The Demon King's Sweet Conquest (GL) - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Iridescent Spiral

Viola raised no questions regarding the devil’s words. Her blade, acting as her greeting, sliced toward the intruder’s throat. Every intangible object attempting to block her path vanished under the weight of absolute power.

“You truly are powerful.” The devil actually had the leisure to tease. The dragon’s pressure failed to stall her pace; despite wearing heavy armor, she moved with extraordinary agility.

The devil’s weapons were two jagged, serrated blades, which seemed somewhat discordant with her heavy plate.

Viola was not provoked by her attitude. Her fully unleashed presence surged around the sword’s edge; the two-handed broadsword seemed to double in height and width, swinging downward with a heavy, bone-chilling howl of wind.

The devil hurled the blade in her left hand, dodging the V-shaped execution strike by the narrowest of margins.

Cynthia had already vanished from sight, likely falling into a deeper level of sleep—otherwise, the entire dream world would have begun to crack.

Thinking of this, Viola no longer held back and spread her wings. The cloak on her back dissipated automatically, replaced by a pair of vivid red wings belonging to the dragon kin.

“What a coincidence, I can fly too,” the devil chuckled. Her phantom wings passed through her armor, allowing her to take flight as well.

There was no room for hesitation; consecutive clashing sounds exploded in the air.

Cracks finally began to appear on the devil’s armor. Her speed was no longer enough!

The fatal blow came swiftly. The moment the blade broke through the breastplate, the devil smiled: “Thank you for providing the answer.”

“Speak. Were you summoned by Francis, or is the sleeping Demon King about to awaken?” Viola’s brow furrowed.

Before an answer could be given, the devil’s image shattered like shards of colored glass, and with it, the entire dreamscape collapsed.

Viola opened her eyes in the forest. Beside her, Cynthia was still deep in sleep. The power of a Great Dragon was too heavy; it was only natural for the dream to fall apart.

She reached out and pressed the girl’s hand into her palm, ensuring the safety of her dream.

“Cynthia is special, Viola.” The face in her memory had begun to blur, but that joyful tone remained clear.

Cynthia was special; she knew this well. Her other hand rose to brush away Cynthia’s bangs, revealing a very faint, upward-curving mark.

I am… special.

Cynthia stood on a vast stone platform, the edges of which were nowhere to be seen.

“As expected of Princess Cynthia, a task like this is nothing to her.”

“Who? Princess Cynthia? Well, no wonder then~”

Praise of this sort echoed through the space. There were no flowers, no applause—only hollow, “matter-of-fact” tones.

The sentence structure of “Because she is Princess Cynthia, therefore—” was something she didn’t exactly hate, nor did it make her happy. It was just too much. Far too much.

Cynthia slowly crouched on the stone platform. A handsome young man approached from behind, his presence casting a shadow. His wide cloak resembled the spread wings of a hunting hawk.

“It’s Princess Cynthia… how truly… an eyesore.”

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” Cynthia’s eyes were clear. She looked directly at the Francis in her dream: “In reality, you would never say that.”

The image of the youth dissipated, yet Cynthia remained stranded on the dream platform.

Because I am Princess Cynthia, I am loved.

Because I am Princess Cynthia, I am hated.

When escaping the palace, she had been afraid that she could no longer exist as “Princess Cynthia.” But after truly walking out of the Royal Capital, she felt a tiny bit happy.

Once I shed the symbol of “Princess Cynthia,” what kind of person will I become?

The next morning, Floria was still lingering in her sister’s fragrant and soft embrace. Sleeping while hugging a “doll” was just too comfortable—

“Highness, it is time for your meal.”

As the voice rang in her mind, her ear was still being tickled.

Floria ducked her head under the quilt abruptly, then popped out from the other end like she was throwing a tantrum: “Call me properly next time!”

“Yes, Miss.” Barbatos directly lifted Floria’s calf to help her put on her shoes. Among noble girls, small boots with intricate laces were currently in fashion; these were easier to walk in than dance shoes but far more tedious to put on. At the very least, it was hard to manage while squatting down alone.

“I’ll handle the clothes! I know to undo the laces this time!” Floria picked up the dress, undid the laces as fast as possible, and pulled it over her head!

Then the dress fell directly to the floor. Barbatos picked it up silently and pulled it back on properly.

“Highness, currently the half-dragon is stronger. That is a temporary conclusion.”

“Ah? Oh.” Floria gave a dazed reply, not pursuing the question. She had long since put it out of her mind.

Not wanting to disturb the sleeping Katerina, the two walked to the study to continue their discussion.

“Regardless of how the Melanchthon City situation is handled, we must launch the ‘disguised merchant’ plan as soon as possible.” Floria hadn’t forgotten that her greatest asset was the dungeon.

“Yes. The carriage and the first batch of goods are prepared, purchased exactly according to your requirements.” The dungeon system could only exchange for dungeon buildings, furniture, and certain equipment at fair value. For things like commercial carriages and various sundries… it was much cheaper to buy them from human merchants with gold coins.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Miss Floria, are you free now?” It was Claude’s voice.

“I’m free. What is it, Grandpa Claude?” Floria was in a good mood.

Barbatos opened the door. Claude reported respectfully: “Miss, the letters may take a few more days. Would you like to take a look around the town?”

“Sure. What does this town primarily produce?” Floria followed him downstairs. Barbatos’s intelligence report said [No special products], but there had to be a source of income, right?

“Originally it was sausages and jam, but since the year before last, all fields were converted to grow grain.”

Truly an ordinary output. Converting to grain… due to war or unrest?

