Hataraku Maou-sama! - Volume 7 - Chapter 1

THE DEVIL PLEDGES TO STAY LEGITIMATE 
Perhaps it could be called the ultimate move of self-sacrifice, the equivalent of cutting his own throat in order to save the team. He was defeated in battle, unable to turn the tides of war; he was surrounded, with only a meager crew of fellow warriors. His master’s life was gradually being chipped away, too, under the unwitting spell of one of his own corrupted generals. 
He knew the time had come to make a decision. To turn the tables on this desperate scene, he knew he had to take action on his own. He bowed his head to his master as the man dined even now on the tainted food the enemy had provided. 
“…My liege.” 
“Mm? What, Ashiya?” 
Sadao Maou turned to him, his eyes clouded and bleary. His master had been tortured by his foes, beaten down until he was at the bottommost dregs of his energy and motivation. He was being fed far, far more than his stomach ever had a chance of storing. The pall of death was coming into focus on his face even now. 
“I would most humbly ask you for some time off.” 
“…Huh?” 
“Wha?” 
“What?!” 
“Uhh…” 
“Yawwn…” 
For the group piled into the narrow confines of Devil’s Castle, aka Room 201 of the sixty-year-old Villa Rosa Sasazuka apartment building, each had their own reaction as they stared agape at the kneeling demon named Shirou Ashiya. 
 
“Wow,” Emi Yusa—better known as the Hero Emilia and the Devil King’s One True Enemy—said with a blank stare at Ashiya. “Can I take this as a sign that the Devil King’s Army is collapsing?” 
She had been in the process of taking up the collar of one Hanzou Urushihara—formerly known as the fallen angel Lucifer, and now more properly known as an unemployed freeloader—in order to toss him out the window. Her attention, diverted by Ashiya’s sudden bombshell, made her grip loosen to the point that Urushihara fell limply to the tatami-mat floor instead. 
“Yowch…,” he murmured as he passed out, a hairbreadth away from asphyxiation. 
By mere seconds he had avoided his final punishment: His mortal enemy had discovered the tracking device he had snuck into her bag. In many ways, he should’ve been glad to survive with his life. 
But it was Ashiya’s master, Sadao Maou himself, who was the most thrown by his faithful assistant’s request for leave. 
“Time off? What do you mean…?” 
Compared to the glory days, when he had led the combined forces of the demon realms to a breathtaking conquest of every inhabited corner of Ente Isla, even Maou had to admit that he hadn’t done much devilish in nature lately. But was that really enough to make Shirou Ashiya, his Great Demon General Alciel and most trusted of confidants through decades of political intrigue and bloody battles, wish to part ways with him? 
Maybe this was about him using all the demonic power he’d gained in the battle against Sariel to repair the collateral damage done to Tokyo’s infrastructure. But he thought that was water under the bridge by now; he’d spent a good hour pleading his case to Ashiya, convincing him that it was the best thing he could have done under the circumstances. 
But it was Chiho Sasaki, the only normal human being currently in Devil’s Castle, who spoke up nervously in response. 
“Um… This isn’t because I overstepped my boundaries or anything, is it?” 
She was part of the crew at the MgRonald fast-food joint in front of Hatagaya rail station. She was also the only person in the world who knew the truth behind the Devil’s Castle denizens and the world of Ente Isla itself—and despite that, she still took a liking to Maou, Devil King or not. She was here to provide him with a home-cooked meal, in fact—something she now did on regular occasions. 
“I…I mean, if me and Suzuno cooking for you guys is taking work away from you, Ashiya, I could totally…” 
“Er, no,” Ashiya hurriedly replied. “It’s nothing like that, Ms. Sasaki. In fact, getting to share in your kindness has been tremendously…helpful to me.” 
Ashiya’s responsibilities in Devil’s Castle mainly revolved around housework—cooking, laundry, cleaning, and balancing the checkbook. And, inevitably, when a househusband stays on the job for long enough, he can’t help but grow bored of his own cooking. Along those lines, Chiho’s cuisine was one of the few things spicing up his life at the moment. 
“Then what kind of nonsense is this?” asked a dubious Suzuno Kamazuki—aka Crestia Bell, cleric of the Church that dominated politics in Ente Isla’s Western Island, and now living in Room 202 down the hall—as she stacked up the empty plastic containers she had brought her food over in. “Both myself and Emilia would welcome the idea of the Devil King’s Army falling apart and being scattered to the four winds, but doing so without any reason strikes me as…unusual.” 
Suzuno might have been providing food to her neighbors, but she was every bit the demons’ enemy as Emi was. Thus, she fed them dishes made with Church-sanctified ingredients, just as harmful to them—perhaps even more so—as processed sugars and trans fats. It did wonders to keep the Devil’s Castle budget in the black, but Ashiya always greeted the act with a resigned sneer. 
Amid the silence, the Great Demon General took a quick look at Chiho, then Emi, before sadly shaking his head. 
“…I apologize, my liege…” 
“Whoa, are you serious…?” 
Maou, slowly realizing that Ashiya was being deadly serious with him, rose to his feet. His stomach, distended by Suzuno and Chiho’s dual-pronged gastronomical attack, grumbled at him for it as he walked up to the kneeling Ashiya and grabbed him by the shoulders. 
“Wh-what aren’t you happy about?! Is this about the hot dog I bought from the convenience store on the way home from work the other day?! Or the store receipt you asked me to hang on to that I lost? Oh, man, I told you I bought that two-ply toilet paper by accident!” 
Emi, watching behind Maou, gave him a forlorn look. That was all the frantic Devil King could think of? “If that’s enough to make your Great Demon General want to leave,” she remarked, “you should’ve demoted him long ago.” 
“No, Your Demonic Highness. I have no complaint with you, nor my work environment.” 
“You don’t?” 
To Emi, the fact that his master was in a panic about a hot dog—and the fact that he was making his top general toil as a househusband for the foreseeable future—seemed like ample cause for complaint. 
“It is just that…I fear our demonic forces will face ruin before long if this continues. My retiring from the front lines may allow us the chance to avoid this…” 
“What are you talking about?!” Maou’s gaze drilled into Ashiya’s head. “I don’t get it, man!” The two of them, master and servant, gave each other deeply troubled looks before Ashiya bowed his head in defeat. 
“…Allow me to explain outside, my liege.” 
As the two of them left, the remainder of the group—save the unconscious Urushihara—looked at one another, puzzled. 
When they returned through the door a few moments later, however, Maou was suddenly far more composed. 
“Yo, Emi. Chi, too.” 
“…What?” 
“Y-yes?” 
“Sorry, but do you guys mind heading home? I’ll explain later, but…for now, we need to be alone.” 
There was no longer any of the carefree breeziness that generally defined Maou’s expression. In fact, there seemed to be a twinge of sadness to it. 
“Sure, sure, whatever,” Emi snorted. “Let’s go, Chiho.” 
“B-but, Yusa…” 
“Chi,” Maou offered to his confused comrade. The single syllable conveyed that there was nothing to worry about. 
“A-all right, but…” Chiho couldn’t resist asking the question anyway. “Ashiya…you won’t leave for good, will you?” 
“…Don’t worry,” Maou replied, Ashiya himself apparently not in the mood for speech. 
“Are you sure?” Emi interrupted. “Because if you’re forming a guerrilla commando unit or something, I’m gonna kill you.” 
“Will you just go already?!” Maou said as he pushed his nemesis along, though he gave a quick, reassuring nod to Chiho along the way. 
Ashiya was waiting by the front door, still silent. He received a small bow from Chiho and no acknowledgement whatsoever from Emi as they walked by. He sighed deeply as he watched them go. 
“…Well. Quite a strange turn of events, this,” Suzuno commented. As a Villa Rosa Sasazuka resident, she was the only visitor left in the room, although recent developments made her presence seem supremely awkward. “Right, then,” she added as she began to stand up—only to be stopped by Ashiya stepping back inside. 
“Wait, Crestia Bell. You are to stay.” 
“…What?” 
Turning back, she found Ashiya giving her a glare as hard as his words, and Maou matching it. 
Suddenly, she found herself in a far less secure position than before. Instinctively, she readied her body and removed the hairpin from her head. There was a flash of light, and then the hairpin was a massive hammer, one that seemed impossible for the slight woman to wield. 
