Frieren: Understand Humans, Aura!

By the time she was brought to the dessert shop and forced into a chair, Aura was still shaken. Her purple eyes were misty with tears, making her look helpless and pitiful.

Her distress did not go unnoticed. The shop's staff exchanged curious glances as they whispered among themselves.

A young waitress leaned toward the counter, whispering to her coworker. "That kid... was she bullied?"

The baker, a middle-aged man dusted with flour, glanced over briefly. "Her mom brought her here to comfort her, huh?"

"That's not her mom, right?" a waiter chimed in as he adjusted a tray. "Their hair colors don't match at all."

"Still, look how miserable she is…" the young waitress muttered, watching Aura with sympathy. "Poor thing."

"Should we give her a little extra dessert later?" another waitress suggested, smiling.

"Or maybe less… I kinda want to see her cry. I bet it'd be really cute~~" teased a mischievous busboy, grinning.

A horrified gasp came from the first waitress. "Uh, am I really allowed to do that?!"

"I'm just joking!" The busboy waved his hands, laughing. "Don't take it seriously. You can't mess with the shop's reputation like that—"

"..."

Flamme, pretending not to hear the murmurs, leaned toward a passing staff member and whispered her order, her expression calm as ever. Then, she settled into the seat across from Aura, resting her chin on her hand. Unlike the onlookers who only watched from afar, she studied every detail—every twitch of Aura's fingers, every slight quiver of her lips, every hesitant shift in her eyes.

Was it a demon's deception or a genuine display of human emotion?

Under Flamme's scrutiny, Aura felt like needles were pricking her back. Sweat poured down her body.

"Aura."

"Wah, wah, ahhh—"

At the sound of her name, the purple-haired demon completely broke down. Tears spilled down her cheeks in thick streams, her small frame shaking as she let out an unrestrained, pitiful wail. She squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in her hands, unable to stop the choked sobs that escaped her lips.

Flamme did not react. She simply continued to observe.

If nothing else, this fear was real. It wasn't an act.

A waitress approached hesitantly, carefully setting their drinks on the table. "Um… here you go," she murmured, giving Aura a worried glance before retreating.

Flamme took a slow sip of her chilled, sweet beverage before sliding Aura's cup toward her. The demon, still hiccupping from her outburst, glanced at it warily but did not touch it.

Flamme tilted her head slightly, her voice even and measured.

"During work hours, we're colleagues. I won't use you as a test subject, so relax, Aura."

Aura sniffled, rubbing at her damp eyes. "So from now on, you won't experiment on me anymore?" There was a spark of hope in her voice.

Flamme exhaled softly, setting her glass down. "I said during work hours—"

Aura's expression tensed. "What do you mean?"

Flamme's lips curled slightly. "Outside of work, you're just a test subject."

A moment of silence.

Then, in a small, desperate voice—

"Can I work overtime until the next morning?" Aura pleaded.

"The Continental Magic Association has strict regulations. All-nighters are not allowed."

"..."

She had already resigned herself to being worked to death by Serie in exchange for her life, but now—even this last resort was denied her?

Aura whimpered as she took the cold drink Flamme handed her, gulping it down in big, desperate sips, as if savoring her final comfort before death.

Behind the counter, the young waitress let out a small squeak. "She looks so heartbroken…"

The baker sighed. "Maybe we really should give her extra dessert."

The busboy snickered. "Nah, this is way funnier."

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The dessert was finally served—a beautifully plated layered cake, delicate yet rich, with a smooth cream finish and a drizzle of syrup cascading down its sides. A single portion, carefully crafted, yet slightly larger than what would be reasonable for a human's appetite.

For a demon, however, it was just right.

The scent of vanilla and fruit wafted through the air as the plate was set down in front of Aura. The soft clinking of porcelain against the wooden table was accompanied by the quiet murmurs of other customers enjoying their own sweets, but for Aura, all of that faded into the background.

Flamme, seated across from her, propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her fingers, observing Aura with a steady, unreadable gaze. She made no move to touch her own drink, as if the sole purpose of this visit was to watch Aura eat.

"For me?" Aura asked, blinking at the dessert.

"For you," Flamme confirmed without hesitation.

Aura hesitated for only a moment longer before the realization settled in.

No traps. No poisons. No sinister schemes.

Even with her superior intellect, Aura could not think of a way to escape from Flamme's grasp. That much was already clear. But with her superior mentality, she quickly came to terms with her situation—if resistance was futile, she might as well enjoy herself.

And really, if Flamme wanted to subdue her, she wouldn't resort to something as underhanded as poison. That woman was more direct than that.

Might as well eat in peace.

With a shift in mindset, Aura wiped away the last traces of her earlier distress, straightened in her chair, and eagerly reached for the cake. Her fingers moved deftly, removing the small decorative pieces—ornate sugar flowers, a thin chocolate plaque, and a tiny ribbon made of spun sugar. Pretty, but inedible.

