This will be my last post of the year.
This year, I also took on the challenge of posting two works simultaneously, which kept me very busy, but I managed to get through it.
This is all thanks to your support.
Thank you very much.
My next post is scheduled for January 1st, New Year’s Day.
I will send you all my best wishes for the New Year before I post.
The trigger was indeed my provocation.
If they test me, I figured I might as well test them back. Looking back now, it was a rather reckless action.
From my perspective, it was an idea born from the thought that underestimating me would lead to painful consequences, but the situation is escalating far more than I anticipated.
The fox-faced count and Evia the demon.
When these two, who are practically embodiments of deception, gather, the phrase “danger: do not mix” comes to mind.
“Well, I would like to sit down and discuss this properly, but there are too many ears listening and eyes watching. What should we do?”
The count seems to imply that the real negotiation is about to begin, but I can’t reveal any more information here.
“Indeed.”
The gazes of the nobles, who no longer have any intention of hiding their interest.
And the unending questions directed at Suella and the others.
Evia may have pushed the conversation forward, but I was the one who sowed the seeds.
As the protagonist, it would be somewhat impolite for me to leave the scene like this.
Should I prepare a seating arrangement where no one can overhear? No.
“Then, may I invite you for a tea party?”
“Oh? That is a most charming invitation, but would it be alright? Considering your future schedule, wouldn’t it be quite difficult?”
“It’s just a matter of adjusting the schedule.”
In this situation, there is a better way than talking one-on-one.
“If you wish, you may also invite someone you are close with.”
“Hmm, is that indeed alright?”
How one views the count as a person can only be determined through interaction.
From our brief exchange, I sensed that he possesses considerable ability and a rather strong personality.
Evia is cautious but doesn’t deem him an enemy, suggesting that while he might be difficult to handle, he could be useful if managed properly.
My fiancée is indirectly sending me a message to engage with such an individual.
“Yes, the fact that we can speak like this is also a form of fate.”
And it’s only natural to value those who actively engage with you over those who merely watch from afar without acting.
Besides, there’s another reason to connect with him.
“That’s a great help. Honestly, we Beastkin often feel out of place at these kinds of events.”
“My, my, that’s a rather sensitive point. I know what causes that feeling of unease.”
They haven’t produced a General in quite some time.
Oni King, Machine King, Undead King, Insect Queen, Dragon King, Giant King, Tree King.
These are the Generals from bygone eras.
Currently, the positions of Undead King and Insect Queen are vacant. I have been appointed to one of these vacant seats and am now the Human King.
For a long time in history, Generals served as close confidants to the Demon Lord, so whether a particular species has a General or not is a matter of great importance in this country.
The Beastkin have participated in the selection tests for the General position, but none have been produced in the last few hundred years.
In such circumstances, his continued maintenance of the title of Count is truly remarkable.
However, that doesn’t mean I harbor any desire to connect with him out of sympathy.
It’s more about calculation.
In this country, where a prejudice of weakness is beginning to form against the Beastkin species, the calculation is that by incurring a debt of gratitude from them now, it will be beneficial later.
“Nonsense, I saw that selection. It was simply that the warriors we sent were still immature.”
The count sincerely lamented their lack of strength in response to my words and affirmed my actions.
“We Beastkin have no objection against you, the one who fought and won against the Oni King. Victory is truth, that is the way of the Demon Lord’s Army.”
“Is that so?”
While I had many things swirling in my mind, I thought, “So he has these kinds of sentiments too,” when Evia, who was holding my arm, suddenly tightened her grip.
Was this a signal to be careful?
As I wondered what about, I heard a sharp clapping sound.
“Indeed, victory is truth. What a remarkable statement. Count Baijan, you have a memory for good words.”
The source of the applause was a demon with twisted, ram-like horns.
Though impeccably dressed and possessing refined manners, his face bore a frivolous expression.
“Count Mondoment, yes, it is only natural courtesy for someone serving this country.”
Count Mondoment. The family name rings a bell.
I recall it’s not on very good terms with Evia’s family.
In fact, he’s not well-liked in noble circles either.
Count Baijan also seems to want to avoid dealing with him. The slight drop in his voice is proof of that.
Without even needing to recall the information I was given beforehand, I knew that this man, Agrul Mondoment, was listed as a person of caution.
Even within the anything-goes Demon Lord’s Army, there are still clearly defined gray areas.
This man is adept at skillfully navigating those gray areas to evade punishment, which sounds good.
However, in reality, he is a bat-like man skilled at operating in the shadows by exploiting loopholes in the law.
Honestly, if possible, I’d prefer not to associate with his kind.
“My apologies for the delay in introducing myself, Human King. My name is Agrul Mondoment. His Majesty has bestowed upon me the title of Count. I look forward to your continued acquaintance.”
“Human King, Jiro Tanaka. Yes, I have heard Count Mondoment’s name before.”
“Infamous name, perhaps?”
And even though I was trying to handle the situation smoothly, he grinned.
Agrul, understanding his own position, deepened his smile as if to say he didn’t mind.
He’s the kind of man whose smile fills you with unease—the antithesis of reassurance. That was my impression, experienced firsthand rather than from documents.
“So, what do you think? There are many rumors about you, and I believe that the truth is for each individual to decide.”
“That’s magnificent. To someone like myself, it’s almost blinding.”
Count Baijan, who was being drawn into the conversation, showed no displeasure, and Evia remained silent.
“It is because of this that I wished to get closer to you, and I have brought a gift.”
“A gift?”
“Yes.”
Count Mondoment, who announced he had brought a gift, signaled with his gaze for his awaiting demon subordinates.
The subordinates of Count Mondoment, who had been waiting by the wall, each carried large, tattered sacks that didn’t quite match their formal attire—sacks so large they looked like they could fit a person, and indeed, seemed to contain them.
They roughly dumped the contents onto the ground, exposing them before me.
“…”
The previously pleasant atmosphere of the party was replaced by a palpable tension.
It took only a few moments to comprehend the scene before me.
I instantly shifted my position, moving to shield Suella and the others.
And then:
“As expected, a prodigy who rose to the rank of General in such a short time. Such pressure emanating from your killing intent. Frankly, I thought I had died for a moment.”
“What is the meaning of this?”
I glared at the man before me, intending to kill him.
If he had taken one more step forward, I would have slit his throat with my hand and then severed his head.
I wanted to avoid creating a hostile atmosphere at a celebratory party, but he gave me a reason to do so.
“Meaning? This is my gift.”
What Agrul’s subordinates had brought were men in tattered clothes. They clearly bore signs of assault, pushed to the brink of death, and kept alive just barely.
They were certainly enough to shatter the party’s atmosphere.
I recognized their identities. They were the leader and his followers from the protest group who opposed my appointment as General during the parade held just before this party.
It was clear they had been stuffed into sacks and roughly handled.
“At this ceremony celebrating the Human King, acknowledged by the Demon Lord, these ill-intentioned individuals who tarnished this nation’s celebration, and who were once forgiven by the Human King’s grace, were caught attempting to rebel again.”
It would be wrong to ask why he did this based on a sense of justice.
To this man, these people were wrongdoers, and he had judged them.
His purpose was to ruin the atmosphere of the venue and bring them before me to test how I would judge them.
“What shall we do, Human King?”
His gesture, as if showing loyalty, only sharpened my gaze. It would be understandable if he were asked whether he lacked the intention to celebrate or was simply oblivious to the mood.
This was not something that should be questioned here, but the atmosphere had been created where I now had to give an instruction.
I am being evaluated on whether I am the type to show mercy to enemies, or capable of making a ruthless decision.
I sighed inwardly, thinking, “Is this how I’m tested? And to confront something that can’t be settled by simple combat so quickly?”
“… H-elp… me…”
The protesting man, his eyelids swollen, weakly opened them and pleaded for help.
“Shut up, you scum.”
Count Mondoment, finding even that voice distasteful, lost his plastered smile and was about to kick him.
“Stop it.”
If I allowed that kick, this man would undoubtedly die. I wasn’t unaware of that.
Therefore, stopping him was essential.
Count Mondoment’s foot stopped, just short of touching my face.
“Do you intend to soil this celebration with blood?”
I unleashed my killing intent, the kind I use in battle, directly at Count Mondoment.
I knew that underestimating him would mean defeat.
However, I cannot deny that I was somewhat complacent, believing he wouldn’t go that far.
“Heal him enough to extract information. We’ll discuss the rest later. The subsequent judgment will be conveyed in due course.”
“Understood.”
That is why I cannot condone this man’s insolence.
What he is doing, in the extreme, is not inherently evil.
It ruins the mood, but he is merely apprehending offenders.
Even if it were considered disrespect, it’s not enough to warrant judgment.
He truly is a man skilled at walking a razor’s edge.
Count Mondoment, regaining his insincere smile, bowed respectfully. As his subordinates removed the men, the room was freed from its silence.
Were the President and the other Generals watching silently to gauge my judgment? Or to avoid overstepping their bounds?
Either way, the fact that this man took care not to move the highest authorities suggests he is a shrewd operator.
The party’s atmosphere was completely ruined, and I felt like complaining, “What are you going to do about this?”
Just then, I felt a surge of killing intent directed at my neck.
It was a familiar sensation, and as I subtly searched for its source, I found a certain Oni, calmly enjoying his drink without being bothered by the foul atmosphere.
I considered why the Oni was directing killing intent at me, and then I understood.
“Count Baijan, Count Mondoment, are you both partial to alcohol?”
I decided to accept the Oni’s invitation. Regardless, the party needed to be salvaged.
The offer from such an eccentric individual was, in a way, an unconventional means, but it wasn’t a bad solution.
“Yes, to a degree.”
“Just a bit.”
I used their responses that they could drink as leverage.
“I see, that’s good. I just received an invitation.”
Then, with a loud thud, I saw the Instructor place a large barrel on the table.
“If you’re willing, would you help me finish that?”
I put pressure on Count Mondoment, who had been responsible for turning the mood sour, by asking with a smile.
“Surely, you won’t refuse, will you?”
“Hahaha, I would be honored to accompany you.”
“…”
As I prepared to walk over with Evia, Suella, Memoria, and Himik, with Count Baijan regarding me resentfully for getting caught up in this, I said:
“Ah, if you’d all like, why don’t you join us? If I’m drunk, I might just let something slip.”
He’s definitely dragging everyone else in, forcefully changing the orderly party into an Oni’s feast.
I doubt there will ever be such an unconventional General’s welcoming party again.
And there I was, getting many nobles drunk.
Today’s word:
Things rarely go as planned.
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“Pandora Pandemic Panic: Pandora’s Box Has Been Opened Again, But We’re Fighting Back with Various Things in Our Secret Base!!”
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