The cross-shaped hairpin was the agent she used to summon her Light of Iron magic, and the resulting warhammer was powerful enough to smash the giant electrical transformers that powered Shinjuku station. It could have flattened three destitute, powerless ex-demons like gnats, but being surrounded like this still made her nervous. 
“Enough of this act,” she said, attempting to keep them from making the first move. “Even alone, I could easily destroy you all.” 
“Silence, Bell,” Ashiya continued. “We are seeking your assistance. You have no right to refuse.” 
“Such nonsense! I have no right, you say? With your puny powers, how could you ever support such a demand?” 
“It’s nothing like that,” Maou said, crossing his arms as he shot a glance at the still-unresponsive Urushihara. “You simply have no choice, is all. The forty thousand yen Urushihara sucked out of our bank account for the tracking device… You’re kind of at fault for that, too.” 
A garbage collection truck passed by the apartment building, offering garbled advertising guidance through a tinny speaker on its side. 
“…Forty thousand?” Suzuno said, body still steeled for battle. 
“Yeah. That’s how much he spent on that gadget we used to find Chi and Emi after you and Sariel kidnapped them.” 
“That…gadget?” 
Suzuno shot a surprised look at Urushihara. She had been wondering about that. How did Maou find her, doing Sariel’s bidding on the tippy-top of the towering Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building? 
“Is…is that even possible?” 
“At any rate, you understand now, do you not?” Ashiya interjected. “Why you cannot turn down our behest, Bell?” 
“Starting tomorrow, Ashiya’s gonna go out and earn some money, so we can make up the forty thousand yen we spent on that thing for Chi’s sake. That’s why he asked me for a break. Even if I took on extra shifts at work, forty thousand’s just an astronomical number. I could never make that up by myself.” 
“…Ugh.” 
Suzuno winced. 
“I won’t ask for half, but you’re, like, at least a third responsible for this, right? Especially given how you’re the one who kidnapped Chi.” 
“That…I…” 
Suzuno attempted to counter, but found her spirit flagging. Her hammer fell helplessly to the tatami mats. 
Several days before, Sariel descended from Ente Isla’s version of heaven in search of the Better Half, the holy sword Emi housed within her body. The ensuing conflict almost resulted in a one-way ticket to another planet for Chiho. And Suzuno, in no position to defy the orders of an archangel, was the one who had lured Chiho to him. 
In the end, the day had been saved by Maou’s storming up the skyscraper and rescuing the trapped Emi and Chiho, neatly relieving Suzuno of her Ente Islan obligations along the way. The only reason he knew where to find them was because he followed the tracking device Urushihara had hidden inside Emi’s bag. 
“I can’t really fault Urushihara for wasting our money this time, either. I mean, really, if it wasn’t for that transmitter thingy, we’d have no idea what to do, and Chi and Emi would’ve been taken away from Earth long ago.” 
“Very much so, my liege…although I still question the need to spend forty thousand all at once.” 
“Well, hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that, isn’t it, Ashiya? I know we need to teach Urushihara a lesson about his spending habits, but for this time, at least…” 
Maou’s eyes were on a now thoroughly despondent Suzuno. 
“And that is why you sent Emilia and Chiho away, then?” 
“Indeed,” Ashiya nodded. “If we told Ms. Sasaki about this, you know how she would react. She would blame herself and offer to pay the entire sum. And we could not possibly accept any aid from Emilia. We used that device to rescue Ms. Sasaki, after all, not the likes of her. But there will be no palming responsibility for this off on Ms. Sasaki. We are the ones who got her involved with events on Ente Isla, after all.” 
A few moments ago, when Chiho spotted “Card payment: 40,000 yen; User: Dumbassyhara” in the Devil’s Castle financial notebook, Ashiya made sure the subject remained firmly focused on Urushihara’s extravagant shopping sprees mainly so Chiho wouldn’t pick up on the truth and feel all guilty about it. It made things smoother all around if she and Emi just assumed Urushihara blew the money on the tracking device for no particular reason—none beyond the voyeuristic opportunities it allowed him. As a result, all Chiho was aware of was Urushihara’s blatant invasion of Emi’s privacy—something Emi subsequently half-murdered him for. 
“…You are being remarkably thoughtful for a pack of horrid demons,” Suzuno bitterly whispered. “So, what of it? What do you want from me? You wish me to repay some percentage of the cost?” 
It seemed like a reasonable offer. Maou and Ashiya greeted it with abject scorn. 
“Hah. You belittle us. We are the proud Devil King’s Army! We would never accept the filthy lucre of the church we are destined to destroy!” 
“Ashiya, you’re talking crazy again.” 
“I am more than capable of making up for Urushihara’s foolishness! But to achieve that, I will have to leave Devil’s Castle for a few days. Crestia Bell! While I am gone, you will cover the entire food bill of this domain!” 
“Huh? Why?!” 
It was not Suzuno, but Maou, whose voice rose up in protest. 
“What is it, my liege?” Ashiya replied coolly. 
“No, uh… I mean, why make Suzuno cook for us? Couldn’t you just, like, make a few days’ worth and leave us with that?” 
“Whatever are you talking about? Ignoring the holy sanctification she places upon it, Suzuno’s cuisine is both nutritious and delicious by homemade standards. It would save us a fortune in food bills.” 
“Oh, um…I am hardly that exceptional at it…” 
“Don’t compliment her, man! And you—don’t accept the compliment, either! Besides, that makes us sound like a bunch of hoboes. Why can’t we just take her money and—” 
“And,” Ashiya continued, “as long as Bell is cooking for you, there is no need for Chiho to suspect anything is amiss when she inevitably comes in to check on you. Two birds with one stone!” 
Shrewd, Maou thought. The relationship between Chiho and Suzuno, if not outright hostile, certainly had a competitive aspect to it. Taking advantage of those feelings, while a little too calculating for Maou’s tastes, seemed like a valid approach. 
“Huh,” he remarked. “You think?” 
“Besides, Your Demonic Highness…without regular meals provided to the both of you, you will inevitably succumb to the temptations of outside junk food and waste even more of our money, will you not?” 
“…Um.” 
Maou, who had just inadvertently confessed to exactly that, fell silent. 
“Urushihara, for his part, would no doubt use my absence to gorge himself on pizza delivery and other trash. Health and nutrition are second-class concerns to him. If I had to pick between frozen franchise food packed with preservatives and MSG or freshly prepared meals with just a tad of sanctification added to it, I think the choice is blindingly obvious!” 
“It is summer, though,” Suzuno said, scratching one of her cheeks. “I’m afraid I have few raw ingredients left to work with.” 
“Regardless!” Ashiya declared, again ignoring all asides. “I will not be gone for long! For just a few days, as long as Ms. Sasaki and Emilia don’t pick up on anything, you and Urushihara can keep things on the cheap. Soon, our ledger will return to the black and our Devil King’s Army will be rescued from ruin! I tell you, it will work out!” 
“Great,” Suzuno and Maou agreed in tandem. Suzuno paused for a moment, nonplussed, then added: 
“…All right, all right! You want my aid? You can have it! I felt just as poorly for Chiho as you did!” 
“You are sounding awfully haughty, Crestia Bell…” 
“…Ugh,” Suzuno said, blushing in the face of the much taller demon. “I will help you. Is that what you want to hear?” 
“…You’re so loud, dudes. What’s up?” Urushihara, choosing this exact moment to shift from unconsciousness to mere sleeping, sat up and rubbed his eyes. 
“Urushihara, listen,” Maou murmured. 
“Huh?” 
“Just watch your food, your cash, and your attitude, okay?” 
“…Where’d that come from?” 
Nobody answered the question. 
 
The following morning: 
“The spices are over there, got it? We don’t have very much rice left, but what we have is stored under the sink, inside that cabinet. Make sure you wash and dry the rice bin before pouring in more rice.” 
“…Right.” 
“The knives should be sharpened well enough, but the stone’s also under the sink, should you need it. If you use any of our washcloths, wash them and hang them on this mini rack up here to dry.” 
“Very well…” 
“And I must remind you, always make sure you thoroughly wash the rice cooker after each use. Lid and container, all right? Urushihara always leaves dried rice bits inside whenever he uses it. I’m talking both sides of the lid, too, do you understand?” 
“All right! Just leave already!!” 
Being lectured on kitchen etiquette was not Suzuno’s idea of an enjoyable start to the day. She was hardly a slob herself, although the idea of Ashiya running such a tight ship in his own domicile unnerved her a little. 
