"CHEERS!!"
We were deep in the dwarven capital's underbelly, celebrating in what could only be described as a high-end underground nightclub run by elves.
It was supposed to be a chill, low-key wrap-up party. Weapons safely delivered to the king, mission technically successful. I told them a party wasn't necessary, but—
"Aw, come on! There's tons of beautiful ladies in there!"
"Yeah, yeah! All kinds! Young, mature, long-eared, soft-voiced—perfection in every category! This place is heaven, my guy!"
"…!!"
I mean… if they insist~ mwehehehehe.
Before we entered, though, I decided to drop the act. No more illusions. I let my true form out into the open, horns, purple skin and all.
"You were… a tiefling?!" Kaijin choked.
He was the most shocked, which made sense—he was old enough to know my kind were supposed to be extinct.
Perfect. I explained I kept myself disguised to avoid being sold like a walking bundle of rare loot. The man got it instantly.
"You'd be worth at least ten stellar coins in the black market… yeah, smart move."
Ten?! Ten stellar coins? Wait a minute—if I sold myself, escaped, and came back as a "different" tiefling… Nah. Too much paperwork.
The club was called The Night Butterfly.
Hosts better not be actual butterflies. Or moths. I wasn't here for fuzzy antennae.
We stepped inside.
"Ooh, welcome~!"
"Welcome, honored guests~!"
I.
Was.
In. Heaven.
Everywhere I looked, there were ethereal beauties—tall, elegant, and undeniably elven. Flawless skin, radiant smiles, bodies wrapped in silken fabrics so sheer they practically whispered promises with every movement. And those dresses—designed to fall off if you so much as breathed on them.
Elves. Real, actual elves. The kind that holograms and fantasy novels tried and failed to capture.
I felt my temperature-regulation skill struggling to keep up. Help. I was overheating. Was this what death by beauty looked like?
"Ooh~! Who's this tall drink of wine?"
"My, so handsome… What's your name, sir?"
"M-M-Ma—R-Rim-! I mean… uh… Akuma. It's Akuma!"
Two of them had already latched onto my arms. Warm. Soft. Delightfully clingy.
This wasn't a bar, this was a blessed temple. If this was what being sinful felt like, then hell was looking like a vacation.
They weren't scared of me, either. I half-expected some hesitation. Tiefling, demon… all that jazz. But if anything, they seemed more intrigued.
Maybe they thought I was a dark elf? Maybe they liked the exotic? Was this racial bonding through mutual confusion?
I didn't even care anymore.
"…Judging from your red face, I'm guessing you like this," Kaijin chuckled.
"No comment," I croaked. I was practically a statue—overwhelmed, overjoyed, and paralyzed with glee.
Kaijin and the brothers went off to grab a booth while I was—graciously—escorted by what was now four elven women. Their perfume was intoxicating. Their touch? Even worse. Or better. Depends on your moral compass. Mine was spinning like a broken fan.
"You're a tiefling?" one asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Y-Yeah! I am!"
"Woaaah, that's so cool! Are you an adventurer?"
"Uh, n-not really…"
"Then how did you get these arms?" another purred, wrapping herself tighter around me. "So toned..."
Dear gods, she was nuzzling. And my… uh… brother downstairs? Let's just say the spider silk reinforcement in my pants was doing God's work.
This—this right here—this was why I got reincarnated. Not to save the world. Not to become a demon lord. But for elven affection.
I was bathing in bliss when—
"Well, well. Kaijin, bringing a monster into such a classy establishment?"
Oh, of course. Someone had to ruin the mood.
Tall—for a dwarf—thin, with a weaselly sneer. Still shorter than me, but taller than most dwarves. That awkward in-between height.
"Hey! Boss! You letting monsters in now?"
Excuse you. I'm a customer, thank you very much.
"N-No," an older elven hostess replied, voice tense. "But he's with Mr. Kaijin, so…"
"Oh, so just 'cause Kaijin likes him, it's okay to let beasts in now?"
The girls tightened their hold on me protectively. Good girls.
"That's Vester," one of them whispered. "The minister."
Ah. Vester. So this is the bootlicker Kaijin wanted to punch earlier. Looked like a man who got rejected by every elf in this place, and blamed it on 'foreigners.'
"Y'know what suits a monster?" Vester sneered, picking up a glass. "This!"
He tossed the water in my face.
...Oh?
...Oh?
The audacity. I was just about to stand and rearrange his nose when—
Soft. Warm. Supple.
Four pairs of delicate hands and divine chests pressed against me, holding me back.
Gentle reminder: Let the weak bark. Stay in heaven.
"Hey!" Kaijin suddenly growled, slamming his glass down. "You think you can pick on my guest?!"
Kaijin rose with all the fury of a father at prom night. "You think I'd let that slide?! Huh?!"
Attaboy.
"H-How dare you…!" Vester stuttered.
CRACK!
Kaijin's fist collided with his face like it was a declaration of war—and I swear I saw an incisor fly. Not a KO punch… but definitely a reset button.
" Akuma," Kaijin said, flexing his bruised knuckles. "Still looking for someone to help you out?"
"Of course. I'd be honored to have you, my friend."
We let the moment simmer before the guards inevitably surrounded us. The elven girls had already backed off, sighing with a mix of pity and disappointment.
…Damn. There goes Nirvana.
Still, I was in high spirits. Elves. Punches. Allies. Not a bad night.
Now… it was time.
To meet the dwarven hero himself.
Gandalf…
Ganondorf…
Uh… Gazel?
Bah. Close enough.