Chapter 12 – My Sick Leave Was Cancelled by a Rogue Employee

The broth tasted like boiled disappointment mixed with crushed dreams.​

I sat propped up against an absurd number of silk pillows, my mouth opening mechanically as Elizabeth spooned another load of Holy Broth into my face. The liquid was warm, glowing faintly with divine magic, and absolutely disgusting. It tasted like someone liquified communion wafers and added a hint of lavender for good measure.​

“One more spoonful, darling.”

Elizabeth’s voice was cotton candy sweet, the kind of sweetness that rotted your teeth and made your survival instincts scream. She sat on the edge of my bed wearing a pristine white dress that made her look like an angel, which was ironic considering she’d essentially imprisoned me under the guise of medical care. Her cyan-blue eyes sparkled with obsessive joy as she guided the spoon toward my lips with the precision of a surgeon performing brain surgery.​

I opened my mouth. The broth went in. I swallowed.

“Good boy.”

She patted my head like I was a golden retriever who’d successfully fetched a stick. Her fingers lingered in my hair, twisting a strand between her fingertips with an intensity that bordered on unsettling. She hummed a tune under her breath, something light and cheerful that clashed violently with the reality of my situation.​

I was bored out of my mind. No cap, this was worse than death. At least death had the courtesy of being quick. This was a slow, agonizing descent into madness where my only entertainment was watching dust motes dance in the sunlight and counting how many times Elizabeth blinked per minute. The answer was seven, by the way. Seven blinks per minute. I’d memorized her breathing pattern too. Sixteen breaths per minute when she was calm, twenty-two when she got excited about something violent.​

I tried to access the System. I needed to check on my Demon King body, needed to know if Lilith was sticking to the plan or if she’d decided to wage war early. I closed my eyes and concentrated, reaching for that familiar connection, that thread of consciousness that linked both bodies.

Nothing.

Static.

The connection was there, technically, but it felt like trying to stream a video on dial-up internet. Fuzzy, laggy, completely useless. I could sense the Demon King body existing somewhere, could feel a vague impression of weight and darkness, but no details. No information. No control.​

“Are you tired, my Hero?”

Elizabeth leaned closer, her face inches from mine. Her breath smelled like mint and something darker, something medicinal. I’d figured out two days ago that she was drugging the broth with sleeping herbs. Not enough to knock me out completely, just enough to keep me docile, compliant, easier to manage.​

“Just resting my eyes.”

“Good. You need rest.”

She set the bowl down on the nightstand and adjusted my blankets with obsessive precision, smoothing out every wrinkle until the fabric lay perfectly flat. She tucked the edges around me like I was a corpse being prepared for viewing. Her fingers traced the outline of my jaw, lingering on my skin longer than necessary.​

“You’re so beautiful when you’re vulnerable.”

Okay, that was a red flag the size of a football field. I opened my eyes and gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile, the kind of smile that said I’m totally fine and not at all terrified of your increasingly unhinged behavior.

“I appreciate you taking care of me, Elizabeth.”

“It’s my duty.”

She smiled back, and it was the kind of smile that serial killers practiced in mirrors. Sweet on the surface, absolutely deranged underneath.​

“No one else can protect you like I can.”

The room suddenly shook. Hard. The windows rattled in their frames, the chandelier above us swinging violently as dust rained down from the ceiling. The bowl of Holy Broth tipped over, spilling glowing liquid across the nightstand in a puddle that looked disturbingly like radioactive waste.​

I sat up straight, my survival instincts kicking into overdrive.

“What was that?”

Elizabeth’s expression shifted instantly. The sweet, doting nurse vanished, replaced by something cold and calculating. She stood up, moving to the window with the grace of a predator. She pulled back the curtain and looked out toward the city. Her jaw clenched.​

“Stay in bed.”

Another explosion. Closer this time. The entire castle shuddered, and I heard screams from outside, distant but growing louder. My heart started hammering against my ribs like it was trying to break out and run away without me.​

“Elizabeth, what’s happening?”

The door burst open. A guard stumbled in, his armor scorched black, his face covered in soot. He was breathing hard, his sword drawn and trembling in his grip.​

“Demon attack in the Market District!”