Ashiya’s predeparture rundown continued on for several more minutes. At the end, they came to the agreement that Suzuno would provide all nonrice ingredients and cooking duties. It left her with mixed emotions; stuffing the demons full of Church-grade holy food usually filled her with glee—but the idea of them asking for it gave her pause. That, and something about using the Devil’s Castle kitchen eliminated the “I slaved over this back at my place, so you better appreciate it” sense of superiority she relished. 
“Oh… Leaving already, Ashiya?” 
Suzuno’s shouting was enough to wake up the yawning Maou, still half covered in the single sheet he slept under. 
“Sure is cold this morning… Dang, 5:30 AM?! You’re leaving this early?” 
“I was asked to arrive at the Barres building on Shinjuku’s west side by half past six. I figured the sooner I left, the better, just in case.” 
“…Well, I dunno where you’re going, but good luck.” 
“Absolutely.” 
Maou had given Ashiya permission to take a few days off from his Devil’s Castle duties, but for some reason Ashiya was reluctant to reveal either his destination or the exact nature of his new work. He’d never quite managed to get it out of him. Ashiya stated that it was nothing illegal or physically dangerous, and that was good enough for Maou—although he couldn’t guess why he had to meet up with someone this early in Shinjuku on a Friday. He pushed his blanket aside, stood up, and shivered a bit in his short-sleeved shirt. 
“…I have already made breakfast,” Suzuno flatly stated. “If you are that cold, warm up with some miso soup.” 
Looking over toward the kitchen, Maou saw a wooden-handled saucepan resting on one of the gas burners, steam rising out from it in the chilly air. “Whoa, nice,” he said as he hurried up to it. Suzuno winced at the display, as Ashiya nodded approvingly at it. 
“I am off, Your Demonic Highness. Please, whatever you do, keep an eye on Lucifer’s behavior.” 
“Ahh, he’ll be fine. Emi nearly killed him yesterday. I doubt he’ll waste any more of our money… Not this month, anyway.” 
“No. Not this month.” 
Urushihara was cocooned in his own blanket like a baby moth, the picture of comfort as he softly snored. 
“…Man, it really is cold.” 
“Perhaps. Oddly so, for the summer. Maybe it will rain later.” 
It had been an hour after they saw Ashiya off. The sun was now fully risen, but the temperature stubbornly refused to budge. Maou and Suzuno wouldn’t have had any way of knowing it—owning neither a TV, nor a radio, nor a cell phone capable of receiving news stories—but a low-pressure front from mainland Asia was pushing away the warmer air from the Pacific, keeping temperatures low across metro Tokyo. The high temperature was eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit yesterday, but forecasters were calling for the mercury to stay in the sixties today. The cold still wasn’t enough to awaken Urushihara, currently rolled up in a ball. 
“Maybe I better go with long sleeves today,” Maou murmured as he pulled out the plastic clothing bin that contained the demons’ winter gear. “No need to go crazy with a sweater, but…” 
Maou and Ashiya survived their first winter in Japan with layers. Lots and lots of layers. He wistfully recalled how they shopped for the thickest, cheapest gear they could find in order to avoid freezing to death, given that Devil’s Castle lacked a suitable heater or even a futon to sleep on. 
“Weird. I could’ve sworn I bought a Warm Tech shirt from UniClo last year.” 
He and Ashiya both had a pair from UniClo’s line of heat-trapping undergarments. But, try as he might, he couldn’t find the shirt anywhere in the clothing bin. 
“Are you that useless?” Suzuno asked with disapproving eyes. “Do you need Alciel to help you so much as find a single article of clothing?” 
Maou averted his eyes. 
“You are probably the type of person who forgets where you put your new socks after your old ones grow holes, aren’t you?” 
“Don’t be stupid. We don’t have any new socks here in the first place. Ashiya sews up any holes that pop up.” 
Urushihara turned over in his sleep behind them. 
“…Is that how impoverished you are, Devil King?” 
“Y’know,” a testy Maou replied, “as a high-level Church cleric, I figured you people would have a little more compassion for the poor. If you’re trying to save money, you have to get as much out of everything as you can.” 
Maou fumbled around another bin in the closet before fishing out a lightbulb encased in a cardboard sleeve labeled “20W.” He took it out and handed it to Suzuno. 
“Here, try shaking it.” 
“Huh…? It’s broken, is it not? Did you forget to put it in the garbage?” 
“Of course not. If you put this inside a sock, that makes it a lot easier to sew up any holes in it. You should try it when you get a chance.” 
Urushihara turned over on his side once again. 
“I think it probably goes without saying that everything in Ashiya’s sewing kit came from the hundred-yen shop, too…” 
“Enough already.” This was starting to sadden Suzuno. “Your shift begins in the afternoon, does it not? Do you require lunch?” 
“If you could, thanks,” Maou said as he carefully pushed the bulb back into its sleeve. 
“…Very well. I’ve already prepared all the ingredients, so just tell me whenever you feel hungry. And wake up Lucifer already, would you?” 
“Yeah, sorry.” 
Suzuno, having said everything she needed to, returned to her apartment. The moment the door closed behind her, she turned to the mirror stand facing her. She stared at her reflection, then fell to her knees, despondent. 
“A Great Demon General, using a burned-out lightbulb to mend his socks…” 
With Suzuno having mangled his bicycle a few days before, Maou was proceeding with his commute on foot for the time being. This meant he was starting to sweat a bit, even in the unseasonably cool weather, by the time he arrived at MgRonald. He guessed he’d be freezing again by the time night fell. 
As evening approached, Chiho arrived for her own after-school shift, looking a little worried. “So,” she asked, “did Ashiya leave already, or…?” 
“Um? Yeah.” 
Maou had yet to explain to the girls what had gone on yesterday. But, mainly in order to keep Chiho from feeling guilty, the demons and Suzuno had a story concocted and ready for her. 
“I wouldn’t worry about him, though. He found himself a nice-paying temp gig, is all.” 
“A temp gig…?” 
“Yeah. It’s just, you know, after all that stuff with Sariel and Suzuno, he was kind of worried about leaving the two of us to ourselves, is all.” 
There was nothing false about that statement. He just omitted the fact that he was off to get Devil’s Castle out of the red, not further into the black. 
“Oh… I get it. So he’ll be back in the evenings?” 
“Uh, not quite. He’s staying over for a few days…I guess?” 
“Oh? What kind of work would need that from him?” 
“Good question…” 
Maou’s vague response was not because he was hiding something. He honestly had no idea where Ashiya went. He knew that Ashiya worked short-term gigs like this now and then even after he’d gone full-time at MgRonald, but he didn’t have a grasp of every place he went. 
“All he said was, it’s a job he never thought he’d take on as a Demon General.” 
That was a quote from their conversation in the hallway. 
“Wow, what would that be? Something dangerous?” 
“Nothing too dangerous, I don’t think. Or illegal. Ashiya wouldn’t do something that’d get us in trouble, anyway.” 
“True, yeah,” Chiho said, her expression a little clouded at Maou’s ambiguous answer. Maou decided to swiftly change the subject before she picked up on any other signals. 
“Thing is, though, Urushihara is by himself in Devil’s Castle right now. I’m a lot more worried about that! Like, what if he wastes more of our money, or leaves the gas on all day…?” 
“Yeah…” 
His cheerfulness did little to change Chiho’s demeanor. 
“But y’know,” Maou began, trying a sterner approach as he patted Chiho on her shoulder, “I really don’t think you need to worry much about us. If you’re that concerned about Ashiya, feed him some home-cooked food when he’s back, okay? He’ll probably tell you all about it then.” 
“…Okay! I’ll try to make something good for him.” 
The smile finally returned a little to Chiho’s face. A subsequent mini rush of evening customers brought them both back to the hustle and bustle of work. It kept going steadily until nine PM, the end of Chiho’s shift. 
Maou wasn’t entirely sure he cleared Chiho’s mind of all doubt, but this would have to work for now. Even if she found out later, as long as Ashiya came back with forty thousand yen in hand, at least she wouldn’t feel obliged to contribute any more to them. Foisting the responsibility for this on the shoulders of a high-school student would be a stain on his good name as Devil King. 
Right now, all he had to do was hold down the fort with Urushihara. 
“…And that’s what I’m the most worried about,” he muttered to himself as he walked the dark path back home, another Friday night shift in the books. As he expected, the night was brisk, an autumnal chill against his skin. Suzuno mentioned there’d be udon noodles waiting for him for dinner; it wasn’t exactly a summer dish, but on a night like this, it’d actually kind of work. Maou found himself looking forward to it. 
But what awaited him at home was the shock of his life. 
“Um…what the hell is all this?” 
The moment he stepped through the front door of his castle, his vision turned white. Greeting him was Suzuno, seated with a pained expression on her face, and Urushihara, racked with desperation. That, and—neatly arranged in front of them—an array of merchandise Maou had never seen before in his life: fresh fruit, what must have been several dozen bottles of kitchen cleaner, a newspaper dated today, and… 
“…A brand-new fire extinguisher, five feather-bed futons, and a water filter in the sink.” 
“Wha… Wha… Wha…?” 
“All told, about forty-five thousand yen, it seems.” 
Suzuno’s voice sounded like the tolling of Death itself from beyond the grave. 
 
Chiho was seated on her bed, clutching a heart-shaped cushion as she made a call. 
“…Oh, hey, this is Chiho. Sorry I’m calling you so late. Anyway, yeah, it sounds like he’s gone out on a temp job of some kind… Right. He said he was staying on-site for it or whatever, so he’s not gonna be back all that soon… Yeah, I know, right?” 
Her expression was far from bright and cheerful as she spoke. 
“Anyway, tomorrow’s Saturday, so I’ll make something up for them. It’s the least I can do and all, so… All right. Talk to you later.” 
She ended the call, flung the phone down on the bed, then lay down and sighed. 
“Maybe I was being mean to Urushihara after all.” 
 
“Did… Did you buy all of that, Urushihara…?” 
The fallen angel’s shopping habits up to this point mostly revolved around computer accessories, snacks, and anything with sugar in it. Maou feared that the obsession was now spiraling into a mania of purchasing random objects for giggles. 
“Dude, no!” Urushihara countered in an uncharacteristic panic. “You think I’d actually buy all this useful household crap?!” 
“Okay, so what’s going on, huh?! ’Cause none of this was here when I left this afternoon!” 
“Calm down, Devil King.” 
Suzuno rose from her seat on the floor and thrust something that looked like a receipt in front of Maou’s face. 
“What’s that? …Wait, a purchase order? One external hard drive…two thousand yen?” 
“…Look, I know why Ashiya had to go out and work, okay?” Urushihara muttered, head tilted downward. “I know I can’t pay it all back myself…but I figured I could pitch in a little, at least.” 
“It would appear,” Suzuno interjected, “that Lucifer was a victim of acquisition fraud.” 
“Acquisition…fraud?” Maou’s eyebrows arched at the unfamiliar term. 
“Yes. When someone visits you, promising to purchase your precious items, then forces you to sell them at fraudulently low prices.” 
“…Oh, yeah, I heard about that.” 
Maou had heard stories along those lines from the retirees he worked with during neighborhood volunteer cleanup duty. Mr. Watanabe, one of the regulars at his day job, mentioned some rumors about shady individuals going door-to-door with that scheme, mostly targeting older people and stay-at-home moms. The local neighborhood association had put a notice about it in their most recent newsletter. 
“So you sold some kinda computer part to help pay back the forty thousand yen?” 
“Yeah…but…” 
“It would appear,” said Suzuno, eyes uncommonly sympathetic for Urushihara’s plight, “he came across a particularly cruel fraudster. It was a hard sell disguised as a purchasing service. By the time I realized something was amiss, it was already as you see here.” 
“Yeah, but…a newspaper subscription? The fruit, even?! What kind of rip-off artist sells everything from fruit to fire extinguishers?” 
“I’m sorry. The fruit and newspaper were from other guys. I couldn’t say no to ’em.” 
“Oh, come on.” Maou fell to his knees. “What are you, stupid?! Just say you don’t need that crap!” 
“But, dude, they said they wouldn’t leave unless I bought their stuff! Like, they said it was some kind of trial offer or something! They kept on jiggling the doorknob and stuff, and I didn’t want them to break it or else we’d owe even more money!” 
“That’s exactly what they wanted you to think, man! They musta thought you were the most gullible person in the world!” 
“Dude, I know, but they kept talking around me, no matter what I said. I couldn’t get them to leave! They were really, like, convincing and stuff…” 
Maou had to wonder what kind of talent it took to so thoroughly fleece a fallen angel and an alleged demon. Having never encountered a pitch like this, it was tough for him to picture. 
“Devil King,” Suzuno said, “there is no point berating Lucifer right now. No, not this supposed Great Demon General willing to fall for a newspaper-subscription pitch.” 
“Bell,” Urushihara protested, “you’re just rubbing salt in my wounds, okay?” 
“The newspaper and fruit are fine. We can always have the subscription canceled, and the fruit was not that terribly expensive anyway. I would have said no,” Suzuno said as she held a pear in the palm of one hand, “even if I saw this for half the price at the grocery store, but regardless…” 
“I said quit it, Bell…” 
“The problem is the other three items. Lucifer?” 
“Oh. Uh…check this out, Maou,” Urushihara said as he pointed at his computer screen. 
“This website? ‘Deluxe Life International Holdings’? What’s with that convoluted name? It’s a bunch of random English words strung together.” 
“That’s the website of that sales outfit,” Urushihara explained. “I tried calling the number they listed on there via SkyPhone.” 
“And?” 
“Nobody picked up. I looked it up, and their HQ address is at a mixed-use office building in Tokyo. So I looked up their IP address, but the site’s hosted on a rental server. I don’t think their office PCs are connected to the Net.” 
“…So?” 
“So, I mean, the extinguisher, the futons, the filter… I dunno if we can make ’em take those back. It’s totally a bad company.” 
“Uh… Whoa. Wait a second. You said it was forty-five thousand yen total, right?” 
Urushihara and Suzuno turned their faces away in tandem. The fallen angel didn’t even have so much as a piggy bank to his name—any cash that wasn’t in their shared bank account would have been in either Ashiya’s or Maou’s possession. In other words, whether he purchased this junk via credit or debit, that bank account would have already been charged. 
“Ashiya’s out working right now to make up for the last forty thousand,” Maou grimly intoned. “And now look…” 
Both he and Urushihara felt a cold shiver run down their spines. They were now another forty-five thousand yen in the hole—and it was flushed down the proverbial toilet. 
“We gotta do something before he gets back.” 
“Yeah…or else he’ll go on a demonic rampage!” 
“He is a demon, yes,” Suzuno added. 
“Ashiya said he’d be back on Sunday night,” said Maou. 
“We gotta figure something out,” Urushihara added, “or we may never see Monday morning.” 
“We? I didn’t do anything wrong!” Maou exclaimed. 
“I doubt Alciel would lend an ear to that excuse,” Suzuno sadly retorted. “Truly, Devil’s Castle has become a rudderless boat in his absence.” 
“Ugh! I knew it!!” 
Maou’s scream was enough to make the apartment walls shake. 
 
“This is it, huh…?” 
Maou scoped out the tenant list on the front of the building. By sheer coincidence, the office building that housed Deluxe Life was within walking distance of Devil’s Castle. He was expecting it somewhere downtown or in one of Tokyo’s entertainment districts, but it was actually a dusty old building, nestled in anonymously among one of the thoroughfares that crossed the Koshu-Kaido road near Villa Rosa. 
“Huh,” he said to himself. “At least they aren’t yakuza or anything.” 
Urushihara calling them a “bad company” kindled that possibility in his mind, but when he summoned his nerve and climbed up the stairs, he found a seemingly typical business space, with a metallic sign and reinforced glass doors forming an entryway. He could see a woman there, too. For Maou, who was here to demand the company issue a refund for the items they pushed on Urushihara, it was something of a relief. 
He pulled the door open, which was enough to alert the receptionist of his presence. 
“Good morning, sir. What can I help you with today?” 
“Um,” Maou began, “a salesman from your company visited us yesterday.” He went on to explain the whole story to the front-desk lady—how they were approached by the salesman, how he wasn’t personally at home at the time, how none of the merchandise had been used, and how badly he needed to return it. 
“All right. This was over in Sasazuka then, sir? Give me just one moment while I find an agent for you, please.” 
