As the Demon King, I have married a slave elf. How should I express my love?

To everyone's surprise, Barbarossa's eyes widened, as if he couldn't understand why Sagan would ask such a stupid question.

Why is this kid so incredibly knowledgeable, yet so incredibly stupid...?

Even Sagan couldn't help but worry about him.

"Sigh... I'll give you some of the magic book from the inheritance. You should be satisfied with that, right?"

"Okay, that's more like it. It's true what they say, when you're traveling, you need a generous friend."

After Barbarossa finished speaking, he raised his glass and clinked it against Sagan's glass, insisting on drinking with him.

Just then, the bustling atmosphere in the store suddenly subsided.

The tavern door opened, and a customer walked in. Barbarossa, with his back to the door, was completely oblivious and continued talking non-stop.

"However, I'll have to choose which books to give me myself, okay? They're the legacy of the High Elder. If you give me useless magic books, wouldn't I be at a huge loss!"

"...Speaking of which, Barbaros."

"What?"

Sagan looked past the raised glass and asked the visitor on the other side.

"What does that dragon-slaying paladin you just mentioned look like?"

"Uh, let me think. I heard he's a burly man who's a bit older but doesn't look middle-aged at all, with a large scar on his face, apparently from the dragon he killed."

"oh……?"

Seeing the guest enter, Sagan first gave a casual reply, then took a sip of brandy before asking with a troubled expression:

"Is that scar you mentioned, the one that runs from your left cheek down to your forehead?"

"Yes, that's pretty much how it is. Are you sure?"

"It's quite a coincidence, I just happened to have seen a man who looked similar."

"Hey, you're really lucky to be alive. He's the kind of guy who lives only to slaughter magicians. Once he makes eye contact with you, he'll definitely be aiming his sword at you."

Sagan looked behind Barbaros, who was laughing heartily.

"The things you're talking about might be happening soon."

"Huh...?"

Barbaros finally noticed Sagan's gaze, turned around, and his face turned pale.

Because standing there was a burly man with a scarred face, carrying a holy sword.

◇

"Raphael Schulland...!"

Barbarossa suddenly stood up and kicked over the chair.

But the Scarface Paladin ignored him, looking down at Sagan with disdain.

—Are you coming to take my head so soon?

While the power of the Holy Sword is formidable, to think that one can single-handedly defeat the Demon King is utterly presumptuous. If he were that foolish, he wouldn't have survived this long.

Sagan frowned, unable to understand the paladin's intentions. Barbaross shouted in a trembling voice:

"You, you bastard! Why are you here?!"

The Scarface Paladin finally turned his gaze to Barbaros.

Then, a smile appeared on his rugged, rock-like face. His fierce appearance caused the female shop assistant, who happened to be standing behind Barbarossa, to scream and faint.

Even without looking directly at each other, it possesses such a captivating gaze.

Faced with that smile that seemed to carry a sense of physical oppression, Barbarossa roared as if he were about to throw caution to the wind:

"Ugh, ughhhhh! Take this!"

Barbaros's hands glowed with magical light, and upon seeing this, the Scarface Paladin also placed his hand on the holy sword behind his back.

"──Stop it, Barbaros."

Sagan calmly placed the glass back on the table with a thud—stopping him.

The magic that had been overflowing from Barbaros's hand vanished instantly. But it wasn't that he had voluntarily stopped; rather, it was the result of Sagan "devouring" it.

Then, Sagan gently waved his finger in the air, and the chair that Barbaros had knocked over returned to its original position.

"Sit down first. You can't drink properly like this."

"What time is it? You're still so leisurely! Are you planning to just obediently let him chop you up?"

It was as if he was trying to suppress his inner fear with anger, making Sagan shake his head helplessly.

"...but he doesn't seem to have any intention of fighting us at all."

"Huh? Didn't you see his hand was already on his sword!"

"Didn't you provoke him first?"

Because Barbaros was about to cast a spell, the Scarface Paladin had no choice but to grip his sword. Sagan saw all of this clearly.

