"Demon King-sama..." Ji'en's eyes welled up with crystalline tears, her trembling lower lip mimicking a kitten abandoned in the rain.
Luo Qi's resolve wavered—this dragon loli's pout could melt glaciers. But practicality prevailed: keeping her meant signing up for daily identity-exposure crises. One slip, and his peaceful life would detonate faster than a demonic ritual at a hero convention.
It must be understood that though the Demon King had been "vanished" from this world for over seven centuries, countless factions had emerged throughout those 700 years seeking to resurrect him. By modern definitions, these were terrorist organizations.
Branded as terrorists, these fanatical devotees of the Demon King committed unspeakable atrocities—raiding museums to plunder his relics, kidnapping humans of specific bloodlines for sacrificial summoning rituals. Like weeds regrowing after each purge, they resurged relentlessly, their hydra-headed persistence mocking all attempts at lasting peace.
Though Luo Qi couldn't verify their claims, he refused to be exploited by these zealots. For this Demon King's true will was clear: Long live world peace!
"I didn't raise you to be this heartless!" Luo Lin huffed, cradling Ji'en like a designer handbag. The succubus' pout rivaled her dragon protege's—a masterclass in guilt-tripping.
Luo Qi massaged his temples. His sister's "parenting" involved teaching him to braid her hair at age five. Now she wanted to adopt a tactical nuke disguised as a maid? Hard pass.
"If you're not keeping her, then I will! I'll raise her as my pet!" When Luo Qi remained silent, Luo Lin grew even bolder, clutching Ji'en tightly in her arms with a look of unwavering determination, clearly ready to dig in for the long haul.
"Fine," Luo Qi finally relented, pinching the bridge of his nose. Though he often mocked his sister's antics, a part of him couldn't deny his soft spot—a paradoxical blend of exasperation and protectiveness. Mentally, he'd always been the mature "older brother" in their dynamic, and indulging his sister's whims felt as natural as sunrise.
"Spill it!" Luo Lin bounced on her toes, eyes sparkling like a kid promised Disneyland.
"A long-term arrangement is impossible. She'll become a liability once she matures," Luo Qi declared frostily. "When the other dragons arrive, I'll repatriate them all—and crush their delusions of world domination."
"But why?!" Luo Lin gestured wildly at Ji'en, who stood polishing silverware with dragonfire-level precision. "She's housebroken! Pays rent! Probably files tax returns!"
"Decision's final." Luo Qi turned on his heel and stormed off toward the kitchen, deaf to his sister's squawks of protest.
The room smelled like a Michelin-starred carb paradise. At the center: a steaming bowl of creamy mashed potatoes glazed with golden chicken broth—his kryptonite.
"This humble one prepared it for Demon King-sama's evaluation," Ji'en declared, presenting the dish with samurai-level formality.
"What's this?" He eyed the spread skeptically.
"This humble servant prepared it for Your Majesty's evaluation!" Ji'en zipped over, cradling the mashed potatoes like sacred offerings. "Please grace us with your verdict!"
"You… cooked?" Luo Qi's eyebrows shot up. His sister Luo Lin, while competent in the kitchen (and obsessive about breakfast duty), would never share culinary credit.
A quick X-ray vision sweep confirmed potato peels in the trash—no takeout containers. This feast was homemade.
"Are you… actually a dragon?"
"I am! 100% certified!" Ji'en flapped her hands, scales flickering under her skin. "You've seen my true form!"
"Where did you learn these culinary skills...?" Luo Qi frowned skeptically.
"This is mandatory training for all dragonkin maidens!" Ji'en declared proudly, puffing out her modest chest. "We're born to serve Demon Kings—mastering household arts is our sacred duty! Rest assured, I ranked top of my class in seven culinary disciplines!"
"Hold on." Luo Qi's eyebrow twitched. "Are you saying that 700 years ago... all those maids in the Demon King's castle were dragons?" The concept baffled him—history books never mentioned such absurd extravagance. After the last Demon King's fall, his forces had vanished like morning mist, leaving only fragmented legends.
The idea of deploying dragonkin—renowned for their unparalleled magic affinity and combat prowess—as glorified chambermaids defied all logic. These were living weapons that could reduce armies to ash! Yet here stood a dragon loli boasting about her bed-making S-rank certification and soup-stirring mastery. Even the most decadent Demon King would balk at such waste of military resources.
Luo Qi's chopsticks hovered. The first velvety bite detonated flavor nukes across his tongue—butter, cream, and pepper harmonizing like a culinary symphony. His tastebuds screamed "WORTH THE APOCALYPSE!"
"...Delicious," Luo Qi admitted grudgingly, already scheming how to loophole his "temporary" rule.
Ji'en beamed. Luo Lin cackled. The mashed potatoes gloated.