The purple light of the underworld lamp crawled across the window frame, casting long shadows on the stone floor of the office. Blackfang Castle—the seat of the Demon Lord who ruled all the demon realm—had just emerged from night, wrapped in its usual silence. A door creaked somewhere down the corridor, then silence returned. Radius sat before his desk, staring at the blank space on parchment. "Human World Conquest Plan—Revised Edition Ver. 47" The title was written in the lower right corner in meticulous script. The 47th revision. He'd first written it twelve years ago, and it still hadn't been executed once. Last night, a report came from the castle gate. One human approaching from the human world toward the demon lord's castle—armed—self-proclaimed hero. (Finally.) That's what Radius thought. Real work, at last. No need to collapse mountains of paperwork, no need to fix his strategist's arithmetic, just stand with a sword in hand. That was supposed to be his actual job. Eight hundred years ago, he'd unified the demon realm in just three years, when twelve lords had carved it up and bled it dry. And for twelve years, that man had spent his time revising conquest plans—Radius himself knew better than anyone how absurd that was. A small bottle of stomach medicine sat at the edge of his desk. He hadn't reached for it yet this morning. That was rare. Two knocks on the door. "Excuse me." Tel came in. A small demon with greenish-black hair cut short, with a pair of modest horns extending from either side of her head. The castle's messenger, arriving precisely on time as always—though one had to wonder how many people in this castle actually showed up on schedule. Tel was one of the rare exceptions. "My lord. I have a report." "Speak." "Naia has returned." Radius's hand paused slightly over the parchment. Naia. A candidate for the next executive position—a trainee role with the right to attend executive meetings, gaining practical experience through reconnaissance and intelligence missions—seventeen years old. She'd left three months ago for reconnaissance toward the southern regions of the human world. When she departed, she'd declared, "I'll definitely bring back useful information!" (If I have reconnaissance data, I can use it to prepare for the hero.) Radius stood. His hand left the stomach medicine bottle. With three months of local intelligence, he should be able to determine roughly what route the hero would take, what equipment they'd have. He stepped into the corridor. At that moment, the doors to the throne room burst open. CRASH!!! The doors slammed against the wall. Something tumbled in. Sounds of sliding across the floor. Fabric rustling, papers scattering, bags bouncing—a complex cacophony of overlapping noise. "I'm home—!!" Bursting in with the dust was a girl with two-toned emerald hair—black at the roots, shifting to vivid green toward the tips—and mismatched eyes: gold on the right, silver on the left. In her small 158-centimeter frame, she clutched a massive burlap sack in both hands. A backpack on her shoulders. Three paper bags on her right arm. And one paper bag rolled to a stop at Radius's feet. "Lena Confectionery—Baked Goods Assortment" That's what it said. Radius's gaze slowly moved from the paper bag to the girl's face. Naia set the burlap sack down on the floor with a carefree expression, beaming at him. The fox-ear charm on her backpack swayed. Radius's hand began to move—slowly, but deliberately—toward the stomach medicine bottle. --- "Submit your report." Back in the office, Radius sat in his chair. Naia stood across from him. "Yes! I've compiled all three months of results!" Her voice was full of confidence. Naia pulled a thick file from her backpack. It was far thicker than expected. Radius leaned forward. Three months. The southern regions of the human world. That should be enough for enemy military installations, troop estimates, defensive equipment status—at minimum, all of that should be there. He took the file and opened the cover. First page—survey target, period, investigator. Perfect. Dates, region names, everything accounted for. "Hmm." Next page. Enemy military installations section. "Unknown" Defensive equipment section. "Unknown" Enemy troop estimate section. "Unknown" The scar on Radius's right temple twitched slightly. He turned the page. "Local Resident Profiles—Subjects 1-12" …Names, ages, occupations, hobbies, and favorite foods filled the pages in neat, round handwriting. "Verna Rice, 42, bakery owner, specialty is apple tart, not a morning person" "Marco, 9, farmer's son, has 6 friends, likes dogs" "Elder Abel, 76, retired blacksmith, currently woodcarving as hobby, catchphrase is 'things were better in my day'" The pages didn't end. Twelve people. Twelve pages. "What information is this." His voice was quiet. Deliberately quiet. "Detailed profiles of the local residents! Isn't the foundation of intelligence work understanding people first?" She was beaming. Completely confident. Not a shred of doubt. Shadows formed beneath Radius's eyes. He turned the page. A hand-drawn map appeared. Seven stars circled in pen. Neat comments beside each star. "Lena Confectionery—baked goods are exquisite! The cinnamon rolls are a must!! Warning: sold out by 9 AM!" "Vesta Bread Workshop—rustic bread is fragrant and amazing. The owner Verna looks scary but is kind" "Abel's Galette Shop—currently closed. Seems obsessed with woodcarving. Will definitely go when it reopens" …It was a recommended bakery map. With stars, comments, hand-drawn. Radius set the papers face-down on the table. He closed his eyes. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. He counted ten seconds. He turned the page again. "Souvenir List (Items, Purchase Location, Price, Recipient)" He turned the page. "Record of Conversations with Locals—Sessions 1-37" He turned the page. "Corner: Sketches of Children I Became Friends With" Radius flipped to the final page of the file. There, in round handwriting, it said: "Summary—Through this reconnaissance, I made 14 friends. Valuable connections for future demon realm diplomacy. End of report." He closed the file. Something fell to the floor from between the pages. A soft rustle. Naia quickly picked it up and offered it to him. A business card from Lena Confectionery. On the back, in careful handwriting: "Proof of Friendship." With a cute apple stamp. "…" Tel began quietly retreating toward the wall. Radius took the stomach medicine bottle and extracted one tablet. First tablet of the day. --- "Naia." His tone changed. Something sharp mixed into his usual quiet voice. Naia's expression hardened for the first time. "For three months—" Radius stood. His jet-black armor made a low sound. The silver crest on his forehead gleamed coldly in the morning light. "You gathered not a single piece of military intelligence." "That's—" "Do you understand the definition of a reconnaissance mission? To investigate enemy forces, facilities, movements, and report to the Demon Lord. That was the job I gave you." "I understand, but—" "A candidate for the next executive position is meant to eventually hold decision-making power in this castle. It's not a role for coming back with fourteen new friends." The air in the throne room grew taut. Tel was trying to become one with the wall. Naia's eyes lowered slightly. Silence fell. From outside the window, faint morning sounds drifted up from Obsidian—the section of Blackfang Castle's lower town with its stone-paved streets and dark crystal buildings. Naia looked up. Not a frightened face. Not a confused face. Her eyes met Radius's red gaze directly. "But—humans aren't as scary as I thought they'd be." Radius started to object. "They're ordinary people. Lining up at the bakery early in the morning, children playing in the alleys, families eating dinner together when evening comes—" "That's—" "Have you ever been to the human world, Radius?" Radius's words stopped. An eight-hundred-year-old man. A man who unified the demon realm. A man who'd spent twelve years revising conquest plans forty-seven times. "…No." Naia said it plainly. "Then go once. I'm sure your mind will change." It was the tone of someone giving an order to her superior. Silence. Tel looked back and forth between their faces, then stepped slightly away from the wall. Radius looked at Naia with his red eyes. A seventeen-year-old girl, meeting his gaze with certainty. Not angry, not frightened—just honest, speaking of what she'd seen. (In eight hundred years—I've never once gone to the other side.) That fact surfaced now for the first time with a strange weight. Radius slowly took another tablet. Second tablet of the day. But those red eyes held something else—a color suggesting he was thinking about something. --- "…Redo the reconnaissance. Submit in three days." It was Radius who broke the silence. His voice had returned to normal. Naia's face brightened immediately. "Understood! This time I'll properly investigate the military facilities! And—I can see Lena again!" "Don't go see your friends." The response was immediate, without hesitation. "But connections are important, aren't they?" "I don't need enemy connections." "Friends aren't enemies." "…" "Since friends aren't enemies, that logic doesn't hold up, I think." Radius pressed a hand to his forehead. He looked at Tel. Tel looked away. Quickly, with perfect timing. At that moment, Naia began rummaging through the burlap sack. She pulled out a package of baked goods. White paper with the "Lena Confectionery" logo, tied carefully with ribbon. The scent of cinnamon wafted out. Naia set it gently at the edge of Radius's desk, then turned and headed for the door. "Then, excuse me! I'll submit the report in three days!" The door closed. Footsteps—datta-datta-datta—receded down the corridor. Energetic footsteps. Silence returned to the office. Radius looked at the package. Looked at it. And—in a casual motion—slowly drew it closer. At that moment, the footsteps outside stopped. The door opened just a crack, and Naia poked her face in. Her mismatched eyes—gold and silver—narrowed in a smile. Radius noticed and stopped his hand. "Your report rewrite is due in three days. Don't be late." "Okay!" The door closed. Quietly this time. Radius said nothing for a while. --- Then the communication tube trembled. Tel retrieved it and opened the miasma-sealed thin paper—魔界's communication method, where messages were written on paper sealing miasma and sent through dedicated tubes. A report from the castle gate sentries. Tel's expression gradually became complicated. "…Read it." "The self-proclaimed hero from yesterday has reached the lower town. However, this morning they still haven't left the same alley—" "Continue." "We've also received an additional report from Barz, owner of the Red Horn Tavern—a lodging house and tavern along the stone-paved street of the lower town. The unknown human who wandered in last night ordered smoked fish miasma-grilled for dinner and said it was 'very delicious,' and this morning they wandered into the same alley again and ordered the same thing for breakfast—" Radius set the miasma-sealed paper on the table. A long silence fell. From outside the castle, faint sounds of the morning market drifted in. Footsteps on stone, merchants calling out, children laughing. Obsidian's morning was peaceful as always. "Pay the Red Horn Tavern for tonight's lodging as well." Tel froze. "At this rate, they'll become friends with the townspeople." His voice was utterly serious. Not a hint of jest. Tel tried to say something—then stopped. Hesitated. Tried again. Hesitated. And almost to herself, she murmured: "…Isn't that the same route as Naia?" Radius's gaze turned quietly toward Tel. Tel's mouth snapped shut instant