"D-Does it displease you, Your Majesty?" Ji'en wrung her apron, her draconic ears drooping like wilted petals. The usually bubbly dragon maid now resembled a scolded puppy—all wide amber eyes and trembling lips. Her oversized shirt (borrowed from Luo Qi's closet) slipped off one shoulder, revealing faint pearlescent scales along her collarbone that glittered even in the dim kitchen light.
"Wait… isn't my little bro a mashed potato simp?" Luo Lin squinted suspiciously. "Since when does his 'foodgasm face' malfunction?" Normally, one spoonful would have him making noises usually reserved for R-rated ASMR. The guy practically proposed to a potato casserole last Thanksgiving. Yet now he sat stone-faced, spoon hovering.
"..." Luo Qi's silence wasn't defiance—his mouth was too occupied worshipping the ambrosia on his spoon.
The velvety potatoes—infused with golden broth and a whisper of black pepper—melted on his tongue like sin incarnate.They were a sacred communion of cream and desire, short-circuiting his vocal cords.
For one treacherous moment, he fantasized about keeping this dragon maid: pristine laundry, hot meals, and those plump thighs peeking from his oversized T-shirt.
Keeping this dragon loli with maid prodigy skills could domesticate his chaotic life—no more scrubbing floors or playing short-order cook for his slob of a sister. If Ji'en stayed low-key, this was a devil's bargain even a demon king couldn't refuse.
But history screamed otherwise. Trouble trailed Ji'en like glitter on a stripper. Her debut today alone had nearly triggered an interdimensional incident.
Luo Qi shoveled another spoonful of potatoes into his mouth, the culinary siren song drowning his better judgment. The creamy decadence clung to his tongue, her plush thighs (accidentally brushing his arm as she refilled his plate) and the subtle shimmer of scales beneath her borrowed shirt conspiring to hijack his resolve.
But rationality clawed back. A dragon in his apartment meant daily disaster—like today's classroom dragon-napping debacle. Yet as he swallowed another spoonful, his resolve crack.
"Ji'en..." Luo Qi set down his spoon with deliberate slowness, the silver clinking against porcelain. His gaze slid from her flushed cheeks down to the lace choker around her throat—a detail he hadn't noticed before. "Do you truly wish to stay?" His voice dropped an octave, unconsciously mirroring the tone he used when negotiating with lesser demons. "Let me reiterate: world domination isn't on my agenda. Now or ever."
"Understood!" Ji'en pressed her palms to the floor in a bow so deep her dragon-marked cleavage nearly spilled from the borrowed shirt. "To serve as your personal attendant is honor enough!" Her voice trembled with fervor—"Serving as Your Majesty's humble maid is this one's sworn duty!" Her tail (concealed under a hastily conjured illusion) thumped the floor in earnest rhythm. "Dusting! Laundry! Midnight snacks!"
Through his Mind Scour ability, Luo Qi glimpsed her thoughts—not salacious fantasies, but vivid daydreams of polishing his nonexistent crown or cheerfully annihilating laundry mountains. Her loyalty burned with childlike conviction, untarnished by political ambition.
"I. Will. Never. Rule. The. World." He punctuated each word, ignoring how her dragon-scale panties glinted when she shifted.
Though visibly overjoyed, Ji'en's thoughts pulsed with starstruck perseverance: "Demon King-sama is merely biding his time! Soon he'll rally legions and reclaim his throne!" Her faith blazed with the intensity of a dragon guarding its hoard—unyielding, if woefully misplaced.
A chill crept down Luo Qi's spine. This girl's clan clearly nursed centuries-old grudges against humanity. Keeping her felt like adopting a pyromaniac fire elemental—one wrong spark, and whole cities might combust under her "enthusiasm."
Yet his spoon betrayed him, scooping another mouthful of ambrosial potatoes. The velvety texture—cloud-light yet decadently rich—unlocked primal bliss receptors in his brain. Simple ingredients transformed into alchemy: cream whispering sweet nothings to sea salt, black pepper waltzing with roasted garlic undertones. These weren't mashed potatoes—this was culinary communion.
His suspicions flickered. Ji'en's sudden culinary mastery? Definitely Luo Lin's meddling. His sister knew his palate better than he did—right down to the precise ratio of butter to broth that made him weak-kneed.
"I... may require further taste-testing," Luo Qi muttered, already rationalizing. A dragon maid willing to scrub toilets and perfect béchamel sauce could be... managed. Probably.
Ji'en clasped her hands over her frilly apron, her draconic ears flattening in contrition. The kitchen's fluorescent lights caught the faint iridescence of scales along her wrists—a reminder of her true nature.
Luo Qi's resolve dissolved like sugar in dragonfire. He gestured to the half-demolished potato ambrosia with his spoon. "You may stay..." The words tasted suspiciously like surrender. "But you'll obey modern laws and conceal your heritage."
