My Subordinates Are So Competent, It's Driving Me Crazy (4)
It was the first time seeing Lord Damon again since the 0th Corps Training Hall Infiltration Incident.
The corps members stood at rigid attention, more tense than they had ever been in their lives, waiting for Lord Damon to appear.
Since that day, Lord Damon had not returned to the training hall.
Of course, he was someone who rarely visited to begin with, but after such a major incident, most had assumed he would at least show up once more. Yet, as if mocking their expectations, he had not appeared again—until today.
Naturally, the corps members were consumed with unease.
"Is he still mad at us?"
"But he looked totally fine that day…"
"You idiot, you think he shows everything on his face?"
"No way… Maybe he's just disgusted with how we couldn't even detect a single intruder…"
A grim silence fell—not just awkward, but despairing.
They didn't want to believe it, but it was hard to deny. Lord Damon could influence the battlefield far more effectively when he entered the fray himself, daggers in hand, than when commanding from the rear.
To someone like him, corps members were probably a nice-to-have, not a need-to-have.
So they trained harder—if not to help, then at least not to get in the way.
They pushed themselves, again and again.
But in the end, they were right back where they started.
Lord Damon's power was beyond their imagination, and they still couldn't even come close to touching his heels.
And yet, they'd gotten cocky, thinking they'd improved.
That day, when they were slightly more relaxed, Lord Damon had arrived and captured the intruder hiding in the training hall—someone none of them had even noticed. A clear demonstration of how useless their "growth" really was.
No wonder he was fed up.
They were incompetent. He was probably better off alone.
"...Let's just go train."
"Yeah, we're heading out in a few days. If we don't want to be a burden, we'd better get even a little stronger."
"There's nothing else we can do anyway."
They needed to see his face to understand anything, but since they couldn't, all they could do was wait for deployment and make wild guesses.
And now, today.
Everything was prepared. All that was left was to wait.
'…Why isn't he coming out?'
A long time had passed since Lord Damon's aide, Ed, went to fetch him.
Unease began creeping across the corps like a cold early morning mist.
No one dared to move, unsure when Lord Damon might appear, only their eyes darting nervously—until finally, the tightly shut doors burst open.
Lord Damon stepped out, his expression even more unreadable than usual. He walked calmly… then stopped as soon as he saw them.
And as his face grew colder and more rigid by the second, the corps members were struck by one certainty:
'He still doesn't want to see us.'
Silence reigned.
Though the dawn air was frigid, sweat was pouring from their brows like rain.
Their mouths were parched. Someone swallowed hard, loud in the silence.
'He's not going to abandon us the second we head out… right?'
Desperately, corps members exchanged frantic glances, trying to figure out what they could say or do to calm Lord Damon's supposed anger.
I'm not a talkative person. Born with a different appearance, I've lived a life of discrimination—what are the chances someone like me would be good at conversation?
Even just giving an appropriate response costs me mental effort and energy. It's exhausting.
Put another way: even answering properly is tough—so when awkward silence like this fills the air, there's no way I'm going to be the first to speak.
So right now, I was just…
'....'
…waiting for someone to speak up first.
Thankfully, the silence wasn't as long as the ones I'd endured in the past.
"What are you all doing! Lord Damon's angry!"
"?!"
It wasn't a corps member. Not Ben or Ed either. A completely different voice cut in.
That alone was shocking—but the content of the voice made me nearly jump.
'I… I'm not mad, though?'
There's no reason for me to be angry! This is clearly my fault for being late…
Wait, no, that's not even the issue here—
"Ririnel?"
Why are you here?
I turned slightly toward the voice, and there she was—a small figure floating in the sky, backlit by the moon.
The effect was dreamlike, but unfortunately her tiny, dainty frame made it more cute than awe-inspiring.
She probably wanted to look cool, but… I should bring her some milk or something later. I just can't take it seriously.
"We're sorry!"
Oh, for heaven's—!
I'd only looked up at the sky for a second, and suddenly every single corps member was bowing at the waist.
Their loud chorus echoed into the sky.
'Why are you guys doing this too…? There's nothing you need to apologize for… Oh no, is this because of Ririnel?!'
The 11th Corps Commander, second only to the Demon King in magical power.
Because of her cute appearance, people often forget—but her fearsome reputation hasn't gone anywhere.
To the average corps member, she's practically a deity.
And when a divine being like that shouts in a tone that suggests "you should apologize"? Well, even if you haven't done anything wrong, you apologize.
'And I'll be the one who ends up taking the blame…'
Ririnel, completely unaware of the fire raging in my chest, descended into my peripheral vision.
She gave a shy little bow, clearly putting on airs, then looked at me with a "I did good, right?" expression… Damn it. With that face, how can anyone be mad?
Getting angry at her would make me look like some awful adult yelling at a child.
Not that I have the guts to yell anyway.
First, I had to handle this situation. But what should I tackle first—Ririnel or the corps members?
Right. Start with the corps members, who were still hunched in those back-breaking bows.
"You can all raise your heads now…"
Convincing them was harder than I thought.
They were so persistent. I had to reassure them again and again before they finally lifted their heads, and I could see their faces.
I found myself wondering why I was the one trying to persuade them, but at least the awkward atmosphere had eased. So maybe that was a win.
Their reason for apologizing was… absurd, to say the least.
That incident when I happened to catch the intruder by luck—they claimed their incompetence had caused me trouble.
That was ages ago.
"…Anyway, Ririnel?"
"Yes, Lord Damon!"
"Why are you here…?"
"Ah, right! That's—because… I wanted to give you this!"
