Hernán woke with a headache that felt like his skull was splitting open.
He opened his eyes, grimacing at what was easily the most miserable morning of his life.
"You're up?"
Karine was already dressed in her usual clothes, sitting calmly on the edge of the bed. In her hands, however, was a folded outfit Hernán had never seen before.
"Did that come from the drawer?"
"Yeah. Looks like a 'first form' design. I've never seen this kind of outfit during our adventures."
Though its cut was plain, the design was clearly meant to expose the limbs. Just imagining Karine wearing it stirred something in him—and with that thought, he bolted upright.
"Did we really just… sleep?"
Karine gave a small nod. She unfolded the strange garment, examined it for a moment, then neatly folded it again and returned it to the drawer.
"Nothing happened," she confirmed. "You still have the suppression spell on your head."
"Karine…"
Hernán rubbed his temples, the pain throbbing harder. He thought of what the Demon King had said the night before.
"Is it possible the magic in my head… might cause problems in a low-mana environment?"
Karine didn't answer immediately. She stood, walked to the bed, and sat beside him.
"You'll be out of here before it becomes an issue."
"So… it will become an issue?"
Her silence spoke volumes. Then she added softly, "There's no reason to worry about something like that. Places completely devoid of ambient mana are rare."
Hernán met her eyes—calm, cold, noble blue—and the pain in his head pulsed again.
"And the spell can be safely dispelled when we return to the capital. I wouldn't make my future husband impotent."
She handed him his usual shirt. Her fingers brushed his shoulder—a light, cool touch that stirred a strange sensation in his skin.
Was that… arousal?
He couldn't be sure. But whatever it was, he hadn't felt anything like it in weeks—not since the spell.
"By the way, L."
The soft nickname, meant only for lovers, always managed to cut through his thoughts.
He looked at her instinctively.
"Who told you? About the spell problem. Was it the saintess? Potty?"
"…The Demon King."
Karine's expression didn't change. She only muttered, "I thought so."
She stood and walked toward the door, her long silver hair brushing across his face as she passed.
The fleeting scent of her hair almost made him forget the headache.
Almost.
✦
"Did you sleep well?"
Saint Marina greeted them when they stepped into the living room. Without her priestess hat, her long blond hair shimmered in the soft light.
"Yeah," Karine replied, sitting at the table. "Where's everyone else?"
Marina pointed toward the bathroom and hallway. "The other two are either getting cleaned up or dealing with… womanly matters."
She always described her cycle vaguely, as if it were holy business. Hernán had grown used to that sort of careful phrasing, though it still made him a little uncomfortable.
"Has the Demon King come out yet?" he asked.
"She's still tied up," Marina replied. "Silnia was supposed to bring her, but she stormed off earlier."
Hernán winced. Silnia dragging the Demon King around in the morning would only lead to shouting—and more headaches.
"I'll go get her."
Karine glanced up sharply. "You're going?"
"If Silnia handles it, we'll all regret it. Better I go."
Karine didn't stop him, but she didn't seem pleased either. He made a mental note not to speak too freely about the Demon King around her again.
He knocked once, then opened the door.
"Coming in. You awake—?"
"LET ME OUT!"
The Demon King's scream split the air. Hernán staggered back, clutching his head.
"Stop yelling!" he hissed. "My brain's going to explode."
"Hernán? Is that you?"
She twisted on the bed, eyes wide. The joy and nervousness in her expression made her look bizarrely innocent—despite being gagged, tied, and dressed like a sultry villainess from a bard's tale.
"I really need to pee. Like, now. Please untie me first."
"…You really are a succubus."
Still, something in her expression worried him. Her face was pale.
"Are you feeling sick?"
"Bathroom. Please."
It wasn't the answer he expected, but the desperation in her voice was clear.
"Wait… you demons use the bathroom?"
"Do elves shit glitter or something? Of course I do! What do you think, we just dissolve it into air?"
"You're a succubus. I thought you lived off… draining energy."
Sharpie glared at him.
"We eat. We poop. Get over it!"
Then her face crumpled again.
"…Seriously. If you don't hurry, it's gonna be bad."
Muttering curses, Hernán rushed through the hall with her in his arms.
Saint Marina raised her brows. "What's going on?"
"Bathroom emergency," Hernán said over his shoulder. "Nothing demonic, just biological."
He kicked the bathroom door open and came face to face with a shocked Potty.
"W-Wha—Why are you bringing that in here?!"
Potty pressed herself to the wall, clutching her robe.
"She needs the bathroom," Hernán said, already annoyed. "Get out or plug your ears."
He shoved open a cubicle and turned to Sharpie.
"Here. Hurry."
"Still tied!"
He scowled and pulled out his dagger.
"You rip your clothes and you're explaining it to Karine."
"Oh shut up and cut it already."
He sliced the ropes. She dove into the stall.
Hernán closed the door behind her, sighing as he turned—
"Th-thief…"
Potty was still staring at the stall, trembling.
"She's not doing anything. Just peeing."
"…B-But she's a demon…"
"She's a demon with a bladder," Hernán muttered. "Silnia!"
Her name was enough. The elf stomped in, her hair still wet, looking annoyed.
"What now?"
"Watch Potty. I'm leaving before I hear anything else."
"Hey! You didn't tell me why you called me—!"
"Ask Potty."
He left the chaos behind.
In the living room, Karine and the saintess were examining the day's meal.
"Where did that come from?"
Karine pointed at the wall. "A hole opened there. Food slid out on a tray, then the hole closed."
"Could we escape that way?"
"No. Too small. Too quick. You'd lose a limb trying."
Hernán nodded and turned to the food. It was basic: black bread, dried meat and fruit, cheese, water.
"Is this it? Feels like it's sized for four women…"
The portions weren't enough for a man to eat his fill, but Karine spoke up.
"Don't worry."
She lifted a silver tray from the wall.
It gleamed like her hair, and on it sat luxurious food, even sweets and tea.
"This was beneath the hole."
The saintess looked puzzled.
"A special meal?"
"There was a note."
Karine handed it over.
"Meal for Hernán Terotas and Karine Paoliates."
"Looks like we're getting favored," Karine said flatly.
Before he could respond, a painful shriek came from the hall.
"Don't pull the horn!"
Silnia marched out of the bathroom, tugging the Demon King along by one of her horns. Potty followed meekly.
"It's a pain in the ass," Silnia grumbled. "Every time we eat, we have to untie her just for a piss."
The Demon King whimpered. "Please, not the horn…"
Silnia didn't let go until she shoved Sharpie down into a seat at the table.
"Let's just kill her."
The words stung. Silnia might've had the spirit of a forest elf, but she burned like a warrior born for slaughter.
And this? This was not a battlefield. Hernán didn't want it to become one.
"S-Spare me…"
Sharpie turned pitiful eyes toward him—and Marina.
They were the only two who'd shown her any kindness since the party arrived here.
"Let her be," Hernán said. "She's powerless, and if anything happens, we outnumber her."
"Fine." Silnia grunted and smacked the demon's cheek. "But I'm watching her."
Karine, however, wasn't watching the demon.
She was watching Hernán.
Her eyes, sharp and unreadable, stayed fixed on him until he looked away.
The party began eating.
Sharpie winced, rubbing her forehead from where Silnia had slammed her into the table.
Hernán placed a plate in front of her. She blinked at him.
"You said it yourself," he muttered. "Even succubi need to eat."
Her expression brightened. She smiled with all the charm of her kind—heart-shaped eyes gleaming—and immediately bit into the bread.
Hernán sighed.
His headache wasn't going away.
And this strange house wasn't done with them yet.