A Beautiful, Beautiful Nation
1216 Words
Outside the Demon Lord’s territory, the scene was bustling with activity. It seemed that from early morning, Shirina, Satania, and that ghostly bespectacled girl had headed southward. Even from the castle, one could see the grand procession of merchant wagons moving in the distance.
That was the trade caravan—the traveling merchants whom the Demon Lord’s territory had been expecting for quite some time.
“…”
“Ira, is there nothing you want to buy?”
Vera approached Ira, joining him on the castle’s terrace. She carefully peeked toward the distant caravan, her movements stealthy. Then, with a mischievous grin, she whispered, “Why do you look so sneaky too?”
“Too?”
Ira raised an eyebrow at her words, pulling his head down further behind the stone railing of the open terrace to shield himself from view. He spoke calmly, “I have to conceal my presence in the Demon Lord’s domain. What about you?”
As the former Chief Consul of the Empire—and now a wanted fugitive—his presence in the Demon Lord’s domain was a secret that could not be exposed. If the Empire were to discover his whereabouts, they would have the justification to demand his extradition.
That was a situation he could not afford. If he had chosen to take refuge in the Demon Lord’s territory, then he had to fully embrace the necessity of laying low.
Still, he was puzzled. Why was Vera also acting suspiciously?
“I’m a wanted criminal too, you know?” Vera sighed. She sneaked another glance at the merchant caravan, then quickly ducked back down, turning to look at Ira with a resigned expression. “If I get spotted, that wouldn’t be good either, right?”
“…”
In the brief silence that followed, Ira found himself staring at Vera’s face—so close to his own. He met her emerald green eyes, filled with playful annoyance. After a moment, he instinctively leaned back, creating some distance.
“You do realize there are better ways to hide than pressing up against me, right?”
Vera, oblivious to any issue, simply turned her head and peeked once more at the caravan. “I just want to observe the trade. Everyone else is watching too.”
Ira had no reason to doubt her. She had been in the Demon Lord’s domain far longer than him. If this was her experience talking, it was probably accurate. She must have witnessed many trade caravans arriving before.
Is it always like this?
As that thought crossed his mind, he shifted uncomfortably. The faint scent of perfume clung to Vera, a fragrance that, while pleasant, felt oddly out of place to him.
He wasn’t used to it.
In his mind, Vera was still the playful troublemaker in need of discipline, a foolhardy girl who needed guidance. The realization that she was wearing perfume caught him off guard.
Even if she was, technically, twice his age.
“Ira~ What are you doing~?”
Catching on to his subtle reactions, Vera smirked mischievously. She inched closer, clearly enjoying his discomfort, then proudly declared, “So? My corpse fragrance smells good, doesn’t it?”
“…”
Wait. What?
“C-corpse fragrance?”
Ira’s expression twitched. He had assumed it was perfume.
Vera nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! After becoming a lich, my body doesn’t emit a rotting stench anymore. But my mana still carries that… well, lifeless aura.”
That was true. Undead creatures—or rather, undeath itself—always carried an eerie, unsettling energy. It clung to them like a shadow, an ever-present chill. But it never hindered combat.
“So, I experimented with giant wasps and developed a way to make my mana radiate the scent of the living instead! The trade-off is that it gives off this rather nice smell.”
Proudly placing her hands on her hips, she announced, “I call it Corpse Fragrance!”
“…”
Ira wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to be genuinely impressed. After a pause, he sighed and shook his head. “You really need to come up with a better name. But… the idea itself is brilliant. If you sold this in the Empire, it would be an instant sensation. Just rename it first.”
Seriously, the current name was far too unsettling.
“Then, do I smell good?”
Vera’s innocent question made Ira glance at her briefly. He gave a straightforward nod. “Yeah. You should give some to Shirina and the others.”
“I was going to, even if you hadn’t suggested it.” She puffed up her chest. “I already bottled it up in the prettiest perfume containers. I know they’ll love it… So? Want some Corpse Fragrance Potion?”
Ira immediately shook his head. “I meant you should have the ghost girl present it as a gift to the traveling merchants.”
Throughout the conversation, he steadfastly refused to utter the name Corpse Fragrance Potion out loud.
It was just too bizarre.
“…Why give it away? Shouldn’t we sell it?”
Vera looked genuinely confused. Ira studied her expression for a moment, making sure she wasn’t just messing with him. Once he confirmed her sincerity, he began explaining, “All social interactions are ultimately exchanges of benefits—some material, some psychological.”
“By giving them your perfume, they’ll experience its unique properties firsthand. They’ll realize it occupies an entirely different niche compared to conventional fragrances, filling a market gap. So, by the time the next trade caravan arrives, they’ll be eager to purchase it.”
“…”
“…”
Vera stared blankly, her eyes swirling in confusion. She looked completely lost.
Ira sighed. “You’re making the exact same face Isabella used to. But at least she always put in the effort to learn.”
“…”
For a moment, Vera froze. Then, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You seem awfully at peace with it all… Wait. Ira, were you never actually angry about Isabella’s betrayal?”
Ira blinked. He hadn’t expected her to bring that up. After a brief silence, he nodded. “That’s right. I never was.”
Vera’s expression twisted with disbelief.
“I always knew Isabella had no intention of killing me. The situation simply spiraled out of control due to certain external influences.”
Vera clutched her chest as if she were suffocating. Was it anger? Frustration?
“She was merely trying—as I taught her—to subtly suppress my faction a little. I knew she could have stopped me if she truly wanted to… but perhaps she just wanted to prove herself.”
Ira’s words struck something deep within Vera.
Clenching her teeth, she forced out, “I see now… You, Yusef, Isabella—you’re all lunatics.”
With a bitter voice, she asked, “Just what kind of dream did you plant in her head?!”
Ira met her gaze. He didn’t have a concrete answer.
“All that Isabella and Yusef did—all that I’ve done—was to bring my dream to life.” He sighed, as if gazing at something impossibly distant.
“A dream of a beautiful, beautiful nation.”
- Writer