Her tail (hidden beneath a conjured skirt illusion) began thumping against the tile floor. "Understood! This humble one shall master human customs!" She brandished a notebook crammed with bullet points:
No spontaneous city-levelingDisguise scales with "makeup" (???)Perfect Demon King-sama's preferred potato viscosity
The old demons had a saying: "When you're already wrestling a hydra, what's one more scale-baby?" Luo Qi's life was a perpetual dumpster fire of supernatural crises—another spark wouldn't matter. At least this particular flame came gift-wrapped with Michelin-star cooking skills and an obsessive talent for scrubbing bloodstains from carpets.
By demonic cost-benefit analysis, this was highway robbery in his favor. No more playing personal chef to his walking wardrobe disaster of a sister. No more explaining to police why Luo Lin "accidentally" transmuted city hall into cheese during her lunch break. With Ji'en handling domestic terrorism (both literal and household varieties), he might finally chase normalcy—like dating girls who didn't summon eldritch horrors during Netflix binges.
Yet as he watched Ji'en cheerfully incinerate pizza boxes (her interpretation of "composting"), Luo Qi's catastrophe radar pinged. This was the unspoken tax of his bloodline—a cosmic joke where "Demon King" meant "Trouble Whisperer." Every ounce of power came shackled to absurdity: apocalyptic cults, sentient tax audits, and now a dragon maid who folded his socks into origami phoenixes.
"At your command, Demon King-sama!" Ji'en's eyes sparkled like twin dragon hoards, her cheeks blooming with a smile so radiant it could power solar panels. ✨
Luo Qi swallowed another spoonful of ambrosia-tier potatoes, their velvety richness momentarily short-circuiting his stern facade. "Don't celebrate yet," he warned, though the corners of his mouth betrayed a traitorous twitch. "You got captured by amateur mages today. What guarantees you won't torch a Starbucks tomorrow?"
The dragon maid's dragon-scale stockings shimmered as she fidgeted. "Our acting clan leader's orders!" she blurted, tail (hidden under a holographic skirt) thumping rhythmically against the fridge. "'No magic unless facing kaiju-level threats! Prioritize locating His Majesty above all!' So when those mages offered... um..." Her voice dropped to a sheepish whisper. "...mochi donuts during interrogation...**"
Luo Qi's spoon froze mid-air. "You surrendered for pastry bribes."
"T-That's strategic infiltration!" Ji'en's horns flushed neon pink. "Low-risk capture → Human cuisine intel → Demon King-sama's location!" She struck a pose mimicking tactical holograms she'd clearly binge-watched. "Calculated!"
"Dragons these days..." Luo Qi massaged his temples, watching centuries of draconic majesty crumble beneath a lopsided apron. The once-proud race now had a mascot who considered police donuts a valid infiltration tactic.
Ji'en's scaled cheeks flushed molten gold. "D-don't underestimate me!" She brandished a ladle like a battle scepter, accidentally igniting the dish towel. "My meteor swarm spell could glass Manhattan!"
"Which you'll never cast," Luo Qi interjected, snuffing the flames with a flick. "Because your Acting Patriarch actually understands subtlety."
The dragon girl deflated, her dragonfire ponytail dimming to a sulky ember. "B-but I practiced orbital bombardment patterns..."
A notification buzzed—Luo Lin had live-tweeted "#DragonMaidArsonWatch" with flamethrower emojis. Luo Qi sighed. Without the Patriarch's gag order, tonight's news would feature "FIREBREATHING LOLI TERRORIZES TACO TRUCK" headlines.
"Your leader's wisdom spared us a media circus," he conceded, begrudging respect coloring his tone.
"Enough, I get it." Luo Qi raised a hand to cut off Ji'en's spiraling panic, his wry smile softening at the edges as he took in her trembling claws and dragonfire-bright eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Your Acting Patriarch made the right call."
He couldn't deny the logic—without the dragons' self-imposed restraint, tonight's headlines would scream about "Dragon Cultists Siege City Hall!" or "Apocalyptic Revival Ritual in Starbucks Parking Lot!" The mere thought made his migraine throb in time with the news chopper still circling overhead.
"Then... may this one remain by your side?" Ji'en ventured, her claws twisting the hem of her apron into origami knots.
Luo Qi swallowed the ambrosial potatoes that had momentarily short-circuited his better judgment. "On one condition," he said, pointing his spoon like a scepter. "Your true nature stays buried deeper than dragon gold."
The dragon girl's pearlescent cheeks flushed molten. "T-then..." She fumbled with a holographic tablet, pulling up a spreadsheet titled "Human Disguise Protocols (Revised)." "Perhaps this one could pose as your concubine? Historical data shows 78.3% of Demon Kings—"
Luo Qi's tea became a nasal geyser. "We're using modern cover stories!" He wheezed, dabbing his face with a dishrag embroidered with "Kiss the Cook" in Draconic runes.
Behind them, Luo Lin leaned against the fridge, her smirk radiating more mischief than a succubus at a bachelorette party. "Concubines are eco-friendly!" she chirped, tossing Ji'en a bag of dragonfire-roasted marshmallows. "Retro harem aesthetics slash carbon footprint!"