Hataraku Maou-sama! - Volume 1 - Chapter 1

THE DEVIL FOCUSES ON HIS CAREER FOR MONETARY PURPOSES 
The bank account had been wrung completely dry. 
The reason couldn’t be simpler: He had used up all the money. 
On what? Well, first, there was that long-sought-after refrigerator. That was a mandatory purchase, he felt, given his qualms about the food-preservation situation, what with summer looming in the distance. 
Next, there was the bicycle. It was a record-breakingly cheap fixed-gear, but for the commute to and from his part-time job, it worked. 
That, and the washer he bought. He figured at first that the Laundromat would suffice, but the time and annoyance involved came to be too much. Definitely another appliance he wanted squared away before summer arrived. 
He had made all of these purchases with cash. And now, his remaining balance would barely cover a stick of gum. 
“You should be more careful with how you spend your money, you understand.” 
The condemning voice beat against his eardrums. 
“…What, did you want me getting sick off rotten food all summer, then? You want me to wear the same outfit every day?!” 
“I said nothing like that.” The calm, serene voice still had a chiding air to it. “But think about this. Your account might be exhausted, but you do have a job, yes? And a steady one at that. It would be simple to figure out your income for the next few months. You could have easily paid for all of this on credit.” 
“Don’t like taking loans.” 
“…I honestly don’t think you’re in the—” 
“Plus, there’s all kinds of fees and things for that! I don’t like paying for things that I can’t see and feel with my own hands.” 
“But—” 
“Never spend money you don’t actually have. I hate debt. If there’s no money, you shouldn’t use it. Buy stuff all at once with cash in hand, or don’t buy it.” 
It was a typical one-hundred-square-foot tatami room, the kind you saw all across Japan. In the middle, two men sat facing each other on opposite sides of an old, decrepit kotatsu table, the room’s only heat source. 
On one end, the lecturer. On the other, the lecturee. 
The lecturer, taller and thinner than his conversation partner, slowly rose and placed a hand on the door of the newly-purchased refrigerator. 
“Your Demonic Highness, let me ask you this.” 
The “Demonic Highness” being lectured was a man of average build, average height, and dark hair. His lecturer opened the refrigerator door, a twinge of resignation within his otherwise sharp eyes as he shot a stare back at his target. 
“How do you plan to survive until your next payday on a block of konnyaku gel, a cucumber, and a carton of milk?” 
“I…that…” 
The “Demonic Highness” being lectured remained seated, unable to formulate a response. 
“I-I’m not completely broke yet. There’s still some money in my wallet.” 
The taller man’s eyes seemed to say that this was not an adequate response. 
“I, uh, I could always grab some extra food from my job…” 
“Oh, so you plan to go all Super Size Me every meal from now until your next paycheck? Do you think that would be the best thing for your health?” 
To the side of the refrigerator was a city-provided garbage bag, bulging conspicuously on the floor. It was stuffed with a vast array of boxes and packaging from a certain famous fast-food chain. 
“It…it’s still young, this body.” 
“And I would wonder how young it would look after a decade of daily high-calorie, high-cholesterol cuisine! When we finally make our triumphant return, hopefully you won’t require a mobility scooter!” 
The sarcastic tone continued apace. “Also, you should know that time has different effects on this body from the one before. Ten years as a human being may not seem very long, but it is. Your health is a surprisingly fragile thing, Your Demonic Highness. Are you planning for that at all?” 
“All right, all right! Lay off me a second! I’m not, all right?! Are you happy now?! And anyway! It’s not only my fault I’m like this right now!” 
“Yes. Of course, my liege. There is no apologizing for the shame that has befallen us. But it was you, as our one and only Devil King, who decided we should bide our time and wait for the moment to rise once more. And in the meantime, you must be diligent in your work and in retaining your health. And I fear you are failing at both.” 
The Devil King fell silent. He turned his head to the side, apparently in regret for his behavior. Then: 
“Gah! It’s time for work!” 
Hopping to his feet, he tore out of the room, as if suddenly remembering he was inside a lion enclosure at the zoo. His lecturer, caught by surprise at this sudden flurry of activity, was left behind by the kitchen counter. 
“M-my liege! Wait! We still need to talk…” 
“Save it, Alciel! If it’s more complaints, I’ll listen to it when I get back!” 
Just as the man named Alciel caught up to him, he slammed the door in a huff. Mere inches saved himself from smashing his nose against it. 
“Your Demonic Highness!” 
As Alciel called for his companion, the door opened. The Devil King was there, a tremendous glare on his face as he extended a hand toward Alciel. 
“Rain! Umbrella!” 
The sky had been clear that morning, but ashen clouds now hung low in the sky. Raindrops had only just begun to fall. Before he could say anything else, Alciel wordlessly handed over the frayed, battle-worn plastic umbrella propped by the side of the front door. 
“Thanks! See you!” 
The door shut in his face once more, to the sound of the Devil King’s feet clanging as he stormed down the stairs. 
“Dullahan! My beloved mount! We’re off!” 
The so-called Devil King, his wardrobe betraying an obvious dedication to the clearance racks at UniClo, the monolithic discount clothing chain, heroically sounded the bell on his bicycle as he climbed aboard. Balancing his umbrella like a knight readying his jousting lance, he scurried down the alley in front of the apartment building. 
Alciel, the lecturer who was bedecked in a full UniClo wardrobe himself, craned his body over the stairwell railing as he saw his companion ride off into the rain. A long, deep sigh erupted across his lips. 
After a moment, he turned around and ventured back inside the apartment, a plain wooden placard with the household’s name written upon it in Magic Marker the only thing decorating the door. It listed the kanji to the left, and the English reading—Maou—to the right, with a dash in between the two. In effect, it read to any passing Japanese as THE TRUTH WITHIN to the left, and DEMON KING to the right. 
Closing the door behind him, Alciel shook his head and sighed once more. Why did all of this have to happen? The dark clouds and tinkling rainfall blackened the room, making it as gloomy and shadow-laden as his own heart. 
The dim scene was broken only by the somber sound of the doorbell. The doorbell? Oh. Right. This building was far too down-market to offer anything like an intercom to its residents. Alciel opened the door a second time. 
“…I’m sorry, we don’t own a television here.” 
The MHK TV-fee collection agent was a familiar presence in his life by now. It was no lie. There was no TV in the place. The Devil King and more-or-less master of the house reasoned that they could use a smartphone for their video-entertainment needs, but such a high-end device was nowhere near within reach of their strained budget. 
“Certainly. I just thought I would check. If you do purchase one, please bring this payment slip to the bank, if you could.” 
The collection agent handed over an envelope just as dull and unadorned as his businesslike tone of voice. Then he left, not bothering with even a perfunctory smile. 
 
Vast and sprawling as the yawning continents of Ente Isla were, there was not a soul in their world unaware of Satan, the Devil King. He was the overlord of the demon world and all the creatures that slithered and slavered within, his name all but synonymous with abject terror and cruelty. 
His sole motivation in life was to conquer Ente Isla, the divinely protected Land of the Holy Cross, and subjugate the foolish humans within as he transformed the continent into a paradise for his dark legions. 
Making the situation even more desperate for the human race were the faithful war generals by the Devil King’s side, each as overwhelmingly powerful as the master they served. 
They were Alciel, Lucifer, Adramelech, and Malacoda, and together they were called the Four Great Demon Generals. 
Ente Isla, the land protected by the gods, was composed of a large central landmass planted within the Ocean of Ignora, itself surrounded by four islands. These islands extended from the sea each to a cardinal direction, thereby forming a rough cross. The Devil King had deployed Alciel’s forces on the eastern island, Lucifer’s on the western, Adramelech’s on the northern, and Malacoda’s on the southern. They had deployed far and wide across the land, bringing both the humans and the godly forces that aided them to the very edge of annihilation. 
Then, something happened to Lucifer’s western forces. 
Word arrived from the west that the war-loving general’s armies had been routed by a single human being. 
This woman, referring to herself as a “Hero,” had rallied the few surviving human fighters together to stage a resistance effort. 
Lucifer was a former angel that had fallen from the world of the heavens, and the Western Continent was occupied by the resilient forces of the Ente Isla Church, the powerful ecclesiastical institution that was deemed the “closest to heaven” in the land. The Demon King had reasoned that Lucifer, well versed in the ways of the heavens, would be perfect for dispatching the Church and the divine assistance it received. This assumption had been dashed by a single human. A so-called Hero, at that. 
Of course, every long, drawn-out struggle has its setbacks. Lucifer had had a poor string of luck, perhaps. But, as Satan confidently concluded, the combined forces of his remaining generals would surely make easy work of this Hero. 
That was his first mistake. 
Satan had thought of humans as little more than grubworms, wriggling in and along the ground he trod upon. 
But think about it. Could one ever truly eradicate every single grubworm from the land? Even the mightiest and fiercest of lions could be felled by a single insect bite, if it proved poisonous enough. 
Within the space of a single year, first Adramelech, and then Malacoda, followed Lucifer down the path of defeat. Alciel, renowned as the Generals’ most gifted strategist, suggested abandoning the Eastern Continent and waging a defensive battle on the Central Continent in order to protect the Devil King’s central base. After years of waging war over the fate of Ente Isla, the battle had been turned upside down in twelve short months. Not even Satan could view the situation with optimism any longer. 
Soon the humans, on the rebound and campaigning in the name of the Church and their Hero, had pushed their way to the Central Continent, their vast forces descending upon the Devil King’s holdings. One had to wonder where all these grubworms had been hiding up to this point. 
In the blink of an eye, the central island was overrun. The demonic forces had been brutally crushed, all because he had underestimated the mettle of this single Hero, this mere maggot of a creature. 
Satan and Alciel fought back, battling the forces of the Hero and her three stalwart companions at the site of his Devil’s Castle on the Central Continent. 
The war wore on. Even the Hero faced difficulty against both the Demon King and his sole remaining general. But in terms of manpower and resolve, the Hero’s forces far outclassed Satan’s and Alciel’s. 
Eventually, once the Hero’s holy sword sliced off one of Satan’s horns, Alciel advised his ruler that retreat was in order. Continuing to wage war would lead not only to defeat but threaten their very existence as well. 
It was an agonizing decision for Satan to make, but one that even he saw the need for. The demonic forces would, to put it simply, flee Ente Isla. They would escape to another world and wait, rebuilding their strength until they were ready to return. 
The look of pained frustration on the Hero’s face as Satan plunged through the Gate to another world, just before she could pierce his heart with her holy blade, provided but little comfort to the demonic overlord. 
Satan’s final scream thundered across Ente Isla, as if he were attempting to address the heavens themselves. 
“Hear me, humans! Ente Isla is yours…for now! But I will return… and when I do, both you and this land will be mine!” 
But controlling a Gate to another world required a tremendous amount of magical force. Weakened and wounded by the Hero’s decisive victory, Satan and Alciel no longer bore the strength needed to fully navigate the portal. 
Sucked into the Gate’s torrential flow, the two powerful demons were soon astonished to find themselves marooned in a world with an advanced civilization already established upon it. 
It was filled with an intense, pulsating energy, the likes of which Satan and Alciel had never seen. Their infernal conquests had never prepared them for the towering structures and seemingly endless stream of shining, dancing lights that surrounded them now. 
They were inside a large city, it seemed, one filled with just as many dark, dingy alleys as glorious, massive edifices. They peered into the dim crevices between the buildings, listening in wonder at the unfamiliar, raucous noises that seeped from each one. Who could say what sort of intelligent life-form ruled this land, or what kind of insidious, ferocious monsters might populate it? Still not fully recovered from the shock, the pair of demons decided to find someplace to rest and heal from battle. 
Just then, a sharp, intense light shone upon them. 
“Hey! What’re you doing over there?!” 
It was a man’s voice, speaking what Satan could tell was a clearly defined, intelligent language. Turning toward the light, he saw someone there—a human, just like the ones that infested Ente Isla. The tubelike object in his hand emitted a blinding white light. 
“You guys okay? Have you been fighting?” 
Apparently the human race ruled this world. Another human was behind him, dressed similarly, eyes turned his way. 
Alciel was eager to avoid any further trouble. 
“Fall back, foul beasts! Who do you think stands before you?!” 
This bold declaration failed to have the intended effect on the man with the light. He furrowed his brows in apparent exasperation. 
Even Satan couldn’t hide his surprise at this reaction. There was pure, unadulterated magical force bubbling behind the noble cadences of demon speech. It was simply impossible for a human to ignore that domineering essence, treating it like the bleating of some animal. 
“Augh, great. Foreigners, huh? Man…” 
The first man tilted his head before taking out a small, boxlike object and muttering softly into it. 
“Uh, this is Patrolman Sasaki. I’m looking at a possible case of simple assault here. Victims are two non-Japanese Asian nationals. Location is—” 
The two humans were dressed in sturdy-looking, well-kept clothing, woven from some manner of leather or cloth. Weapons hung from their waists, their daggerlike hilts visible. The front of their headgear featured a golden emblem modeled after an unknown type of plant foliage. Knights from one of this world’s nations, then? 
That box must provide some form of long-distance communication. If these were knights, perhaps they had just called for reinforcements. A battalion of them could prove dangerous, especially in the demons’ current wounded state. 
For now, it was two against two. They had their guards down. Seeking to eliminate these possible witnesses, Alciel transformed his remaining magic force into a ball of crackling energy, sending it flying toward the humans. Or he meant to. 
“What…?!” 
The magic wasn’t focusing, somehow, the way he expected. In fact, the more he tried to harness his magic skills, the more it seemed to drain harmlessly out of his body, something he was powerless to stop. He turned toward Satan to explain this anomaly. 
“My, my liege… That…that form…!” 
Alciel’s voice shook as he beheld the ruler of the demon world, bathed in intense white light. 
“Hold your magic, Alciel. We must learn of this world first.” 
Satan appeared serene in demeanor, but his teeth were clenched, as if fighting off some heavy weight acting upon him. 
As well he may have been. For the Devil King was standing there in human form—the form of the puny, weak creature he fought, his battle scars still plain to see. 
“Okay, so listen, guys… The car’ll be here in just a minute, so… If everything checks out, you can go home right afterward. Okay?” 
The men seemed blissfully unfazed by Satan’s presence. Still reeling from the shock, Alciel looked down upon his own hands. They were human hands, hands completely alien to him. 
Soon a carriage arrived with no horse driving it, colored black and white and topped with a mysterious device that drizzled red light across the area in dazzling patterns. More men appeared, each wearing the same outfit as the first, and Satan and Alciel were thrown into the carriage. 
“Do you speak Japanese? Aren’t you hot, wearing that in the summertime?” 
The first man spoke slowly to the pair of ex-demons, once noble, proud, with chiseled bodies that would far outclass any normal human’s. Now they were human themselves, their clothes as unnatural as a toddler wearing a bedsheet cape, the ominous-looking gilt meant to represent their lordly strength now catching against this or that part of their lanky frames. 
Satan and Alciel shared a look, but neither had anything to say to that. Even if they did, it didn’t appear the men could understand their speech. 
“…Ah, well. Not like they’re the only kids dressed up all goofy over there.” 
The man no longer spoke, apparently satisfied with what he had told them. Soon, Satan and Alciel were taken to a place referred to only as “the station,” a building apparently meant for the enforcement of laws in this kingdom. 
They were taken to a room within this building for investigation purposes, and there the Devil King and his general were able to recover at least some of their grandeur. Satan unleashed a bout of hypnosis magic upon the investigating officer, seeking to extract as much information about this world as he could. It seemed that, no matter what world one found himself in, the nobility and military men swaggering around the castle were always of far weaker wills than any stalwart man of battle. 
As the hypnotized officer revealed, the pair of demons were on a world called “Earth,” within an island nation known as “Japan.” They had come to this world near “Harajuku,” an outpost on a transport network known as the “railroad” that had been installed around “Tokyo,” the nation’s capital region. 
Things like magic, magical force, Devil Kings, even demons themselves, were all treated as imaginary things in this world, mere flights of fancy that could never actually exist. Magic was something the denizens of the demon world harnessed to exert their wills upon the world, similar to the forces of gravity or magnetism, but there was no way to access this magic if it did not exist in the first place. 
“So you’re saying we’ve…lost our magical powers?” 
Alciel threw himself upon a chair, unable to wrap his mind around it. 
“…Ah, but, Your Demonic Highness, you just…” 
“I have a small amount of residual force left. It’s proving difficult to keep it from flowing out of me, though…” 
The Devil King and his demonic subjects were able to accumulate a vast amount of magical power within their bodies. Even though his stores had been drained in combat with the Hero, Satan still retained several times as much magic as Alciel could ever hope to. It was that residual force which allowed Satan to bend the officer’s mind. 
“I don’t think it will dry up immediately, as long as I strictly regulate the amount I release. But…” 
But the problem was, there was no way to recharge the force he used. 
His wounds would heal with time, but at this rate, he would never recover his magical skills. Any Gate he could open would be impossible to keep uniform. Not only would he be unlikely to reach Ente Isla; he might uncontrollably blunder into an even more dangerous world. 
Instead of taking such risky bets, he reasoned, it would be wiser to find some other method of survival where he already stood. 
There may be no concept of demons or magic in this realm, but the concepts of gods and piousness seemed fairly sparse as well, which was a comfort. This nation, Japan, apparently had a vast array of official ceremonies for dispelling evil spirits, but it was all a formality, a façade, at this point. It seemed safe to conclude that none of their practitioners held any actual holy powers within themselves. 
As long as they remained in Japan, it seemed unlikely that anyone would attempt to slay these demons. Controlling the officer’s mind, Satan ordered him to complete his investigation and release them from the station without any further meddling. 
Holing up in a narrow alley the streetlights didn’t reach, Satan and Alciel discussed their future plans. 
First, they needed a method to recharge their magic in this world. Achieving this would likely require a lengthy stay, something they had to resign themselves to. 
Failing to find a method—failing to recharge their magic—was, for a demon, even more a threat to their lives than being wholly robbed of the magic. 
The higher-level demons could live without consuming food because they were able to convert magic into bodily energy. A world where magic no longer existed was the same as a barren world with nothing to eat. 
But some demons did eat food. Why? Because doing so allowed them to absorb energy in the same way lesser creatures did. 
To live in this world without a source of magic, they would need to forage for sustenance. Japan apparently used a currency-based economy. They needed money for food. 
But, of course, they lacked any Earth currency. 
“Let me ask you this, Alciel. If you had willed it, could you have escaped those officers?” 
Alciel shook his head stoically. Satan nodded his convinced agreement. 
The two great demons, ones who had set the human race upon their knees, were no longer able to fend for themselves against even a small rabble of them. 
And not because the humans of this world were somehow stronger. The only conclusion to be made was that they had grown that much weaker. That was how bitter, how bruising, the battle against the Hero had grown. 
“So…so we will remain like this…?” 
Alciel winced as he beheld his hand, as if observing some strange and hideous being. The soft, thinly stretched skin. The flat face and disheveled hair. The rounded, unsharpened nails. The muscles that formed their bodies, so flabby and pathetic. 
“It pains me to say it, but our lack of magical force likely makes it impossible to retain our greater demon forms.” 
The form a demon took depended on the level of power instilled within it. Foe-slashing claws, powerful legs that propelled it over castle parapets, leathery wings on its back, snakes for hair—every aspect of its ethereal form ran on magical force. 
“Amazing to think this is how you look when stripped of that power. Perhaps the human form is what lies at the foundation of all life.” 
“Surely you jest, Your Demonic Highness! I hardly bear to even entertain the idea that we house…humans inside of us. It is no doubt some machination placed upon us by this world, or the Gate.” 
“…Regardless. We have other matters to be concerned about.” 
They lacked the magic to summon another Gate. They lacked the strength to overwhelm the humans of this world by force. In other words, if they wished to survive, the only choice was to abide by the human race’s rules in this…Japan. 
Follow human rules. For a Devil King and a Great Demon General, the idea was enough to shatter the very foundations of their pride. 
But this new reality had been thrust upon them—one where they must eat to live, work to eat. 
Shrugging off their unholy demonic robes, the Devil King and the Great Demon General took their first halting steps toward an unknown world. 
From what they gleaned at the station, they knew that living in Japan would require at least two things: a “census registration” and an “address.” Without those, it seemed, they would be unable to acquire the work needed to earn money. 
A “census registration” and “address” were both things one could obtain in a place called a “ward office.” They decided this would be their first mission. Pushing their war-battered bodies forward, they plodded toward the “Shibuya Ward Office,” the nearest one to them… only to find it would not be open until the following morning. 
As miserable as it seemed, Satan and Alciel passed the night in front of the ward office’s door, knees tight against their chests. 
It was a city where the lights were apparently never extinguished, but things grew more animated once morning arrived. Humans strode around in clothing of a thousand different colors. As more and more of the men passing by began to sport uniformlike outfits colored in blacks and darker blues, the Shibuya Ward Office finally opened for business. Rushing toward the window, Satan commandeered the mind of the worker on the other side, one obviously surprised at the sight of these two men. In a few scant moments, they had successfully created something called a “family register” for themselves. 
Their next stop was a “real estate office,” a depot that could arrange living quarters for them. 
Satan and Alciel had become fluent in the human language of Ente Isla within just three days. Now they resolved to do whatever it took to learn this new language, “Japanese,” up to a practical level. 
Noticing the pair’s broken Japanese and bizarre clothing, the real estate agent, assuming they must be rich businessmen from a foreign country, began to politely bombard them with opulent houses at equally eye-popping prices. 
Satan had to explain to the eager agent that they could not live anyplace that required too high of a fee. 
Hypnotism did not consume a great deal of magic power if used only once, but since they would naturally be evicted for failure to pay, life in a full-floor penthouse unit without the salary to match would require continual hypnosis of the landlord. So they told the agent they wanted someplace they could easily afford, one that would allow them the barest minimum of a lifestyle. The agent, more than a bit disappointed, showed them one potential location. 
“The landlord here is a very…shall we say, unique woman.” 
It was a room in an apartment building located within “Sasazuka,” apparently a subsection of Shibuya. 
The rent was 45,000 yen per month, with no deposit, no advance fees, and no guarantor required. It was Room 201 in the sixty-year-old “Villa Rosa Sasazuka” apartments, approximately one hundred square feet, no bath, one toilet per room. 
“The landlord tells me she gives preferential treatment to people like you, who are…if I may say so, unusual? Or from unusual circumstances, I should say.” 
It was an unorthodox sales approach, but if this was all he had to offer, so be it. After a ride in the agent’s “car” (so that was what they called these carriages!), they arrived at a two-floor apartment building in a quiet, almost desolate neighborhood. Plaster was peeling off the walls, and the roof was missing more than a few tiles here and there. The rain gutter attached to the roof had given itself in entirely to its brown, rusted doom, and the stairway to the second floor tilted in several different precarious angles at once. There wasn’t a soul to be seen; all of the rooms were likely empty. 
“This…this is astounding.” 
Alciel groaned to himself. 
“Yes. Even I can see that much.” 
The pair spoke to each other in the demon tongue. As inexperienced as they still were with this world, the utter dilapidation presented to them was still obvious. 
These were, bear in mind, the demon elite, two men who had clawed and struggled their way to the top of the underworld. They had fallen far since, yes, but it was hard to accept living in this hovel during their stay. And if every room was empty, this meant not even the lowly humans would stoop so low as to live here, would they? 
It was simply impossible. Just as Satan turned around to tell the young agent as much, he realized that someone else was standing there instead. 
“Is that…a person?” 
To their demonic sensibilities, it was an utterly enigmatic, strange creature. It was tall, even approaching the height of Alciel, who towered above most others even in human form. The plump, rounded body—the word endowed was not up to the task of describing it—made this creature barely recognizable as a woman. 
A colorful hydrangea headdress was perched upon her hair, dyed a silvery purple and towering toward the sky. A violet stole was tossed over her shoulders, covering a shockingly bright purple summer dress. Every finger on her hands had a large amethyst ring on it, and her high heels were coated in a purple enamel. She had on purple rouge, purple eye shadow, and enough thick snow-white foundation that one could imagine it cracking apart if you slapped her. The light dollop of red cheek blush applied over it seemed to shine as brightly as the sun. The image presented was one of an enormous purple potato that had been peeled in random locations. 
“Hello there! I understand the two of you wish to move in?” 
“It…it talks!” 
Alciel’s instinctive response was understandable, given the daunting sight before them. 
“My name is Miki Shiba, and I’m the owner of Villa Rosa Sasazuka.” 
Still frozen in place, Satan and Alciel could see the real estate agent’s car peel off behind the purple presence in front of them. 
“The name Miki is made up from the characters for ‘beautiful’ and ‘shine.’ Please feel free to call me Mikitty, though.” 
The demons had thought they were beginning to get the hang of spoken Japanese, but something within their instinct made them reject the words being spoken by this puzzling tsunami of intent, this Shiba, before them that called itself a landlord. 
They must keep their distance from her at all costs. They could feel that in their veins, and yet they found themselves being dragged into a room in this beaten-up apartment house, being forced to sign a litany of documents, and receiving a rundown of the nearby facilities. 
