Chapter 8: The Hero Who Said Good Morning
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
“Ruling alone feels good for a moment, but ruling alone forever? That’s just being dumped in a junkyard.”
—By the last Demon King, who always forced others down with his strength but eventually crashed and burned
In any case, the spot for the small bed was finally decided—right under the window farthest from the main bed.
By mutual agreement between the Hero and His Majesty the Demon King, the village chief kept his opinion about the location, which was near the door and the window, not far from the road outside. Then he provided the basic supplies. The Hero and the Demon King each took the essentials. A wooden board was placed on the floor, and then a mattress was laid on top.
The Hero, slowly healing under his own maxed-out healing aura, managed to get past the wooden board and mattress, arranging both carefully before glancing at the Demon King.
The Demon King, stripped of his magic and temporarily without his aura thanks to the Hero’s attack, muttered, “I can’t.”
The Hero: …
With no better option, the Hero tossed the pillow over, telling the Demon King to put the pillowcase on and watch how it was done. The bedsheet was also spread out.
After observing, the Demon King clapped lightly. “Impressive.” He then handed back the pillow and simple pillowcase, which were roughly made from old, tattered clothes. The Hero was momentarily stunned, surprised by the Demon King’s action. The Demon King gave him an innocent look.
A Demon King never needed to help humans—especially not the Hero—with trivial tasks like this. He passed the items again. So the Hero took them. The Demon King smiled and was about to step back. But the Hero grabbed him and, despite his struggles, forced him to learn how to put a pillowcase on—a simple task worthy of an EST-level novice. The process was clumsy, chaotic, and at times almost unbearable to watch. But at least the ending was bright.
When it was finally over, the Hero exhaled, smiled, and summed up, “So, until your memories come back, just do it the way I showed you.”
The Demon King, treated like a complete idiot and taught step by step, sighed: … “Fine.”
He gave in, really playing the fool this time, frustrated. After speaking, he tossed the pillow onto the small bed on the floor. The Hero looked at the pillow, then glanced at the Demon King, whose face showed a mix of unhappiness and relief as he quickly walked away, seemingly trying to avoid the whole thing.
The Hero’s smile faded a bit. He felt a little annoyed inside. The Demon King, noticing the Hero’s mood through his own faint smile, brightened up. He happily flopped onto the bed, turned his back, laughed freely a few times, then glanced at his hand with some displeasure that the scars hadn’t disappeared yet. He tried again but still couldn’t find any magic or reach out to the dragon. He grew even more upset.
“Joshua.” The annoying culprit behind him—the Hero—spoke just as the Demon King’s mood sank. The Demon King turned and looked back, feeling somewhat down. The Hero composed himself and said calmly, “Now’s the time to decide how we’re going to divide these two beds.”
The Demon King: “Huh?”
…
After dark, His Majesty the Demon King lay on the small bed on the floor by the window, eyes wide open staring upward. When the Hero suggested that they should take turns using the two beds, the Demon King voiced his opposition. He also strongly objected when the Hero said that since he had done less today, he should sleep on the small bed first. But since the Hero dismissed the reasons behind these protests as insufficient, both objections were immediately ruled invalid. “I’m telling you, why isn’t ‘I can’t get used to sleeping on the floor’ a valid reason?” His Majesty demanded.
The Hero, who just wanted to rest soon despite his pounding heart, replied, “Why would that ever be a good reason?”
The Demon King snapped back, “It’s totally unfair that you get to be both proposer and decision-maker. That should be reason enough, right?”
The Hero clutched his chest as his heart raced and his head started to ache. “That’s why I said you can get someone else to vote and then follow an impartial third party’s decision once it comes out.”
The Demon King grumbled, “…I just don’t want to sleep on the floor.” He couldn’t fall asleep and genuinely felt aches in his back and an annoying itch all over. The Hero simply said, “Good night.”
The Demon King stared at him. Noticing the gaze, the Hero added, “Goo—d—night—” and turned his back to him. The Demon King glared, but the Hero remained indifferent.
With his magic gone and feeling weak, the Demon King deduced that if he tried to kill someone, the entire village—and probably everyone in the human territory he was currently in—would hunt him down and place a bounty on his head.