—Besides, there wasn't a trace of murderous intent or hostility about him.

Nephew and Farah don't really know how to express their emotions. No, Farah isn't so much bad at expressing emotions, but rather she lacks vocabulary.

Sagan often couldn't understand these women just by looking at their expressions. She had to observe them to understand what they were thinking and what they wanted her to do. This also helped Sagan develop a keen sense of subtle emotions without realizing it.

The scarred paladin revealed a smile that seemed to split the earth.

"It seems that the Demon King remains calm and composed this time."

"The Demon King wouldn't make a fuss over such trivial matters."

But Sagan couldn't hide his confusion, wondering why someone with such an imposing aura showed absolutely no hostility.

Sagan glanced at the chair he had just magically propped up. Perhaps because he had lost his appetite for drinking, Barbaross refused to sit back down even though the paladin's hand had left his sword.

"Looks like this chair is empty. Would you like to sit here?"

"Oh...you're quite an interesting man."

Scarface contorted menacingly, and the paladin sat down facing Sagan. Barbaross made some distance from him to avoid him.

"You should be the one talking to him. I have nothing to say to this stone-like man."

Although he was asked to sit down, Sagan had no particular purpose or intention.

Rather, he simply felt that since he had given up precious time with Neferpitou, he should at least make the most of it and continue to enjoy the wine; that was all.

As a result, Barbarossa kept his distance, appearing as if he didn't want to get involved, and even...

"Damn it, why do I, a magician, have to do this kind of thing?"

"Magician, is there any hope for my daughter?"

"You're asking me? Who should I ask! I'm not good at healing magic. I only do what I can do."

"Oh... no wonder he's Lord Sagan's follower."

"I'm not a follower!"

Barbaross, cursing the man—presumably the tavern owner—for some reason took care of the unconscious clerk. But since it was just a temporary fainting spell, there shouldn't have been any need to use magic.

—If possible, I'd like to join them too…

Although Sagan only had Nefaire in his heart, if he had to choose between this stone man and the boss's daughter, the answer would be obvious.

That being said, continuing to stare at Barbarossa is not a solution.

Sagan's gaze finally met that of the paladin.

"Dragon Slayer, what do you want with me?"

"My name is Raphael."

"Scarface," Raphael replied, pouring himself a glass of brandy. The bottle looked like a small one in his enormous hand.

"I heard that our people have received your care, so I came to see what you look like."

He must be referring to Shestia. Sagan shrugged dismissively.

"Compared to you, this face is nothing, is it?"

"Hahaha, how could that be? Your face is indeed as evil as the rumors suggest."

Sagan knew he had a naturally villainous face, but he still felt a little frustrated after being told that.

To mask her dejection, Sagan raised a glass and drank.

"I heard your hobby is killing magicians. Aren't you going to do it today? There are two magicians right in front of you."

Barbarossa, having finished looking after the shop assistant, intended to leave, but Sagan's words dragged him back into the mess. His friend, who had already placed his hand on the door, had no choice but to return to the table with a sour face.

Raphael took a sip of brandy and then laughed heartily.

"Utterly boring. I'm always the one who goes along with it; it's just that the people around me are making a fuss."

Illustration p153

This puzzled Sagan.

—That sounds different from what Barbaros said.

He was a serial killer who murdered nearly five hundred magicians.

Sagan had expected him to be eager to attack him and draw his sword, but to his surprise, the two were able to have a normal conversation.

Perhaps he was just assessing Sagan's strength?

Sagan was puzzled, took another sip of wine, and this time Raphael spoke:

"I heard you fought with Shestie. Why didn't you kill her then?"

These words, coming from a paladin, were rather abrupt, causing Sagan to frown.

"Why do you make it sound like she has no chance of winning?"

This Grand Paladin Commander might be irreconcilably opposed to Shesty, but his pride would likely prevent him from tolerating the Holy Sword wielder losing to a magician. Besides, Sagan at that time was not yet the Demon Lord.

Raphael snorted and said: