No, I Said it’s Mental Immunity

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A peaceful morning at the hotel.

Pastel was not at all peaceful. Well, it was peaceful, but her heart was anything but.

This was because Duchess Nastasha had visited early in the morning and was calling the Demon Lord “oppa” (big brother).

“I checked because oppa mentioned it. Isn’t there a misunderstanding? There’s no way Blossom would trap oppa again. Before Blossom died, I heard from Blossom herself that oppa left on his own.”

Gasp.

Three instances of “oppa” in one breath.

This was a bit much, I thought. As a future stepmother, she was already thinking of an affair while not being able to love her father.

It’s a bit inappropriate to say, but if she found thrilling love like an affair attractive, how about finding another decent partner other than the Demon Lord?

Honestly, Duchess Nastasha was wealthy, excessively youthful in appearance, and a clever political player, but I thought she didn’t match the Demon Lord who always wore gloomy suits.

If I were to say this with good intentions, one might even say she was wasted on him. Not giving the Demon Lord the time of day might be better for her future.

Right, right!

If you want a thrilling romance, I would suggest she keep an open heart and consider various candidates.

For example, how about the Emperor?

The Emperor, who can’t forget a failed crush, instead of casting his gaze at their child, why not have a wholesome romance with the Duchess who is a former classmate?

A thrilling love affair with the static leader of the Republican Party (the Empress is already present).

Doesn’t that fit Duchess Nastasha’s taste perfectly?

Highly recommended!

Doing just that could lead to a future where she might appear in dramas and TV shows about affairs that could go down in history!

Wow, how envious.

While Pastel was chattering enthusiastically in her mind, her mouth stayed shut. She took a quick glance at the Demon Lord, who had overheard “oppa” three times in one breath.

The Demon Lord looked bewildered.

“Did I check it wrong? I was forcibly trapped until now. I didn’t leave on my own. It seems Blossom deceived you.”

Duchess Nastasha tilted her head.

“Well, I’ll need to double-check when I return to the Empire and meet with that Emperor, but I don’t think Blossom would have told such lies. By the way, didn’t you meet with His Majesty? Didn’t you ask him?”

“There’s no way I would have that kind of conversation with him,” the Demon Lord said, looking confused as he rubbed his forehead.

Hmm?

Is this a serious atmosphere?

Pastel realized it too late.

What’s the situation?

If she recalled, the Demon Lord believed all this time that her mother had imprisoned him again. The kind of mother like Craft who would betray him to even break promises.

Gasp, Craft is scary.

I should avoid getting entangled with that family.

However, it turned out that Duchess Nastasha thought the Demon Lord was not imprisoned, but had left. She had heard it that way, too.

The temporarily confused Demon Lord insisted that she misunderstood, but this time Duchess Nastasha was saying the Demon Lord was indeed mistaken.

There was utter chaos regarding whether Mother was lying or not.

Pastel realized something astounding in this context. It seemed that the Demon Lord never got to talk to Mother even when he was tricked into being imprisoned again.

Well, if he’s not a deeply unpleasant person, there shouldn’t be a need to face someone you’re being imprisoned by and mock them.

Just as Pastel was thinking this way, she, out of curiosity, slipped into the conversation as her mother’s daughter.

“So, whose face did the Demon Lord see while being imprisoned?”

The Demon Lord narrowed his eyes.

“Your father dragged me away in Blossom’s name. Even if there was a shred of shame left, Blossom had none, but the order was given with the mobilization of major vassals and the elite Knight Order.”

Whoa.

Whoa, whoa.

Pastel’s eyes widened.

Turning her head, she met the gaze of Duchess Nastasha, who wore a similar expression.

A strange silence fell.

“Why is that?”

Duchess Nastasha’s lips were moving. Her expression turned confused as she, caught between friends, attempted to escape into politician mode.

“I’ll check back when I return to the Empire.”

But Pastel, who was in no way emotionally attached to either of them, raised her hand high.

“I think Dad is the culprit!”

Seriously!

Absolutely!

Silence ensued.

The Demon Lord looked stunned.

“What do you mean by that?”

Despite the Demon Lord clearly being capable of thought, he asked again. Perhaps it was some cognitive dissonance.

“Well, it could not be true.”

Duchess Nastasha squinted her eyes and pursed her lips before speaking.

“What has he been up to lately? Did you find out where he is, Marquis Pastel?”

“According to Nathaniel, contact is slowly being reestablished.”

“Who’s Nathaniel?”

“A Demon person from the noble Presley family.”

“Oh, that lucky survivor and gambler…”

Duchess Nastasha muttered and then suddenly looked shocked.

“He’s roaming around gambling?!”

“That’s not exactly it. Is that really so bad?”

But I didn’t know which was worse, living in a gambling hell or being caught up in a cult.