The woman rose to her feet, took a thick manila folder out from a cabinet visible from Maou’s seat, flipped through the pages for a little bit, then dialed an internal number on her phone. 
“Hello, I have a return request at the front desk… All right. Certainly.” 
Putting the receiver down, she pointed out a pair of small couches on one side of the reception area. “One of our agents will be here shortly,” she said. “Please, have a seat over there.” 
“Thanks.” 
This was going better than he thought. Maybe they didn’t pick up Urushihara’s phone call simply because they were a small company and ran out of free lines or something. 
As Maou sat and waited, a man in a suit appeared from behind the reception desk. After exchanging a few words with the previous woman, he approached the other sofa. He was thin, bespectacled, and about the same size as Maou. 
“Thanks for waiting! My name is Kuryu, and I’m the returns specialist for our retail division. You were Mister…Maou, correct?” 
“Yes, sir…” 
“And you’d like to return a…let’s see here… Ah, a fire extinguisher, futon set, and water filter?” 

Suddenly, Maou felt something ominous in the air. He had never given this Kuryu guy his name. Or, for that matter, specified the stuff Urushihara bought—er, was forced to buy. Was Devil’s Castle the only sale they recorded all day yesterday? 
The ominous feeling was quickly confirmed. 
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news…but I’m afraid we generally don’t accept returns, sir.” 
“…What?” 
“With the water filter in particular, when we installed it in your sink, we ran it once to test it out… I’m afraid we can’t call that ‘unused.’” 
“Whoa, hang on a second! It was just once!” 
That was the truth. Suzuno refrained from using the Devil’s Castle sink once she found out about the fraud. 
“I understand what you are trying to tell me, sir, but as the customer, you were witness to the entire installation process. The water filter is fully covered in our terms and conditions here.” 
“Terms…?!” 
Kuryu handed Maou a sheet of paper he had never seen before. 
“I don’t remember seeing this yesterday,” Maou said. 
“We did hand it to you, sir. It’s the responsibility of the customer to keep track of these things, so there’s not much I can do about that…” 
“How could I have lost it in a single day?” 
“I’m afraid that’s not something I can answer, sir,” Kuryu said, deftly dodging the crux of Maou’s bewildered question. “Also, I’m afraid we cannot accept the fire extinguisher, either.” 
“Huhh?!” 
“Are you aware of the installation standards for those, sir?” 
“Installation what?” 
“Well, in an apartment building like yours, there need to be fire extinguishers in place within twenty meters of all entryways and stairwells—with the proper government-mandated labeling, and housed inside a specialized storage unit.” 
“R-right, but we’ve already got a common-use one out on the walkway…” 
“Yes, but based on the size of your building, you’d be legally required to have at least two stationed on each floor. Twenty meters is the standard, but the exact positioning depends on the area the building occupies…and it would be against the law for us to remove a unit we’ve already installed.” 
Even if that was true, it wouldn’t mean Maou was responsible as a tenant for covering those costs. Maou was quickly beginning to get the picture. 
“Okay, what about the futons?” 
“Well, if they’re in unopened, unused condition, we can certainly accept those, sir. It was a set of seven feather-bed futons, correct?” 
“…Um, that should be five.” 
“No, it was definitely seven. It’s written right here, sir.” 
Kuryu then produced another sheet of paper, a copy of a sales slip with Urushihara’s childlike signature on it. It resembled the receipt Maou saw at his apartment yesterday, but the printed part of it had a “7” next to the futon field instead of a “5.” 
“…I’m afraid that five futons wouldn’t be a full set. If that’s the case, even if they’re unused, we’d only be able to refund the remaining five futons at their used-goods value.” 
In other words, they weren’t interested in providing a refund from the get-go. They acted like legitimate sellers, then used a mixture of childish excuses and meandering logic to swindle their customers out of their money. And since nothing they sold was clearly defective in nature, they were counting on their victims to eat their losses and chalk it up as a lesson learned. Not even Maou could keep his cool any longer. 
“…You’re seriously gonna pull that act?” 
“What do you mean, sir? You agreed to this entire transaction as our customer. We have the statement right here—and our goods weren’t defective at all, I believe.” 
“That wasn’t an agreement. That was a total rip-off! What kind of idiot would buy feather-bed futons in the dead of summer? Without any sheets, even?” 
“…Sir, that ‘idiot’ was living in your place.” 
The tone of Kuryu’s voice took a sudden nosedive. His face contorted itself into a threatening scowl. 
“It was your side that agreed to the purchase in the first place. All we did was bring the merchandise to you. We didn’t put a gun to your head and make you purchase it. I don’t really see why you’re complaining about it now. Nobody likes a whiner, you know.” 
“What?!” 
Maou had lost his temper. Kuryu let it slide. 
“It’s no business of ours any longer, sir. We have a signed receipt, contract, and terms of service. The products aren’t defective at all. If you still think we’re ripping you off, then you’re free to take us to court if you like. With all this documentation, we’d win handily, you realize—and after that, we could countersue you for filing a fraudulent complaint. That would also be a slam-dunk victory for us, and then you’d have to pay our court fees, you see. Are you still interested in trying that?” 
“Damn…it…” 
Nobody with this kind of attitude shift could possibly be a legit businessman. Even Maou, in his current agitated state, knew that even though Kuryu’s argument seemed to make sense right now, it wasn’t anything even close to the truth. 
But he had no time to work with. It wasn’t like he knew anything about the court system, and Ashiya would be back home before he’d have any chance to plead his case in front of a judge. Getting angry at this guy wouldn’t accomplish anything for him because he wasn’t interested in doing business at all. The man was a swindler. A devil in human clothing. And Maou could sit here and grit his teeth at him all he wanted, but with all his demonic force taken from him after the battle against Sariel, it was nothing Kuryu couldn’t handle. 
“Then, if we have an understanding, may I be excused?” the swindler asked. “I certainly don’t mind calling the police if I have to.” 
Kuryu lifted himself off the sofa. The woman who had warmly greeted Maou earlier now had a hand on her phone receiver like a whip she was wielding to keep the lion at bay. Further discussion was clearly futile. If Maou left right now, that all but signaled his total defeat. But if he tried holding on any longer, they might call the police—or someone even more sinister, maybe. And right now, Maou was powerless. Just your typical young human. 
“Go ahead! Call ’em if you want!” 
Kuryu’s and the receptionist’s heads turned toward the voice…coming from the front door. Maou joined them, only to groan weakly at what he saw. 
“…ugh.” 
“I’d be more than happy to see ’em here!” 
The woman facing off against Kuryu now was Emi—someone who never should have been here in a million years. 
“Um… Can I ask who you are?” 
“Me? A defender of justice!” 
“Huhh?” snorted Kuryu at Emi’s completely heartfelt self-introduction. 
“So? What’ll you do? Call the cops, or not?” 
“…” 
Kuryu and the woman didn’t move. Now it was Emi’s turn to snort at them. 
“I swear, with all the crap your company’s pulling on people, I’m amazed you actually want the police to sniff around in here.” 
“Um… I don’t know who you are, ma’am,” said Kuryu, voice even deeper than when he verbally threatened Maou. “But if you keep messing with us, you’ll have worse than the police to deal with. Get it?” 
But this was nothing that could ever faze Emi. Maou had no idea what “worse than the police” meant, but assuming they were regular Japanese human beings, they’d have to employ an entire army base’s worth of personnel and equipment to get on equal footing with the Hero. 
“…So! As you can see, the moment I stepped in, this company starts threatening me. Did you get all that?” 
The smartphone she had in her left hand had been shooting video the whole time. “Loud and clear,” said the speaker—in Chiho’s voice. 
“What…!” 
“So, are you calling the cops or not?” Emi grinned at Kuryu. “If you do, I’ll give them a recording of everything you two said.” 
“…” 
“Why are you here…?” asked Maou, speaking for everyone else in the room. She couldn’t have been tailing him, he figured. 
The stare-off between Emi and Deluxe Life continued for a few moments. Emi, to Maou’s surprise, was the first to blink. 
“…Right. Let’s go.” 
“Huh?!” Maou’s eyes bugged out of their sockets. 
“Staying here any longer isn’t gonna force them to deal with us. Let’s just make them happy and leave.” 
“H-hey! Emi!” 
The Devil King found himself having to scramble in order to catch up with her, already out the door. He could feel the dour glares from the Deluxe Life staff on his back as he did. 
