real witch remained to be seen. But it probably didn’t matter much. Even if she weren’t, no one would take her side. She was a wealthy widow, and if she died labeled a witch, many would benefit.
The same could be said for the Marquis of Bellarossa. If the Marquis were accused of heresy, few would defend him. On the contrary, they would gleefully tear him apart.
Suddenly, Jeha felt a pang of pity for her. But he decided to reserve judgment until he saw her. She might be a genuine witch who had made a contract with a demon. However, if she were merely an innocent victim…
Jeha let out a heavy sigh. He would need to discuss this with Hereis separately.
Upon arriving at the mansion, an invitation from the Fanucci family awaited him. And it wasn’t just a letter—the Fanucci butler was personally waiting in the drawing room with the invitation.
He handed the invitation directly to Jeha and left immediately. Sending the butler in person was a clear signal that they expected his attendance.
With a look of annoyance, Jeha opened the invitation. It was for a riverside picnic. Thankfully, it didn’t mention escorting Ainel.
“What a leisurely life,” Jeha muttered, setting the invitation down on the table.
While one woman, accused of witchcraft and stripped of all her possessions, was being dragged to Enkarosha to face death, others were enjoying a carefree riverside picnic. And still others were making pacts with demons to achieve their ambitions, while yet others busied themselves hunting down heretics.
The world was truly a bizarre place.
Trying not to sink into negative feelings, Jeha scooped up the heavy Kkamangi and hugged him tightly. Despite the creature’s hunger strike, its muzzle reeked of raw meat. It had clearly raided the kitchen while Jeha was away.
“Ugh, you adorable little fatty.”
Jeha cradled the squirming Kkamangi, cooing at it. But Kkamangi was so heavy that Jeha’s arms quickly gave out. As soon as he loosened his grip, the creature bolted away.
“By the time of the picnic, the novels should start circulating, right?” Jeha asked, massaging his aching arms.
“The copying speed exceeded expectations. Most bookstores in Enkarosha already have at least one copy each. In a few days, rumors about the novels will start spreading,” Paimon replied promptly.
Jeha nodded in satisfaction.
“Then I’ll attend the picnic as planned. I’m curious to see the nobles’ reactions.”
“I will prepare for your attendance. However…” Paimon hesitated, which was unlike him, and stared intently at Jeha.
“What?” Jeha blinked at the intense stare, feeling a sense of foreboding.
“For a picnic, you would need to ride a horse, not a carriage… Do you know how to ride?”
A sense of foreboding indeed…
Jeha shook his head. He had never even ridden a motorcycle, let alone a horse. Well, he had ridden a bicycle.
“Then you must learn immediately. A young and promising marquis who cannot ride a horse properly would be a laughingstock. I cannot allow my lord to become a laughingstock. I will have a horse prepared for practice at once.”
“It’s such a bother…” Jeha put on a pitiful expression. Despite being the Demon King of Sloth, lately he hadn’t been slothful at all except when sleeping. He wanted to live more lazily.
Paimon, who usually granted every request Jeha made, was unyielding this time.
“No. You must practice. Or else, give up on the picnic entirely.”
Paimon’s eyes flashed with determination to prevent his master from becoming a laughingstock.
“…Maybe I just won’t go to the picnic,” Jeha muttered, seriously considering it.
But Paimon raised one eyebrow and coaxed him in a softer voice.
“Wouldn’t it be good to learn now? Someday, don’t you want to travel the human world with your contractor or enjoy the scenery of the demon realm? Riding side by side, taking in beautiful views, your affection will deepen. Most of all, your contractor is skilled at riding—wouldn’t it be awkward if you alone cannot ride? Think of your pride as a man.”
Jeha knew Paimon was trying to manipulate him, but his ears perked up immediately. He was the Demon King, after all. Someday, he might need to ride a horse with Hereis, and he didn’t want to have to admit he didn’t know how. This was a matter of masculine pride.
“Fine. I’ll learn.”
Jeha felt his enthusiasm skyrocket as he nodded.
“Then I shall make the preparations.”
As Paimon turned away with a prompt reply, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Jeha pouted, feeling that he had been tricked by Paimon.