“Well, then! Starting today, this will be your little sanctuary! I live in the house adjacent to here, so if you have any questions, please, don’t be afraid to give a holler. See you later, then!” 
The purple hurricane then left. All that remained in the room was the utterly dumbstruck Satan, the equally silent Alciel, and a rental contract onto which a pair of purple lip marks had been pressed. 
They had signed the contract, completely unable to mount any sort of protest. The two of them stood there, their minds blank, waiting to regain their composure so they could reflect over these sudden events. 
The place was a dump, its landlord a nonhuman behemoth. But what other living space would be willing to accept two homeless, unemployed young men, a concept that would send any sane landlord running at first sight? They resigned themselves to their fate, knowing the answer all too well. At the very least, they wouldn’t be rained on. 
So, deep in their hearts, the two demons swore to work hard, make the rent each month, and otherwise have as little to do with their landlord as possible. 
“‘You have to start somewhere,’ as they apparently say around here. Perhaps this is exactly what we need.” 
They were overwhelmed in battle against the Hero, battered by the wild journey across the flows of the Gate, and mentally fatigued by their adventures in an unfamiliar world. Satan, the Devil King, was rapidly expending his magical force, his breathing ragged after only two hypnoses. The sense of extreme exhaustion was like none he had ever tasted. 
So the Devil King fell asleep. And he stayed asleep for three days and three nights, healing his scarred body and drained soul. 
Then, after sleeping three days straight without eating or drinking, Satan was taken to the hospital for malnutrition. The dehydration and vitamin deficiency had immobilized him. 
In order to rescue his master—near death, skin dry and pallid, empty eyes staring aimlessly into space—Alciel had been forced to ask their landlord, Shiba, for help the third day after moving in. He had absolutely no idea what manner of medical facilities to expect in this world. 
Using a long-distance communication device known as a “telephone,” Shiba summoned an “ambulance,” a white car that, again, spat out red light. 
Sitting in a hospital room, watching his bedridden master as an IV drip flowed into his arm, Alciel realized they were akin to the humans of this world not just in external appearance, but internally as well. He started to cry, unable to withstand the humiliation. 
Reality, however, would prove cruel to them in ways that Alciel had yet to anticipate. 
In this world, receiving medical care costs a vast amount of money. There was a public system of sorts, apparently, to reduce individual medical costs, but naturally, neither Satan nor Alciel had enrolled in any such program. 
The medical fees presented to them could only be described as brazen profiteering, something Alciel could understand even with his tentative grasp on the value of this nation’s currency. Once allowed to leave the hospital, Satan was forced to use hypnosis once again to make the bill go away. 
Right now, what they needed over anything else was money. Money earned with methods besides getting arrested or wasting magic. 
That, and the national health system. They needed in on that action, too. 
For the final usage of Satan’s hypnosis, the pair agreed to travel to a “bank” to obtain an account and some monetary resources. Putting the teller under his spell, Satan took ten thousand yen from the employee and used it to open a regular savings account. 
It was completely illegal, but no sensible demon would even flinch at the concept of robbery. The thrill at finally obtaining the seed money for their new lives overcame the nagging impression within Satan’s mind that they were making some kind of mistake. 
The ten thousand yen was used to purchase the food necessary for survival, as well as something called “résumé forms.” A “résumé,” it turned out, was considered indispensable for obtaining employment. 
 

All they had to do was fill in the required boxes, bring the document to the appropriate place, make an appointment for an “interview,” and parrot out the right answers. Then they’d be able to work. 
There was just one snag. Neither Satan nor Alciel had any special skills that could be easily applied in this nation. Satan could hardly write “Job History: King of the Demon Realm; Hobbies/Abilities: World domination” on his résumé. Thus, the only option was to focus on jobs that touted “Beginners Welcome!” in their notices. 
The two of them sat down and prepared several résumés. 
Holding back the frustration and humiliation, dreaming of the day when they would defeat the Hero and regain their grasp upon all that lived and breathed on Ente Isla, they wrote their names down. 
“Name…‘Sadao Maou.’ Perfect.” 
“Name…‘Shirou Ashiya.’ That doesn’t sound odd, does it?” 
“Little point whining about it now. That’s what we wrote into the census register, no?” 
Thus, Devil King Satan (aka Sadao Maou, the surname of which was written with perfectly ordinary Japanese characters whose pronunciation just happened to be the same as “Devil King”) and Great Demon General Alciel (aka Shirou Ashiya) set off on their quest to reconquer Ente Isla, room 201 at the Villa Rosa Sasazuka apartments serving as their Devil Castle for the time being. 
The two of them had established a foothold in their drive to find the bare minimum of work for themselves, but they had little time to rest. Money would be needed for other things, too—electricity, water, gas, essentials. 
A tear came to Satan’s eye as he recalled a time when he could gather the thunderclouds, summon mighty waves, and raze the land with punishing flame, all at the flick of a finger. 
Now, Satan and Alciel were just Maou and Ashiya, two slow-looking unemployed young men, neither looking past their early twenties. 
The Devil King and his erstwhile Demon General read through every job-listing magazine they could find. Soon they discovered the existence of something called “day labor.” 
All they had to do was sign up with a given company, and they’d then be assigned short-term work. They would receive payment daily, between five thousand and ten thousand yen depending on the work, perhaps more if they performed well. 
Tossing one of their few remaining ten-yen coins into the slot of a public phone, they set up an appointment time for an interview. 
Traveling to the office in Shinjuku, they found it was less an interview and more a work-orientation meeting. They signed up at once, found the directors less than picky about qualifications, and work was promised to them before the day was through. 
Since they were both inexperienced beginners, they were tasked with assisting a group putting up facilities for an outdoor event, performing their assigned work up to the salary agreed upon. 
Staring at the seven thousand yen each of them had earned for the day’s work, Satan felt reassured in his convictions. 
If they kept this up, they could earn the money they needed for now. And once they saved enough money, they could turn their focus toward finding part-time jobs to keep them working on a more long-term basis. 
That mission, however, fell apart in a short two weeks. 
They had performed their duties on a consistent basis, to the point where the salaried employees working up front were starting to remember their faces. 
Then the company received a stop-work notice from the government, forcing them to leave the work-assignment business. It was a complete bolt out of the blue. 
In poor spirits and with no money source, the pair made their way home. Passing by a TV playing the news, they took in more of the story. 
The newscast condemned the firm, accusing it of assigning workers to illegal sites and skimming an outrageous amount off the top of their revenue. 
Satan focused on the news report, wondering to himself why a great demon as himself had to lose his job because of some silly laws enacted by humans, of all things. Suddenly, he came to a realization. 
“Hey, Ashiya, wait a sec.” 
“I would prefer Alciel, please.” 
“Our mission here is to conquer the human world, right? Not to spend every day of our lives scraping up enough cash to survive.” 
“Y…yes. As you say.” 
“Then how about you just focus on finding a way to restore our magic? I can hold down a job instead. I may have more physical and magical strength than you, but you—you’re the one and only strategist I have. I need you to find a source of magic for me, here, in Japan.” 
“M-Maou…” 
“It’s ‘Your Demonic Highness.’ But anyway, even if it may be more comfortable for us if we both worked, we must never lose sight of our goals. Demons and magic may not exist here, but the concepts do. And every concept has an origin. If we can root out the origin, then perhaps…” 
“…perhaps we can find a way to regain that magic?” 
Satan nodded sagely. 
“Far preferable to the both of us stringing part-time jobs together, right? And there is no need to focus on just magic, either. Perhaps we could find some new power, something exclusive to this world. Then we could use that to dominate Ente Isla once more!” 
Ashiya…er, Alciel fell to his knees, deeply moved by the first truly motivational speech from his master in many days. 
“Absolutely, Your Demonic Highness! I will stake my very life to find a way back to Ente Isla; to find a method to restore my liege’s powers!” 
“…Will you get up, Alciel? We’re in the middle of a crosswalk. You’re embarrassing me.” 
Their fellow pedestrians stared as they walked past, not betraying a hair of emotion at the sight of Alciel suddenly kneeling down and shouting nonsense in the middle of the afternoon. 
The Devil King Satan, absorbing himself in the role of Japanese slacker Sadao Maou, gave every inch of strength to his work. He went through a lot of it. Traffic control at a road construction site. Order picking at a commercial warehouse. Assistant for a moving company. Rush-hour customer management at a train station. The variety, at least, was nothing to complain about. 
Meanwhile, as Shirou Ashiya, Alciel devoted himself to maintaining the household, ensuring that Maou remained healthy and able to devote himself to work. In his spare time, he investigated the world’s magical possibilities, as well as strictly managing the pair’s financial situation. 
Exactly six months after the two of them first touched down in Japan, Maou received an offer for his first long-term part-time job—MgRonald, the fast-food giant. 
He returned from his first day at work with a pleased look upon his face, the bags in his hands groaning with deep-fried miscellanea. As he put it, “From this day forward, we will never have to worry about our food drying up.” 
Ashiya, too, was glad to be rid of such concerns. At first. But eating all these burgers, all these French fries, all this fried chicken—all this high-calorie, additive-laden food, day in and day out, wore him out almost immediately. After a week, the heartburn was enough to make him never want to set eyes upon a fast-food container again. 
But Maou carried on with this questionable diet, apparently taking a liking to the “cuisine” on offer. 
Inevitably, Ashiya had to pay even more attention to their daily food habits in response. The result was that the demon’s valiant search for magic was getting absolutely nowhere. If he wanted to avoid a disastrous diet of junk food for every meal, Ashiya had to dash for the supermarkets just before closing time, keeping a careful eye on whatever day-old stuff was discounted the lowest each day. 
At least Maou was devoted to his work. Within two months, he had already received a raise. 
The day was one Ashiya would likely never forget. The sight of the Devil King, overjoyed at the concept of a one-hundred-yen raise in his hourly wages, was something nobody could bear to behold without their eyes tearing up. 
Several more line promotions followed in the ensuing weeks. And before long, Maou had become an A-level crew member at the MgRonald location in front of the Hatagaya rail station. 
His hourly wage was two hundred yen higher than when he joined half a year ago. This was, allegedly, exceptionally kind treatment on MgRonald’s part. Using any of his hypnosis magic would weaken him to a point that Ashiya would immediately recognize something was amiss, so everything Maou achieved must have been the result of honest sweat equity. 
Eventually, a customer feedback form made its way to MgRonald headquarters, apparently full of praise for Maou’s service. That earned him the Crew MVP award for the month. 
A marked change in attitude began to settle in. Here was the Devil King after work, talking about how right his boss was to praise him and how talented one of the new hires was proving to be. It was hardly the devious plotting of a would-be conqueror. His qualifications upon the Devil King role gradually shrank, to the point where he began claiming that surpassing his store manager would be the first step to world domination. 
For someone like Ashiya, whose sole pleasure in life was to support the Devil King in his illustrious triumphs, the sight was growing increasingly disquieting as of late. It was becoming difficult to think in depth about the future. 
Ashiya flung the envelope with the MHK payment slip into the mail holder, not bothering to open it. He willfully bottled up all his concerns and complaints—his oath of fealty rang just as true now as it had when he swore it—and today he had an art gallery and a museum to research. 
During his investigations, Ashiya had become convinced that magic either still existed, or had existed, somewhere on planet Earth. 
From England’s Stonehenge to the Egyptian pyramids and the Nazca Lines in Peru, the world was dotted with cultures and structures that seemed to ooze magic at the core. 
This was the result of countless hours spent in libraries, investigating every ruin site and relic the world had to offer. The Devil’s Castle Maou and Ashiya called home had nothing as convenient as the Internet available. 
The issue was figuring out the difference between true magic and magic-ish-ness. 
There was no money to travel overseas, and even if they used Maou’s hypnotic powers to make the trip, there was no telling which civilizations were magical unless they actually went to look for themselves. 
If a lead wound up going nowhere, he would be too ashamed to even look at his master. That, and who could say there was enough power anywhere in the world to refill his strength in the first place? 
Thus, Ashiya decided to start by examining antiquities closer at hand. 
The museums and galleries within the city apparently offered rotating displays from foreign museums on a regular basis. He wanted to see if anything on display resonated at the wavelengths of their own demonic magic. 
With that, he set off for Shinjuku. His target: the day’s special gallery at the National Museum of Western Art in Ueno. 
It was still raining outside, so Ashiya grabbed up another plastic umbrella Maou had fished from the side of the road, fumbled with the wobbly cylinder lock on the door to secure a room that offered nothing of value to steal, and set off. 
Suddenly, Ashiya was stricken with a gruesome thought. What, he asked himself, if this way of life went on forever? It was enough to make him tremble, even in the late-spring weather. 
“Hmm?” 
A moment later, he realized he actually was being shaken. An earthquake was in progress. 
