Tea Party

The reception room fell silent for a moment.

The steam from the black tea rose gently into the still air.

Macht set down his teacup, the bottom of which clicked softly against the gold tabletop. He looked up and his gaze shifted to Duncan.

"Duncan," he began, his voice steady as ever, "And this gentleman is?"

Duncan picked up his cup of tea and took a sip.

"Frieren, the master of Ruby, the Ruby in the Demon King 'Hero Party that defeated the Demon King."

Macht paused for two seconds, his crimson eyelashes drooping, obscuring the expression in his eyes.

"... I see."

He raised his eyes again, looked at Frieren, and gave her a standard welcoming smile.

"So this is Lady Frieren. How I miss her."

He seemed to be reminiscing about happy times.

"When Lord Duncan was young, he loved telling stories of the hero and his party who defeated the Demon King. Especially the parts about Frieren, he believed that 'the greatest pleasure of magic lies in the process of pursuing it itself'..."

Frieren interrupted him.

"You make it sound so casual? What, haven't you thought about avenging the Demon King?"

Macht smiled after hearing this. The smile was faint, not reaching his eyes.

These things... mean nothing to me.

He raised his hand, his fingertips gently tracing the smooth rim of the teacup.

"I have never been loyal to the Demon King Lord. Besides, I have always hated fighting. My only wish is to live a peaceful life."

"But humanity keeps bringing conflict and disturbing my peace."

He raised his eyes, his gaze passing over Frieren and landing on Lowell's face beside her. A faint glimmer, like an appraisal or confirmation, flashed across those empty eyes.

"On this point... Your Majesty Lorenz, shouldn't you be very clear about it?"

Lowell leaned back in his chair and tilted his head at the sound of his voice.

"Yeah."

He crossed his arms.

"Speaking of which, Macht, since you pursue coexistence, you should have heard that many Demons and humans already coexist at the Continental United Academy. Why are you still here pursuing your 'coexistence'?"

Macht remained silent for a moment.

"I know what you've done," he said slowly, enunciating each word clearly, "But I don't think that method suits me."

He put down his teacup, clasped his hands together on his knees, and sat upright.

"Ultimately, your method is to 'control the Demons and force them to adopt a similar lifestyle to Human race.' Do you think this is what I want?"

He raised his eyes and looked directly at Lowell.

"This is no different in essence from chaining a wild beast and teaching it to Imitation human manners; it is not the 'coexistence' I desire."

Lowell met his gaze for a few seconds, then shrugged slightly.

"... Is that so? Perhaps."

Frieren tapped her fingertips on the rim of the glass, making a soft tapping sound.

"So what's your method?"

Her emerald green eyes stared at Macht, her gaze clear and filled with direct questioning.

"You reek of death. Countless Human race must have died at your hands. Why do Demons, who wish to coexist with humans, kill so many?"

Macht did not answer immediately.

He picked up the teacup again, brought it to his lips, took a small, elegant sip, and then put it down. The whole sequence of movements was unhurried and deliberate, as if he hadn't just been questioned.

Regarding this issue...

He looked up at Frieren and smiled.

"I don't understand either."

He tilted his head slightly, as if pondering a complex puzzle.

"So, I'd also like to ask you, Ms. Frieren."

Why are you asking me this?

Fern's fingers, resting on her knees, curled unconsciously. Her pale purple eyes lowered, staring at the reflection of the tea swirling in her cup, and she remained silent.

Methode sat diagonally opposite her, her hands elegantly folded in front of her. She sighed softly, a short sigh that carried a hint of "I knew it."

"As expected," she said gently, but the meaning was clear, "There's no need for communication."

Frieren pouted.

"Tsk." She clicked her tongue briefly, leaning back in her chair. "I've figured it out. This conversation is definitely a waste of time. Your way of thinking and that of humans are two completely different lines that will never intersect."

She turned her head to look at Liletta, who had been standing silently behind her chair.

"Liletta, you're pretty much the same, aren't you?"

Liletta looked at Frieren with her golden eyes and nodded.

"Yes," she said flatly, as if reciting a textbook definition, "Just like you asked me when you met me. I don't believe there's any necessary connection between me being able to survive by eating other creatures and not killing humans. And I completely fail to understand why you would ask such a question."

Macht's elegant smile returned.

"See?" he said, his voice steady. "We Demons are just like that; it's His Majesty Lorenz who's the odd one out."

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the golden tabletop, his fingers interlaced and pressed against his chin. For the first time, a clear and pure desire for exploration shone through his empty eyes.

"And what I need to do... is to try to understand --"

He spoke slowly, word by word, as if each word carried immense weight.

What is 'guilt'?

What is 'malice'?

"Why shouldn't we kill?"

The reception room was completely silent.

Only the eternally frozen golden light from outside the window shines through, casting a few bright, motionless patches of light on the floor.

Lowell's voice broke the silence.

"The college also offers courses on ethics and morality."

Macht turned to him, the probing look on his face fading, replaced by a calm expression.

"I'm very sorry," he said, his voice devoid of apology. "I told you, I don't like your way of doing things."

"Of course, if you choose to use fear to control me like Discal does, then you have no choice. I don't want to lose my life."

Lowell stared at him quietly for several seconds.

Then, he suddenly laughed. The laugh was different from his usual lazy and casual laugh; the curve of his lips carried a hint of cold, hard interest, but his eyes were devoid of warmth.

"... Of course not, Macht. I hate solving problems with violence, and compared to other Demons who are simply like beasts, and Solitär just wants to study humans, you, who are obsessed with understanding and even wanting to integrate into and coexist with humans, deserve to be treated in a more special way. After all, we might agree on the point of 'hating pointless fighting.'"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together, and calmly met Macht's eyes.

"How about this?"

His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear, resonating in the still air.

I'll bet you.

Macht's purplish-red eyebrows twitched very slightly.

"Bet?"

"That's right." Lowell nodded. "I bet on what all Demons value most—magic power, and the pride that comes with it. Macht, I know you've never stopped honing your magic, even though you loathe fighting. The essence of Demons is to regard magic power and magic as the foundation and glory of their existence."

He stopped, his gaze sweeping over the silent Duncan beside him before returning to Macht's face.

"I'll bet you this. If you lose to Duncan in the next fight—"

He clearly stated the condition, which sounded almost absurd to the Demons.

"You must voluntarily wear my stone ring, accept my control, and abandon your current twisted and lonely path of so-called 'coexistence.'"

Macht remained silent for a moment.

He stared at Lowell, something slowly flowing in those empty eyes, like a bottomless undercurrent beneath the surface of ice. After a long while, he spoke again, his voice lower than before.

"Oh..."

He let out a short, almost breathy laugh.

Are you serious?

He tilted his head slightly, his long, purplish-red hair sliding down his shoulder.

You mean --

He repeated the word, as if to make sure he hadn't misheard, his tone flat yet veiled with a thin layer of ice.

"--I'll lose to Duncan?"

Lowell met his gaze, the sharp smile on his face deepening. He answered, just as clearly and precisely, word by word:

"That's right."

He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and resumed his usual languid posture, but the determination in his eyes remained unwavering.

"I just thought you would lose to Duncan."

The words had barely left his mouth.

Silence fell over the reception room.

The golden sunlight streaming in through the window continued to stream in silently, casting long shadows of the people around the table onto the cold, hard golden floor.

Duncan looked up and gazed across the long table.

Macht was also looking at him.

For the first time, his own reflection was so clear and complete in those eyes that were always empty and devoid of any emotion.

Calm.

Deep and secluded.

Like two ancient wells Frozen for a thousand years, suddenly having a stone thrown into them.