Akatsuki Translations

Mirage, indulging in the lap pillow of Astarte, was reminiscing about his past battle with the Chief of the Wolf Demon Tribe, Louveteau-san. Indeed, he had been incredibly strong. The magic armor worn by the Wicked Dragon was an outrageous spell that could only be handled by a robust dragon body endowed with immense magic power. It was indeed a rare item that only mythical monsters appearing in legends could handle.

Despite not being in perfect health, Mirage was forced to use the magic armor—an action he had not taken since defeating the Wicked Dragon.

“How long will we stay like this, Mirage-sama?” Astarte suddenly asked.

Her cheeks, as pure as fresh snow, were still flushed. It seemed she still felt embarrassed about providing a lap pillow. Despite having had plenty of physical contact with Mirage during their illusion magic training, the act of a lap pillow seemed a bit different to her.

“I’d love to stay like this a bit longer, but we can’t relax too much, can we?” Mirage mused.

Attempting to stand up with a staggering body, he saw Astarte rise with him, supporting his body in perfect sync. Mirage couldn’t help but smile wryly beneath his mask. He felt like an elderly person being cared for by his granddaughter. At the same time, he became certain that if he were seen without his mask, his true identity as Farsa would surely be revealed.

Astarte had a complete grasp of Mirage’s habits, voice, physique, and other aspects that could identify an individual, except for the face. This made it possible for her to reproduce them using illusion magic. The fact that Astarte could match her breathing to his with even the slightest movement was a testament to her constant observation of Mirage. This meant that even if he tried to hide his identity, a single unconscious gesture could give him away, and it wouldn’t be as simple as disguising his scent like Roux did.

“Mirage-sama, um, if you lean too much…” -Astarte

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m don’t have as much strength as I thought.” -Mirage

“N-no, if that’s the case, it can’t be helped. You’re a bit heavy and sweaty, but my generous heart will forgive you. It’s unpleasant, but it’s not unbearable compared to my father’s old-man smell.” -Astarte

“You must never tell your father that. It might shock him so much that he’ll faint.” -Mirage

“…Understood.” -Astarte

Astarte, as always, was spouting venom, and Mirage decided to warn her just in case. The emotional damage a father would suffer from being told by his daughter that he smells was immeasurable, whether he was a human or a demon.

“Ah, that reminds me. I’ll give this to Tart-chan.” -Mirage

“What are you… Th-that’s…!” -Astarte

Mirage, who was standing while leaning on Astarte’s shoulder, took out something shaped like a rectangular prism from his pocket. It was palm-sized and decorated magnificently, with the symbol of the Demon Lord’s army, a red eye, carved prominently in the center.

“It’s the seal of approval used exclusively by the Four Heavenly Kings. You shouldn’t be so surprised, Tart-chan. You’ve seen it many times before, right?” -Mirage

“Of course, I’ve seen it being used by my father and you, Mirage-sama. No, that’s not why I’m surprised. What surprised me was the act of passing it to me. That means…” -Astarte

“I’m entrusting this to you because I believe in you, Astarte,” Mirage said, placing the seal in the pocket on Astarte’s chest.

When an deputy like Astarte or any other officers below her needed to move the army for any reason, they were always required to submit a written document. The document detailed the purpose of mobilizing the army, the materials used, the number of soldiers, the schedule, and other necessary contents. Depending on the scale and budget used, a higher-ranking person’s approval was needed. The seal that Mirage had was powerful enough to move all the soldiers affiliated with the Demon Lord’s army in the East, even during peacetime.

In other words, if Astarte were to misuse the seal, she could potentially forge any orders and pass all the blame onto Mirage. While a signature was also required on the documents, it would be easy for Astarte to mimic Mirage’s handwriting.

Astarte had been acting merely as Mirage’s proxy until now, but possessing the seal meant she would have the same authority as one of the Four Heavenly Kings.

“You’re not planning on dumping more work on me than before, are you?” -Astarte

“Eh, no, wait, isn’t the usual reaction a bit different?” -Mirage

Caught off guard by Astarte’s suspicious gaze, Mirage returned her question with a slightly flustered one.

“If you reflect on your usual behavior, you’ll understand.” -Astarte

“I don’t have a retort for that, but where did the trust from Tart-chan go?” -Mirage

“Don’t get me wrong. I said I would continue to be an ally of Mirage-sama, but I have no intention of becoming a convenient subordinate who listens to everything. It’s a subordinate’s duty to advise their superior when something is wrong. Entrusting the seal to an deputy, for example, is something that encourages misconduct.” -Astarte

Hearing these words, Mirage was deeply grateful that Astarte was his deputy. At the same time, he felt he needed to be more responsible himself. He lifted his body off Astarte, gathered strength in his legs, and faced her. Holding her small hands, he looked straight into her eyes and began to speak slowly.

“I’m only entrusting it to you, so I plan to do my job as usual. But just in case something happens and you can’t contact me, I want you to use this based on your judgment.”  -Mirage

Mirage spoke as if he might never return to Astarte’s side.

Standing in front of him, Astarte’s eyebrows twitched slightly, her face transforming into a hint of melancholy.

“Are you going to leave me behind again?”  -Astarte

Her voice trembled as if squeezed from her throat. Her blazing red eyes were moist, glowing brighter. Mirage felt a tiny, almost negligible urge to hold Astarte, but he composed himself and responded.