It was nothing to panic about; he learned quickly over the past year that Japan saw quakes on a regular basis. But living in this popsicle-stick apartment that might set the world record for “oldest extant building with no work ever done to it” was enough to make any earthquake seem about 30 percent stronger, sickening him to the core every time. 
But nothing happened, again. The shaking ceased after ten seconds or so. In Ente Isla, any earthquake, no matter how strong or widespread, would send the humans into spasms of panic, blathering on about vengeful deities or advancing demon forces. But a quake this size wouldn’t even attract the notice of many Japanese. The trains wouldn’t even bother to stop for it. 
Not that Ashiya needed a train to reach Shinjuku. From Sasazuka, it was only one train stop away on the Keio line. About twenty minutes’ walk for any healthy man. Twisting the doorknob again to ensure the lock was still in one piece, he thrust the key into his pocket and gingerly walked down the staircase. 
It never dawned on Ashiya that he, himself, had fallen to the point where he gleefully made excuses in order to cheap out on a single stop’s worth of train fare. 
 
Sadao Maou, perched atop his trusty steed Dullahan, was on his way to work. 
From the Devil’s Castle in Sasazuka, it was less than ten minutes’ riding to the MgRonald in Hatagaya, assuming no snags. Thanks to the delay from Ashiya’s lecturing, however, the rain was now falling at a steady clip. 
It was strong enough that his beaten-up umbrella, with its bent ribs, rusting support rod, and clouded plastic that no longer offered full visibility, had no chance of covering for it. 
Yet Maou pedaled on, prodding himself forward as quickly as possible. 
It was the last day of the month, a Friday, one that always loosened the strings on his wallet a bit. An important day, too. His store was vying for the number one regional sales prize for the current special menu item. It made Maou burn with excitement. This was it. This would be the day when they would set a new record for Black Chili Pepper Fry sales! 
“I don’t need you yelling at me, Ashiya. I’m thinking about this, too…in my own way!” 
The lust was still there. His ultimate ambition, as always, was to conquer Ente Isla. But with no way to return home, there wasn’t much to be done about it. Even if he could teleport over right now, he would be cut down and defeated in the blink of an eye without his magic force. 
Meanwhile, in Japan, as long as you kept your nose clean, your chances of being slain on the battlefield were on the low side. And if you regarded this current routine as baby steps on the path to reclaiming the Devil King throne, it was even possible to retain one’s sense of demonic pride. 
For now, this was fine. Maou honestly believed that. 
He stopped at a red crosswalk signal, his brakes screeching as his front wheel plowed into a water puddle. 
Dullahan was a bargain, but its brakes, like the scream of an enraged mandragora, were one sticking point. 
At this intersection, cutting through a residential area a block away from the Koshu-Kaido road, there was a small park and a trendy restaurant, its walls covered with glass from floor to ceiling. 
Across the street, toward the direction he came from, Maou spotted a woman nestled beneath the restaurant’s rain canopy. 
The street was filled with passersby in search of lunch, but this woman caught his eye. She apparently had no umbrella with her. Even from afar, he could see her make a face as she wiped down her hair and shoulders with a small handkerchief in her hand. 
Her annoyed stare was pointed toward the sky as the light remained steadily red. She likely wasn’t expecting the rain. Even when the light finally turned green, she remained under the canopy, seemingly at a loss. 
Maou, ever mindful of traffic laws, dismounted his bike and walked it across the street. Once across, the woman noticed him for the first time, eyes turned toward his. He nodded lightly at her, then ducked under the restaurant’s canopy next to her, taking care to place Dullahan in between them to dispel any suspicions. 
“Um, if you like…” 
Folding up his plastic umbrella, he presented it to her, handle first. 
“Huh?” 
Her clear, refreshing voice sounded confused at first. She looked around her surroundings, unsure how to proceed. 
“Oh, I… It just started so suddenly, so I thought you might need it.” 
She had seemed like a mature woman, judging by how she looked and acted from across the street, but up close, she looked younger, perhaps even high school age. She was, at least, younger than Maou’s external appearance. 
Her flower-print, tunic-length top and tight, skinny denim jeans were a good match for her natural beauty. The rain in her long hair, slightly curled at the ends, gave it a sheen that made it all the more attractive. A pity she didn’t think to pack a folding umbrella inside the small purse hanging from her shoulder. 
Her strong, willful eyes were now clearly focused upon Maou, a whiff of anxiety on her face. 
“But…are you sure? I can’t just take this from you…” 
He had no spare on him, of course. This one had been plucked off the ground; actually spending money on one was an exotic concept to him. 
“Oh, no, I work right nearby here, so… It’s only about two or three minutes by bike. We’ve got more umbrellas over there.” 
Nervously, the woman took up the handle offered to her. As she did, Maou swiftly remounted his bike, not wishing to make her feel any more indebted. 
“Um, thank you very much! I’d like to repay you somehow…” 
However, the woman turned out to be more insistent than Maou was expecting. He held his hand upward in response. 
“Forget about it. It’s kind of junky anyway. You can go ahead and toss it once you’re done with it.” 
“Oh, I couldn’t just…” 
Maou turned toward the woman, who was still acting a tad hesitant about the whole thing. 
“Well, how about this? I work at the MgRonald right nearby here, so why don’t you stop by for a bite to eat sometime?” 
“Right nearby…? You mean the one by Hatagaya station?” 
She nodded her understanding as Maou pointed out the direction. “Yeah. I’ll give you an upsize on the special fries we got right now, if I’m there.” 
It was this sort of grassroots marketing that Maou specialized in around the neighborhood. He saw himself as a MgRonald employee everywhere he went in public, and anyone could be a potential customer. The way he saw it, this extra effort was what led to his job promotions. 
“All right. I’ll be sure to do that. Umm…” 
The woman stood up straight, looking right into Maou’s eyes. 
“Thanks again.” 
With that, she bowed lightly. 
Her smile was like a beautiful ray of sunshine peeking through the distressing rainclouds of his heart. 
“Sure thing. Be careful.” 
Maou turned around, attempting to hide his pangs of awkwardness. Waving his hand, he plunged back into the rain, never turning back. 
“Brrrr! Cold!” 
Perhaps that exchange was too knightly for his own good. But it was all for a better tomorrow, better sales figures, and—let one not forget—a better chance at brutally dominating the world. 
Also, losing one’s umbrella for a valid reason should make Ashiya release his iron grip on their finances enough that he could purchase a new one, right? If not, he could always take his pick from the umbrella rack in front of the store. 
Back at the intersection, the light long since back to red, the woman remained motionless, until Maou was no longer in sight. 
In the end, Maou’s location failed to top the Black Chili Pepper Fry charts for the region. One of the fryers stopped working after the lunch rush. 
It took two hours for the repairman to show up, and those two hours made all the difference. 
A frustrating ordeal for Maou, to say the least, and one he dwelled upon as he lugged yet another bag full of junk food home with him. 
The heavy rainstorm was a thing of the past by the time evening rolled around. That kept him from needing to “borrow” an umbrella from the store, but there was no doubt the foul weather kept customers home. 
But was there anything else? Yes, there was the fryer and the rain, but did they go wrong elsewhere at all? The question was all Maou could think about on the way home, as he reached the intersection where he had lent his umbrella out earlier. 
“…Huh?” 
It was now late night. The restaurant at the intersection had long closed, looking completely dark inside. The only light illuminating the deserted crossing was a lone streetlamp and the blinking traffic signals. 
There was someone lurking beneath the restaurant’s canopy. 
He hadn’t noticed in the darkness at first, but it was the girl he encountered on the way to work. 
“Hey, are you the…?” 
Maou stopped himself midsentence. Something was off about this. 
The woman was silent as she fixed her gaze upon him. There was something cold, almost hostile in her eyes. 
Her smile from before was like a rainbow arcing across the drizzly sky, and now her expression was like an Arctic iceberg, frigid enough to crystallize the sun itself. 
She was glaring at him, there was no doubt about that. Maou swallowed nervously, almost cowering at the sensation of her eyes upon him. 
Unable to take the woman’s silent leering any longer, Maou mustered up the courage to speak. 
“Um…did it work out okay? You didn’t get wet, did you?” 
“No, it did not work out okay.” 
“Uh?” 
Her voice was like a polar vortex in the middle of winter. 
“I went to your MgRonald today.” 
“Oh? Um. W-well, thank you.” 
Now seemed like an unsuitable time to take up the sales pitch. He didn’t remember seeing her while manning the register. 
The woman took a step toward Maou, almost making him lose his balance and fall to the ground. Flustered, he jumped off his bike and—for completely different reasons from before—positioned it between the two of them. 
“I was watching you. From the place across the street.” 
“Watching me?… You mean, the restaurant?” 
There was a bookstore that overlooked MgRonald from the other side. She was watching them from over there? Was she one of those mystery diners they kept hearing about? 
“No. You.” 
“M-me?” 
Now Maou was even more confused. She came to the store…but not to return the umbrella, at least? They had barely brushed against each other, and now she was stalking him? There was only one— 
“…You looked so different from before, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But after a while, I realized.” 
—only one woman who would— 
“At first, I doubted my five senses. I knew you were somewhere near, but not this near.” 
—who would be looking for him! 
“You can try to hide what little magic you have left, but you can’t fool me!” 
Impossible! 
“Devil King Satan! Why are you working part-time at the MgRonald in Hatagaya?!” 
The flowing jet-black hair; the beautiful, unblemished skin; the keen, magic-detecting eyes. She had to be— 
“Y-you…! Emilia, the Hero!” 
She was Emilia Justina, the Hero who snatched Ente Isla from the Devil King’s gnarled hands. The Hero glorified as the holy savior of her native land. Why was she in Sasazuka? 
“Yes! It is I, Emilia! And surely you must know why I am here!” 
“Y-you couldn’t be…!” 
“You and Alciel, your sole remaining general, may have just barely escaped us. But I have traveled across worlds in the pursuit! If I let you escape, our world will be enveloped in darkness once again! And before that can happen, I will destroy you!” 
“W-wait! Wait a sec, Emilia! We can talk this out!” 
“Never, Devil King! Prepare to die!” 
Suddenly, the Hero Emilia took out a knife and lunged for Maou, slashing at the air. Maou leaped backward, dodging the blade as it zipped past his bike. The once-proud Dullahan clanked to the ground, loudly protesting the unexpectedly rough treatment the entire way. 
“Whoa! Watch it!” 
“Enough of your cowardly evasion! Stand still and let me kill you!” 
“You gotta be kidding me!” 
He barely avoided the knife’s second swipe past Dullahan as it coursed just past the pit of his stomach. 
Maou took a moment to collect himself. He was weaponless. The trip home from the fast-food joint rarely called for any. That clearly put him on the defensive, but a sense of supreme confidence still filled Maou’s mind. One look at Emilia’s weapon was all he needed to know how this confrontation would end. 
“Uh…Emilia?” 
“Hmm? Begging for your life, is it? I shall never negotiate with my sworn enemy!” 
The forcefulness of her declaration did throw him slightly, but he still managed to croak out an observation—one that had a surprising effect on his opponent. 
“Where’s your holy sword?” 
“…!” 
It was enough to make her visibly gasp. 
“You bought that knife at the hundred-yen store in Sasazuka, right? I have that same one.” 
“H-how did you…!” 
Now Emilia was visibly shaken. The knife in her hand shone dully in the light of the red traffic signal. 
“You…you lost all of your holy force, didn’t you? Or even if you didn’t, you can’t afford to waste any, huh?” 
“Nnngh…!” 
The way Emilia gnashed her teeth in response was all the confirmation Maou needed. 
He had expected, to some extent, pursuers from Ente Isla would be forthcoming. But not the Hero herself from the outset. And yet here she was, across the Gate just like himself, sniffing out the trail of his magical force. 
“B-but…but you’re in the same situation, aren’t you? Your power feels so weak…so fragile! It’s nothing compared to before!” 
“Well…yeah, but…” 
Maou winced internally. But there was no point pretending otherwise. 
“With or without my holy blade, I have nothing to fear from a Devil King who’s a powerless fry cook! Die!” 
Emilia held the knife aloft in the air. 
Light flooded over the two of them. 
Ashiya, fresh from an ultimately disappointing trip to the National Museum of Western Art’s special exhibit wing, tossed the museum pamphlet into the mail holder. Snapping a four-hundred-gram block of expired discount udon in half, he began to boil the noodles in a pot as he waited for Maou’s return. 
There was no way either of them could survive only with the food left in the refrigerator. Ashiya had been saving his own money as well, in part to raise the funds for his museum investigations, so he was still able to perform a bare minimum of shopping. He kept this stash a secret from his liege. 
