Being the Demon Lord’s Daughter Is Boring, So I Escape to Become an Adventurer!

How could Damien teach me etiquette when he himself didn’t possess any manners? It made no sense, so I ventured to ask, “How?”

“When your conduct strays, I will advise.”

Considering he was the role model, I wasn’t convinced. I began to wonder how often he received guests, or if he had even received any prior to me. But as I was musing, the smell of incoming food ravished me, and my train of thought dissipated.

Before I knew it, my legs were dangling impatiently under the table. When the maid placed a golden cloche in front of me, I held my breath in anticipation for a delightful reveal.

When the cover rose and steam started releasing, my sole goal was to distinguish the freshly freed dish. I shifted around my seat trying to figure out the dish through various viewing angles, and the moment I made out crispy direwolf confit, my mouth burst into a smile of pure bliss. I nearly shot up from my chair, but I imagined Miss Tarotte would’ve scolded me for doing so.

The theory of etiquette was simple. Essentially, it demanded that all movement be slow and minimal. I daresay I have mastered all its principles.

“When not speaking nor eating, a mouth is best closed.”

Okay, fine. My mouth was open. It was wide open. I couldn’t protest against him because he was right. But… couldn’t he have at least said that without looking away? Whatever. I’m starving.

I paid him no further attention, instead choosing to relish my confit. Grabbing it by the bone, I slowly bit off a strand of meat. At the same time, I took a fork in my other hand, slowly jabbed a baby carrot, and stuffed it into my mouth along with the meat. There weren’t many moments in life more satisfying than overpowering yucky vegetables with yummy meat.

“Camay.”

What is it this time? I glared at him while chewing. He leaned over the table toward me with a napkin in hand and gently wiped my cheek. I stopped mid-chew, stunned, and watched him as he returned to a seated position. I didn’t appreciate being treated like a baby, but that was probably the first time he expended effort without needing to.

“Fang fyu.” I thanked him the best I could. It didn’t really come out right because I was still chewing.

✦✧

The rest of the meal finished without much incident, but I must mention the dessert: black cherry and strawberry sherbet topped with chocolate wafer bits. I managed to keep a straight face when I saw it but threw a tiny tantrum when I couldn’t have a second one. Apparently, someone had the audacity to presume I had only wanted a single serving.

Damien tried to offer me his, but it was clearly out of pity, so I declined. In the end, he said he had to leave early to handle ducal matters, so I ate his sherbet because desserts should never be deserted.

A maid had led me back to my room and before leaving, informed me that Lydia would be arriving in two hours. That was fine and all, but what was I supposed to be doing in this room for two whole hours? There were a grand total of four things: a table with nothing on it, windows with a garden view that I had already seen, my bed which I had trampolined on far too much, and a workaday wall where imaginations could roam wild. Why does this situation feel so familiar?

Being confined to my room was boring, so I escaped to find Damien’s office. His manor was huge, and the interior reminded me of my father’s castle, with carpeted floors and the occasional opulent vase atop an intricate cabinet. My room was on the second floor and so far, I’d only been to the dining hall on the first floor and the bathroom attached to my room.

Up until now, I’d been sneaking around, but something was clearly amiss—there were no maids at all. When I’d first arrived at this manor and stepped out of the carriage with Damien, he was greeted by two long columns of maids. Where had they all gone to?

It was then that I heard a dignified voice. The voice belonged to Abel, and he was speaking from the main hall downstairs. When I reached the hall, I crawled toward the railing and peeked through its spindles. A large group of maids were standing in an eight by six grid while Abel and the head maid announced instructions. Their harsh, steely tones sounded scary.

When I had watched armies of humans through the crystal ball with Father, they tended to assume this rectangular formation when raiding the Nether. As to why I was seeing an army of maids inside a manor, I had no clue. After Abel and the head maid finished speaking, the two of them began marching through the maids, inspecting them one by one.

Suddenly, Abel paused, jerked his head upwards, and started scanning the upper floors as if he had sensed prying eyes. Desperate to stay hidden, I franticly fell backwards and ended up flat on the floor. Twisting my body, I quickly hopped on my feet and scampered away.

