I stood in the middle of the street, hands on my hips, staring at the junk piles like a general surveying a battlefield.

  Broken screens. Rusted frames. Half-dead machines.

  Beautiful.

  “…Alright,” I said. “I’ve decided.”

  The demons flinched.

  Charmie leaned in carefully. “D-decided… what, my lord?”

  I pointed.

  “We’re bringing these back to the castle.”

  The street went silent.

  Not dramatic silence.

  Catastrophic silence.

  A guard dropped their spear.

  Someone gasped so hard they wheezed.

  “…B-bringing,” one demon whispered, “them?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Them.”

  Charmie’s face drained of color. “M-my lord… to crify… you mean…”

  She swallowed.

  “…into the Inner Circle?”

  “Yes.”

  A collective sound rose from the demons.

  Not a scream.

  More like a thousand souls simultaneously reconsidering their life choices.

  [Announcement: Demon Lord Issued Transport Order.]

  The guards stiffened immediately.

  Then panicked immediately after.

  “MY LORD...!”

  “THE PROPHECY!”

  “THE INNER CIRCLE IS SACRED!”

  I raised a hand. “One at a time. Preferably in an orderly line of panic.”

  Charmie grabbed my sleeve with both hands. “Please reconsider! The ancient prophecy explicitly states...”

  “...that touching human artifacts brings camity,” I finished. “Yes. I know. I’ve heard it. Repeatedly. Loudly.”

  She blinked. “…You memorized it?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s just been yelled at me enough times.”

  One of the guards stepped forward, voice shaking. “M-my lord, even being near those machines causes illness. Carrying them could...could corrupt the castle!”

  I nodded. “Valid concern.”

  They rexed slightly.

  “Which is why,” I continued, “you’re going to carry them.”

  They froze again.

  “…What?”

  I pointed at the stove. “That one. And that.”

  My finger moved.

  “A washing machine. Refrigerator. That weird box with buttons. And whatever that is.”

  “That is a microwave,” I said to myself.

  Charmie stared. “…You’re asking the guards to touch them?”

  “Yes.”

  “But the prophecy...!”

  I cut her off gently. “Charmie. Look at me.”

  She did.

  “I touched them,” I said. “Multiple times. With my bare hands.”

  “…Yes.”

  “I sneezed,” I added.

  “…Yes?”

  “I transformed.”

  “…Yes…”

  “And the world did not end.”

  She opened her mouth.

  Closed it.

  “…Yet,” she whispered.

  [Announcement: Demon Lord Remains Unaffected by Artifact Exposure.]

  The guards exchanged terrified looks.

  Sparky suddenly stepped forward, fists clenched, sparks popping weakly.

  “…I’ll do it.”

  Everyone turned.

  Charmie gasped. “Captain?!”

  Sparky gred at the stove like it had personally insulted her lineage.

  “If it’s dangerous,” she said, “then I’ll handle it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

  She snapped to attention. “YES, MY LORD!”

  Then, quieter, “…If something explodes, I’ll just explode back.”

  “That’s… not how that works.”

  She picked up the stove anyway.

  Nothing happened.

  No curse...

  No screaming...

  No spontaneous combustion...

  The demons stared.

  “…It didn’t kill her,” someone whispered.

  “Unfortunate,” another muttered.

  Sparky blinked. “…Huh.”

  She shook it once.

  Still nothing.

  “…Why is it heavier than it looks?” she compined.

  “That’s because it contains responsibility,” I said. “Humans hide those in appliances.”

  Charmie rubbed her temples. “I can’t believe this… bringing cursed relics into the castle…”

  I cpped my hands. “Alright! Retrieval team, let’s go!”

  [Announcement: Artifact Transport Operation Initiated by Demon Lord.]

  The guards moved hesitantly.

  One demon approached the washing machine like it might bite.

  “…It’s staring at me.”

  “That’s a door,” I said.

  “…It judges.”

  Another demon tried lifting the refrigerator, screamed, then bowed. “IT IS VERY COLD, MY LORD.”

  “Yes,” I replied. “That’s its job.”

  The pile slowly diminished as machines were awkwardly carried away.

  Charmie followed beside me, whispering urgently.

  “My lord, if the council finds out...”

  “There is no council,” I reminded her.

  “…If the inner demons find out,”

  “They already think I sneeze miracles.”

  She hesitated. “…That’s true.”

  One guard tripped, sending a microwave sliding across the ground.

  The demons screamed.

  Nothing happened.

  “…It didn’t explode.”

  I nodded. “Disappointing, I know.”

  Sparky frowned. “…So these things aren’t cursed?”

  “They’re broken,” I said. “Big difference.”

  Charmie looked conflicted. “But the prophecy...”

  I sighed.

  “That prophecy,” I said, “was written by a demon who saw fire without wood and immediately panicked.”

  She stiffened. “…You shouldn’t insult ancient wisdom.”

  “I’m not insulting it,” I said. “I’m expining it.”

  [Announcement: Demon Lord Dispys Advanced Interpretive Authority.]

  Charmie stopped walking.

  “…You’re really bringing them into the Inner Circle.”

  “Yes.”

  “…Even if it causes chaos?”

  I smiled.

  “Especially if it causes chaos.”

  She stared at me.

  Then sighed deeply. “…Very well.”

  She straightened her posture, professional smile snapping back into pce.

  “As your PR manager, I will begin preparing damage control statements.”

  “Oh?” I asked. “Already?”

  “Yes,” she said sweetly. “Step one: convincing everyone this was foretold.”

  “…You’re going to rewrite the prophecy, aren’t you?”

  She winked. “Just a little.”

  I watched the guards march ahead, carrying human junk like holy relics, faces filled with terror and devotion.

  Zone 3 watched us leave in stunned silence.

  “…This is going to be a problem,” I muttered.

  [System: Demon Lord Actions Marked as ‘Unprecedented.’]

  I smiled.

  “Good.”