“S-Suzuno?!” 
Suzuno was waiting for him outside the building. “When you’re ready,” Emi said, as if expecting her. 
“Right.” 
The cleric entered the building, Emi and Maou behind her…and was back within a minute’s time. 
“Got it?” 
“All set.” 
Maou stared dumbfounded at Suzuno. 
“If you will allow me to summarize…” 
“Uh?” Maou grunted. 
“Emilia and Chiho saw right through your shallow intelligence.” 
“What?” Maou grunted. He looked to Emi for guidance. She gave him an awkward stare, then crossed her arms and turned her face to the side. 
“At first I was just pissed off beyond imagining…” 
“Erm?” Maou grunted. 
“But…once I started thinking about why you went to the Tokyo City Hall building…like, without even thinking about anything…” 
“Um, what? I can’t hear you.” 
“…Ugh! Look! I hate to admit this—I really do—and I’m not convinced he bought that thing with that intention in the first place, either. But Lucifer saved my life in the end, okay? So I went over in order to thank him! And then I saw all that crazy junk in there…” 
“Oh… So…” 
“But anyway! It made me sick, the idea of owing you such a huge favor. If I didn’t show you some kind of gratitude, it’d damage my name as a Hero! If I can succeed here, that’ll be worth a hell of a lot more karma than your forty thousand yen, so we’ll be even! You got that?!” 
“Uh, I don’t know how you’re measuring karma here…but if you’re gonna help me, then thanks. I’m glad for it.” 
“If…if you understand, then fine.” 
“Oh, hey, while you’re getting all in my business, can I ask another favor?” 
“I’m not getting ‘all in your business’!” Emi began to blush. “I’m just paying you back! What is it?!” 
Maou, to Emi’s further chagrin, bowed his head deeply downward. “If this all works out in the end…don’t tell Ashiya about any of it, all right? You too, Suzuno! When Ashiya starts talking about money, it gets scary, man!” 
The request was clearly coming from the heart. It was not the kind of demand one would expect from the Lord of All Demons. Emi and Suzuno, taking in the full meaning behind it, each sighed an exasperated sigh. 
 
“Oh, welcome back. Are you okay, Maou?” 
Back at the apartment, the group found Chiho manning the Devil’s Castle computer. 
“Y-yeah, I’m fine, but…Chi, why are you…?” 
“Take a look at this first, Maou!” 
“Huh?” 
Chiho clicked the mouse button a few times. 
“Are you aware of the installation standards for those, sir?” 
“Whoa! That voice…?!” 
It was Kuryu’s low, rumbling growl. And the video was shot through the front glass doors, clearly showing both Maou’s and Kuryu’s respective faces. 
“Yep. Got a great shot of it, no?” Emi proudly answered. 
“Emi…” Maou shivered. “You didn’t…” 
“I heard the whole story from your ‘in-home security guard’ here,” Emi promptly replied, cutting him off. 
Urushihara, meanwhile, sat motionless on the floor, avoiding Maou’s eyes and trying to fend off the humiliation. 
“But you’re short on time, right?” Emi continued. “We kinda took the direct approach because we needed to build an airtight case.” 
“But how’d you get that video…?” the Demon King asked. 
“You’ve got the blessings of modern technology to thank for that. I used the SkyPhone app on my smartphone and saved the audio and video on your computer.” 
“SkyPhone…? You mean the phone app on Urushihara’s notebook PC?” 
“Yeah. I was a little worried since it’s an old model, but no wonder you’re glued to that thing every day. You got some nice equipment!” 
SkyPhone was a program that made telephone calls with an Internet connection. Nowadays, even portable devices like smartphones could host and use apps like SkyPhone. While it depended on the circumstances of usage, usually as long as the device had camera capabilities, it was even possible to have video calling. 
“Thanks for the…compliment?” groaned the unqualified “security guard.” 
“You’re welcome. I actually meant it as one, for a change.” Emi looked at the computer screen, one eyebrow arched. 
“We spotted this, too,” Chiho said as she clicked on an icon Maou didn’t recognize. “Luckily, Urushihara doesn’t keep his files very tidy on this computer. He’s got his webcam set to auto-log mode, so there’s still the video from yesterday showing the front of the apartment.” 
“Yeah, yeah, thanks for the compliment.” 
“I doubt she meant that as one,” Suzuno said as both she and the equally computer-illiterate Maou sat in front of the screen. 
“Wait, the one you bought earlier?” Maou said. He was referring to the webcam Urushihara bought and installed on his own volition, providing him with a feed of the outside world for reasons only he knew. It was monochrome and low-resolution, but it clearly showed the street that crossed by the Devil’s Castle window. A commercial van appeared to have parked, and a man in a suit jumped out from the passenger side. 
“Whoa, that’s Kuryu!” 
The so-called returns specialist was busily removing a futon and a fire extinguisher from the back of the van. 
“So basically,” Emi explained, “this guy set out to rip you off from the very beginning. He claimed he was buying things from you, but that was just a cover story for what he was really doing, and that’s all subject to government regulations.” 
“Is it…?” 
“They’re required by law to tell you from the start what the purpose of their visit is—solicitation, sales, purchasing, whatever. This video’s pretty ample evidence that they were here from the start in order to sell you stuff—not buy it from you, like they claimed. Too bad we can’t see the license plate from this angle…but if we can see his face this clearly, that oughta be more than enough.” 
“Yeah, but how come you know all of that?” Maou pleaded. 
“Well, there’s a ton of regulations we have to follow doing business over the phone,” Emi explained, obviously detailed on the subject. “I’m more involved with fielding questions than actively soliciting sales, but they cover all that in our job training anyway.” 
“Ah, Japan certainly does make things convenient,” an astonished Suzuno remarked. “Imagine, someone leaving such a clear trail of evidence to follow! A shame it never went so easy with the corrupt regional bishops and businessmen of the Western Island!” 
“Right,” Urushihara interjected, “but Yusa, isn’t it, like, against the law to take hidden-camera footage and stuff without permission? Like, you’re not allowed to use it as evidence or something like that?” 
“No,” Chiho replied as she watched the screen, “but that’s just talking about whether it’s admissible in court or not. That, and this video is surveillance, not a hidden camera—it’s not meant for illegal activity or invading people’s privacy or anything. And if it’s this bad of a company, even if it can’t be evidence, it’s still enough for the police to start an investigation with.” 
“You really are a policeman’s daughter, aren’t you?” said Emi, impressed at the mature knowledge Chiho was spouting. 
“Oh, it’s really nothing that complicated. But I was wondering about something else, though.” She turned toward Urushihara, a little bashful. “How old are you, Urushihara?” 
“Huh?” he asked back. 
“Um, like, not in demon or fallen-angel years… Here in Japan, I mean.” 
“Oh, right, what did I put him down as…?” 
Urushihara looked up at the (on paper, anyway) head of the Devil’s Castle household. The name “Hanzou Urushihara” was one thought up by Maou once it became clear they would have to live together in Sasazuka. 
“I think I put him down as eighteen. He’s such a child, so…” 
Maou and Urushihara, and Ashiya for that matter, all had to craft a full set of government-approved documents backing up their identities in order to pass as Japanese citizens. They forged them with a mixture of social engineering and demonic power-driven hypnosis. Without a presence in the government family register, after all, they’d be unable to do much of anything in this country. 
“He is a child,” Emi echoed. 
“Indeed,” Suzuno added. “Far, far less mature than Chiho, even.” 
This news significantly brightened Chiho, however. “Oh! So you’re still a minor, Urushihara,” she chirped with a smile. 
“Oh, right,” Emi said, nodding. “The cooling-off period and all that, huh?” 
“Right!” 
“What? I don’t have AC here.” 
“No, cooling off,” Emi explained to the clueless Demon King beside her. “Basically, it’s a system where you can unconditionally cancel a sales contract or request within a certain period of time. With door-to-door sales in particular, people sign on the dotted line before they know what they’re doing a lot of the time, so it’s kind of a safety valve for consumers. The cooling-off system’s even stronger for minors, though. If their guardian says, ‘I didn’t agree to that’ within that period of time, they can cancel pretty much any kind of contract, just like that. This happens a ton of the time when minors sign stuff like cell phone contracts.” 
As Emi put it, high school–age teens would occasionally forge their parents’ permission on Dokodemo contracts, leading to consternation down the line. 