“I don’t have any intention like that. It’s just that, when I’m really in trouble or cornered, it might become necessary. That’s why, I want you to keep this.”  -Mirage

“Really?” -Astarte

“Of course, it’s true.”  -Mirage

“Is it really, really, really true?”  -Astarte

“It’s really, really, really true.”  -Mirage

The words exchanged between Astarte and Mirage were like those of a child and a father making a promise to play on a holiday. Mirage remembered having a similar exchange when his own father died, though their positions were reversed then. A wry smile crept under his mask as he was flooded with memories from his youth.

Astarte seemed to be deep in thought, staring intently at Mirage’s eyes, visible beneath his mask. Eventually, Astarte sighed heavily, her expression like that of someone who had made up their mind.

“Understood. To be frank, I can’t trust your words at all, Mirage-sama. But for now, I will take care of this.”  -Astarte

Astarte pressed her hands to her chest, carefully storing away the seal in her pocket as a sign of acceptance.

“Whew, that’s a relief. Now, I should go explain the situation to the Demon Lord.” Mirage was about to say these words when Astarte interjected.

“For me, using a stamp of approval is imprudent, and even just carrying it like this adds to the weight of responsibility, causing mental strain. So… um…” -Astarte

Blushing and stumbling over words, Astarte faltered in her speech, but Mirage remained silent, waiting for the continuation of her words.

“P-Please, make me feel that way!” -Astarte

Astarte’s words came out in a desperate rush, her eyes tightly shut and her chin slightly raised. Mirage was taken aback. Was this a dream? Or some kind of illusion magic?

Mirage was no naive child to misunderstand a woman’s shy, closed eyes and her request. But the person before him was Astarte, who constantly spat venom at him.

There had been times, back when he served as Belzebuth’s deputy, when he thought Astarte might harbor some sort of affection for him. But since becoming one of the Four Heavenly Kings, Astarte had clearly despised him. Recently, however, her attitude had softened, something Mirage had noticed but thought was merely natural.

“Are you sure about this?”  -Mirage

“A-Of course! Now, hurry up, it’s more embarrassing the longer you wait!”  -Astarte

Even after Mirage asked for confirmation, Astarte only reddened further and snapped at him. Mirage knew he had to brace himself.

He thought of Belzebuth, who doted on his daughter, and Zenobia, with whom he had shared a kiss. He remembered Bedivere, one of the Four Heavenly Kings, and her deputy Feo, with whom she had shared a bed, as well as the Hero Julia, the Saint Palmina, Rafale, one of the Four Heavenly Kings, and the Princess, Aura.

Mirage’s mind was flooded with the faces of all the women he knew, from apprentice magicians and maids to assassins and bookstore clerks. He wondered if he was really the right choice.

But Astarte must have gathered an incredible amount of courage to make this request. Astarte, who couldn’t even be honest with her beloved father and had to act tough to avoid being underestimated due to her small stature, was terrible at relying on others. Mirage decided it was more important to respect Astarte’s feelings than to indulge his own self-loathing.

Mirage didn’t dislike Astarte. In fact, he respected and trusted her. Astarte was inflexible but earnest, a trait Mirage found more appealing than irresponsibility. And she was surprisingly kind to children.

Astarte was beautiful, with her mother’s refined features and stunning silver hair, and her short stature gave her a certain charm. Though she’s of short stature, radiating a sense of loveliness, her sharp and stringent expressions, much like a cat’s, and her firm way of speaking, can be perceived as rather charming, considering she’s younger.

In essence, Astarte ,when viewed from a perspective of someone of the opposite sex, could be considered an extremely captivating presence.

“In that case, here I go.” -Mirage

“Y-Yes.”  -Astarte

At Mirage’s words, Astarte’s shoulders trembled, and she responded with a hint of nervousness. Se sat up straight, her fists clenched at her thighs, clearly conveying her tension to Mirage. Mirage didn’t want to cause any more embarrassment for her. Gently holding down Astarte’s eyelids, he removed his mask and leaned in, pressing his lips gently against Astarte’s moist, light peach ones.

“Huh…? Hmm! Mmmph?”  -Astarte

Astarte’s reaction was unexpected. Mirage enjoyed the softness of her lips, but something felt off. After all, it was Astarte who had asked for the kiss. Despite her nervousness, she sounded surprised. Mirage thought again about Astarte.

She wasn’t very honest, but she was a daddy’s girl who loved her father very much. And with her limited interaction with boys her age, she had hardly any opportunities to learn about the unwritten rules of relationships. It was possible that what Astarte wanted wasn’t something romantic, but rather something fatherly, like a pat on the head.

Mirage pulled back from Astarte in a hurry, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. He hastily replaced his mask.

“T-Tart-chan?” -Mirage

“J-Just now, Mirage-sam, you… I… head….pat.. no, kiss… you… my fir… even though it was my first time… my first time with Mirage-same… Miraju-shama…” -Astarte

Astarte’s eyes darted around, her words jumbled. But it was clear from her fragmented speech that Mirage had completely misunderstood.

“I-I’m truly sorry!” -Mirage

Mirage prostrated himself on the ground even lower than when he had presented himself before Louveteau. The once dignified member of the Four Heavenly Kings was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a man who had made a grave mistake.

There were many reasons for his mistake: the recent kiss with Zenobia, his physical discomfort, Astarte’s misleading words.

But no amount of excuses could turn back time.

All Mirage could do now was to prostrate himself before Astarte, his body screaming in agony.