Night fell, and the lights of the palace flickered on one by one.
Inside the princess's quarters, Lysandra, clad in the attire of a palace attendant, curtsied gracefully in farewell, then stepped out with measured strides, bringing her day's work to an end.
As the impoverished scion of an illustrious noble house, she possessed little in the royal capital of Naicalis beyond a few distant relatives; the courtly etiquette she had drilled into her since childhood was practically the final proof of her so-called noble blood.
"How should I make the princess happy tomorrow?"
Stepping out of the palace, she strolled along the path and let out a sigh. Carefully manicured shrubs and towering statues lined both sides of the stone path, nearly swallowing her silhouette.
Caliera the Fall Lord had assigned her only one duty: keep the princess in good spirits until she was safely married off.
If she performed this task well, she would undoubtedly win the Fall Lord's favor. Not only would she secure this lucrative post as a court protocol officer, but she would also be able to keep it for the long haul.
Conversely, if anything went awry, she would have no future left in the Demon King's Castle of Naicalis.
The princess was actually very sharp.
She could likely guess the Fall Lord's arrangements, so even when her heart was fraught with unease, she would often maintain an outwardly calm demeanor out of consideration for Lysandra's safety.
This only deepened Lysandra's guilt.
In the cool of the night, the floral fragrance drifting across the streets of the Demon King's Castle grew richer. Lysandra boarded a magic-powered vehicle, bracing herself for a lengthy series of transfers.
She crossed an ancient, grand bridge, beneath which lay an endless bay shimmering with light.
At the other end of the bridge stretched the avenue leading toward Lis Island, where lush, leafy trees swayed in the breeze.
Lysandra lost track of how much time had passed, remembering only that she had yawned a dozen times or more. After riding all along the coastline of Lis Island, she finally followed a footpath until she stood before the courtyard of a cottage nestled in the woods.
Built of timber and stone, the cottage was enveloped in thick trees and creeping vines, giving it a secluded, solitary feel.
Yet this very isolation was the reason its rent was so cheap.
The neighborhood where Lysandra rented her lodgings happened to be the strangest community in Naicalis, capital of the Demon Realm.
It was situated on Lis Island, a slender and vibrant island directly east of Naica Island, where the royal palace stood.
Aside from its many natural wonders, Lis Island possessed an unusual geography. Located twenty kilometers from the city proper, the land thrust out like an enormous slice of triangular cake into the most pleasant waters—the vast expanse of Lis Island Bay.
Lysandra's little cottage sat right at the tip of that projecting stretch of island, wedged between several sprawling mansions whose annual rents were higher than she could ever imagine.
Even though she could gaze right across the bay and see the silhouette of the palace in the distance, every day she still had to rise before dawn and return after dark, taking a massive detour via public transport across the bridge to reach the palace on Naica Island.
The closest estate to her left was something she looked up at every evening when arriving home. Its main building resembled the Naicalis Municipal Mansion, flanked by an aerial walkway connecting to a brand-new tower entwined with emerald vines, all set against palace-grade lawns and gardens.
That was the palace-restaurant acquired and fitted out by that mysterious demon, and it seemed her neighbor lived on the mansion's top floor.
Lately, rumors about that neighbor had grown increasingly frequent, and Lysandra had caught wind of his name.
He was presumed to be male.
Beyond the name, everything about him remained an enigma; even his gender was mere conjecture among the demons.
Lysandra pushed open the gate to her modest courtyard. Though her cottage also enjoyed an ocean view like its neighbor's, it was so inconspicuous—shabby, even—that its presence was completely swallowed up by the estate next door. Hardly anyone would ever notice an ordinary resident living here, which was why the rent was low enough for her to afford.
Still, when she had first moved in, next door hadn't been anywhere near this extravagant or lively.
A few nights ago, returning home, she had nearly thought her house was on fire.
It had been ten o'clock at night. Looking toward the shore of the bay around where her house stood, Lysandra had seen the area blazing with light. Only after turning the corner did she realize it was the palace-restaurant next door, newly transformed into a dazzling spectacle.
At first, the demons were merely curious about what this marvelous palace could be.
In just a day or two, its exquisite dishes and events exploded into an overnight sensation, mesmerizing the demons of Naicalis and making it one of the hottest topics across the region.
If she sublet her cottage now, she could probably charge several times what she paid and move to a much nicer place on Naica Island, closer to the palace.
"No rush, I suppose. Work's been keeping me so busy lately anyway,"
she murmured with a sigh.
Moving was, after all, an exhausting hassle.
For now, living here was quite comfortable.
High-profile though her new neighbor was in certain respects, he was meticulous about closing up before midnight and kept the surrounding grounds immaculate. Lysandra hadn't found it troublesome in the slightest.
If anything, it gave her something to boast about: being neighbors with someone fabulously wealthy made her feel a bit closer to the glorious days of her ancestor, Duke Puckley, and a little more like true nobility.
Just as Lysandra stepped into her courtyard—
"Milady."
A deep, resonant voice suddenly sounded from the darkness not far behind her, making her whip around with a start.
Lysandra was no fighter.
The local public order was decent enough, but lately the area had inevitably drawn a mixed crowd of demons.
Great demons would normally avoid contacting or harming her out of deference to the Fall Lord.
In the dim intermingling of moonlight and lamplight, Lysandra saw a demon who looked like a butler, his chiseled jaw and austere lips the only features clearly visible in the shadows.
"Who are you?"
Having ascertained that he bore no apparent hostility, she still instinctively clutched her handbag tighter and asked, shrinking back slightly.
Though he was dressed in a vintage navy striped butler's uniform, his bearing felt more like that of a retired Demon Realm military officer—and far from an ordinary non-commissioned one at that.
"I am Luka, the steward of the restaurant next door," he said. "My master would like to invite you to join his gathering. Having lived here for several days without an opportunity to greet his neighbor, he feels deeply remiss."
Lieutenant Colonel Luka stepped across the lawn, maintaining a polite distance, and courteously presented an envelope to Lysandra.
"...Thank you."
Reassured by his gentlemanly, proper conduct, Lysandra relaxed somewhat. She stepped forward, accepted the letter, and opened it.
Upon the delicate sheet of paper, the handwriting was refined, and the contents brief and clear.
Just as the steward had said, her wealthy neighbor wished to invite her to dinner at the palace-restaurant, particularly as an event was underway right now—something resembling an unprecedented party.
Signed: "Rocky McCarthy."
"McCarthy?"
From among the several versions floating through the rumors, Lysandra finally confirmed the precise name of her next-door neighbor.
Chapter 565