“Have you ever looked at the bottom part of a résumé form, Maou?” Chiho asked. “There’s usually a little bit there saying that minors need permission from a parent or guardian in order to seek work.” 
“Oh, yeah, you’re right…” 
It had been a fair amount of time since he last filled out a Japanese-style résumé form, but he recalled that was one of the sections he left empty on it. 
“I had to get that filled out, since taking a part-time job involves a full work contract and everything. This one isn’t exactly like that, but regardless, a minor always needs the permission of a guardian in order to sign a contract that involves more money than they’re permitted to have.” 
“But I’m not exactly Urushihara’s dad, you know? We’ve got separate family registers and everything.” 
“Yeah, dude, I like you and all, but…” 
“Having you as my son would be hell on earth,” Maou fired back. 
“Right,” Emi cut in, “but you work to support that shut-in freak, don’t you? In that case, it’d probably be easy for you to declare yourself his legal guardian.” 
“Uh, what did you call me, Emilia?” 
Emi ignored him. 
“And he spent forty-five thousand yen of yours, didn’t he? I really doubt you’re giving Lucifer that much of an allowance. That’s got to be more than what he can work with by himself, so I think the cooling-off period can apply to this contract.” 
Maou’s expression, dark and troubled before Emi began speaking, was starting to brighten. If all of this legal mumbo jumbo meant Ashiya wouldn’t be raging at him in a couple days, he was all but ready to worship Emi and Chiho as goddesses. 
“Wow, so do you think I could use that cooler thing to return that transmitter he bought, too?” 
“Cooling off, all right? And no, probably not, if he bought it online. That was on your card, I imagine, so you’re on the hook for that. You looked at the thing before you bought it, right? Unless it’s unopened or defective or something, I doubt you can return that unconditionally.” 
“Oh…” 
This was a slight disappointment for Maou. 
“That device saved both me and Yusa, though,” Chiho said, standing up from her station and walking in front of Urushihara. “I’m sorry about earlier, all right? You saved the day for both of us, but I said some really mean things to you.” 
“…It wasn’t me, dude,” Urushihara said, dipping his head awkwardly to the side. “Maou’s the guy who saved you.” 
“Maybe, but if it wasn’t for you, Maou might not have reached us in time. Emi and I were actually thinking that we should contribute some of the money for that tracker, but…” 
“Whoa, really?!” 
The unexpected confession made both Maou and Urushihara look at Emi. She turned away, clearly peeved. “That cheap bum Alciel never breathed a word of it to us,” she muttered. “I’m sure he’d never accept the money. Besides,” she continued, eyes firmly upon Urushihara, “I know it saved our hides in the end, but I know you didn’t put the tracker in my bag for any decent reason, Lucifer. I figure you owed me one for that, and I made up for it by kicking your ass yesterday. But on the other hand, I’m partly at fault for getting Chiho involved, so I wanted to help make up for your loss a little, too…and Chiho agreed to join me on that. Does that make sense now?” 
It was fairly convoluted logic, but what it meant was that both Emi and Chiho had come to Maou and Urushihara’s aid today. For now, that was good enough. 
“Well!” said Maou, indicating his tacit approval by changing the subject. “At least I know we’ve got a chance. But what should we do with that info? Call the cops?” 
Emi and Chiho shook their heads. “There’s nothing illegal about the paperwork itself,” Emi explained. “Even if we went through the cops, they’d never get it settled before Alciel comes back. Not unless this was a seriously huge rip-off scheme.” 
“Great. So now what?” 
“How about this?” 
Chiho returned to the computer and brought up another website. It had the name of another outfit unfamiliar to Maou. 
“The Tokyo Department of Consumer Affairs?” 
 
Said department, located in the Iidabashi section of Shinjuku ward, served as the main Tokyo corporate body in charge of consumer complaints. It was open on Saturdays. Maou immediately headed off to complain about Deluxe Life International Holdings and was soon greeted by a so-called consumer counselor who listened to the entirety of his story. 
The counselor, a gentle-voiced man named Mr. Tamura, explained to him that his department had received several complaints about Deluxe Life in the past, but Maou was the first victim to bring such crystal-clear evidence of their activity to their attention. 
“We’ll get in contact with this company at once,” he said. “I don’t think you have anything left to worry about, Mr. Maou.” 
It was exactly the kind of reassurance Maou wanted to hear, as Mr. Tamura picked up the phone and made calls to several people. Then: 
“Well, that was a close call. They almost got away from us.” 
“Huh?” 
“With the contract your friend signed, Mr. Maou, that would have been easy for us to cancel using the normal cooling-off regulations. But, just in case, I sent our weekend agent over in Shibuya and our affiliated judicial partner to the site. It turns out they arrived just as those frauds were trying to ditch the office and leave. There was a moving truck by the front door and everything.” 
“Ditch the office…?” 
“It’s a common trick,” Mr. Tamura said, unfazed. “They take out the computer equipment and other records first, send the desks and lockers and things to recycling agents, and then they run away. If they were well prepared for it, they could clean out your typical one-floor office and set up shop somewhere else within half a day’s time. I’m sure you’re far from their only victim, Mr. Maou.” 
Maou found it all a little too hard to imagine. As far as he could tell, Deluxe Life had a perfectly legitimate-looking office setup. Without the aid of demonic force, he figured it must have taken a lot of people to construct and take down an entire office in such a short time, but it was hard to believe so many people could be involved in what amounted to a ring of criminals. 
“It doesn’t take a lot of skill to run a group like this, actually. I sincerely doubt anything like organized crime was involved with them. If it was, I’d imagine they’ve long since cut ties with a small-time operation like that. Also, I’m happy to report that they found the contract signed by Mr. Urushihara as well. He had made the purchase via bank card, but they didn’t even have their own card processor, so the contract was still in their to-do pile. They never reported it to the bank, so I don’t think your card was ever debited at all. Lucky break there, huh?” 
If Emi and Chiho were goddesses, then Mr. Tamura was the only Supreme Being Maou was willing to accept right now. 
“By the way, though, it was apparently a rather odd scene at their office. The staff was trying to run away, but for some reason they couldn’t open the door or windows in their own office. When our agent arrived, one of the movers was attempting to break a window open for them.” 
“They couldn’t open them…?” 
Come to think of it, Suzuno spent a moment or two inside there after he left. It kind of seemed as if Emi had given her the signal to do…something. Perhaps she put some manner of sealing magic over the building to keep them from escaping. Maou could only guess at the exact nature of it. 
“Either way, I’m sure their business license will be revoked before too long…although I’m sure they’ll find a way to file for bankruptcy and try the scheme over again somewhere else.” 
Mr. Tamura’s eyes grew stern. 
“Mr. Maou, we managed to get you out of trouble this time. There’s no doubt that this company actively attempted to victimize you and your friend. But like we’ve seen with all the identity theft going on, these thieves are always going to find another way to trick people. Most of the complaints we received for this outfit were from elderly people, but you’re still a young man. There’s no saying you’ll be this lucky next time. So try to be a little more careful, all right?” 
For once in his over three-hundred-year-old life, Maou had no complaints about being called young. To someone like him, experienced with holy power–wielding Ente Islans like Emi and Suzuno as well as with honest-minded Earthlings like Chiho and his boss Kisaki at work, it was a surprise for him to realize that people in Japan could even be so ill-minded and deceptive. Even for a Devil King like him, there was still so much to learn. 
“I’ll do my best,” he said, bowing. “Thanks a ton for all your help. Speaking of which…” 
Ever since he set foot in this facility, something had been nagging on his mind. 
“Do we, uh, owe you anything for interceding on our behalf?” 
Mr. Tamura smiled and shook his head. “Visitors have to incur fees sometimes if we need to get attorneys or judicial agents involved, but this was an open-and-shut case for us, so you’re fine for today. It’s your taxes that keep the lights on in here, after all. If you run into any other trouble, don’t be afraid to contact us again, all right?” 
The municipal tax deducted from Maou’s already paltry paycheck was usually a source of stress to him. For the first time in his human life, he actually felt glad he was required to pay it. 
 
“I definitely wanna invite Tamura the counselor guy into my army someday.” 
“Don’t be stupid.” 
The gang was back inside the now much emptier Devil’s Castle. Emi was once again resuming callously shooting down the Devil King’s latest grand scheme. 
