“No! I’m not just going to move on! Who do you think you are, ordering me around like that?!”

I can just beat the living shit out of you and interrogate you, young lady.

I am an Archdemon, after all. A reincarnated evil incarnate.

Kid. Who do you think you are?

“Princess Mira, please forgive this humble uncle of yours.”

Mira tilts her head to the side, hmphing and crossing her arms like a dejected camel.

I can just relaunch that goblin’s head at you, young lady. This time not as a boulder, but bolder as a fucking torpedo that will wreck you from the inside out.

I am a fucking Archdemon, after all. A being who’s supposed to enjoy beating women and eats children.

“You can't even spell my name correctly! It’s Ma—ri! Mari! Marisella! Not Mira! Who the heck is Mira?!”

Fucking children. Fucking kid. What lets you think you can behave like that before me? I call you whatever the fuck I want whenever, wherever.

“Princess Mari~ I’m really, really, really— sorry!”

“You what? How sincere. I almost believed you. Maybe if you say it one more time—”

I grab her shoulders, forcing her to look at me, piercing holes through her with my eyes.

“I SAID I’m fucKING SORRY!”

“I-I-I forgi-i-ve yo-you!”

“APOLOGIZE!”

“I-I sorry– me— I’m sowwy- so!”

Good. As the old saying goes, if violence doesn’t work, use more violence and it’ll work— or something like that.

I let her off, patiently waiting before my patience runs dry.

“So? Why are you staring at me like that? Do you envy my impeccable outfit?”

“Umm… That’s mine—”

“I knew it. You want my hat, Princess Miamor? That’s a no-no. This hat is a trophy I won after a grueling match.”

She massages her eyes, on the brink of collapse, her face on the precipice of constipation.

“Let's make rule number two… You don’t call me a princess, call me Mari, and don't physically harass me.”

“That’s three fucking rules.”

“Okay! You don’t physically and mentally harass me, okay?”

“That’s still two you fucking idiot.”

“Aghhhhhh!”

She grabs onto her ears, shaking and watching the ceiling with desperate eyes.

Girl, you just dissed the gods minutes ago. Don't seek help from above. What, do you think they'll just forgive you like I did? They're no demons. And you're no Mary Sue.

“Just don't harass me!”

That's too tall of an order. Not harass her? Where's the fun in all that?

“I refuse,” I say.

She's like an anti-stress. Whenever I'm feeling like shit, I make her feel like shit, and I don’t feel like shit anymore.

“Then I'll call you aunty!” she shouts at me, pointing at me like a smartass as if she's just found a cure for cancer.

“Aunty Chan!”

“My-my,” I smile brightly, adapting a feminine voice. “How wonderful! I've never been called that before!”

She looks at me like a zombie.

“Were you a woman in your past life…?” she asks, petrified. “Never mind. If you don’t respect me—I'm not going to talk!”

She crosses her arms, raising her chin to the left with an expression a disappointed aunty would make.

“I respect you,” I tell her. “Is that it? Will you stop whining and become more productive now? Why didn't you tell me this from the beginning.”

Mari gapes, her lips twitching. “Not by words, but by actions! Don't behave like a stray dog! If you call me a princess, then treat me with half the respect a princess gets!”

No, no way. That's too, too tall of an order. Wait.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“I'm deeply sorry, Mademoiselle. Please forgive my impudence.”

I bend on my knee, grab her hand, kiss it, then caress it like a prince.

I look at her miserably. “How can I atone for my sins…”

Her eyes well in discomfort, her chin swinging left and right.

“Can you behave like an adult?” the kid asks after a long pause. “Please, Uncle.”

Suddenly I feel like I'm the immature one.

Good. My acting played well, it paid off.

She's finally calmed down.

She's not uncomfortable before me anymore.

I'd rather the kid see me as an idiot than a threat.

I smile at her like a stupid donkey, backing away.

I do respect her. I truly do. But a kid is a kid, easy to lie to, easy to control, easy to persuade.

She has ambitions, and she has a spirit, but at the end of the day, she lacks experience.

Mari, one day you'll become a queen. A star deserving of your name. A real princess. But every queen has to first serve as a pawn. For now, you're just Mira.

“Okay, okay!” I shout, making a reluctant expression. “I won’t harass you!”