“Ugh. He’s bound to bring back more of those chili-pepper fries, I just know it…” 
Swatting away the bugs flitting inside from the open window, Ashiya took a glance at the clock. 
“Hmm…His Demonic Highness is late.” 
“So you’re Sadao Maou, and you’re Emi Yusa? Right. So could you tell me why you were arguing at that intersection?” 
“I was there to slay this man!” 
The Devil King and Emilia were seated on folding chairs at the Hatagaya police substation, a wizened officer in front of them. 
“Listen, ma’am, I don’t know what your friend here did to deserve this, but there’s no excuse for going around flailing a knife at him. You need to just calm down and talk things over, all right?” 
The officer’s advice was enough to send Emi Yusa, aka the Hero Emilia, into a rage. 
“I… Who do you think he is to me…?!” 
“Right now,” Maou interjected, an angry scowl on his face, “I bet he thinks we’re having a lovers’ spat or something.” 
“Well, if I’m wrong, I apologize. You see that sort of thing a lot lately, you know? So just talk it over and… You know, if you’re gonna break up, try to be a tad more quiet about it, okay?” 
“I’m telling you, it’s not like that between us!” 
A local resident had called the police at the confrontation. Now the Devil King and his rival, Hero, were at the station, getting the riot act read to them. 
It took an hour or so of lecturing about the perils of domestic violence before the two of them were finally released. 
Emilia plodded wearily forward as they exited. The ordeal had apparently caused her some measure of emotional pain. 
“…I’m letting you go today. But next time…that’ll be it.” 
“Oh, what, you planning to bring a rolling pin next time?” 
Emilia chose to ignore the jab. 
“Hmph. I hope you’re happy you’ve been granted an extension to your life. And this evening hasn’t been a waste at all. I memorized your home address, I’ll have you know. Hope you weren’t expecting to get a full night’s sleep for the rest of your life.” 
“You’re sounding more like a mob boss than a Hero.” Even as Maou winced at her brazen threat, a question suddenly popped into his mind. “Oh, by the way, what about my umbrella?” 
For a moment, Emilia’s face betrayed her inability to comprehend the question. Then, she let out a haughty, nasal laugh. 

“You said I could toss it out once I was done. So I did! I made sure to thoroughly mutilate it before I did, too.” 
“Oh, that’s just mean!” 
The anguish was sincere, from the bottom of his heart. Thanks to all the neighborhood cleanup efforts around Shibuya ward, it was growing difficult to find abandoned umbrellas lying around. 
“And why would a Hero such as myself gleefully accept an umbrella from the Devil King himself? May my family be cursed for generations if I did! I’d never keep such a putrid, tainted cancer near me for even a second!” 
To prove the point, Emilia took out a handkerchief, one in a strangely cutesy pink color, and began to wipe her hands. 
“I am the sworn enemy of the demon race and all that take comfort with it. Starting tomorrow, you’d best watch yourself on the streets at night!” 
With this final, rather unheroic flourish, she disappeared into the Hatagaya night, her footing still a bit unsteady. 
“…Well, that’s all I need.” The Hero had pursued the Devil King across multiple worlds. But why? It hardly seemed like anything important had happened at all. His even still had work tomorrow. 
The day was already starting to break as he muttered to himself on the way back home. 
“Man, Ashiya’s gonna be pissed if he hears that girl is here. Maybe I should keep it under my hat for a while.” 
He found out the next morning. 
Since Maou’s shift began in the afternoon, this meant the secret was revealed as they were eating the plain omelet—no filling, no ketchup, no nothing—Ashiya made from the slightly distressed medium-sized eggs he’d purchased at discount last night. 
The two of them exchanged glances as the doorbell rang. MHK had just visited the previous day. The assorted newspaper salesmen had long since given up on the place. 
The rent and phone bill were deducted straight from their account. Which meant that it had to be some new door-to-door solicitor. 
Neither bothered to even entertain the possibility of any mail or packages addressed to them. That was reality for you. 
“Yes? Who is it?” Ashiya called out from behind the door. They couldn’t pretend to be out; the kitchen’s ventilation fan was running. 
“‘Who is it?’ Well, thank you very much for such a polite greeting! I’ve found you, Alciel! Last of the Four Great Demon Generals!” 
Maou choked in response. Scrambled eggs flowed down his windpipe, throwing him into a coughing fit that sprayed bits of egg up into his nose. It was both an agonizing and rather nonthreatening response. 
“Wh-who’re you?!” 
In an instant, Ashiya jumped away from the door, ready for battle. 
“Who? I believe the last time you asked me that, we were battling each other in Devil’s Castle. You haven’t forgotten, have you? The name of the Hero, Emilia Justina?” 
“The Hero Emilia!” 
Panicked, Ashiya turned toward Maou, who was tearing up as he tried to unclog egg fragments from his own nostrils. 
“Now, come! Open this door and prepare for your destined fate!” 
It was difficult to believe, but there was no one in Japan besides Maou who would know the name Alciel. He had had concerns about being pursued by potential Devil King assassins, but who could have expected the Hero herself to reach them first? 
The reality of the situation threw him at first, but even now, Alciel was the most gifted of the demon forces’ strategists. He had an insider’s knowledge of every one of Emilia’s moves, and he already boasted a full grasp of his enemy’s weaknesses. 
Checking the lock on the door, Ashiya slid the chain into place, shut all the windows that looked into the outside corridor, and turned off the ventilation fan. “Your Demonic Highness! It’s the Hero! The Hero is here!” 
“Ah…! Wait! Alciel, wait! I’m telling you, open up!” 
There was a tone of panic to the Hero’s voice, as she realized the nature of his tactic. 
“Yeah, I know, Ashiya. Hey, get me a tissue.” 
“The Devil King! You’re in there, too, are you? Give it up and open this door!” 
The doorbell rang incessantly, beating a predictable rhythm. Ashiya paid it no mind. 
“What should we do, Your Demonic Highness?! The Hero is right at our doorstep!” 
“Ugh, I can’t get this bit out of my nose. Yeah, we met yesterday. Sorry I didn’t tell you.” 
“Wh-what?!” 
Maou’s distracted remark as he pinched a nostril shut was enough to stun Ashiya into silence. 
“She attacked me over at that intersection on the way from work. Then someone reported us, so we got taken in by the cops. That’s why I was late last night.” 
“The most humiliating moment of my life! They…they thought I was the Devil King’s girlfriend!” 
They could feel the waves of anger radiating from behind the door. Ashiya’s eyes shot toward it for a moment, but quickly turned back at Maou as he half-shouted his response. 
“Why, my liege?! Why did you not tell me sooner?!” 
“Well, I mean…like, no one got hurt, so… Besides, she’s kind of in the same boat we are.” 
“The same boat…? Meaning?” 
Maou inserted a probing finger into his nose to clear out any rogue egg bits remaining. 
“She recognized me as the Devil King Satan yesterday, but she couldn’t bring out her sword. That’s made out of Holy Silver, right? The heaven-born metal that’s imbued with holy power? She couldn’t summon it. You know what that means?” 
“…It means she cannot afford to waste her holy power? So she’s lost the ability to recharge her own powers as well!” 
“Yeah. Not that she’d mind using up all her holy force to defeat the Devil King, though. However, we’ve got one decisive advantage on our side.” 
“Her…life span, right?” 
The ball of anger on the other side of the door began stamping her feet in disgust. It was loud enough to raise serious concerns about the cheap wooden floor giving in on her. 
“Even if she killed both of us, there’s no guarantee she’ll regain enough holy force to get out of this world before she dies. The humans on Ente Isla, they’re lucky if they reach fifty. Of course, women in Japan average a lot higher than that, so maybe her mideighties or so. But she’ll be old and frail by that time.” 
“So the Hero would lack the strength to control the Gate as well, then.” 
“Basically, yeah. Here, you mind letting her in? She’s starting to cry out there.” 
The sniffling was loud enough to be audible from beyond the door. 
“What a dump!” 
Emilia’s first reaction upon entering was as heroic sounding as she could muster with a beet-red face and bloodshot eyes. 
Ashiya was ready to launch into an angry response, but Maou stopped him, knowing full well she wasn’t exaggerating. 
“Hey, at least it isn’t cluttered, right? We can’t even afford any stuff to clutter it up with.” 
“I find it hard to believe that two men could truly bear to live here…” 
“I like my Devil Castles more functional than comfortable.” 
Maou, nasal passages finally cleared, had returned to his omelet. 
“Not much of a breakfast there, either.” 
“Dude, Ashiya’s a genius at this. He makes breakfasts out of practically nothing. Like magic.” 
“I thank you for your praise, Your Demonic Highness.” 
Ashiya knelt meekly behind Maou as his liege sat cross-legged at the table, running his chopsticks against the plate to wipe up the crumbs. Emilia rolled her eyes in exasperation. What kind of ridiculous charade was this? The Devil King and his faithful general, savoring this meager slop? 
“Are you crazy? The Devil King, eating eggs and nothing else for breakfast? You could at least buy some bread to go with it.” 
“We’re poor, all right? Is that bad?” 
Maou’s defense was sorely lacking. 
“Yes! Yes, it is! I clawed my way over to a completely different world just so I could kill these two dirty hobos? This is horrible…!” 
The sight of Maou sitting cross-legged in front of his beat-up kotatsu table, enjoying breakfast in his boxers and sweat-stained running shirt, finally made Emilia break down in tears. 
Six tatami mats lined the floor of the apartment, bronzed over time by the rays of the sun. Against one wall, a cheap-looking three-level particle-board shelf, sitting on top of some cardboard to keep from damaging the tatami mats. On the other wall, a closet, the sliding doors similarly discolored by the sun. 
There was no balcony, no screens over the windows; just a few rusted iron bars welded to the other side. Bits of laundry—mostly shapeless, solid-color T-shirts, threadbare underwear, and socks—were draped over the window frame, taking every available inch of space. The washer that cleaned them was outside in the corridor, too large to actually install in the apartment. Looking around, Emilia spotted a single lonely door, the paint peeling off of it. A plastic plate reading “Toilet” hung from it, as if the occupants had trouble remembering where it was. The john was the old Japanese-style floor model, no doubt. 
The kitchen counter boasted an array of thin, dull, flimsy-looking plastic accessories, all likely purchased from the hundred-yen store, as well as a few stacks of ceramic bowls and such, none of their designs customized for the season or anything. A garbage bag was thrown into one corner, crammed to the brim with MgRonald packaging, ready for disposal whenever anyone gave enough of a damn to take out the trash. 
There was also a stainless-steel trash bin with a funky flower motif, another garbage bag lining the inside. The dents and old packing-tape markings one could spot here and there suggested the bin was a relic from the local thrift shop. 
The refrigerator that made the already cramped kitchen even more constrained was a medium-sized model, likely meant for a single-person household. A MgRonald desk calendar with “Monthly Shifts” written on it was tacked to the door with broken bits of old kitchen magnets. 
“I…I live by myself, and I still live better than this. You’ve got two of you holding jobs, and this is the best you can do?” 
Emilia was trying to condemn Maou’s pathetic lifestyle, but Maou’s interest was laid upon a completely different subject. 
“By yourself? You don’t have any friends?” 
“Shut up!” 
Without skipping a beat, Emilia threw the nearby tissue box at him. Maou nimbly dodged it, and it harmlessly bounced off a stack of free newspapers and job-search magazines, tied up with plastic twine, before falling with a thud upon the tatami mats. 
“The…the archbishop was supposed to join me! We were going to head right back home after you were defeated! And…and now look what happened!” 
Emilia was the one who decided to pursue the fleeing Devil King through the Gate at once. 
She had taken the lead position and plunged inside, but once it swallowed her up, it had suddenly shut itself off, leaving the rest behind. 
Her last glimpse of Ente Isla as she looked behind her was the strained face of Olba Meiyer, her friend and one of the six archbishops of the Church, seemingly unable to comprehend what had happened. 
“Hmm…” 
“What?” 
Emi shot a glare at Maou. He shook his head to indicate it was nothing, motioning her to continue. 
Once she touched down in Japan, Emilia went through the same ordeal Maou and Ashiya did—conserve what remained of her powers while attempting to build a life in this new world. 
The main difference was that her part-time work paid a lot more by the hour than Maou’s, enough to let her afford a fairly decent condo-sized apartment. 
“You got a phone?” 
“Yeah. Dokodemo.” 
She took out a sharp-looking touchscreen device, a high-end one, advertised as offering the power of a modern laptop in the palm of your hand. 
“…Well, you win.” 
“I win what?” 
Maou and Ashiya’s phone was an old, unpopular model that was a pain to navigate and sported a camera that would have been hot stuff thirteen years ago. They had concluded that when it came to a phone, talk and text would be good enough. 
“So how long have you been here in Japan?” 
