(That should do it…)
I put away the cleaning tools. The house is finally tidy. Cleaning's the biggest hassle since moving here—more space, plus an extra person. A dust-gathering spell would help, maybe even for work, but it'd be legendary-tier. The old me, unbound by servitude, wouldn't believe I'd think this way.
My gaze drifts to the second-floor bedroom—another headache.
(Still sleeping together… Doesn't he feel anything?)
Since moving, I share a bedroom with Himmel and Linie. It wasn't planned. Initially, Himmel and I had separate rooms; Linie was with me. But Linie was the issue.
"Why don't we all sleep together?"
To her, cohabitants sleeping together was normal. At the inn, we had bunk beds; at Eisen's, we all slept in a pile. Human family customs she mimicked played a part, plus her noisy back-and-forth between rooms at night. Before I knew it, we shared one bedroom. I'd said demon gender doesn't matter, and Himmel refusing would've implied he cared. So, it happened. Separate beds keep it fine, but Linie's spread the news village-wide—a big problem I've resigned to. It just adds to Himmel's nicknames.
"Done. You kept up training while I was gone, huh?"
"Of course. Lady Aura helped."
Voices from the garden. The clashing of wooden swords has stopped—morning training's over. This is our routine the past year: Himmel teaching Linie swordsmanship, morning and evening, a habit from Eisen's.
"You just got back and you're at it. Never bored?"
"I'm her master. Training's my duty. You practice magic daily, right? Same thing."
"That's different. To Linie, maybe not…"
His comparison to our magic training stumps me. It's true, but he gains nothing. Still, he's dedicated. Fun for him? For Linie, it's part of magic pursuit. Having a hero train her one-on-one—she's absurdly lucky. I won't say it; they'd get cocky.
"And training in that outfit? Isn't it restrictive?"
I can't help but comment, staring at Linie—or rather, her clothes.
"The dress? It's fine. She likes it, and it doesn't hinder her."
It's a corset dress, nearly identical to one Himmel bought me half a year after I arrived. Only the size differs.
It started before we moved. Linie found my sealed-away dress in the closet and tried it on—too big, obviously. Himmel didn't miss it. Soon, a merchant delivered a child-sized version, maybe his revenge for missing Linie's birthday at Eisen's. Now it's her casual wear. I have reservations, but fine—except training in it? A dress-clad girl wielding a wooden sword feels wrong, even to a demon.
"The village thinks the dress is your taste. Okay with that?"
"Ugh…! Fine. She's happy matching you. Maybe you could—"
"Say something?"
"Nothing."
I shut him down. That dress was his fetish, meant for that elf. I tried it once—disastrous. Linie's enthusiasm and my lapse let him catch me in it, leading to "matching" talk. It's taboo now; my dress is sealed until Linie grows.
"Lady Aura, am I doing okay?"
Linie spreads her arms, showing off—not the dress, but something only I, a demon mage, can see.
"Not bad. Still some wobble, but it'd fool humans."
Her mana—barely visible, weaker than a low-tier beast's. It's not her true mana, deliberately suppressed. The instability's not fully hidden. It'd trick human mages, but demons? Doubtful. Against great demons, useless.
"Thanks. I can't see mana, so I can't teach it."
"Only Linie does this among demons. Well, maybe that elf too."
Himmel, now beside me, remarks. Sword training's different. I've never taught this—demons rarely mentor magic. To demons, Linie's act is shameful, defiling pride. Even I feel disgust.
"Surprised you didn't object."
"Just using what's useful."
He asks, and I answer. It started as his whim, likely mimicking that elf. He panicked when I pointed it out, thinking I didn't know her mana trick. After clarifying, I let Linie continue. I'd considered it—mimicking the Hero Party's strength, that elf's edge. Young Linie could adopt it without resistance. It won't fool her, but it's proven effective against demons and devastating for human mages. Use everything—that's my demon way.
"Eisen said 'using' isn't nice, Lady Aura."
"Right. I'm relying on you."
"Yeah! I rely on Lady Aura too!"