“You what?” Her sapphire eyes sparkle. “Really?”

I nod.

Of course that's a fucking lie. At the end of the day, I’m still a fucking imbecile.

I may have been acting. But I was also not acting.

This is the art of self-sabotage. Self-manipulation. If you want to deceive others, deceive yourself first. If you want to persuade others, persuade yourself first and foremost.

“Okay… then. But remember, you promised, yes!?”

“Yes, yes,” I yess.

“Can you imagine ‘status’? A window should pop up in your head,” Mari insists.

Pop up? Pop up head? Yeah, that I can do. But I don’t think she thinks what I think.

Window. Window? Hey, window!

“Nothing comes up,” I tell her.

Mari pinches the bridge of her nose while exhaling through it. “Here,”

A transparent gray hologram forms over her extended palm.

Marisella |Wizard |F+||

Mana |F+|

Aura |F|

Wise |F+|

Life |F|

Gifts:

—Heal |F+|

Title:

—Apprentice |F+|

“Holy shit,” I express my shock in the best way I can, gazing at the neon gray hieroglyphs that form. “What’s up with this?”

I force my finger onto the panel, yet it only moves through the screen as if the panel doesn’t even exist.

“This is the status window,” she states.

“Fuck is the status window?” me states.

She sighs like a broken turbine, tilting her head backward. “Let’s start from the beginning. At the top is my name, and beside it is my class. I’m a wizard.”

“Aha, aha,” I insist she continues.

“All angels are wizards. We don’t really get to choose a class,” she says.

“Followingly, goblins are warriors, beasters are warlocks, and elves are wanderers.”

Great. New words. Can life not be simple?

I look at her with a face that assures I’m stupid and need an explanation—

“Wizards throw fire! Water! Bullets! Pew pew!” She makes a pistol gesture with her fingers.

“Warriors swing swords! Clutch-clutch! Swing swing!” she makes stupid sounds while making an ‘X’ with her fingers.

—Not that fucking stupid!

“Warlocks summon spirits! Large and mythical! Chao chao!”

The fuck is chao chao supposed to mean? She just came up with the word, didn’t she?!

“Bao! Bao!” She raises her hands like paws and imitates a bear.

“Wanderers use runes! Crafts and wards! Blessings and curses! Scary—very!”

I look at her with genuine incredulity. What was that?

Forget about the bright future. A queen? No.

She’s at most becoming a horse that neiggghhhhs.

“Neiggghhhh!” she neigggghhhs.

Oh my gosh! I can see the future!

“I guess it really works,” she says like she discovered an unknown secret.

“What?” I ask.

“When I explain normally, you usually interrupt me. So I decided to take a different approach. You were right in your remark; I mistook you for a human. But you’re not.”

I gape.

Mari smiles in a way some Saintess Maria would. “I apologize. I’m sorry. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.”

She pats my head.

“From now on, I’ll treat you appropriately.”

Her smile deepens, radiating holy light.

Okay, bitch. That’s it. You’re fucking dying. I don’t care—

“Nowww onto the attributes! They’re super-duper awesome! They’re four of them! Mana! Aura! Wise! Life!” Mari rotates her hands, wagging her fingers. “Very cool! Very fun!”

Oh? Attributes? Sounds fun indeed…

“Mana is for majjjjic! Magic—good! Mana—good! More mana, more magic!”

That makes perfect sense.

“Aura! You strong! Strong—good! Aura—good! More aura, more—” Mari swings her arm, flexing her nonexistent muscles. “Coooool!”

That wasn’t cool at all. I guess she has her aura in the negatives.

Very informative. Please continue.

“Wise—smart! Smart—not stupid! Not stupid—not you!” She points at me as if revealing the secrets of the underworld.

Oh, she says I’m not stupid? Well, of course. Why would I be stupid? Wait.

“Life—live! Cultivate life—live long—soul strong! Live healthy! Life bery beautiful!” She waves her hands dramatically.

I punch her in the face. Her nose cracks as she falls back, the floor fixing her head.

Dear Goddess of Life, please forgive this humble follower of yours who's strayed from her path.

Unfortunately, I cannot.

But the Goddess will forgive. Hopefully.

My task is to arrange their meeting.