“It…uh, hasn’t been a year yet.” 
“How old are you this year?” 
“Seventeen! So?” 
Most seventeen-year-olds in Japan would still be under parental care. They’d be attending high school. 
So how could this one be living a better, more relaxed life than Maou? It honestly puzzled Maou inside, but he opted not to dwell upon it. It wasn’t like knowing the answer would improve life at all. 
“Well, no matter what happens, we’re gonna need to find a way out of this world before we use up our natural life span. I know you found us and all, but we don’t exactly have the cash to move out of here. So, welcome to the new Devil’s Castle. This one-room apartment is all we need to open the first chapter in our new quest for world domination.” 
Maou attempted to affect as much bluster as he could, using his chopsticks to point at her as he did. Her expression as she looked around the room was part doubt, part sympathetic compassion, and part natural wariness. 
“Do you think you can back up all that junk, though? A Devil King living day to day off menial part-time work?” 
“I am not your typical demon, Hero. I know I cannot solve every problem with force alone. If you think I’m willing to live out my life in Japan, rolling along with my comfortable job, you are deadly wrong.” 
“Huh?” 
It was Ashiya, unexpectedly, expressing doubt at this statement. Maou ignored him as he himself laughed heartily at Emilia. 
“I fully intend to have Japan in my grasp before long.” 
Emilia tensed up as the Devil King started to sound the part, for a change. Noticing this, Ashiya steeled himself, preparing for whatever might happen. A single word from Maou was all it would take. After a pause, his master spoke. 
“So listen. At MgRonald, if you work hard enough as a part-timer, they have a system where you can become a full salaried employee.” 
“…Uh?” 
Another word was all it took to immediately break the tension. The quizzical looks on faces of Emilia and Ashiya told the whole story. What did the violent takeover of Japan and the human resources department at MgRonald have to do with each other? 
“You should know as well as I do, Emilia, how much your schooling and past experience affect your social position here in Japan.” 
“Yeah. So? That’s ‘Emilia the Hero,’ by the way!” 
“Look, try to use your brain a little, all right? In Japan, we’re magicless. Powerless. The only power we can get our hands on is the title of a salaried employee!” 
Maou belted out a howling laugh, the laugh that once sowed seeds of terror across Ente Isla. 
“So heed my words, Emilia the Hero. My ultimate goal is to become a full-time employee in this world!” 
“I…don’t see how that affects me.” 
Emilia was frozen on the spot, unsure how to react to this unexpected declaration. 
“Soon, the day will come when I outclass even my store manager. Then, as a full-timer, I will build up my stores of cash and social currency. Before long, I will wield enormous powers, forcing massive armies of people in Japan to grovel before me! Then I will use this power as a weapon to invade Ente Isla once more! Well, Emilia? Think you have what it takes to stop me?” 
Ashiya could only stand to the side, unable to speak as he listened to the speech unfolding in terrifying fashion. 
Chopsticks still in hand, Maou stared proudly at the plainly dumbfounded Emilia. 
“…You are so stupid.” 
After a moment, Emilia averted her eyes. Maou, noting this, puffed up his chest in glorious victory. 
“Hah! I thought so! A mere human could never comprehend the extent of my glorious spiritual strength!” 
“If I may,” interjected Ashiya, “I think she said that precisely because she comprehended it.” 
After a sigh, Emilia continued, obviously crestfallen at this anticlimax. 
“This is just exhausting me… I don’t know if it even matters anymore. I’m going home.” 
She wiped her reddened eyes before shooting Maou another glare. 
“But I hope you don’t have the wrong idea. I don’t understand you at all, and I am definitely not going to let you run free. I still have some of my power left. I could kill you anytime I want. But if I do that, I won’t have any way back home. So if I want to get back home, then I won’t be able to kill you. And that’s how it is.” 
What did she hope to accomplish, admitting up to her own predicament? It puzzled Maou as Emilia laid it bare for all the world to see, as if nothing could be more natural. 
“It wouldn’t be fair if you told me about yourself and I didn’t return the favor, would it?” 
This threw both Maou and Ashiya for a loop. 
“Well, how wonderfully thoughtful of you.” 
“So…until I find a way to procure both your defeat and my pathway back home, I’m not going to take your life. But don’t let your guard down yet!…Ugh.” 
The fatigue was written upon Emilia’s face as she walked toward the door. 
“Also, my name here in Japan is Emi Yusa, all right? Try not to mess it up.” 
“Yeah, sure thing.” 
Emilia opened the door, then turned back toward the two men. 
“Also, what kind of name is ‘Sadao’? That’s, like, a grandpa’s name.” 
Then she slammed the door shut behind her, kicking up dust apartment-wide. Ashiya stared at the door, still reeling. They could hear her tramping down the stairway, and then all was silent. 
The Devil King spat at the unseen “Emi’s” back. 
“All the Sadaos in Japan are gonna make you beg for mercy!” 
 
“Hi there! Are you dining in today?” 
“I want to talk to you. Outside.” 
The MgRonald in front of Hatagaya station was staying fairly busy today. Enough so that Emi, dressed in a gray business suit instead of the morning’s casual outfit, didn’t even bother hiding her peeved annoyance as she stood in front of Maou’s cash register. 
“To go, then? Okay, what would you like to order?” 
“I want you where we were last night once you get out of work. I’m not taking no for an answer.” 
“Can I make that into a value meal for you today?” 
“Come alone.” 
“Just the sandwich? Certainly! If I could just have you wait one moment by the side here… One Big Mag, please!” 
“You better show up. This isn’t so I can fight you.” 
“Thank you very much! Come back soon!” 
Emi briskly paid for the current seasonal burger, accepted the bag, and left. 
All Maou could think, the businesslike smile never leaving his face, was Dammit dammit DAMMIT repeatedly. There was no way this little “talk” was going to go smoothly. 
“Maou?” 
A voice called for him from behind. 
“What’s up, Chi?” 
It was Chiho Sasaki, one of the new part-timers. She was a second-year high-school student whom Maou had mentored during her training period. Even now, as a full crew member, she still turned to Maou whenever something came up. 
She put her medium-length hair up during her shift, and her natural-born brightness and guileless smile made her a hit with the customers. Maou appreciated how quickly she soaked in all the knowledge she needed for the job. 
“That was kind of a weird customer, wasn’t it?” 
“You mean the…woman just now?” 
“Right. Kind of creepy, huh? And she kept on muttering, too.” 
“Yeah, well, we get all kinds in here.” 
“Do you know her? It sounded like you were having a conversation.” 
Yes, he knew Emi. No denying that. Thinking about it, he realized that Emi, at age seventeen, could be just as old as Chiho. It was funny how they made the exact opposite impression on people. Emi seemed far more mature than her years betrayed…or, more likely, she had a childhood that forced her to grow up fast. 
“Mmm, yeah, a little.” 
Maou hoped to drop the subject as quickly as possible, but Chiho’s sense of curiosity was unlikely to let that ambiguous response pass without comment. 
“Ooh! Something’s up!” 
“What?” 
Chiho peered at him from below, hands clasped together behind her back. 
“And she was kinda pretty, too, huh? Huh? Huh, Maou?” 
“You don’t have to say ‘huh’ three times, Chi! Like, what makes you think her and me are—Hello there!” 
By this point, the instinct to loudly greet every customer who passed through the entrance was embedded into his brain stem. 
“Will this be for here, ma’am?” 
This time, Chiho took up the register. They were out of the rush, so anyone was free to take the front counter as long as they knew the job. Chiho was still new here, but whenever there was a spare moment, she readily sought out and accepted new duties. Maou was impressed enough that he willingly took a step back and let her take over. 
The customer was a kindly-looking mother with baby in hand, a boy who might or might not have been old enough for school yet was clinging to her side. It was a pretty common sight to see at the semiresidential Hatagaya restaurant, once the lunch period ended and the herds of office flacks cleared out. 
The mother’s eyes darted between Chiho and the menu as she placed her order. Suddenly, Chiho’s fingers came to a halt over the register keys. “Just one moment, please,” she said before turning to Maou. 
“Um…Maou?” 
“Yep?” 
It was generally frowned upon for full employees to whisper at trainees in front of customers. Instead, requiring crew members to discuss issues with customers and solve them together helped train the staff and gave customers a better impression of the place. Chiho pointed out the family with her eyes as she continued. 
“This customer’s son has issues with allergies.” 
“Allergies? Certainly. Do you know which types of food trigger these allergies?” 
It was still Chiho’s duty to attend to the customer. Maou worked through her to address the customer’s concerns as politely as possible. 
“It looks like shrimp, crab, and some fruits, too.” 
Maou nodded and provided a colorful menu to the mother as he explained her options. 
“Well, products that include shrimp are required by law to be specifically mentioned on food menus, so as you can see here, it’s used in all of our seafood products.” 
“Oh!” 
The mother, as well as Chiho, seemed oddly impressed by this presentation. 
“Regarding fruit, the government recommends informational displays for kiwifruit, oranges, peaches, and apples. Out of those, apples are the only type used in certain types of seasonings that we use. This includes the sauce on the Teriyaki Burger, for example, as well as some salad dressings. Over on our side offerings, it would also be best to avoid our seasonal fruit-flavored ice cream selection, as well as the vegetable juice.” 
Both the mother and Chiho were held enrapt by this lecture, as Maou pointed out the menu items to be avoided. Satisfied by this, the mother made her choices. 
“By the way, ma’am, would you like to use our microwave?” 
“Hmm?” 
“Huh?” 
Chiho and the mother responded in almost identical fashion. Maou motioned toward the mother’s infant as he continued. 
“If you have any baby food or other products meant for microwave preparation, we’d be happy to assist you with that. If you don’t mind my intrusiveness, I thought you might like your youngest to enjoy lunch with you and your son.” 
The mother glanced at the baby in her arms, a wide grin on her face, before nodding. 
“Well, thank you very much! Here… This should take about forty seconds to cook.” 
She took a vacuum-packed pouch out from her shoulder bag as she spoke. Maou accepted it, then handed it over to Chiho. 
“Here, Sasaki, put this in for twenty seconds. Make sure it’s ready alongside the rest of the order.” 
Employees in Japanese restaurants were expected to refer to each other by last name in front of their customers. Chiho took the vacuum pack and was about to trot toward the kitchen when she stopped herself. 
“Didn’t she say forty seconds?” 
“That’s for a household microwave. We’ve got an industrial one here that’s at least twice as strong, so twenty ought to be enough.” 
“Oh! All right!” 
Chiho nodded respectfully toward Maou before disappearing into the rear kitchen. 
Maou took up the reins from there, accepting payment, arranging the order on the tray, and handing it to the customer. He wound up being thanked multiple times by the grateful mother. Just another small step on the path to a full-time position. And, from there, to conquering Japan. He could physically feel the steadily forward progress on his skin today. 
“Mmm? What is it, Chi?” 
Chiho, who had reappeared by his side at some point, looked up toward him, practically in awe. 
“That was amazing, Maou!” 
“Huh?” 
“I mean, look at you! Did you memorize all that stuff about allergies and what kind of ingredient goes in what?” 
“Well, it’s all in the training manual, isn’t it?” 
Maou replied as if nothing could be less unexpected. Chiho’s excitement continued apace. 
“But that’s still amazing! And you even thought about the baby food, too!” 
“Yeah… Well, that kind of thing’s tougher during the rush, but when you have the time for it, it’s nice if you can be flexible with customer needs. It helps make a better long-term impression.” 
To Chiho, young and chock-full of desire to perform her job well, this was enough to make her sigh in rapt admiration. 
“That’s just so…so cool, Maou! So grown-up and responsible!” 
“Ha-ha… Still just a part-timer, though.” 
The only thing that could have intensified Chiho’s look of awed respect was if the background behind her were literally spewing rose petals in all directions. Suddenly, though, she snapped out of it, her face serious once more. 

“Oh! Speaking of which, Maou, were you okay after the earthquake yesterday?” 
“Um…” 
It was always difficult—as difficult as trying to control the Gate to another world—to predict what kind of sudden new directions a teenage girl would take a conversation. It was astonishing to Maou, and something he had been introduced to only once he had Chiho for a coworker, but he was well used to it by now. 
“Yeah, no real problems. I live in a junky apartment, so I guess my roommate thought it was a pretty big one, but it didn’t shake that much, you know? I didn’t even feel anything.” 
“Oh? Uh… Oh! I guess so, huh?” 
Chiho, judging by her reaction, wasn’t expecting this response. She had this very unnatural way of acting surprised that was in itself surprising. 
“That’s what all my classmates said at school when I asked them, but for me, it was, like, so awful!” 
“Really?” 
Spotting Maou’s apparent interest, Chiho began to gesticulate wildly to emphasize her harrowing experience. 