I returned to the hallway I was in prior to hearing Abel’s voice. This time, following a different path, I was confronted with two large doors. Even at a glance, it was obvious that this room held significance.

Carefully as to not make noise, I opened one of the doors slightly to peek inside. Unable to see anyone, I pushed on the door until my head could fit through the gap. Poking in, I saw Damien sleeping on one of the velvet couches. What kind of ducal duty is this?

I concluded that I had fallen for his pity during dessert time. Hmph. Since he was asleep, I was automatically permitted to explore around, right?

His office, although furnished minimally, had an elegant atmosphere. A large mahogany table piled with stacks of paper faced away from equally wide windows. Hey, no fair. Your view is better than mine.

Beside his table was a tall, regal closet. A familiar force emanated from within—it felt similar to the sword that Damien proffered to me during yesterday’s magic lesson. If the force were significantly stronger, I would’ve thought that it was the sword. The longer I stared at the closet, the more I wanted to look inside.

Spurred by my curiosity, I reached toward the closet, but when my fingers neared its handles, a magical seal revealed itself and warded against me. I tried pushing through, but it felt as if the closet were shielded by a transparent marble wall. This seal’s complexity was magnitudes denser than the seal I cracked when escaping the church.

At my current level, there was no way I could’ve decoded it. I stood helplessly before the daunting closet for a minute before deciding to give up, feeling slightly frustrated. If Damien was the one who had appended this seal, then it was clear my magical ability paled in comparison to his, meaning that I was inferior to him both physically and magically. In many ways, Damien reminded me of my father—someone whom I was powerless against.

Oh, but on the topic of an office, the two of them were opposites. Put simply, my father didn’t need an office, because he didn’t have any duties. He greeted every visitor in the throne hall, and his maids handled his every whim. Honestly, to even see him standing was a sight worth beholding.

After having roamed Damien's entire office, I thought about leaving, but then I realized that this was the perfect moment to enact my revenge. I tiptoed over to the couch and crouched in front of him. He really does look cool, almost as cool as my father.

My revenge was simple—a poke on the nose, maybe even several pokes, but I had to be careful of waking him. Testing the waters, I brushed my index finger over the tip of his nose, my motion lighter than a breeze. For some reason, my heart rate was elevated, and it progressively rose. Once I determined that he wasn’t going to wake up, a stupid grin grew on my face. I was about to go for the poke when—

“Mari…”

W-what?! Wondering how in the world he could’ve known my real name, I gulped. In shock while staring at his face, it was only until he muttered something else—a single letter—that calmed me down.

“…a.”

Oh. He was just dreaming of Maria, his preceptor. Don’t make me misunderstand like that. Dummy. My heart was still pounding away but it was slowly settling down. I breathed out a sigh of relief knowing that my past as a demon had remained secret.

For needlessly flustering me, Damien deserved the full brunt of my revenge. In other words, he was about to get poked. Hard.

I raised an index finger, aimed it at his nose, and shot. Bang. But just as my jab had travelled halfway toward him, Damien grabbed my arm and pulled me into him.

“…!”

My face was being smothered by his chest and no matter how much I tried to slither out of his embrace, I couldn’t escape his grasp. Ideally, I wanted to avoid waking him up.

“Maria…”

I felt his nose pressing against my head before he started sniffing my hair. This dummy not only had the face of a rock, but he also slept like one too. His grip kept tightening until he was downright squeezing me. At this rate, it wouldn’t take long until breathing became difficult.

I give up. I don’t care if he wakes up anymore. Changing stance from my knees to my feet, I straightened my body like a battering ram and with all my might, headbutted his chin. His head jolted slightly upwards as he grunted softly. The moment his arms loosened, I slipped out of his hold and dashed out of his office.

When I returned to my room, I clutched my knees while panting. My heart was thumping, and my face felt uncomfortably hot. Leaping into my bed, I tightly hugged my favorite pillow. Unable to remain calm, I rolled around with my pillow until I settled down. There’s no way he knows it was me, right? He’ll probably think that he fell off the couch and unknowingly climbed back up… right?

After nodding to myself in affirmation, my eyes widened from the realization that I had made a grave mistake—I had forgotten to close his office doors.