Lilith had a dream last night.
In the dream, she returned to the hospital ward, lying on the bed she had occupied for over three years.
A nurse pushed the door open, carrying a tray of medicine, and said with a smile, “It’s time for your medicine.”
She looked at the tray, then at the nurse, and said one word at a time:
“I’m. Not. Taking it.”
Halfway through her sentence, she suddenly found a pill stuffed into her mouth. It was deathly bitter.
She snapped her eyes open.
She lay on the bed, gasping for breath.
“...A dream.”
She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, confirming there was no bitter taste of medicine, before slowly relaxing.
She lay back down, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling for a few seconds before her consciousness gradually returned.
She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow.
“It’s all over... No hospital, no medicine, just a healthy body.”
The room was so quiet that she could only hear her own breathing.
Lilith curled into a ball under the covers, the corners of her mouth curling up.
During the last three years of her previous life in the hospital, she had almost never slept through a full night.
She was either woken up by nurses checking the wards in the middle of the night, disturbed by noise from the neighboring bed, or more often than not, woken up by pain.
Now, this bed was huge, soft, and quiet.
She closed her eyes, intending to sleep a little longer.
Knock, knock, knock.
Lilith’s brow furrowed. She didn't move.
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
The knocking sounded again, more urgent than before.
“Your Majesty.”
Veen’s voice came from outside the door.
“Your Majesty, I have urgent matters to report.”
Lilith pulled the duvet over her head, curling into a tight ball.
She pretended she hadn't heard.
“Your Majesty, the matter of the assassin has been resolved.”
Veen’s voice drifted through the stone door. It was muffled, but every word was clear.
Lilith opened her eyes under the covers.
The matter of the assassin?
She was silent for two seconds, then with extreme reluctance, she reached a hand out from under the duvet, fumbled around the bedside, and found the clothes she had tossed there last night.
She dragged the clothes into the covers and spent a full minute wriggling around inside before she managed to get them on.
Her hair wasn't brushed. There were still pillow marks on her face.
She stepped onto the floor barefoot, walked to the door, and pulled it open.
Outside, Veen stood perfectly straight.
Then he looked down and saw Lilith.
Veen maintained his expression, but there was an extremely subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Lilith let out a yawn and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.
“What is it?”
Veen cleared his throat, lowered his gaze, and his tone returned to a steady, business-like professional tone.
“Your Majesty, the person who sent the assassin last night has been identified.”
Lilith blinked, her sleepiness fading slightly.
“It was Kolech, the Deputy Commander of the Seventh Legion. I led men to apprehend him this morning and had him summarily beheaded in public for the crime of treason.”
“...Oh.” She nodded. “Fine.”
She gave a casual wave of her hand and turned to walk back into the room.
Veen’s expression finally showed a crack.
“Your Majesty.” He took a step forward, his voice tinged with a hint of urgency. “Today’s state affairs have not yet been handled.”
Lilith’s hand paused on the doorframe.
She turned back, looking at Veen with her crimson eyes that weren't yet fully open.
“State affairs?”
“Yes.” Veen regained his respectful posture, but there was a subtle persistence in his tone. “Every morning court, the generals and elders of each department report the day’s business, which requires Your Majesty’s review or decision. This is the custom—surely you knew this?”
Lilith was silent for three seconds.
She looked down at her bare feet, then raised her hand and ran it through her messy hair.
Watching this, the twitch at the corner of Veen’s mouth became more pronounced.
Lilith lowered her hand, took a deep breath, and then said in a casual tone:
“Who was that guy from yesterday? Maurice, right? Didn't he want political power?”
Veen’s expression froze.
“I grant it.”
After saying those three words, Lilith stepped back decisively, her hand on the doorknob.
“Your Maj—”
Bang.
The door slammed shut.
Veen stood outside the door, his expression looking as if he had been splashed in the face with a bucket of cold water.
He remained in a slightly leaning posture, his mouth half-open, the final syllable of “Majesty” cut off by the closing door.
The corridor was silent for three seconds.
Veen slowly straightened his body, put his hands behind his back, and stared at the tightly closed stone door.
In a very short span of time, his expression went through confusion before finally settling on a complex look that said, “Who on earth am I working for?”
Behind him, Gregor was struggling to hold back a laugh.
Veen turned his head and gave him a blank look.
Gregor immediately swallowed his buzzing, pulled his six legs together, and stood perfectly straight.
Veen turned back and glanced at the door once more.
There was no movement inside.
She had gone back to sleep.
Veen stood in the corridor, silent for a long time.
Then he took a deep breath and turned to leave. His footsteps were noticeably heavier than when he had arrived.
Gregor followed behind, his massive carapace moving through the corridor with a rustling sound.
After a few steps, he finally couldn't help himself:
“So... today’s state affairs...”
“Go find Maurice,” Veen said through gritted teeth. “He wanted to be in charge, didn't he? Let him handle it.”
Gregor let out another buzz. This time, Veen couldn't tell if he was stifling a laugh or expressing understanding.
He didn't look back.
Inside the room.
Lilith threw herself back onto the bed, sprawling out like a starfish.
She stared at the ceiling, the corners of her mouth slowly curling up.
“Whoever wants this job can have it. I’m making a run for it this afternoon anyway. Who knows if some weird Hero will come knocking if I stay any longer?”
She rolled over, pulling the duvet around her to wrap herself up.
Anyway, she was the Demon King. The Demon King could sleep for as long as she wanted.
This was the truth she had traded three years of hospital bed life for in her previous world.
Then, she fell asleep once more.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the palace.
Maurice stood in the Council Hall, holding a stack of documents taller than his head, his expression shifting between dark and pale.
“What did you say!?”
He looked at the herald in front of him, his voice trembling with disbelief.
The herald lowered his head, his tone steady: “By Her Majesty’s oral command, from this day forward, the state affairs of the demon race are temporarily entrusted to you.”
“Entrusted to me?”
“To you.”
Maurice looked down at the documents in his hands, then up at the herald. His lips moved for a long time before he finally squeezed out a sentence:
“What were her exact words?”
The herald hesitated for a second, cleared his throat, and repeated it in as neutral a tone as possible:
“‘Who was that guy from yesterday? Maurice? Didn't he want political power? I grant it.’”
Maurice fell silent.
The entire Council Hall fell silent.
Several generals standing nearby exchanged glances, then very tactfully took a step back, leaving Maurice alone in the center.
Maurice looked at the stack of documents in his hands.
Various military reports, resource allocation requests, and so on. Every single one needed a review, every single one needed a signature, and every single one was marked as urgent.
His lips trembled.
“I was just talking...”
No one answered him.
The herald had already left. The generals had already dispersed.
Maurice stood in the empty hall, clutching a stack of documents taller than his head.
His legs felt a little weak.
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