After all, he’s worshipping a true evil god, so maybe the cult’s worse?

Can’t they just do neither?

“Gambling is one thing? No, he has a child! What the hell is he up to without any contact?! Is this not a case of lost sanity?!”

Duchess Nastasha slapped her chest. She sharply turned her head and shouted to the maid she had brought.

“Bring me a bottle of alcohol from the carriage!”

Whoa, this Duchess carries alcohol in her carriage.

Can I have a drink too?

Pastel glanced at the Demon Lord.

The Demon Lord had been pacing the hotel reception room. His gaze wandered around, and his eyes blinked rapidly.

“That can’t be, that can’t be.”

Urgh.

Is the Demon Lord alright?

He does not look okay at all.

The Demon Lord might have considered the possibility that his mother might not be the culprit. Perhaps he had thought about it often.

But the Demon Lord had been betrayed by a pink-haired one, leading to chaos in the Demon Realm, and during his escape from the Empire, he was betrayed again by another pink-haired one claiming to atone for the betrayal of his family. It seemed nearly impossible for him to believe that the third pink-haired one would not betray him as well.

Ugh.

As the fourth pink-haired one, my heart ached for the Demon Lord, and I couldn’t contain it.

Even if I tried to discard the prejudices tied to his family as a former priest, if there was something an individual had suffered, it would blur one’s perspective.

I saw the Demon Lord’s fingertips trembling.

Was it hatred toward an innocent person, or was it a reaction of anxiety toward faith and promises turned into hatred and rage?

Pastel stood up from her seat. She approached and tightly embraced the Demon Lord. I felt his pale body temperature.

“I still don’t know if Mother is bad or not, but you haven’t done anything wrong.”

A hand wrapped around Pastel.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

The embrace tightened as if trying to suppress his trembling. Pastel felt slightly suffocated but, in turn, embraced him.

Rubbing her face against his chest.

Much remains unclear, but still.

“You can trust me.”

That much was certain.

The Demon Lord silently maintained the embrace.

“Bring me a bottle of alcohol!”

A drunken Duchess Nastasha rattled the bottle.

“Let’s go, this isn’t the time anymore. There’s no room for tomorrow’s schedule either.”

The maid tried to stop her, supporting her.

“Let me handle this! Alcohol! Bring me alcohol!”

“If this keeps up, it won’t be you taking charge, but us taking you away.”

“I don’t care! Alcohol!”

Duchess Nastasha staggered forward, being pulled along the hallway. A knight and maid, showing calm familiarity, held her arms.

Ugh.

Is this what a drunken person is like?

The Demon Lord returned to his room, feeling overwhelmed, but as Pastel watched this clueless atmosphere, she had no thoughts of drinking and was horrified sober.

She decided to walk along with the Duchess out of courtesy. After descending the stairs and seeking the staff’s understanding, before long, they reached the main entrance.

The dusky shadows of the night enveloped the entrance. The hotel’s lights flickered like a veil. As she exhaled, her breath turned white in the winter air.

In the middle of it all, a brown-haired girl with a youthful face grumbled with a flushed face from the alcohol.

“What do they think they are doing dragging the hostess away?”

“The hostess is the hostess.”

“Then I’ll walk on my own! I’ve been walking faster than snakes since the day I was born!”

“Indeed. And snakes don’t have legs.”

“Exactly! That’s not the point!”

“Yup, yup.”

Duchess Nastasha was set free. For a moment, she stood dumbfounded from the alcohol before hiccuping.

“Ugh, why is it so cold?”

The Duchess’s hand brushed against her arm. Her brown eyes turned to Pastel. Although her focus was blurred, she seemed more coherent than expected.

“Marquis Pastel.”

“Yes.”

The Duchess was about to speak, then hiccuped. She rubbed her mouth and opened her lips.

“Not as tough as expected, huh?”

“Indeed.”

The brown eyes looked at her briefly.

“I hope it’s Marquis Pastel and not Marquis Craft.”

Pastel’s eyes widened.

Silence fell.

“I am the great Governor Pastel!”

“What? Ahaha!”

Duchess Nastasha burst out laughing.

“Oh, I see! How great! The deceased Blossom would like that!”

Duchess Nastasha hummed a tune, then turned her body. As she strolled towards the carriage, she seemingly forgot to open the door and looked back.

“Oh, and I missed the timing to say it, but the new product the Marquis is promoting is good! Let’s grab a bite later!”

Huh?

New product?

Is she talking about the hybrid train Elly is developing with the cult’s technology?

“Sounds good! Let’s grab a bite!”

Duchess Nastasha climbed into the carriage, laughing joyfully. The carriage moved away.

Pastel waved her hand and giggled.

The hybrid train must be profitable enough that even the Duchess acknowledges it!