As she peeled away one last decoration, a small slip of paper fluttered onto the table.

A note?

Aura picked it up, frowning slightly as she examined the flowery, overly elaborate handwriting. The words were complicated, laced with poetic embellishments she couldn't quite decipher, but the general meaning was clear.

"You look beautiful today."

A pause. Then, slowly, Aura's lips curled into a grin.

She gently placed the note down beside the plate, lowered her gaze to the cake, and whispered softly to it—

"You're beautiful too, Mr. Cake."

Then, without another word, she promptly bit off its head.

Across from her, Flamme let out an amused exhale, taking a slow sip of her drink.

Aura, unfazed, simply continued devouring her "beautiful" cake with unrestrained enthusiasm.

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To her immense relief, Aura did not—contrary to her earlier fears—end up as a dessert herself after finishing the cake.

Flamme, who had been observing her the entire time, seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts. Once Aura had cleaned off her plate, Flamme reached out and gave her head a few firm pats—more like ruffling the fur of a stray cat rather than a gentle gesture of affection. Then, just as abruptly, she let her go.

"You can head back on your own," Flamme said offhandedly, standing and stretching her arms. "I've got some business at the Magic Association headquarters."

—At least, that's what Flamme claimed.

Aura, naturally, didn't believe a single word.

With a wary glance, she left the shop, walking briskly toward the outskirts of Kribi. But just because Flamme had released her didn't mean she was truly free. There was no way that lunatic would simply let her off so easily.

No, she had to be lurking somewhere. Watching. Plotting.

Aura remained on high alert the entire way home, scrutinizing every passerby with suspicion. Was that vendor over there Flamme in disguise? What about that cloaked traveler, the one who just turned away? And that kid peering at her from behind the bread stall—could it be?!

She was so distracted that she didn't even notice the delicious scents of the snacks walked around her.

Reaching the outskirts of Kribi, she found her "prison." Looking back, she still didn't see any trace of the white-haired elf.

Aura entered, shut the door, and slumped against it.

Only then did she allow herself to exhale.

Slipping inside, she shut the door behind her and immediately slumped against it, sliding down until she sat on the floor. A long sigh of relief escaped her lips.

She was alive.

Not a single step of the demons' grand plan had progressed today—but she had survived.

That alone was worth celebrating.

Aura took a moment to review her situation, systematically listing the people she could manipulate, avoid, or use to her advantage.

She reviewed her day and listed the people she could manipulate or needed to watch out for:

"Zanze is easy to bully, and she's always around me. I can use her! She's the president of the Magic Association—there's no doubt I can get a lot of confidential information about human magic from her."

"Flamme is scary, but she isn't constantly watching me. Humans and demons are still at war, so Flamme won't stay in Kribi for long. If I just endure a little longer, once she's gone and I survive the experiments, I'll be free to do as I please! Haha~"

"Frieren is annoying. Even though she's silly and poses no threat to me, she always pops up at inexplicable times. I don't dare to do anything to her, so I just ignore her."

"Serie…" Aura paused, considering. "Serie barely pays any attention to me. She only cares about magic. As long as I keep my movements discreet, even if she notices my little schemes, she won't bother interfering. She'll just turn a blind eye."

"Things are looking great, Aura!"

"Haha, hahaha, hahahahaha—"

In the silent and deserted room, a creepy shrill laugh suddenly sounded.

At first, Aura had thought she was doomed—that she would fail the demons' plan and lose her life in Kribi. But after Zanze removed her shackles, Serie's collar failed to warn of any danger, and Flamme didn't lay a hand on her… everything seemed to be moving in her favor.

With things steadily progressing like this, all she needed was careful manipulation. Using deception and lies, she would weave her way through these humans.

With Aura's wisdom, how could she lose?! Isn't this a sure win?

"Lord Demon King, watch over me!"

Aura clasped her hands together in a sincere prayer.

"Your most loyal subordinate, Aura, will bring hope to the demons."

"I once led the demons into darkness, but it will be I, Aura, who leads them out!"

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The next morning, a human messenger arrived in a carriage, parking it right in front of Aura's door.

He didn't knock immediately, instead waiting until the sun had risen and the streets had begun to empty—some humans heading to work, others leaving the city to farm. Once most people had left, the messenger finally knocked on Aura's door.

"Who is it?" Aura's muffled voice came from behind the door, sluggish and annoyed. "Zanze isn't here. If you're looking for the Magic Association president, come back in a few days."

The messenger remained silent, waiting.

Annoyed that her sweet dreams had been interrupted but remembering Zanze's warning about following orders, Aura reluctantly crawled out of bed. A pair of eyes appeared through a horizontal crack on the door, and she explained to the outsider where Zanze was going in an impatient but patient manner.

But to her surprise, these humans weren't here for Zanze.

"Are you Honorary President Aura? Mistress Serie requests your presence."