“I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot…”
Her punishment was simple: stand in the corner like a grade schooler, wear a sign that says ‘I’m an idiot’, and act as a human parrot.
Honestly, if I weren’t worried she’d resist too violently, I really wanted to add ‘flat-chested’ to that sign as well.
“Demon Lord,” came Syl’s voice behind me, pulling my attention back to reality. “There are still a few things I don’t quite understand.”
“Oh? Let’s hear it.”
“I noticed that for each guild—big or small—you sent out at least two, sometimes even four different versions of the letter.”
Syl gently traced her finger over the paper she was holding.
After a moment’s thought, she voiced her concern.
“Even if apprentice-rank alchemists increase in number, guilds won’t drastically shift their focus from combat to logistics. At most, it might cause a temporary imbalance. That alone shouldn’t cause too much disruption.”
I clapped my hands in approval.
“You’re sharp as ever, Syl.
That said, you missed one thing.
The ratio doesn’t change—but what if the total number increases?”
“…The base value?”
“Exactly.
Apprentice alchemists will be in high demand, no doubt.
So even if the guild starts leaning more resources toward support roles, the remaining pie for combat won’t shrink—in fact, it might even grow.”
I shrugged.
“But honestly, that wasn’t my main reason for doing it.”
“Then what was?”
I smiled slyly.
“Tell me, Syl—have you ever heard this saying? ‘Human beings are contradictory creatures. United on the outside, infighting on the inside.’”
I put special emphasis on that last part.
“Now imagine this—if a guild only has one apprentice alchemist, what do you think happens?”
“That one alchemist will monopolize all the support, funding, and prestige,” Syl answered without hesitation.
“And if there were two, or more?”
This time, Syl paused.
She thought for a while before cautiously offering her answer.
“…They’d compete for those same resources?”
“Bingo!” I snapped my fingers.
“Humans always end up competing with each other.
So by planting multiple apprentices in the same guild, I can guarantee internal struggle over the allocation of alchemy resources.”
Syl nodded in understanding, though she still had one more question.
“In that case, why limit it to four per guild?”
“Good question.
Let’s use an example.”
I crossed my legs and began to explain, tone casual but smug.
“If there are only two nations in the world, they’ll definitely be at each other’s throats.
But introduce a third power, and suddenly you’ve got a triangle of checks and balances.
The more parties involved—to a point—the more stable the ‘peace’ becomes.”
I took a sip of tea before continuing.
“But a schemer like me doesn’t want peace. Chaos is delicious. So if too many get in, it’s hard to stoke the fire. Keep the number just right, and things stay volatile enough to exploit.”
Syl’s eyes lit up with realization.
“I see… as expected of Demon Lord-sama.”
“Syl, could you not say that while staring directly at my hair?”
I pouted as I took another sip of tea.
“Wonder how Tris is doing now…”
Considering how fast the playerbase reacts, and how curious they get over secret quests, those who received the mail should’ve already gone to look for Tris.
It’s been two days since the letters went out.
The list should be fully processed by now.
Right on cue.
“D-Demon Lord-sama! I’m back!”
Speak of the devil.
A small figure materialized inside the throne room, the one we had just been talking about.
Unfortunately for her, her spawn point was not kind to her height.
Thud.
She landed face-first into the floor, greeted by the judges’ panel with a unanimous score of zero.
“So mean… shouldn’t someone be comforting me right now?” she whimpered.
“I mean, if you haven’t learned your lesson after last time, then no sympathy from me,” I quipped, casually flipping down my scorecard.
“Maybe Miss Tris should consider the issue lies with herself,” Syl added helpfully, probably referring to a very obvious vertical deficiency.
Only Satahia—the flame demon—showed the slightest mercy.
“Waaah~ Is this the new recruit?! So cuuute!”
She leapt in front of Tris, introducing herself with the energy of a puppy.
“I’m Satahia, Flame Demon! Don’t be fooled by my appearance—I’m actually super strong!”
“Say that after you take that sign off your chest,” I muttered.
Unbothered by my sarcasm, Tris blinked in surprise and timidly responded, “U-Um… h-hi, I’m Tris…”
Satahia looked her up and down.
Then, as if she had just discovered a new toy, her eyes sparkled.
“Let’s be best friends!!”
“Eh? W-Wait… best friends? Isn’t that a bit fast…?”
Tris turned her head shyly, voice softening.
“…Not that I’d mind, though.”
Poor girl.
Living in the Light Realm all that time, isolated due to her identity…
Of course she’d crave friendship.
She was a lonely child at heart.
“P-Please don’t add random narration to my life, Demon Lord!”
“Aw~ She’s getting flustered~”
I waved her off casually.
“Just so you know, that idiot judges people entirely based on… a certain physical attribute.
So don’t get too emotional.”
“A certain… attribute?”
Tris’s gaze unconsciously drifted down Satahia’s chest, which was cheerfully puffed out like a proud bird.
Understanding dawned.
Her face instantly turned beet red.
She hugged her own chest tightly.
“M-Mine’s not hopeless! I still have room to grow!”
That last part sounded a bit like a sob.
“You mean you’re still in the ‘late-game farmed jungler with negative gold income’ stage?”
I covered my mouth and chuckled evilly.
“I know you’ve been drinking milk for years, so clearly it’s not a nutrition issue.”
“Which means it’s genetic! A flat-chest with absolutely zero growth potential!”
Satahia’s eyes were practically glowing like miniature suns.
“Th-That’s going too far!”
Poor Tris looked like she was going to cry.