Still staring at me with a dazed look, Ririnel suddenly fumbled through her pockets in a flurry.
What she pulled out was a necklace, much like the one Ben wears around his neck.
For a brief, shameful moment I wondered if she had stolen Ben's, but then I realized it had a magic stone threaded through it. I nodded.
Demons typically wear magic stones on necklaces, after all.
But why give it to me?
"This should help you avoid dying once, at least."
"Thank you."
Let's not question the reason. If someone gives you a gift, you take it. Who questions a gift? That would be rude.
As I put it on, Ririnel beamed at me.
Seriously, she's cute. How is that a corps commander? She's just a kid.
Before I realized it, my hand was gently patting her head. Her muffler twitched energetically in response.
'Ah… that's right, those are tentacles.'
To reduce discomfort for humans like me, her two tentacles were disguised by being wrapped around her neck like a scarf.
I watched them squirm excitedly with a blank expression, then discreetly withdrew my hand.
I turned away like nothing had happened—but what I saw as I turned made all that effort completely pointless.
'…What are you all doing…?'
The corps members had silently parted to either side, forming a path.
And at the end of that path stood a terrifyingly imposing horse, dark aura billowing off of it, snorting ominously—held at the reins by my ever-efficient aide, Ed.
I froze.
My mind immediately flooded with curses, all ready to burst from my mouth.
'Right. That thing… damn it.'
One of the reasons I hate leaving the Demon King's castle was that.
That damned horse.
It looked cool, sure—but if you told me to ride it? Absolutely not.
Demonic horses were a whole different species from the ones in the human world. Their appearance alone was monstrous. If one showed up on a battlefield, anyone in their right mind would turn and run.
And their temper? Even worse.
If I rode that thing, I would die.
Either by falling, being trampled, or bitten to death.
'Shyaa, shyaaaang…'
No. Just—no.
It's been about a year and a half since I started surviving all kinds of dangers in the Demon King's castle.
And now… the greatest crisis I've ever faced was right in front of me.
"What is that thing?"
The Demon King, who had been watching Deon through the window, furrowed his brow.
A horse? And not just any horse, but a demon realm horse at that. The guy who was coughing up blood just a little while ago is planning to ride something like that?
"Your Majesty? Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing."
Shaking his head at Belitan's curious question, he looked out the window again.
Honestly, he wanted to see Deon off all the way from the start to the moment he left the Demon King's Castle. But it wasn't like only the 0th Legion was deploying, and as the Demon King, he couldn't show blatant favoritism at such an official event. He had no choice but to check in on the other legions preparing for deployment too.
And now that guy was trying to ride that ridiculous beast with a body that could fall apart at any moment.
See? This is what happens the second you take your eyes off him.
"Belitan."
"Yes?"
"You've got a comm-stone on you, right?"
"Yes, I do."
"It's engraved with Ed's comm-stone too?"
"Yes."
"Good. Let me borrow it for a moment."
Taking Belitan's comm-stone, he connected it to Ed's.
He could have contacted Deon directly, but there was a reason he didn't.
Even if he tried, Deon wouldn't answer.
It wasn't that Deon was deliberately ignoring calls. It's just that whenever he carried a comm-stone, it inevitably got smashed within a short time, so the Demon King had given direct orders to keep it in his room. There was no point in trying to contact him.
Not that it was inconvenient.
Deon normally holed up in his room, and whenever he went out, like now, his adjutant Ed was always with him.
True to his reputation as a capable adjutant, Ed always carried a comm-stone.
That was the case now too.
—"Yes, this is Ed, adjutant to the Commander of the 0th Legion."
"Kaberda."
—"Ah, yes, Your Majesty. What can I do for you?"
"Are you out of your mind?"
—"…Excuse me?"
Ed's response came a beat late, as if caught off guard by the sudden scolding.
But the Demon King had no intention of stopping there. He pressed on relentlessly.
"You're seriously putting a human who could start coughing up blood at any moment on a horse? And a demon realm horse at that? You're planning to make a human in poor health ride that thing all the way to your destination? Have you lost your mind?"
—"…I'm sorry."
Hearing that, the Demon King fell silent for a moment, the anger cooling as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head.
To be fair, from Ed's perspective, it must have seemed unfair.
Deon liked demon horses. Maybe because there were no such creatures in the human realm, he would often stare whenever he saw someone riding one.
He'd never explicitly said he wanted to ride or see one up close, but considering how indifferent Deon usually was about everything, the fact that he stared so openly was proof enough that he was really into them.
Of course Ed, as his adjutant, would have picked up on that.
Most likely, thinking it would be impossible to talk Deon out of it, Ed had gone ahead and prepared the horse.
A human who usually never stepped foot outside the inner castle was finally going out. Naturally, he'd want to ride a horse.
"…I get it."
—"No, it's my fault. I didn't even try to talk him out of it. I'm sorry."
It's not that persuading Deon was particularly difficult.
The act of trying to persuade him in the first place required serious resolve. He was like a ticking time bomb—you never knew when he might explode.
Most of the time, he was docile enough, but when he did blow up, it was dangerous. You couldn't help but be cautious.
And maybe because he was human, the timing of his outbursts didn't follow the same patterns as demonfolk, making things even trickier.
Of course Ed had figured it was easier to just quietly prepare things rather than try to convince him otherwise.
"Still, no. Absolutely not. Get a carriage ready immediately."
—"Yes, sir."
"And handle the persuasion yourself."
—"…Understood."
The response was a little slower than usual, but the Demon King pretended not to notice.
After all, no one wanted to be on the receiving end of Deon's anger or resentment.