Chapter 13: The Wrong Proposal Ceremony = =
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
The Demon King left the scene after his outburst. Before walking away, he glanced sideways at the big tree that had blocked the Hero just moments before. The tree seemed to silently say, “What, blame me?” That tree was tonight’s unwilling witness, silently standing against the Demon King’s icy glare. After shooting the tree a look that could kill, the Demon King turned and walked off.
Behind him, the Hero stood stunned and confused, staring at the scattered petals and the bouquet on the ground. Then, catching himself, he saw the Demon King’s retreating figure.
Thin, dejected. Lonely and desolate. Under the campfire’s glow in the nearby square, the Hero gave meaning to that tired, worn figure. Taking a deep breath, the Hero thought: Well then… let’s do this! Summoning all his courage, the Hero ran forward and shouted, “I accept!”
The Demon King—who had just gone through a whirlwind of events that day and was currently trying to hide from reality and lie low—was caught off guard. He turned sharply, expression stern but internally resigned, and faced the Hero.
No need to force it, he thought. I am the Demon King, and he is the Hero. If a fight breaks out, so be it. Straightening his posture, he stared the Hero down. But the Hero, a bit overexcited and rushing to speak, suddenly started coughing: “Cough, cough, cough…”
After the dry coughing fit, the Demon King waited, confused. When the Hero recovered, he said with determination, “I’m willing to accept you, and I hope that when we leave, I can take you back with me to my hometown!”
The Demon King blinked, utterly baffled and suspicious that he had misheard something. The Hero, misunderstanding his reaction, pushed further, raising the stakes: “So, please marry me. And before marriage, let’s date with the goal of getting married!”
The Demon King was buried under a mountain of question marks—utterly at a loss. His mind reeled as he stared at the Hero’s firm expression. What was this?
Having made his decision and wanting to go all in, the Hero took a deep breath, placed one hand over his heart, lowered his head, bent his knees, and said:
“Will you marry me?”
His voice echoed clearly in the night air, emphasizing the proposal.
The Demon King glanced around. Just as the Hero dropped to one knee, his movement was abruptly interrupted by a wooden stick swinging toward him.
“Ah!!!” A sharp scream broke the calm, sending a few leaves fluttering down. Everyone still lingering in the square turned to look toward the darker corner where someone seemed to be bending over in pain. The Demon King grabbed whatever he could use as a weapon and swung it, but the wooden stick—covered in nails—pierced his hand, sending him into agony. He shook with pain, stunned, glaring at the Hero in disbelief. The Hero, weakened from the blow, cried out, “Joshua?!”
Seeing the Demon King bleeding from his right hand, the Hero was dumbfounded. He scooped the Demon King into his arms and rushed toward the village chief for medical help.
Why did a wooden stick even appear? The Hero couldn’t understand why such a thing had crashed his proposal ceremony and hurt the Demon King so badly, especially since he himself hadn’t been hit.
Why were there nails on the stick? The Demon King, who had grabbed the wrong weapon, was in disbelief as he tended to his wound. Looking at the blood-stained bandage wrapped around his palm, a thousand thoughts raced through his mind, his emotions in turmoil.
The village chief, surprised to see them return like this, asked, “What were you doing with those dismantled wooden stakes?”
He’d never seen such an injury in his sixty years here. He had even carefully moved the unfinished stakes aside and put up warning signs, but somehow someone still got hurt. The Demon King looked at the Hero, then muttered with a bitter smile, “Heh. That wasn’t the wooden stake with the warning sign next to it. That one doesn’t hurt.”
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