“My mom said there was this really loud noise, like something exploded, and it shook really bad, too! When I got back home, all the CDs and stuff had fallen off my bookshelf! It was the worst!” 
“Wow. That bad?” 
“Oh, you don’t think I’m lying, too, do you, Maou?” 
Chiho puffed up her cheeks in protest, eliciting a laugh from him. 
“Oh, I’m not, I’m not. So then what happened?” 
“Well, then we had to clean up all the dishes and stuff that had broken! My dad was calling around all over the place!” 
“Calling who?” 
“Oh! My dad’s a police officer, but he was home yesterday because he was off duty. But he used to be a regional director and one of the emergency contact points for the town assembly, so he made a bunch of calls to all his contacts. The ward’s disaster management office told him that it wasn’t a big earthquake at all. It was a real bummer!” 
“Huh.” 
“Maou?” 
“… …” 
“Hey! Maou!” 
“Mm? Oh. Sorry. I just thought that sounded kinda weird, you know? Like, only your house getting affected.” 
“Yeah, isn’t it?… Oh, uh, by the way?” 
“Hmm?” 
She had been excited up to now, darting from word to word, but now Chiho’s voice was toned down a notch as she expectantly looked at her coworker. 
“You said you had a roommate just now?” 
Something about her eyes made Maou want to avert his own. 
“Yeah. An old general of mine. Friend. Friend of mine, from way back.” 
The “living on a shoestring with my old friend” cover was something he had decided upon with Ashiya in advance. It had the side benefit of being almost 100 percent true. Maou sighed to himself. 
“Is-is it your…g-girl—” 
“He’s a guy, Chi. Just the two of us, slumming it in our ancient apartment building.” 
“Eh? Oh? Ohhhh. I…see. Yeah…I get it. Good!” 
“What’s good?” 
“N-nothing! Are…are you on the first floor, Maou?” 
“Nah. Second. My friend didn’t feel anything on the second floor, so I guess that’s why I didn’t think it was anything big. The place definitely woulda been shaking if it was. What about you? Do you live in a condo or something?” 
“No, it’s…um, it’s a house. Uh…” 
“Hmm?” 
“If…if you’d like, we could—” 
“Come on, kids.” 
The conversation was interrupted by Mayumi Kisaki, head manager of the Hatagaya restaurant. She had the body proportions of a model and stood a good head taller than Maou. Her long black hair, easily sleek and shiny enough for her to star in shampoo ads, was tied back, the colorful MgRonald uniform doing wonders to accentuate her body. 
“Oh! Ms. Kisaki!” 
“No personal conversations while you’re on duty, please. Have you completed the evening floor check yet, Chi?” 
“Oh! I’m sorry! I’ll go do it right now!” 
Every two hours, someone had to go around the store to ensure everything was clean and in the proper place. Chiho hurriedly took a checksheet from the shelf beneath her register and flew away from the counter. 
“You try not to spoil Chi too much either, okay, Marko?” 
Kisaki’s eyebrows were furrowed, but Maou knew she wasn’t truly angry. Unless someone from the executive office was lurking around, she preferred to keep things relaxed on the floor, referring to every employee by a nickname and refusing to let anyone call her “Manager.” 
She was one of MgRonald’s most well-known managers. More than a few male regulars stopped by just for a chance to chat with her, and she had appeared several times in the ads they printed on the paper place mats. Why an intelligent, attractive woman with such a perfectly shaped body was content with running a fast-food joint was a mystery. The only secrets she guarded more closely were her age, height, and weight. 
“But didn’t you tell me not to be so harsh on her, Ms. Kisaki? She’s probably gonna be the first student in a while to settle into a regular shift schedule.” 
Just as Maou finished the sentence, they heard the sound of assorted objects falling to the ground beyond the door in the staff room next to the customer seating, where the crew stored cleaning equipment and other accessories. She must have knocked some of it over by accident. Chiho’s frantic “Sorry about that!” could be heard above the noise. 
“Well, yes, but the home office is starting to send people in unannounced to check up on things. If we let the private chat go too far, it might come back to bite us later on.” 
Fair enough. Even weirdos like Emi were spying on this place. There was no telling who else might have their eyes on it. 
Of course, Maou had yet to see Kisaki have to apologize to anyone from the main headquarters. It seemed more like they actively tried to avoid her, in fact. 
“Anyway, Marko, you mind doing an afternoon stat check for me?” 
Maou tapped away at the register, printing out a receipt listing customer and sales figures for the slow afternoon period between the lunch and dinner rushes. Kisaki took a glance at the receipt and nodded, apparently satisfied. 
“Nice! We’re gonna make our daily sales target easy today. Great job, people! You all get one free drink on me. Let’s keep it going through the dinner rush, all right? Oh, and Marko, that was a perfect ten, how you treated that customer just now. Keep setting a good example for the new guys, okay?” 
Besides meeting her daily sales goals and keeping things positive and upbeat with the crew, Kisaki was a woman of few motivations. Hence why she was so ready to give Maou raises. Everything he did to improve his output and drive sales was exactly what she wanted to see. 
Maou firmly believed that surpassing her would be the first concrete step along the path to world supremacy. 
“Oh, by the way, did the earthquake yesterday affect you at all, Ms. Kisaki?” 
“Earthquake? Was there one?” 
That was about all the attention Kisaki paid the query as she pored over the sales figures. She had a condo somewhere nearby, but if that was her reaction, it was doubtful she felt anything at all. 
“Ah, nothing worth worrying about at this point, I guess.” 
He felt a twinge of guilt about Chiho, but for now, he knew his primary concern should likely be his upcoming late-night conference after work. Maou was on duty until closing time at midnight, so it would likely come at the same time as yesterday. The more he thought about it, the more it plunged his mind into a state of depression. 
 
“So, what did you want to talk about?” 
Emi, drawn up to her full height, was waiting for Maou at the darkened residential intersection. Since their last encounter, she had changed into a blouse and a trim pair of jeans. There was nothing in her hands, but there was no telling what kind of hidden weapon she might whip out and fling at him. 
Kisaki’s free drink—MgRonald’s signature Platinum Roast Ice Coffee—was safely ensconced in Maou’s right hand, ready to be thrown at a moment’s notice. 
“I just wanted to ask you something.” 
His hips were firmly planted upon the saddle of Dullahan, allowing him the option of escape if times called for it. 
“Do you even have any intention of returning to Ente Isla?” 
“Huh? What’re you talking about?” Maou honestly failed to grasp her point. “Of course I do.” 
“So you don’t want to spend the rest of your life in this world?” 
“What, are you kidding me? What’s this all about, anyway?” 
“I was watching you work earlier.” 
“Wha—Where?! Not the bookstore again!” 
Emi ignored the question. 
“Your smile. Your snappy responses to questions. The trust the manager and the other employees put in you. That flexible approach you took with customers—that takes real talent. You’re, like, the ideal Maggie’s employee.” 
“What, are you from Osaka?” 
The battle over how to correctly abbreviate the name “MgRonald” was intense and heated, cleanly splitting the nation of Japan in half vertically, with both sides doggedly sticking to their preferred version. Maou knew that, and as a resident of eastern Japan, he knew that “Ronald’s” was the only correct—the only sane—version. 
“When we talked this morning, I thought you were just spouting nonsense to me on purpose. But watching you work today…you were really telling the truth, weren’t you?” 
Emi shrugged. “And, you know, if you’re willing to live out life as a bright, happy young man in this world, I’m perfectly willing to not kill you. That girl you worked with—you know, the cute one? It looked like she’s got a thing for you.” 
“Yeah. I was pretty much the guy who gave Chi all her training. She’s only been a full crew member for a coupla days, but she learns quick, and she’s really good at being polite with customers…so…” 
The Devil King was boasting about some rather unexpected feats. 
“Think about it. If you live out your life here, everything’s going to be fine. Peaceful! You can make the area around Hatagaya station happy for everyone. And I wouldn’t have to fight anyone I don’t have to. Would you consider it, at least? You, and Alciel, living here until you’re dead and buried?” 
“Alciel is a valued assistant of mine, I’ll grant you that. But why would I want to live all the way to old age with him?” 
“Well, you know, I heard that sort of thing is getting popular these days.” 
Maou scrunched up his face at the concept. 
“Look, Emi, are you…suggesting something, when you’re ordering me to live with another man my whole life?” 
“No! Of course not! I just wanted to…bring up the idea, all right?” 
Emi took a breath. “I just want you to give up Ente Isla for me. I want you to give it up, and find a new life for yourself here. On Earth.” 
Maou was quick to respond. 
“Not happening. I’m gonna make my way back to Ente Isla…and it will be mine.” 
He meant every word of it. He had lost a great many things, but the strength behind his avowal still rang true. 
That much was clear to Emi as well. 
“…All right.” 
“Is that all?” 
“Yes. That’s it. Now it’s been decided. I will chase you down for all time, until you are dead by my hand.” 
“So the same as before. Great.” 
Maou placed his feet upon Dullahan’s trusty pedals. He pumped them once, defiantly, hoping to place a final exclamation point on their conversation, when: 
“Yagh!” 
He felt a dull force thunk against his front wheel. Losing his balance, he fell lamely to the ground. 
Even Emi, who was about to briskly walk away from the scene, was surprised at the sheer artistic grandeur behind the wipeout. If he were a little closer to the side of the street, he might have cracked his head open on the curb. 
The cup of iced coffee in his hand arced through the air, the liquid and ice splattering across the pavement. 
“What was that?” 
Without thinking, Emi ran back to Maou, helping him back up. 
“Oww… Man, that came out of nowhere. Did I run over something?” 
“Hah! And you call yourself Devil King! Get it together, won’t you?” 
“Shut up.” 
Emi inspected the bike as he supported Maou’s side. His eyes had teared up a bit from the shocked surprise. 
“That’s a new bike, too, isn’t it? Oooh, too bad.” She pointed at the front wheel as he brought the kickstand down. 
“Aw, man, it’s flat!” 
Falling to one knee, Maou groaned in pain as he realized the enormity of it all. 
For a moment, Emi reveled in the sight. 
“Come on, Dullahan! You can pull through this! It’s just a flesh wound! I’ve only just purchased you!” 
But seeing Maou whine emphatically at a cheap fixie made her feel a twinge of empathy instead. 
“You don’t have to act like that. It’s just a flat. Just bring it to the bicycle shop tomorrow. It’s only a thousand yen or so to patch up the tube. Replacing a tire costs more, but…” 
“R-really?!” 
Maou’s hands still tightly embraced Dullahan as his head turned toward Emi, who edged backward in response. 
“Um… Yeah. Really. But get away from me! You’re all dirty! It’s disgusting!” 
“I am not disgusting! But…okay. I’ll go get it fixed first thing in the morning. Thanks for the help.” 
“You’re welcome… No! Wait! I don’t need your petty compliments! You were just acting so pathetic over a stupid bicycle flat, it threw me off guard, so…” 
Emi failed to finish the sentence. 
“Huh? Earthquake?” 
The ground palpably shook underneath them for a moment. Before she could check up on Maou, they heard a faint bursting sound emanate from somewhere. This time, the rear wheel had blown. 
“Whoa!” 
“Agh!” 
Just when they had a spare moment to shout, the signal light above them shattered into a million pieces. The Hero and the Devil King covered their heads at the sound of shards scattering across the ground. 
“Are we…” 
“…being shot at?” 
They were answered by a cracking sound at their feet. 
“Whoa, whoa, what the hell?!” 
“We need to get out of here!” 
The two of them flung themselves into a nearby alley. The sparks and bursting noises followed them. 
In the darkness of Sasazuka, a silent sniper had bared its fangs at the Devil King and the Hero. 
“What is going on here—Ahh!” 
“Stop screaming! And stop tripping over the bollards, too!” 
They had made their way into Koshu-Kaido road, hiding behind the cars in a coin-operated parking lot as they evaded the sniper. No one was walking by, but the car traffic was incessant. 
The Shuto Expressway above them blocked off the night sky. The two of them caught their breath in front of a shuttered office building. 
“What just happened?” 
Emi’s voice was higher than usual. Maou’s was equally strained. 
“The Devil King and the Hero are together. And someone is attacking them. It’s got something to do with Ente Isla. Even if it didn’t, what kind of criminal’s shooting that kind of thing in Japan? You know how crazy strict the weapons laws are.” 
“I know! So was some street gang firing an air gun at us…?” 
“They don’t make street gangs like that around here anymore! Get down!” 
Maou forced Emi’s head downward. 
At the exact height of Emi’s head, there was now a small hole in the metal shutter. 
“…You can’t shoot a BB through a steel door, either.” 
“Get off! Stop messing with my hair!” 
