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    According to The Hot Springs Doctor (which is a fake-sounding name) who claimed to have never seen demon injuries before, even though they gave him pain suppressants and infection suppressants and all kinds of suppressants and he’s probably not in too much pain at the moment, there’s no guarantee that he’ll survive.

    “Right now, he’s on the bank.”

    “Don’t you mean ‘the brink?’”(1)

    After my impulsive and flashy declaration of ‘I challenge you!,’ we put the near-dead Gegenhuber on a stretcher and left in a fairly plain fashion with a ‘Well, let’s call it a night.’  It took a while to get back to the hotel and it’ll probably be dawn soon.

    After placing the just barely breathing man on Conrad’s bed, Greta hasn’t left his side.  I was burning with jealousy.  Fathers are childish at times like these.

    “Your Majesty, don’t get close.  If possible, stay with Wolf in the next room.”

    “Why?  He doesn’t have the strength to hold a sword anymore.  Even I’m not afraid of getting assassinated by someone so gravely injured.”

    “No, you can’t let your guard down.  It’s gotten to the point where I want to record your wimpiness in the Airhead Book of World Records or something,” Wolf said as he leaned his head against the wall, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.  Is he praising me?

    “But I just don’t get it.  Why did Gegenhuber target you?  Disregarding the ill will between him and Conrart, he wasn’t against the royal authority.”

    “Hube can’t have known that Yuuri was the Demon King.”

    “Ah, I see.”

    Conrad’s eyes above me suddenly cloud over and darken.  The little flecks of silver change their appearance to shine coldly.

    “I am that sort of man.”

    “Conrad.”

    “If it''s going to endanger you, I’ll abandon Hube.  I am that sort of man.”

    The charming, attractive, young, real-life nice guy Conrad.  The man of which everything about is perfect, except for his bad jokes, Lord Conrart Weller.  If a timid person was met with this sort of expression from him, they’d be unable to defy him.

    “… If I wasn’t the king… you wouldn’t have stopped me.”

    “Not at all.  If you weren’t His Majesty the Demon King, I wouldn’t have made these irritating explanations and I''d have simply carried you from the room.”

    “How long’re ya two gonna go on widdall that complicated talk?”

    Half asleep with his eyes half open, Wolfram bites back an indiscreet yawn.

    “Ya’anna heal Gegenhuber with healin’ magic, righ?”

    “You’re not speaking properly.”

    “Why ‘on’t you ask me?”

    My powers of comprehension can’t keep up with this unexpected utterance

    “Because Wolf… did you have that kind of skill?”

    “I’m not as skilled as Gisela, but I do have some experience with raising people’s natural healing.  There’s no way I can’t perform a technique that even the likes of you can do.  Because you’re a-”

    “Wimp.”

    The Pretty Boy gives a satisfied snort and repeats ‘are you asking me?’  I do so without a second’s hesitation.  I don’t care if he calls me a wimp.

    “Alright Yuuri, watch closely.  This is how you use the healing arts.  Hey Gegenhuber!”

    Rather than hold his hand, he grabs his wrist, roughly shakes it around and yells at him.

    “You listening, you injured guy!?   I don’t want to help you, but I am because Yuuri said ‘please!’  If you live any longer, thank him!  Promise you’ll devote your loyalty to him for the rest of your life!  You’ve got some serious nerve getting seriously injured and making me treat you.  I don’t care if you die, but that woman and Yuuri will grieve.”

    After that, he kept piling on the vilification and he even took on the audience’s animosity.