The Terminally Ill Hero’s Husband is the Demon King

Gillian went downstairs for breakfast. Rassel, with his hat pulled low over his head, saw Gillian and waved.

“What do you want to eat? I’ll buy, so choose whatever you like. There aren’t that many things on the menu, though.”

Gillian gave a small cough. Seeing Rassel’s eyes curved from smiling so brightly first thing in the morning made his ears feel hot. Gillian did not feel like considering the menu, so he asked for the same thing Rassel was having.

The hunter, excited to have found a companion to hunt with, knew nothing of Gillian’s troubled thoughts and was busy dipping bread into his stew. Gillian sat across from Rassel.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“Of course. Did you?”

“I slept deeply, but…”

“But?”

“I had a rather disturbing dream.”

Rassel gripped Gillian’s shoulder tightly. Gillian tensed, wondering whether Rassel might grab him by the back of the neck and pull him closer. What if he kisses me? Would I be able to refuse? Those were the thoughts that passed through his mind.

Rassel grew anxious that Gillian might have changed his mind because he took the dream as a bad omen.

“You aren’t going to say you’ve changed your mind now, are you? I’ll hound you relentlessly.”

Gillian shook his head.

“I haven’t changed my mind. Let’s go to the Hundred-Year Fortress, and while we’re already at Gray Mountain, we can hunt beasts.”

“Good. You’re mine. I’ve already staked my claim.”

The server carrying Gillian’s breakfast tray heard him and stared at Rassel and Gillian in surprise. When Rassel grinned and winked, the server shuddered as though he had witnessed something indecent, quickly set down the food, and disappeared.

Gillian removed the hand Rassel had placed on his shoulder. As though determined to make his point clear, Rassel said it once more.

“I’m warning you now. Once I catch someone, I never let them go.”

“Judging by your behavior, it seems you could easily find someone else.”

“Oh, are you already jealous?”

Gillian rubbed both hands over his face. He wondered whether Rassel would still be able to act so shamelessly if he knew what had happened the previous night.

As always, Gillian quickly surrendered himself to resignation. It was not the first or second time he had watched events go completely off course and problems snowball until they became impossible to resolve. Even a veteran hero could not prevent things from going wrong.

Gillian had a long history of failure. He had simply planned his next operation and carried out the subjugation as long as he had narrowly avoided death or permanent injury. Unlike ordinary knights and warriors, Gillian was called a hero and praised because he did not die even when everything went wrong.

The heroic stories Gillian told were popular. The beautifully embellished versions sung by minstrels also sold well, but Gillian was especially good at telling stories about his own failures.

“This time, I truly nearly died. I could feel my sword trembling because I was so afraid. I regretted that if I had known I would die like that, I should have taken one more good nap and had one more drink.”

When Gillian told such stories, his listeners’ throats grew dry, and the alcohol sliding down them felt even cooler and sweeter.

“You’ve fought more frightening demonic beasts before. Were you afraid this time too?”

“If a person fell into a dragon’s mouth, they would be torn apart and killed. But a person can also be killed with a small paring knife or an ice pick. I live in fear of the moment I might make a mistake and die.”

When things did not go well, Gillian promptly accepted that the operation had failed and resigned himself to it. No matter how badly things went, the worst that could happen was death. If there was truly no other choice, he could always run first and let whatever happened afterward happen.

Usually, the matter was resolved before Gillian had to flee with his tail between his legs. If he did run, he waited for the right opportunity and tried again a second or third time. Astonishingly, he was still alive, and he had eliminated beings far older than himself.

Compared to all that, becoming slightly embarrassed and troubled because of Rassel and an incubus was nothing. How could Rassel possibly guess what had happened in his own mind? Gillian merely had to avoid behaving strangely in front of him. Once he thought of it that way, he felt much more at ease.

“Luring people in or driving them away is indeed my specialty. But I don’t lure just anyone.”

“Knowing me for a long time won’t do you much good. In any case, let’s stay together until winter comes.”

“Don’t say such disappointing things. We can stay together through the winter too.”

“That would be good as well.”

“Then in spring, you’ll take me to the capital. I’ll have to earn plenty of money if I want to visit the capital.”

Gillian had a vague premonition that the winter he spent with Rassel might be the last winter he would ever experience. He would treasure it. He would make it enjoyable and worthwhile. Gillian firmly resolved to remain with Rassel.