Emi brushed Maou’s hand away. Maou obliged, staring at his hand as he asked a question. 
“So you’re about as strong as the average Japanese person, too?” 
“…Strong or not, you’re still gonna cut yourself in the kitchen! It’s still gonna hurt if you stub your toe against a lamppost!” 
Maou took that to mean Emi no longer enjoyed her Ente Isla–era strength. As a demon, he had taken it for granted that his physical, defensive, and spiritual strength would always outclass his foes. Now, every trait of his strength was on an even keel with the Japanese national adult average—a fact that became all too clear to him over the past year of life in Japan. 
“That last one came from in front of us.” 
“Don’t be so sure. You hear any gunshots yet?” 
“Nothing like that, no… Ah!” 
Just as she spoke, she lunged toward Maou. They both spun in the air together before hitting the ground. If she had been a moment slower, they both would have been perforated. The sad, suddenly-very-well-ventilated shutter told them as much. 
“Nice one.” 
“I’m not an idiot, you know. I’m a Hero.” 
“Yeah, sorry. You mind getting off me? I can’t dodge sniper fire like this.” 
“That’s your fault for landing first! I’d be only too happy to extract myself from your putrid hide!” 
They were being less than polite to each other, but their quarrel was with another foe. Quickly, they rose to their feet and composed themselves, backs against each other as they watched their surroundings, ready for attack from any direction. 
“Can we make it to the station?” 
“Good idea. The izakayas will still be open around Sasazuka station; there’ll be a bunch of people there. It’ll be risky, but it’s up to whoever’s shooting us to react. Can you run?” 
“Better than you can. You had it easy all this time with that bike.” 
“Okay. Go!” 
Could the sniper keep up with the two of them running? There were no bystanders up to now, but the closer they came to the station, the more they encountered. The izakaya bars near the station were lit in a dazzling array of colors, herds of salarymen roaming the streets around them, wondering which to hit next. 
The two of them warily eyed the area, the station wall behind their backs. A pair of middle-aged men in business attire hollered at them, but they didn’t have the spare time to play around with drunk office grunts at the moment. 
They must have remained frozen where they were for ten minutes or so. By the time they finally concluded there were no snipers in well-lit, populated areas, they were both physically and mentally exhausted. 
“So what…was that?” 
Emi heaved a sigh of relief, brushing the sweat-heavy hair off her brow as she asked no one in particular. Maou struggled to catch his breath as he responded. 
“I don’t know…but that wasn’t just some random sniper. Those were bolts of magic energy.” 
“Magic…?” 
Emi’s eyes opened wide. 
“That shot aimed at your head near the building? It came from the angle we ran in from. It had to change direction to aim for us, that much I’m sure of.” 
“You mean…” 
“Whoever’s behind it, he’s got a lot of power behind him. That, and he knows who both of us really are.” 
“Both of us? There’s someone like that here? Besides Alciel?” 
“Guess so. Don’t know who, though. I didn’t even feel anyone else nearby.” 
Maou stretched his body. The tension had finally started to drain away. 
“Man. Look at all this trouble you’ve gotten me into.” 
Emi fired back at Maou’s accusatory tone. 
“Me?! You think this is my fault?!” 
“This wouldn’t have happened if you chose a more normal time and place, would it?” 
“I chose that because that’s when you got off work!” 
“Morning would’ve been just fine. Better, even.” 
“I work in the morning! And the afternoon!” 
“Not my problem.” 
“Hey! Where’re you going?!” 
Emi stopped Maou as he attempted to walk off, a hangdog look on his face. 
“Home.” 
“You’re leaving by yourself?!” 
“Well, yeah. You should go home, too. I’m sure it’s nearby if this is where you’re hanging out all the time. Later.” 
“Hey…!” 
Maou set off, leaving Emi’s frantic shouting to dissolve into the background murmur of the Sasazuka night. He hated to abandon his bike so soon after purchasing it, but there might be more attackers stationed nearby. His faithful Dullahan would have to wait for morning to be reunited with its master. 
He hadn’t mentioned it to Emi just now, but this attack had kindled a small sense of hope within Maou’s mind. 
The fact that their enemy had the freedom to wield magical power to a certain extent was an immense discovery. Regardless of who he was fighting, he was still Devil King—lord of the underworld, the demon who was within moments of conquering all of Ente Isla. If it appeared to be worth the exertion, he would gladly call upon his own magical reserve to fight and claim his enemy’s force. 
That, after all, was how he gained such vast magical strength in the demon realm. 
Tomorrow was his regular day off. He was ready to scour the neighborhood for clues. There was a spring in his step as he dwelled on it, walking briskly through the dark residential neighborhood toward his apartment. 
Suddenly, he realized someone was following him. 
An attacker? Perhaps, but there was no sense of magical force, no murderous intent with this pursuer. Probably some drunk staggering home in the same direction as he was. Still, whoever it was seemed to be paying an unusual amount of attention to Maou, making sure to keep a prudent distance away. 
The apartment building was in sight, but with Ashiya’s magical force long depleted, Maou wanted to avoid involving him in a fight. 
Ashiya was too valuable a resource to squander—for the subjugation of Ente Isla, and for life in Sasazuka as well. 
Quickly, Maou ducked into a side alley that ran across the neighborhood, into an area unlit by streetlamps. If the person behind him lived nearby, he’d probably walk right past—and if he didn’t, he’d be too spooked to continue the pursuit. 
The footsteps continued unabated. The figure proceeded onward, not noticing Maou in the darkness. Maou raised his head a little, wondering if he had made a mistake. 
What he saw instead was the figure heading straight for Villa Rosa Sasazuka, the apartment Maou called home. He seemed to hesitate for a moment in front of the stairway, but quickly made his way upstairs. 
The figure stopped in front of room 201, by the door with the “Maou” sign on it. 
“Ugh…I know I said ‘come for me anytime you want,’ but now?” 
Maou called toward the late-night visitor. She turned around, startled, not expecting a voice from behind. 
“Look, I’ve already gone through one ambush tonight. You’re going to wake up all the neighbors. The landlord lives right next to us, too, and I really don’t want to deal with her if I can.” 
“…I’m not here to attack you.” 
Emi stood there, the bravado from before notably absent. Her face was white as a sheet, her breathing quick and shallow. She looked intensely nervous. Perhaps she had fallen ill; perhaps she had been hit with a magical bolt when he wasn’t looking. 
“H-hey…what’s wrong?” 
Maou drew closer, concerned. Her response was stronger than he expected. 
“It utterly disgusts me to ask you this… In fact, it feels like I’m betraying my world and everyone in it…” 
“If you came here to rile me up, it’s working.” 
This doorstop encounter was the last thing he wanted before bedtime. 
“I…if you don’t mind…could I…I…” 
“You?” 
Her pale complexion had now turned a bright shade of red as she turned her head downward. 
“Could I…stay here tonight? I…I kind of dropped my purse.” 
Maou opened his mouth wide, almost dislocating his jaw in the process. It took a while for him to close it again. 
“What?! The Hero Emilia?!” 
Ashiya, patiently awaiting Maou’s arrival, tensed as he noticed Emi cowering behind him. Maou lifted his hands, placating. 
“No, no, it’s okay. She hasn’t got enough energy to fight right now, anyway.” 
“Your Demonic Highness, how could you be so reckless?! You, the Devil King, staying out partying all night with the Hero?!” 
“You don’t have to put it like that! It’s still two a.m.!” 
“The wee hours of the night, my liege!” 
Emi stood solemnly in front of the door. 
“We both got attacked just now. By someone we couldn’t see. He was flinging magic at us.” 
Maou’s explanation was almost too straightforward, but Emi lacked the mental fortitude to add anything else. 
“And while we were fleeing, apparently she dropped her purse.” 
Emi seemed to go even smaller as he continued, almost disappearing entirely. 
“So, you know, she can’t catch a taxi, she can’t spend the night at an Internet café… She doesn’t have any friends nearby, either, she claims. Turns out she lives over by Eifukucho, so that’s kinda far to walk.” 
“But, Your Demonic Highness… If you remember where it was dropped, I’m sure nobody’s touched it at this time of night…” 
“Yeah, I know, but we just got written up by the cops yesterday, you know? I don’t know who was targeting us, but if she winds up getting killed out there, we’re both gonna be the prime suspects. It wouldn’t hurt to let her sleep in the corner, would it? As long as she takes the first train outta here.” 
Ashiya brought a frustrated hand to his temple. 
“Here, c’mon in. Have a seat wherever you like. Hope you’re not expecting a futon or any other luxury goods.” 
“…I get it, all right?” Emi grumbled softly. 
“Emilia! After the gracious pity the Devil King has bestowed upon you, is that how you repay him?!” 
“Pipe down, Ashiya. The landlord’s gonna hear us. Hey, Emi.” 
“What do you wa—oomph!” 
Maou had thrown a bath towel over Emi’s face. “You can use that if you want. If you need a pillow, go ahead and use those towels over there. I’ll spot you a thousand yen, so get out of here before the trains start up, all right?” 
Gritting her teeth, Emi reluctantly accepted the wadded-up bill, which Maou plucked from a plastic change purse he had clearly purchased from the hundred-yen store. 
“Emilia! That is a royal donation from the Devil King’s personal meager resources! I order you to treat it with the respect it deserves!” 
“Shut up, I know that! I didn’t ask for any of this, okay? Thank you for the money!” 
“You little…!” Ashiya seemed angry enough that steam would be blowing out his ears at any moment, but Maou paid it no mind as he took his own bath sheet out of the closet. 
Watching him, Emi wrapped her own towel around herself and took a seat on the floor. They may all be normal Japanese people now, but even so, she wasn’t so careless as to lie down defenselessly in the den of the Devil King. Pulling the towel close for protection, she found it to be freshly washed, with a surprisingly pleasant scent to it. 
“…This is the same detergent I use.” 
“Don’t start whining about how stiff it is. Ashiya refuses to buy any fabric softener.” Maou turned over on the floor as he spoke, his ears having picked up on Emi’s quiet mutterings. 
“I-I was just saying… It didn’t need a response.” And thinking she wasn’t going to get another, Emi turned her back to Maou, balling herself up even more tightly. 
“Yeah, yeah. You go to bed, too, Ashiya. Hey, Emi, don’t worry about locking the door behind you, okay? Night, people.” 
Within moments, Maou was sound asleep. For a moment, Emi was astounded at how fast he went under. 
Ashiya, however, sized up the unlikely couple in front of him. 
“Do note that I have not dropped my guard yet. Try anything underhanded, and it will be you who pays the price. A good night to you!” 
With that rather bizarre farewell, he laid himself down and quickly fell asleep himself, one of the few ways the servant resembled the master. They had acted so cautious around her, and now they had left themselves wide open in their slumber. 
She watched them sleep for a moment, but soon found the idea of remaining vigilant in front of these senseless, comatose corpses too silly to consider. Soon, she had lain down as well. 
“I’m gonna have to cancel my Kakui credit card… My bank card, too. Oh, and how many rides did I have left on my pass?” 
Recalling all the life necessities she held in that purse made her feel even gloomier. 
“Why am I even doing this…?” 
Only she could hear herself whispering this final statement before her fatigue and emotions drove her to the land of dreams. 
Around the time that Emi’s breathing grew slower and more rhythmic, Maou spoke up, his eyes still closed. 
“We’re a team of two, but it seems she’s alone, huh?” 
“Indeed.” 
“We were pretty miserable at first, too, weren’t we? And she had to deal with all of that by herself. You think about it that way…I’m not gonna be her friend, no, but I do feel bad for her.” 
“You’ve grown complacent, Your Demonic Highness.” 
“Just for the moment, Ashiya. I made her promise not to hang around me any further.” 
“Well, so be it, then.” 
“Exactly. So…huh?” 
From the corner of his eye, Maou noticed something glinting in the air. 
“What is it?” 
“We got a text.” Maou scooped the phone up from where it was last tossed on the floor. The screen showed two new messages. “Huh. One’s from Chi… Hey, stop looking.” 
Maou wriggled away from Ashiya, who was also trying to peer into the screen. “The other one’s from an unknown number. Weird.” 
It was from an unregistered source, a mail address that seemed to be a random mishmash of letters and numbers. Either spam or the wrong number, Maou figured…at first. 
“Your Demonic Highness?” 
Ashiya was moved to speak as he watched Maou’s eyes suddenly grow pointed, serious. 
“Hey, Ashiya? This is kind of nuts, isn’t it? I got pretty much the same text at the same time…from someone I know and someone I don’t.” 
The texts from Chiho and the unknown sender seemed almost to dovetail with each other. 
The earthquakes will continue. Be careful. 
Maou, there’s gonna be another earthquake. What should I do? Chiho