When Hernán arrived in the living room, he saw the hero and the wizard poring over the life guide.
The book, which usually lay forgotten in the corner of the table, now glowed with a deep blue light, drawing everyone's eyes.
"It's happening again! New phrases are being added!"
The moment Hernán entered, blue light began to etch fresh lines into the blank spaces of the guide.
[The following benefits are awarded to Hernán for impregnating a woman.]
He stared silently at the slow, glowing script, trying to guess what sort of benefit it would bring. Perhaps not an escape method, but something to make life in this prison easier? Better food options, maybe entertainment?
Or perhaps something more in line with the place's perverse purpose—an aphrodisiac, for instance?
He hadn't felt particularly strained physically yet, but if he had to father nineteen children with the women here in the shortest time possible, his stamina would certainly be tested.
"What the hell is that?!"
Sharpie leaned between the women, craning her neck to read the inscription.
Hernán silently gave her space to peek, pushing away his thoughts. She would understand it soon enough.
[Hernán is granted one right of intercession for each pregnancy of a woman.]
"Intercession?" Sharpie echoed blankly.
"It means to mediate between God and man," the saintess answered swiftly.
As if responding to her words, more lines carved themselves into the glowing book.
[A woman must submit her wish through Hernán's right of intercession when using her own right of wish. If Hernán does not approve, the wish cannot be granted.]
"Wish ticket? What is this 'right of wish' now?" the hero asked, her voice sharp with anxiety.
Immediately, another entry emerged.
[The right of wish is granted once to each woman for every child she gives birth to.]
Potty read it aloud, slowly and carefully.
[She writes what she wants—or any question—into her personal wishbook and submits it to Hernán. She may only use the wishes she has personally earned.]
"There's another reward for giving birth?" Sharpie chuckled behind her palm.
Her light tone was in stark contrast to the hero's stiff, serious expression.
[Wishes will be granted as quickly as possible. However, unfulfillable or unanswerable wishes will not be accepted. Even in such cases, the right of wish is consumed—except for extraordinary circumstances.]
When the final sentence finished etching itself, the guide dimmed and returned to stillness.
Silence followed. No one spoke. Each person sat, digesting the implications.
Hernán turned inward, organizing the new knowledge.
So, after a woman gave birth, she received one right of wish per child. She could ask anything—request something she wanted or pose a question.
And, presumably, the demon god would answer or fulfill the request.
But now there was a catch.
Hernán had to approve it.
For every successful impregnation, he earned one "right of intercession." The women could no longer directly submit their wishes to the demon god—they had to go through him.
"This only benefits Hernán!"
Silnia suddenly stood up, her voice full of fury.
"So, a woman can only make a wish after giving birth? And even then, Hernán can just reject it? And even if he approves, the demon might still refuse it?"
She shook her head, disbelief and anger twisting her features.
"Who the hell is doing this?!"
"S-Silnia!" the saintess called out nervously. "This is a place created by the demon god. Please don't blaspheme…"
"Let him try and strike me down!"
Sharpie quickly backed away from the elf.
Hernán leaned toward her, uneasy. "Sharpie, if the demon gets angry… could it actually strike us down?"
"Nope," she said casually. "This place doesn't hand out punishments just because that elf is acting up again. Besides, what's the point of killing someone who isn't getting pregnant anyway?"
She let out a snort of laughter.
True enough, Hernán thought. If lightning fell every time someone cursed, there'd be no one left.
The ceiling remained unchanged. No thunder, no divine wrath. The guidebook didn't glow again either.
The room was the same as always—six people, five women, and one man, trapped together in the ever-watchful silence of the magical house.
"Let's have a brief meeting," Karine said.
She sat at the head of the long rectangular table, taking her usual place.
The others followed her lead. Silnia settled to her left, still fuming, while the saintess and Potty took seats beside her. Hernán sat to Karine's right.
Only Sharpie remained standing, arms crossed, quietly watching.
"What are you doing?" Hernán asked. "Aren't you going to sit?"
"You're letting me join the meeting?"
Why the sudden hesitation, when she usually inserted herself into everything without asking?
Sensing her confusion, Hernán gestured gently. "Why wouldn't you? This concerns everyone."
"The Demon King is in," Karine said coolly, as if granting permission.
Hernán turned to her, slightly surprised.
"She should be involved. She's the first one likely to give birth."
"That's why I'm allowing it," Karine replied.
Silnia grumbled, clearly not following the conversation's nuances, but the others remained quiet.
"Hernán."
Sharpie's voice was soft as she called him.
"Sleep really is the best remedy for pregnant women. You'll probably be out late, so I'll turn in early and skip dinner."
She smiled with calm assurance, as though nothing troubled her.
"Okay?"
Then, with a graceful nod toward the other women, Sharpie turned and walked into her room, closing the door behind her.
Hernán turned toward Karine.
"Explain something to me. Why are you suddenly excluding her?"
"L," the warrior replied, her expression blank. "Don't you think you've been too close to the Demon King lately?"
"She used to be our enemy. You can't involve her when information this sensitive appears."
"Enemy?" Hernán repeated, thinking of Sharpie.
Not long ago, she had indeed been the target of their mission—a being to kill, a means to an end.
But that had changed.
"You didn't exclude her when you said we all needed to get pregnant."
"That's because she was necessary to the escape plan," the saintess muttered gloomily.
"But this is different now," the wizard chimed in, glancing toward Karine for approval.
"Hernán," Karine said, "remember what we just read."
Instead of focusing on the demon god's new rules, he found his gaze drawn to his lover's face.
His head throbbed. Heat pulsed behind his eyes.
"You'll only understand once someone actually makes a wish," Karine continued. "But this wish system can drastically affect our lives."
She looked at him with cool rationality.
"And now, because of the right of intercession, the person controlling the wish system is… you."
But Hernán wasn't listening to her logic anymore.
He was still wondering—was Sharpie really their enemy?
She had once been. But not anymore.
Now… she was the mother of his child.
A strange bond had formed. One that hadn't existed before.
As Hernán tried to make sense of it, Karine continued.
"She'll try to use the wish system for her own gain."
His eyes flicked to the other women.
Marina's face was unreadable, but she wasn't objecting. She was focused on the warrior's words.
She had already slept with him once. Would she, too, ask for something more—something deeper?
"So you're scared the Demon King will manipulate Hernán," Silnia cut in crudely. "Then just gag her so she can't whisper in his ear."
It was a brash comment, but it struck close to home.
They hadn't slept together yet, but if the warrior insisted on everyone becoming pregnant to escape, even Silnia would likely follow suit.
When that day came, would she also demand a different kind of relationship?
As Hernán sank deeper into this spiral of headache and heat, Karine asked him in her usual cold tone:
"Hernán. Did you understand what I said?"
He didn't answer immediately, lost in his thoughts.
Karine frowned slightly.
"So, don't sleep in the Demon King's room. Actually, don't be alone with her at all. Stay away."
"…Why?" Hernán finally asked.
It wasn't true confusion—it was weak resistance.
"Because if you keep spending time with her, she'll persuade you. You might approve a bad wish."
If she had accused him of being untrustworthy back when they first arrived, he might've argued. Maybe even been hurt.
But now?
Now he was scared.
Because she was right.
If Sharpie looked at him with those eyes and asked him for something… he might actually do it.
"…Alright," he replied. "I'll be careful."
He spoke calmly, without defensiveness.
Because he was Carine's lover.
No matter how complicated things got, no matter how far he drifted with Sharpie—he couldn't forget that.
"Thank you," Karine murmured, smiling faintly.