Not long after Maou returned home, Kuryu paid them another visit—this time accompanied by the consumer affairs agent covering Shibuya ward. He had come to take back the futons, fire extinguisher, and water filter. 
“Nothing to worry about,” Mr. Tamura said when Maou decided to call him before letting Kuryu inside. “That’s exactly the kind of caution I was talking about. That’s good. Keep up the good work.” 
For all the bluff and bluster Kuryu gave Maou earlier in the afternoon, he was almost eerily friendly with him now that the agent was watching his every move. The documents were formally annulled in Maou’s presence, the head of the local newspaper office came to apologize after Maou called to complain, and the threat to Devil’s Castle (and the threat of Maou’s and Urushihara’s grisly murders at Ashiya’s hands) was finally quashed for good. 
“Thank you all so much! Emi, Chi, Suzuno… I owe all of you one! Hey, Urushihara!” 
“Yeah…uh, thanks, I guess—Yeow!” 
“Bow your head, dumbass!” 
He pushed his head down, dissatisfied with the token gratitude Urushihara had to offer. 
“Y-you don’t have to go that far,” a harried Chiho said with a smile. “I’m just glad we could help out.” 
“The fruit’s still gonna be your problem, though,” Emi said. “Gotta pay for your mistake somehow, you know?” 
“Yeah, you said it.” 
The pears cost a total of a thousand yen or so. Maou decided to keep them around, as a sort of cautionary tale for all of them. 
“You girls want any?” he asked. 
“No thanks. They look kind of old anyway.” 
“Um, I’m okay, too, thanks.” 
“See?” Suzuno sneered. “I told you they were asking too steep a price for that quality. You had best eat them all before Alciel returns, lest you incite his rage for quite different reasons.” 
Following her advice, Maou peeled one of the pears, probably not the stuff of organic boutique farmers, and took a bite. 
“I can’t believe people actually do that, though,” he whispered as he savored the less than succulent flavor. 
“You think it’s that rare? You are the King of All Demons, right?” 
“Yeah, but demons don’t pull underhanded BS like that,” Maou said, Kuryu’s face crossing his mind. “We don’t really have the concept of ‘wheeling and dealing,’ y’know? We like to keep our evil on the simple side. Something like that… A guy smiling at you as he tightens the noose around your neck… I didn’t know that existed.” 
“You see?” Suzuno scoffed. “Not all humans are good people, indeed. As a Church cleric, I know that all too well…but I am also duty bound to treat all lives as equal. If that Kuryu gentleman was killed by the demons that marauded Ente Isla…then he would be the victim, one who needed to be saved. A thorny dilemma, and one I still have trouble coming to grips with.” 
Her voice had tapered to a whisper toward the end. Then, realizing something, she lifted her head back up. 
“But…but this does not mean I see logic or justice in your evil ways! Do not misinterpret my meanderings!” 
“Yeah, yeah,” Maou snickered to himself. 
“You wonder where people go wrong, though,” Chiho glumly observed. “We’re all innocent when we’re born, you know.” 
“No telling,” Maou replied. “But people make mistakes all the time, yeah? Some people put up sham companies like that, and other people keep tabs on them. Like Mr. Tamura and that Shibuya agent, y’know? Weird place, this human world… The demon realms’re a lot easier to deal with.” 
“Yeah. I’ll definitely give you that.” 
For once, Urushihara actually agreed with something Maou said. 
The group decided to commemorate surviving their brush with financial death with a special dinner that night, complete with pork cutlets from the neighborhood butcher provided by Suzuno. Maou had work from Sunday morning on, and after strictly warning Urushihara to lock the door and pretend he wasn’t there, he set off and ran through his shift, thanking Chiho once again when she arrived. 
They both got off at six PM, with Chiho once again offering some home-cooked food for the night’s dinner. And when the two of them arrived at Devil’s Castle: 
“Whoa! You’re back, Ashiya?!” 
“Welcome, Your Demonic Highness!” 
Ashiya was already home. 
“Ashiya! Welcome back!” 
“M-Ms. Sasaki?!” 
Chiho’s presence was clearly a shock to him. Suzuno gave his shoulder a quick pat. 
“Chiho knows you went out to make back that forty thousand yen. Give it up.” 
“Wh-what? Is that true…?” 
“Thanks for all your hard work, Ashiya. Earning back the money that saved my life and everything…” 
“No, it…it was nothing, really…” 
“Oh, it’s all right,” Chiho reassured him. “Maou gave me the whole story, so at least let me express my gratitude to you and Urushihara, okay?” 
Chiho’s food container contained, amazingly enough, three eel filets done up kabayaki style, broiled in a soy-based sauce. She couldn’t have fished them out of some river; presumably they were bought somewhere, and by the looks of them, they couldn’t have come cheap. 
“Hey, I gotta do this much for you, at least,” Chiho insisted. The three demons, beaten down by the display, gladly accepted the feast. 
“So what kind of work were you involved in?” Chiho asked over the dinner table. 
Ashiya’s face darkened a bit. “It pains me to say it,” he began, bowing his head down a bit as he began his confession, “but I was an instructor…” 
“An instructor?!” 
Maou, Urushihara, and Suzuno were equally surprised to hear the word. 
“Yes. At an overnight camp run by a test-prep center.” 
This struck the entire room dumb. 
“But I wasn’t at the whiteboard teaching students. I was a conversational partner, helping them with English pronunciation and listening skills.” 
“Oh, that sort of thing?” 
Maou nodded. It made enough sense to him. He didn’t know what Emi’s experience was, but he and Ashiya had mastered the Japanese language without the use of demonic force in the space of a few days. They had kept up the language study for a while longer, figuring it would help both of them get salaried positions somewhere, but apparently Ashiya was at the point where he could get work as an English instructor. 
“Lo, I am a Great Demon General…and, ohh, how it pains me to use my powers to train mere human beings. But we need to stay afloat!” 
“That is…one way of putting it, perhaps,” a confused Suzuno said. 
“Aw, it’s fine, isn’t it, Ashiya?” Maou asked. 
“…Huh?” 
“If you’re instructing them,” Maou went on to the demon man’s surprise, “I doubt those kids are gonna go wrong. If you can get a stint there again, I say take it.” 
“Um? Er, all right,” Ashiya replied quizzically. “I doubt it will happen that often, my liege.” Then he turned to Urushihara. “Lucifer! Did anything happen to His Demonic Highness?” 
“Not really, no,” came the reply, the fallen angel too brazenly focused on his eel filet to look at him. “Just the same goofball as always.” But instead of leaving it at that, he raised his head up, a grain of rice still stuck to his cheek. 
“Oh, but…” 
“Hmm?” 
“Ashiya, you fight some seriously rough enemies in this joint, don’t you?” 
“Huh?” 
“He’s got a point, Chi,” Maou observed to the side. “Nothing but honest business for us, though, right?” 
Chiho smiled and nodded. “You said it!” 
“Stupid Devil King,” Suzuno whispered. “As if he has any room to speak.” As usual, it disappeared into the air unnoticed as the meal between demons, holy women, and one normal teenage girl continued. 
 
Emi, finally at her home in Eifukucho after a particularly annoying Sunday shift, took a peek at the clock. Alciel must be home by now, she thought. 
Considering how she had just spent the weekend, it began to seem slightly ridiculous to her that out of everybody in Villa Rosa Sasazuka right now, the only phone number she had was the Devil King’s. Slaying him was supposed to be her main priority, not sharing digits with him. If Suzuno was planning to stay on Earth for a while to come, Emi thought she should probably try to convince her to buy a mobile phone of her own. 
As she pondered over this, her door intercom beeped at her. 
“Yes?” she said, speaking into the receiver. The intercom screen displayed the scene in the lobby of her apartment building. It showed a man, a Westerner, with a serene smile on his face. In his hand was a small, leather-bound book. 
Emi, watching the man take a breath, didn’t like where this was going. She was right to feel that way. 
“Hello! I was just wondering if you have accepted God into your—” 
“I’m fine, thanks!!” Emi screamed as she slammed the intercom’s receiver back on the wall. Good lord, indeed. Between door-to-door salesmen assaulting Devil’s Castle and religious zealots hounding the Hero of the Holy Sword herself, there was never any letting one’s guard down in this country. 
“Let’s take a shower,” Emi angrily declared to nobody in particular as she stormed off, seeking to put the stress of the workday and entire weekend behind her.