In the end, Maou’s location failed to top the Black Chili Pepper Fry charts for the region. One of the fryers stopped working after the lunch rush.
It took two hours for the repairman to show up, and those two hours made all the difference.
A frustrating ordeal for Maou, to say the least, and one he dwelled upon as he lugged yet another bag full of junk food home with him.
The heavy rainstorm was a thing of the past by the time evening rolled around. That kept him from needing to “borrow” an umbrella from the store, but there was no doubt the foul weather kept customers home.
But was there anything else? Yes, there was the fryer and the rain, but did they go wrong elsewhere at all? The question was all Maou could think about on the way home, as he reached the intersection where he had lent his umbrella out earlier.
“…Huh?”
It was now late night. The restaurant at the intersection had long closed, looking completely dark inside. The only light illuminating the deserted crossing was a lone streetlamp and the blinking traffic signals.
There was someone lurking beneath the restaurant’s canopy.
He hadn’t noticed in the darkness at first, but it was the girl he encountered on the way to work.
“Hey, are you the…?”
Maou stopped himself midsentence. Something was off about this.
The woman was silent as she fixed her gaze upon him. There was something cold, almost hostile in her eyes.
Her smile from before was like a rainbow arcing across the drizzly sky, and now her expression was like an Arctic iceberg, frigid enough to crystallize the sun itself.
She was glaring at him, there was no doubt about that. Maou swallowed nervously, almost cowering at the sensation of her eyes upon him.
Unable to take the woman’s silent leering any longer, Maou mustered up the courage to speak.
“Um…did it work out okay? You didn’t get wet, did you?”
“No, it did not work out okay.”
“Uh?”
Her voice was like a polar vortex in the middle of winter.
“I went to your MgRonald today.”
“Oh? Um. W-well, thank you.”
Now seemed like an unsuitable time to take up the sales pitch. He didn’t remember seeing her while manning the register.
The woman took a step toward Maou, almost making him lose his balance and fall to the ground. Flustered, he jumped off his bike and—for completely different reasons from before—positioned it between the two of them.
“I was watching you. From the place across the street.”
“Watching me?… You mean, the restaurant?”
There was a bookstore that overlooked MgRonald from the other side. She was watching them from over there? Was she one of those mystery diners they kept hearing about?
“No. You.”
“M-me?”
Now Maou was even more confused. She came to the store…but not to return the umbrella, at least? They had barely brushed against each other, and now she was stalking him? There was only one—
“…You looked so different from before, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But after a while, I realized.”
—only one woman who would—
“At first, I doubted my five senses. I knew you were somewhere near, but not this near.”
—who would be looking for him!
“You can try to hide what little magic you have left, but you can’t fool me!”
Impossible!
“Devil King Satan! Why are you working part-time at the MgRonald in Hatagaya?!”
The flowing jet-black hair; the beautiful, unblemished skin; the keen, magic-detecting eyes. She had to be—
“Y-you…! Emilia, the Hero!”
She was Emilia Justina, the Hero who snatched Ente Isla from the Devil King’s gnarled hands. The Hero glorified as the holy savior of her native land. Why was she in Sasazuka?
“Yes! It is I, Emilia! And surely you must know why I am here!”
“Y-you couldn’t be…!”
“You and Alciel, your sole remaining general, may have just barely escaped us. But I have traveled across worlds in the pursuit! If I let you escape, our world will be enveloped in darkness once again! And before that can happen, I will destroy you!”
“W-wait! Wait a sec, Emilia! We can talk this out!”
“Never, Devil King! Prepare to die!”
Suddenly, the Hero Emilia took out a knife and lunged for Maou, slashing at the air. Maou leaped backward, dodging the blade as it zipped past his bike. The once-proud Dullahan clanked to the ground, loudly protesting the unexpectedly rough treatment the entire way.
“Whoa! Watch it!”
“Enough of your cowardly evasion! Stand still and let me kill you!”
“You gotta be kidding me!”
He barely avoided the knife’s second swipe past Dullahan as it coursed just past the pit of his stomach.
Maou took a moment to collect himself. He was weaponless. The trip home from the fast-food joint rarely called for any. That clearly put him on the defensive, but a sense of supreme confidence still filled Maou’s mind. One look at Emilia’s weapon was all he needed to know how this confrontation would end.
“Uh…Emilia?”
“Hmm? Begging for your life, is it? I shall never negotiate with my sworn enemy!”
The forcefulness of her declaration did throw him slightly, but he still managed to croak out an observation—one that had a surprising effect on his opponent.
“Where’s your holy sword?”
“…!”
It was enough to make her visibly gasp.
“You bought that knife at the hundred-yen store in Sasazuka, right? I have that same one.”
“H-how did you…!”
Now Emilia was visibly shaken. The knife in her hand shone dully in the light of the red traffic signal.
“You…you lost all of your holy force, didn’t you? Or even if you didn’t, you can’t afford to waste any, huh?”
“Nnngh…!”
The way Emilia gnashed her teeth in response was all the confirmation Maou needed.
He had expected, to some extent, pursuers from Ente Isla would be forthcoming. But not the Hero herself from the outset. And yet here she was, across the Gate just like himself, sniffing out the trail of his magical force.
“B-but…but you’re in the same situation, aren’t you? Your power feels so weak…so fragile! It’s nothing compared to before!”
“Well…yeah, but…”
Maou winced internally. But there was no point pretending otherwise.
“With or without my holy blade, I have nothing to fear from a Devil King who’s a powerless fry cook! Die!”
Emilia held the knife aloft in the air.
Light flooded over the two of them.