22. That Type of Yokai Who Drags Their Maid into Bed in the Morning
As a supreme commander of the Demon King’s army, there were several regulations.
Regulations concerning the chain of command, such as making the Demon King’s orders absolute.
Regulations defining the extent of their authority.
And some… slightly unusual regulations.
One: To have a vice-commander whenever possible.
One: To have at least one subordinate from a different race.
These regulations were intended to broaden the perspective of supreme commanders, who were also the leaders of each army.
As the Lord of Disease, being human with Liz, my dark elf vice-commander, I fulfilled both of these regulations simultaneously.
Incidentally, with the exception of my unit and the dragon’s unit, the supreme commander and vice-commander were of the same race. While the commander of the undead army was technically an exception, they were still considered undead.
There was no explicit regulation regarding the race of the vice-commander, but it was simply a position typically filled by someone who had achieved prominence within the predominant race of each army. Thus, the supreme commander and vice-commander often ended up being of the same race.
Why was I contemplating this with a sleepy mind?
There were no regulations regarding the waking hours of a supreme commander.
“Please get up!”
…Yet, my vice-commander would come to my room every morning, intent on waking me up at a precise hour. I grabbed the blanket, determined not to let her pull it away.
“Aww… I don’t want to get up yet…”
Liz, as if to say, What are you saying while half-asleep? raised her voice slightly.
“What kind of leader are you being?!”
She was right. However, sophistry existed to counter righteousness.
“You said before that a leader should be composed…”
“Ugh… that’s true, but…”
“Then, just a little longer…” I pulled the blanket back over myself, enjoying its warmth—a noble pursuit I’d been interrupted from.
“No, no! Rolling around in bed is not being composed!”
Again, she was right. However, I had my own points to make.
“I don’t have any work today, though.”
The workload of the Lord of Disease, varied from day to day.
The first task, when there was work, was to read reports. If necessary, review and revise operational plans. This planning and strategizing constituted over eighty percent of my work as the Virus King. But it also meant there were times when I was completely idle.
In the absence of regulations regarding supreme commander vacations, I believed it was my duty to revitalize myself during these less busy times by interacting with my adorable maid, under the guise of ‘resting.’
Next, there were external duties, though few in number. Being summoned by His Majesty for an audience at the royal castle fell into this category.
Essentially, these were ornamental tasks. But to put it bluntly, the Virus King was a paper tiger, so I couldn’t afford to completely disregard these appearances.
“There’s always attack plans to devise! Come on, let’s work towards human extinction… I mean, let’s fight until only one of us is left!”
I was a little touched by Liz’s correction. But even so, there were things I had to say.
“You wouldn’t be so nonchalant if coming up with supreme commander-level attack plans was easy.”
“…Well, I suppose that’s true.” Liz conceded reluctantly.
The job of the Lord of Disease, was planning and giving orders.
Conversely, my plans had to be innovative—or perhaps ruthless—enough to be considered the work of a supreme commander simply by my issuing an order.
My plans were actually quite orthodox, and not particularly ruthless compared to historical events on Earth.
But while we talked, my eyes slowly woke up. However, giving in and getting up now felt like letting Liz win, and that was a little boring.
“How about you just join me, Liz?”
So, I pulled back the blanket and patted the empty space next to me, inviting her to join.
“What?! Wha—um, but—”
“…It’s warm?”
If she had a weakness, it was her excessive dedication to duty.
For her, a perfect assassin, this would normally be a fatal flaw.
In the battlefield, where assassin skills and mental fortitude were paramount, she would never hesitate. If necessary, she would discard anything and ruthlessly eliminate her target, fulfilling her mission.
But here, now, the simple and profound reason she couldn’t refuse my frivolous invitation was…
Liz was my vice-commander, my bodyguard, my attendant—and my maid. In other words, ‘pleasing me’ and ‘keeping me in a good mood to ensure smooth work’ were also part of her job, her mission.
Of course, she had a degree of autonomy. There was no problem with her refusing this offer, which wasn’t even an order.
But she was, ultimately, ‘exceptional.’
She would overthink things.
How to please me.
How not to upset me.
She constantly weighed how many invitations to reject and how many requests to accept.
Moreover, she had impeccable taste.
Delicious food, leisurely time. We were kindred spirits in our love for such things. That meant she also loved warm blankets.
“Will you… be motivated?”
“Extremely.”
And this was ‘work,’ a ‘mission.’
A bizarre situation that would never happen in a normal military, one that a sensible soldier would never have to contend with throughout their life. But her exceptional nature meant that the immense burden would become too much for her to bear.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Liz kicked off her shoes and slid into the bed, still in her maid uniform. The initial chill from the cool autumn air she carried quickly dissipated as the heat from our combined bodies warmed the blankets again.
I enjoyed indulging and corrupting the cold-blooded assassin.
“Blankets are wonderful…”
“They really are…”
The simple pleasure of a sleepy conversation. If this was calculated on her part, I’d be terrified of Liz.
But I doubted that was the case.
Still, even if she were calculating, her subtle manipulations were adorable, and her willingness to go along with my whims was irresistible.
In short, regardless of how it started, almost everything about Liz was right in my strike zone.
A moment later, a knock echoed through the room.
“My master. May I enter?” His voice was deep. It was Samarkand.
“Come in.”
I ordered from my reclined position, using my most decisive Virus King tone.
“Huh, wha—wait, wait!”
Liz scrambled to sit up in bed, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders to hide her rumpled maid uniform.
Naturally, she couldn’t get ready in the few seconds it took the quick-moving black goat to receive permission and enter.
“…My apologies. I wasn’t aware of the nature of your relationship.”
As a result, the scene looked like something that had just happened. If only I hadn’t done anything suspicious, it wouldn’t have looked like this.
I sat up and faced Samarkand.
“Samarkand, it’s not a misunderstanding, but it’s probably a misunderstanding.”
“Yes! It’s not entirely a misunderstanding, but it is a misunderstanding!”
“…Meaning?”
“It might be a misunderstanding.”
“It is a misunderstanding.”
“We were just relaxing for a bit.”
“Yes. At Master’s request… we were simply sleeping together.”
It would have been amusing to let them think whatever they wanted, but I worried about the repercussions, so I clarified the situation. Though it was a little bit of a misunderstanding.
“Liz. Should we just make it not a misunderstanding?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“—What do you think I mean?”
I reached out and gently touched Liz’s cheek, as if she were something fragile. Well, she was fragile, in a way. This relationship, this moment, was delicate and precarious.
“Gulp.”
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she was speechless.
Was it arrogant of me to think that perhaps there was a hint of her own feelings in that reaction?
But I was smart enough to be a supreme commander, and I paid close attention to Liz, so I knew. Her hesitation, her silence, was due to her duties.
She couldn’t refuse me.
She couldn’t say anything that would significantly upset me.
—At the same time, she couldn’t give me the illusion that I could always have my way.
I was a supreme commander. She understood perfectly that it was dangerous to inflate my ego or provoke me, given the various precarious authorities I held.
But I didn’t want to see that look on Liz’s face.
“Sorry.”
Without specifying what I was apologizing for, I wrapped my arm around her neck and gently hugged her. I felt her shoulders relax.
“…My master. Forgive the interruption, but I have something to report.”
Samarkand spoke hesitantly. His tone was serious.
“What is it already…?” Liz grumbled in my arms. I released her and sat up on the bed.
“—What is it?”
Samarkand offered me a letter.
“An invitation has arrived from the Beastman Army.”
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