“Is there timber or mineral wealth? What about nearby cities?” In the early stages of construction, these two resources were desperately needed. She couldn’t live in a few rooms forever.

“Melanchthon City is closer to the forest and has timber. There are mines near Rock City, though I hear they’ve been abandoned for a long time.”

Fine, the distribution of starter resource points is exactly as expected. Sir Henry died at just the right time.

“Sister!” Katerina, having changed her clothes, appeared behind them, leaning shyly against the doorframe. Looking closely, the child’s emerald eyes were quite beautiful. She seemed afraid of being left behind.

“Come with us, Katerina.” Floria took her tiny hand. “You should also take a good look at your own territory.”

“But… Sister is back.” Katerina’s voice was small but insistent: “Sister won’t leave me again, right?”

Floria choked for a moment. Right, her “sister” was back. If it were the real Floria, she would surely help her sister shoulder the responsibility. Instead of letting things fall apart, it was only right to concentrate all the cards in their hands.

Even though she was a fake, if she said something like “you handle this territory in the future” now, it would seem very abnormal, like she was leaving a final testament.

“I won’t. But Sister will get tired if she does too much, so you have to learn along with me so you can help when you grow up.” Floria felt her fingers being gripped tighter, so she had no choice but to lead the little one out.

Human cubs are cute, but when they’re a hassle, they’re really a hassle.

They first arrived in front of a square-looking building. Like the large manor before, it hung a family crest: a purple rose symbolizing the Clovis family, with pearls symbolizing the Glint family upon it, and three ripples in the background.

Floria and Katerina did not share the same surname. Katerina followed her father [Clovis], while Floria followed her mother [Glint].

Why isn’t it a gold rose or an iron rose… wait, not the point. The three ripple decorations meant the two families on the crest had collectively produced three Queens since ancient times. It seemed the family history was quite long; no wonder someone was willing to remarry into it even after it had fallen to this state.

“Miss Floria, this is where we usually interact with the residents. You can hear their opinions here or help adjudicate matters.” After Claude finished explaining, he let Floria enter first.

The entire building was a wooden structure with gold and silver decorations, yet it still appeared very plain. A high-backed chair and a long table faced the door directly; rather than a place for discussion, it looked more like a dining area.

Floria found the chair facing the door and sat down: “Grandpa Claude, how often does someone apply for an adjudication?”

“There were more before the turmoil. Now, it has been a long time. Small disputes are handled directly by the guards.”

After Claude finished speaking, someone brought out a plate of sausages from the back. They were placed on the table alongside hot milk and boiled fruit.

I didn’t actually eat breakfast; turns out you really can eat breakfast here!

Floria silently picked up a dining knife and cut the sausages into small segments. The casing looked moist, and the meat had a fresh color; it probably wasn’t bad. The taste was neither too sweet nor too greasy—just right.

Seeing Katerina standing there watching expectantly, Floria habitually stuffed a piece into her mouth: “Sit down and have breakfast with Sister.”

Katerina’s eyes brightened, and she squinted happily under the influence of the delicious food, making Floria smile too.

“Highness, do you enjoy feeding human cubs?”

“I do. What of it?”

“Just taking note of your preferences.”

In a few days, Floria would probably be completely used to this mode of one thing on the surface and a chatroom in her mind.

The peaceful life was broken a few days later by a reply: Melanchthon City refused any form of cooperation and stated that they would only discuss the issue of inheritance once Floria reached adulthood.

Anyone with a brain could translate that: a traitor was in control of the city, or the person originally in control had become a traitor.

“Miss Floria! Please rest assured, once the situation improves, we will surely find an opportunity to counterattack!” Claude’s expression was deeply pained. Seeing that no matter how he comforted her, Floria remained stoic, he excused himself to discuss further solutions with his subordinates.

With no troops, no money, and only winter grain, while guarding two young ladies, he couldn’t afford to take risks.

Seeing the door close, Floria took a deep breath and stretched her muscles: “Change of plans. We move tonight.” Wait quietly until I’m an adult? You’ve got to be joking.

As a Demon King, leaving the offensive to a human old man was simply too ridiculous.

“Yes, Highness.”

The night in Melanchthon City was quiet. Ever since the administrative power was fully handed over to the Lady’s uncle, Vincent, a few years ago, the castle servants had grown accustomed to tiptoeing—doing their work without unnecessary talk.

That lord hated meaningless noise and hated pointed rumors even more. So even the patrolling guards tried to lighten their steps during their shifts.

The only person Vincent truly trusted was the butler by his side. Now, this butler was old; he could no longer stay awake all night for his master like he did in his youth. He went to sleep early, leaving the night watch to the valets he had trained.

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Master?” Opening his eyes, he saw a stern-faced Lord Vincent. The butler sat up from the sofa as quickly as possible. Ever since a certain incident, he always slept in his clothes.

“Let’s go,” Vincent commanded as usual. He always left the step of guessing the intent to his subordinates.

The old butler was far too familiar with this master, confident he would never guess wrong. He hurried to walk ahead of him—Vincent liked people to walk in front, with their backs to him.

Then, as the old butler walked, he pulled out his keys, preparing to open the basement door for his master. This late, the master waking him must be for…

This time, however, it was a little different.

Vincent actually accelerated his pace, walked ahead of him, took the keys, and gave him a gentle push.

The old butler’s consciousness wavered; something was telling him something wasn’t right. Unfortunately, he still couldn’t resist the invasion of the dream, because—he was actually fast asleep on the sofa, simply missing a set of keys and a fragment of memory.

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