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“The Devil King Cup!?”
It all started with a single letter that arrived at the Magic University in Beilanea.
The sender hadn’t signed it, but the recipient’s na was clearly written:
To Miss Irene.
Irene knew that handwriting quite well.
“…What is Warren up to this ti?”
Indeed, the letter had co from Warren, the man known as the Black Emperor, and a Junior Minister of the Holy Demon Kingdom. If Warren had sent Irene a letter under the guise of anonymity, he must have had his reasons.
“He’s scheduling this event during the sa period as my official visit to the Holy Demon Kingdom… This is supposed to be an unofficial letter, right…? And he wants to compete as a guest? What is he thinking!?”
Irene crossed her arms with a huff, but as soon as her eyes fell on the second piece of parchnt enclosed in the letter, her expression shifted.
“…What? The prize for the Devil King Cup is… exclusive rights to Devil King Asley for a day?”
She didn’t even notice the other prizes listed.
Exclusive rights to Devil King Asley for a day — her gaze was locked on those nine words, her face inches from the parchnt. Her widened eyes scanned the text, right to left, left to right. Slowly, her hands began to tremble as she read and reread the prize description.
Her eyes sparkled, her body quivered, her cheeks flushed, and a silly grin spread across her face.
“Is sothing the matter, Miss Irene?”
“Gah! Huh? Trace!? What are you doing here!?”
They were in Irene’s private quarters.
“…Didn’t you summon , Miss Irene?”
Trace’s calm reply, like a blast of wind, instantly scattered her confusion away into the air.
“D-d-d-did I? Yes, yes, I did! Of course I did! Yep… mm-hmm…”
Even as she nodded, Irene couldn’t recall why she had summoned Trace in the first place, her thoughts still a jumbled ss.
Trace, ever observant, could easily see through her flustered state.
“…Hmm. Though you’re just a part-tir, you ARE working at the Magic University again. I assud you called to help list the things you’ll need for your room…?”
At that, Irene jabbed a finger at her, suddenly struck by clarity.
“That’s right! Exactly!”
But Trace didn’t react; her focus had already shifted, her gaze narrowing as he caught sight of the parchnt in Irene’s other hand. Irene quickly hid it, but there was no fooling soone as sharp as Trace.
“Ah, I see. The Devil King Cup… How intriguing.”
“Wh-What? How did you…?”
“I saw the first sheet of parchnt reflected in the mirror behind you, and I glimpsed the second one just now.”
“In that split second…!?”
“I was trained by you, after all.”
Trace adjusted her glasses with a slight smile. Flustered, Irene crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it aside.
“I’m not entering! No way! I’m going as a state guest, rember? The War Demon Empire’s reputation is at stake! If I participated, who knows what they’d say about ? Hmph!”
She turned her back, arms crossed defiantly, but Trace simply picked up the crumpled letter and carefully smoothed it out.
“Even if you’re attending as a state guest, it’s only among those who know you well. No one’s going to gossip about you, Miss Irene.”
Trace handed the crumpled letter back to Irene as she spoke. Irene took it, her eyes flicking over the paper. And once again, they were drawn to those nine words
[Hehehe… How charming. She accepted it so easily. Refusing was never really an option for her, was it?] Trace mused with a smile, but Irene couldn’t bring herself to et the forr’s gaze.
Suddenly, an idea seed to strike Trace. She raised a finger and said,
“Miss Irene, this is your chance to demonstrate your authority.”
“My… authority?”
“Yes. It’s ti to show why they call you the Invincible Sprout. This isn’t just a contest — it’s crucial for the War Demon Empire’s public image.”
“Public… image…” Irene repeated the words under her breath as she paced the room.
After several laps around the room, she stopped right in front of Trace.
“Yes! Public image! That’s it!”
“Exactly, Miss Irene!”
The two exchanged a knowing smile.
“So… the real threat must be Lylia, right?”
“It’s unlikely to be just a battle of combat skills. With Warren involved, you should prepare for anything.”
“That makes sense… I’ll need to plan ahead.”
“And don’t forget about cunning strategies, Miss Irene. The Devil King Cup isn’t a place to get caught up in the rules.”
“…You’re right! Let’s do this, Trace! Follow !”
“Yes, ma’am!”
And so it was decided: Irene, the Invincible Sprout, would enter the Devil King Cup.
All for the sake of those nine words.
Indeed… everything was playing out just as the Black Emperor had planned.
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