My subordinate's full of energy, swinging at the training post alone. Eisen would've caught her blows. Himmel can't. Stroh once tried and got pummeled—I ordered restraint, but who knows if she gets it.
"Linie's growth is exciting. I'm training her to read movements via mana flow. She's amazing—I can't slack."
"Read movements with mana? You have none. How?"
"Linie can see it. Eisen and I don't emit mana like mages, but everyone has some inside. Her magic reads and mimics it."
I'm stunned. He's not just teaching swordplay—he's grasped her magic's nature. True, mimicking requires reading internal mana flow, even in non-mages. But what shocks me—
"I'm using it to train her to predict moves. Her body's not there yet, but once it is, she'll counter warriors, swordsmen, even mages before they cast, like I did to you."
His hero's insight—reading her mana to predict moves. Chilling. What's he preparing her for? He's seriously aiming for his level. Absurd for a master-disciple duo. And he casually digs at my trauma—my old scar aches.
"…That's contradictory. You can't see mana. How'd you read my casting?"
If Linie can, fine, but how did he? An elf mage might, but he shouldn't sense mana flow or light.
"Easy. Read the air, breathing. Every swordsman does it."
He answers casually. Of course. He'd probably fight a great demon blind. I'm the fool for asking.
"So… you're just a heroic monster."
"Thanks."
Not sure how much my sarcasm lands, but he's pleased. Escaping them earns me pride, though I'm still bound—pointless.
What'll Linie, this lying-less, deceit-free demon, become under this monster? Destined to be an utter exception.
"Get strong enough to break Himmel's nose. If you can."
"I'll try!"
"Not literally, Linie…?"
Imagining his nose physically broken, Himmel panics, sweating. Linie swings on, oblivious. I watch their training, exasperated.
"Good morning, big sister, Linie. Here to help."
As their training ends and I prep work, a visitor arrives—not really a guest. Lily, a village kid, helps me daily.
"Morning, Lily. Thanks."
"I help too!"
"You're lively, Linie. The dress suits you."
Human growth is striking. In a year, Lily's grown—physically and mentally. She's Linie's age but seems older. Linie claims she's the big sister, but it's obvious who's who.
"Yeah? It's Himmel's—"
"Morning, Lily. Thanks for helping them."
Himmel cuts in, likely fearing Lily exposing his tastes. Too late, but I won't say.
"You're back, Lord Himmel?"
"Last night. Village doing okay?"
"Yes, everyone's fine."
Maybe sensing his intent or finding Linie's head-patting resistance funny, Lily smiles. She's always laughing—what's so fun?
"Here, Linie."
"What's this?"
"A flower crown. Cute, right?"
Pitying Linie, Lily places a flower crown on her. Linie stares up, puzzled.
"It's in the way. Catches my horns."
"It's made from Lady Aura's blue moon grass. Wear it, and she'll be happy."
Linie's confused, but Lily knew she'd react this way. Using me is clever. Linie eyes the crown curiously. I recall—blue moon grass, Himmel's hometown flower. He wanted to show Linie and get it during a trip. It was eventful, but in short, Linie cared more for apples. Exhausting memory.
"Really?"
"Wear it for work today, Linie."
"Okay."
Convinced, Linie keeps the crown and starts "helping." Lily moves too. I can't lag.
"Himmel, clean the yard. You'll use it for training."
"On it."
The "resting" hero heads out eagerly. Annoying—just do it without being told. As I start work—
"Heard you, Stroh!? You flipped Linie's skirt!?"
"S-Sorry! But you said skirt-flipping's a man's romance…!"
"Not Linie's! Do Aura's!"
"No way! Do it yourself!"
"I'd get yelled at!"
A boy's scream—Stroh—and hero-unworthy curses echo from the yard. I forgot to warn Stroh. Too late anyway. Their argument's childish. Can't they learn from Lily?
"Why're you covering my ears, Lily?"
"Let's go help with work."
Fearing bad influence or rumors, Lily covers Linie's ears and leads her to the workroom. Convenient—I don't want them seeing this.
"Bad kids need punishment, don't they?"
With words echoing past ones, I command their punishment—not with magic, but verbal servitude.
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