Evening.
In a restaurant made entirely of plants—from the building to the tableware, even the ambient lighting overhead.
Unlike the products of modern industrial manufacturing, the elves of this world relied on magic. As a result, nothing in this place bore the marks of human craftsmanship. Everything looked as if it had grown into its current form, exuding a naturally soothing aesthetic.
Thanks to the elves' innate pursuit of beauty, even their cuisine was visually stunning—so much so that they didn't hesitate to use large amounts of magic during the cooking process.
To them, making food that glowed was practically standard procedure.
'Magic! They infused it with magic!'
If this were a gourmet anime, a dramatic narration like that would definitely be part of the scene.
But clearly, this wasn't. So Orsaga simply gave the dazzling setting a quick glance before calmly accepting this over-the-top setup.
He casually speared an unidentifiable fruit with a fork and took a few thoughtful bites. To his surprise, the flavor was quite good—even his demonic taste buds found it agreeable.
Granted, he could stomach rocks and dirt just fine.
Still, this was definitely tastier.
In his opinion, eating dirt was strictly for amateurs.
The Abyss was full of such bottom-feeding creatures—more extreme than starving ghosts. Wherever they went, they devoured not just living beings but also the land and water, leaving not even crumbs behind.
It was safe to say, only the Abyss could support that kind of gluttonous ecosystem.
Even so, those creatures consistently ranked among the Least Welcome Beings in the Abyss.
In any other world, the first thing everyone did when they showed up was join forces to kick them out. After all, if something like you shows up at the buffet, what's left for the rest of us?
Sitting across from him, the elven woman saw the faintly pleased look on his face and smiled.
"Is it good?"
"It's actually not bad," Orsaga replied with a nod, not denying it.
Swirling the luminescent blue juice in her glass, she looked at him curiously and asked,
"Are you planning to stay in this city for the long term?"
She didn't know why she asked that question.
Maybe it was because, after spending some time together, she'd grown a little fond of him—reluctant, even, to see him go.
After all, Orsaga did fit her ideal type.
If it weren't for the occasional moments when he gave off a strange sense of danger, she might've fallen for him completely.
Strong, handsome, wealthy, with a good temperament—he was practically the perfect catch.
After a moment's thought, Orsaga replied uncertainly,
"Probably for another month or so."
He still needed time to gather information for his ongoing research—specifically, developing new diseases to unleash upon the world's races. So for the time being, he didn't plan to relocate.
Unaware of his apocalyptic ambitions, the elf nodded calmly and asked another question that had been nagging at her curiosity.
"Have you always been this... carefree? You always seem like you don't care about anything."
Orsaga paused before answering,
"I think I've always been this way?, as for not caring about anything—that's a bit of an exaggeration. It's more like... there just aren't many things I do care about. You could say I'm too selfish."
She pondered his words briefly, then chuckled softly behind her hand.
"Too selfish?. That's not something people usually say about themselves. But I guess if you're selfish, then you only care about what's truly important to you, and completely ignore the rest?
Honestly, that describes you perfectly."
Orsaga merely shrugged in response, offering no argument.
After all, as a brutally honest and reliable demon, he rarely saw the point in denying facts.
Even if someone walked up to him and asked, "Are you the invader?"—as long as he felt like answering, there was a good chance he'd tell the truth.
It's just that... no one had ever bothered to ask him.
What followed was a pleasant conversation between him and the elven woman, full of light-hearted exchanges and laughter. The mood was easygoing and cheerful.
---
The Next Day – Venue of the Chamber of Commerce Banquet
Wanting to at least show some respect for the host, Orsaga had dressed in formal attire. The elven woman, dressed in a flowing gown, was holding his arm as they arrived.
Though both of them were exquisitely dressed and stunning in appearance, it was clear at a glance who was in charge. Orsaga's striking presence made it immediately obvious that he was the one to watch.
As soon as they stepped off the carriage, a well-trained attendant approached respectfully and said,
"Sir, may I have your invitation? I will escort you to your seat."
Orsaga didn't seem to care much about the formalities.
With a casual wave, he produced an elegantly crafted invitation embedded with tiny gemstones and handed it over.
The moment the attendant saw the design and seat number on the invitation, his pupils contracted slightly. Already respectful, his attitude instantly grew even more deferential.
Though he couldn't afford to offend any guest here, he knew well that there were distinct Ranks among them. The easiest way to tell someone's status was by their invitation and seat number.
The one in his hand? Top Rank.
Among the hundreds of guests tonight, no more than ten invitations of this level existed.
This was the kind of guest who could decide whether someone had a peaceful life or got shipped to the front lines tomorrow—all with a single word.
There was no room for carelessness.
It was like an ant standing before a giant. Even if the giant probably wouldn't notice it, the ant still had every reason to be afraid of getting stepped on.
Neither Orsaga nor the elven woman paid his reaction much attention.
As a demigod and a legendary figure, respectively, they were long used to such treatment. They didn't even think about it.
Calmly, and under the curious gaze of other attendees, the two of them entered the banquet hall.
They had barely stepped inside when a burly old man enthusiastically approached with a broad smile.
"Orsaga, Miss Golarial—it's been quite a while since I last saw the two of you!"
They both responded with polite nods and greetings.
The old man was the vice president of the largest Chamber of Commerce in Misturk.
Golarial, being a legendary-ranked figure who had lived here for many years, naturally knew him well.
Orsaga's connection came from numerous large-scale transactions—he was one of the old man's rare, high-value clients.
Straightforward in his dealings and never one to haggle, he always paid in full.
And considering his conservative estimate as a demigod, the goods he traded were all rare, high-value resources. The profit margins were enormous.
He was the kind of client who could keep an entire business afloat on his own.
What merchant wouldn't love someone like that?
__
T/N:
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