Chapter 46: The King Who Always Postponed Work
Chapter 46: The King Who Always Postponed Work
The garden was quiet after Zorathys stepped out of the shadow-rippled doorway, but the silence didn’t last.
He took one slow step forward, and his eyes slid toward Ignivar.
Ignivar immediately straightened like a soldier awaiting execution.
Zorathys placed a hand on his shoulder.
The touch was gentle. Feather-light.
But even with how gentle it was, Ignivar still looked like he was about to drop dead. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
"The sun," Zorathys murmured, staring at the sky as if it had personally offended him, "is awfully strong today. I couldn’t get a peaceful sleep because of it."
Ignivar swallowed audibly. "Yes—yes, Your Highness, the sun is extremely strong even for me," he said nervously.
Zorathys’ hand remained on his shoulder. The gesture was too familiar, and it felt uncomfortable to Ignivar.
Then Zorathys tilted his head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully at him. "But Ignivar..."
Ignivar felt his soul leave his body.
"Yes?"
"Why," Zorathys asked softly, "are you denying that we are friends? We grew up together. No one knows me better than you do, and you forget that you are one of the few people I tolerate. We get along, don’t we?"
The other three demons—Draeven, Pith, and Caleth—stared at Ignivar like they were witnessing a heroic sacrifice in real time.
Ignivar let out a laugh so stiff it could’ve snapped in half.
"That—that was a slip of the tongue," he forced out. "Of course we are friends."
Ignivar just wanted Zorathys to take his hand off his shoulder. Yes, they grew up together, but Zorathys wasn’t really someone he would call a friend... at least most times.
Zorathys stared at him for a dangerously long beat, then finally nodded and turned his attention to the others.
"Good. I don’t know how I’m going to survive if I lose my only friend, after all." Zorathys said.
He dragged out the word friend like it was a threat. Ignivar was sure it was.
Draeven’s permanent scowl evaporated immediately. It was like all the anger he carried left his body. He was filled with fear instead.
Caleth’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow.
Pith looked like he couldn’t remember why he was alive at all.
Zorathys blinked at them slowly. "Why," he asked, "are you all at my door so early?"
Ignivar cleared his throat carefully. "Um... it’s actually afternoon."
Zorathys stared at him.
Then stared at the sun.
Then stared back.
"I—see." He blinked again. "I did not know. Perhaps that’s why the room felt so hot."
A long, slow yawn escaped him as he spoke.
All three demons stiffened immediately.
Ignivar’s eyes widened in panic, and it was written on all the others’ faces. The yawn meant they were running out of time—fast. They had to do what they came here to do, quickly.
Zorathys rubbed his eyes lazily. "Why are you guys here?"
Ignivar spoke quickly. "You had a meeting, Your Highness. With the royals. Regarding, um... your wife."
Zorathys frowned. His brows scrunched, and the air grew just a little darker.
Caleth stepped in quietly. "You were supposed to introduce her to us."
"Ah." Zorathys nodded. "That is true."
All three demons internally screamed in triumph.
He remembered. He was going to go. He would join the meeting. They were saved—
"But I am too tired to do that now," Zorathys said flatly. "Postpone it till further notice."
Their jaws dropped.
In Zorathys English, till further notice meant never.
Draeven was the first to recover enough to speak. "W–what do you mean postpone it?"
Zorathys stared at him, unimpressed. "I mean," he said calmly, "I am tired. We will do the meeting later. I am... tired."
Pith, in a moment of sheer suicidal impulse, squeaked, "B-but you just woke up."
A chill slithered through the air.
Caleth’s eyes widened. Draeven grabbed Pith’s sleeve like he could save him from divine judgment.
Pith immediately dropped to his knees, bowing so low his forehead nearly cracked against the stone. "It was a slip of the tongue! Slip of the tongue! PLEASE FORGIVE ME, YOUR HIGHNESS—!"
Zorathys’ lips curled... into a smile.
But it held no humor.
"Pith," he said softly, "I am always tired."
He stepped past the trembling demon like nothing had happened, walking toward the opposite end of the garden. Grass stilled beneath his steps. The air held its breath.
Ignivar darted forward, closing the distance between them. "Wait—Your Highness, you haven’t finished the work we started—"
He didn’t even finish his sentence.
Zorathys waved a hand dismissively. "Later."
"But—"
"Later," he repeated, voice firm, final, and absolutely done with existence.
He lifted his other hand, twirling his fingers lazily.
The door appeared instantly—materializing from swirling shadows and coiling darkness. It hovered above the ground like a patient creature. The handle gleamed.
Zorathys opened it, stepped through, and vanished with the casual indifference of someone declining reality itself.
The door dissolved into shadows and disappeared.
Ignivar stared at the empty air where it once floated.
Then exhaled a long, defeated sigh.
He turned to the other three.
Pith lay on the ground, face pressed into the soil, hands lifted dramatically. "Magnificent," he whispered. "Truly magnificent. Our king is terrifying. Terrifying and beautiful and absolutely astounding."
Caleth nodded solemnly. "There has been no better ruler. Ever."
Draeven’s scowl had returned—except now it looked more like awe. "His presence... deflates my anger like nothing else. He is devastating. Powerful. Perfect."
Ignivar rubbed a hand over his face.
He couldn’t even argue.
"...He really is terrifying," he admitted grudgingly. "Terrifying enough that the entire realm looks up to him."
They all nodded reverently.
"Then what do we do now?" Pith asked timidly.
Caleth sighed. "We inform the others that His Highness has extended the meeting. Once more."
Draeven groaned.
Ignivar dragged a hand down his face. "And I’ll need to finish all his paperwork myself. Again."
All three stared at him with sympathy.
Because they all knew the truth:
Zorathys would never, under any circumstances, willingly touch paperwork. And even when he did, he finished thousands in mere minutes—and that was definitely not because he was hardworking. It was the opposite. He was too lazy to go through everything and only read the first line. And if the first line was too long or didn’t tell him what the work was about, he destroyed it.
Ignivar let out another heavy sigh, shoulders sagging. He could only hope that the queen was more hardworking than the king. She was his assistant, after all.