Fuming, he silently added another note to his mental ledger against the Hero. His skin itched a little. After tallying his grudge, he felt the annoyance creeping into his body and forced himself to suppress all his dissatisfaction about the small bed.
But even after pushing it down, he still felt uncomfortable everywhere. Suddenly, the Demon King sat up and looked at the Hero. The Hero breathed evenly, back still turned to him. The Demon King lay back down again. Then he sat up. Laid back down. Sat up once more. Laid back again. And again.
…
Later, the Demon King did sit-ups a dozen times or more, but each time he got no response. Finally, resigned, he opened the window and, unable to fall asleep, gazed out at the world beyond.
The Hero, after the window was opened, watched quietly as the Demon King counted trees outside. He opened his eyes, thought for a moment, then closed them again, twisting his head in a subtle movement.
He squinted toward the Demon King and then fully opened his eyes to clearly see him. Outside, a gentle breeze came through the half-open window. The Demon King lay with his head on the sill, bathed in the cool wind. A bright full moon hung high in the sky, its silver light casting a glow beside the Demon King. The Hero followed the breeze and looked up at the pale moonlight.
He noticed a few strands of the Demon King’s hair had fallen loose, shimmering silver in the moonlight as they drifted with the wind. He glanced at the tied bundle of hair behind him as it swayed gently. Suddenly, the Demon King turned his head.
Catching the Hero awake, he said. “Awake? The first half of the night is over. Now I say we switch beds for the second half. That’s a perfectly fair way to share.”
Caught off guard, the Hero blinked, “Oh.”
Before he could say more, the Demon King grabbed him from the bed, tossed him onto the small mattress, then went back and patted the bigger bed—finally settling down on the very bed he’d hated just yesterday. At least, it was a proper bed. The Demon King finally closed his eyes.
The Hero sat on the small bed, thought for a moment, then looked outside again while closing the window. The Demon King had stared out the window for quite some time. Outside, spring moonlight spilled over the land. The tall trees stood lush and green, and the grass was starting to come alive with new growth. It was a scene full of vitality and hope. And it was the kind of view that lifted the spirits. After closing the window, the Hero finally lay down and took a deep breath. He thought to himself, Forget it.
Looking at Joshua like this, it didn’t seem like he had any past experience with this kind of thing. The Hero sighed softly, glanced at the Demon King who had also stared out the window for a long time. After watching the Demon King finally fall asleep—his breaths even and calm—he lingered a little longer, his mind full of questions. His head tilted unexpectedly, and his thoughts wandered off— So, is that small bed really that bad for sleeping?
He buried all other thoughts in that question, lay back for a bit, and soon fell asleep on the same bed. In his dreams, he worked through all the emotions from the day before.
“Good morning.” The Hero woke early, opened the window to let fresh air in, and greeted the Demon King like that. The Demon King, roused by the voice, blinked in confusion.
Then, annoyed by such a trivial interruption, the Demon King grumbled, “You wouldn’t last a day in my castle.”
He rolled over and went back to sleep, rolling his eyes at the Hero. The Hero smiled at the reaction, feeling good as a new day began. He got up, planning to learn how to fish. He intended to fish for his meal and travel expenses while following the river upstream to find his sword.
As he opened the door and stepped outside, then closed it behind him, he glanced back at the Demon King. The Demon King was now turned away, already asleep again after yesterday’s avoidance and the recent outburst.
In that good mood, the Hero found some merits in the Demon King—like finding positives in anyone else. Sure, Joshua had flaws, but he had good points too. Like… Well… He was pretty good-looking.
After a moment’s thought, the Hero reflected on everything from yesterday and today and settled on an objective fact. Then, after greeting the village chief and sharing his plans, gaining his support, he changed the question mark to a period— Yeah, he really was pretty good-looking.
After getting breakfast and meeting the fisherman uncle— Well, he probably had a decent heart too. He helped out when the Hero tentatively asked for assistance, though with some exaggerated movements.
As he began walking upstream— When he stood still and silent, he looked like a painting. When the Hero caught his first fish, he thought of the moonlight from last night. Continuing upstream, after parting ways with the fisherman uncle, he made note of every fork or river split, leaving marks or memorizing landmarks.
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