My stomach dropped through the floor, through the castle foundation, straight into the earth’s core. Demon attack. Here. Now. In the human capital. I didn’t order this. There was no way Lilith would launch an assault without my approval, she was too disciplined, too loyal. Which meant this was a rogue element, an employee going off-script, and that was going to ruin everything.​

“How many?”

Elizabeth’s voice was sharp, commanding. She stepped away from the window, her hand moving to the dagger hidden under her dress. Even in full angel mode, she kept weapons on her. Respect.​

“Unknown, my lady. At least fifty demons, maybe more. They came through a portal in the market square. Civilians are scattered.”

Fifty demons. That was a strike team, not a full invasion. This was targeted, intentional. Someone on my demon side had decided to take initiative, and I was going to have words with them. Angry, management-style words about following the chain of command and not launching unauthorized military operations.​

“Send word to the council. Mobilize the knights.”

The guard saluted and ran back out, his boots echoing down the hallway.

Elizabeth turned to face me, her expression unreadable. She moved to the door, closed it firmly, then dragged a heavy wooden chair in front of it. She wedged it under the handle, barricading us inside.​

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you safe.”

She walked back to the bed, her movements deliberate, controlled. She sat down next to me and placed both hands on my shoulders, pushing me gently but firmly back against the pillows.​

“The guards will handle it. You’re too fragile to fight right now.”

Fragile. The word hit me like a slap. I wasn’t fragile, I was the Hero, the guy with maxed stats and infinite mana. I could probably vaporize the entire demon strike team with one spell. But Elizabeth had convinced everyone, including herself, that I was one bad sneeze away from collapsing into a coma.​

“Elizabeth, people are dying out there.”

“And you’ll die if you push yourself too hard.”

Her grip tightened on my shoulders. Her eyes were wide, intense, swirling with that familiar obsessive light that made my fight-or-flight response light up like a Christmas tree.​

“I won’t let you go.”

I needed to get out of here. I needed to find whoever launched this attack and drag them back to the Demon Castle by their horns. If demons kept attacking without coordination, without strategy, the humans would mobilize faster than planned. The careful balance I was trying to maintain between both sides would shatter, and I’d be left trying to fight a war against myself with zero control over either army.​

Think. I had to think. Elizabeth wasn’t going to let me walk out the door, that much was obvious. Physical force was off the table, she’d probably tackle me and inject me with enough sedatives to knock out a horse. Magic was risky, she’d sense it immediately. Which left one option.​

Charisma. My most broken, overpowered, absolutely busted stat.​

I reached out and grabbed her hands. She blinked, surprised by the sudden contact. I pulled her hands away from my shoulders and held them gently, my thumbs brushing against her knuckles. I looked directly into her eyes, channeling every ounce of sincerity and desperation I had.​

“Elizabeth.”

Her breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed pink, the color spreading down her neck. I could see her pupils dilate, her composure cracking under the weight of my full attention.​

“My people are dying out there. Right now. While I’m sitting here.”

I squeezed her hands gently, my voice dropping lower, softer. I let the mana leak out just a little, not enough to cast a spell, just enough to make my presence feel overwhelming, magnetic, impossible to ignore.​

“If I stay in this room while they’re suffering, my heart will stop from guilt before my body gives out.”

She stared at me, her mouth opening slightly. Her grip on my hands weakened, her fingers trembling against mine. The obsessive intensity in her eyes flickered, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.​

“But you’re not strong enough.”

“I’m strong enough to stand with them.”

I pulled her closer, closing the distance between us until our faces were inches apart. I could feel the heat radiating off her skin, could see the internal war raging behind her eyes. Duty versus obsession. Love versus control.​

“Please, Elizabeth. Let me be the Hero they need.”

Her resolve crumbled. I watched it happen in real time, watched the barricades she’d built around me collapse under the sheer force of my desperation wrapped in charisma. She looked away, biting her lip, her hands going limp in mine.​

“You’ll come back?”

“I promise.”

That was probably a lie, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I released her hands and swung my legs out of bed. My body felt weak, the sleeping herbs still sluggish in my system, but adrenaline was doing most of the heavy lifting now. I stood up, wobbling slightly, and grabbed the sword leaning against the wall. It was ornamental, barely used, but it would work.​

Elizabeth didn’t move. She sat on the bed, staring at her empty hands like she couldn’t believe she’d let go. Her expression was heartbreaking, torn between pride and absolute terror.​

“I’ll send guards with you.”

“No time.”

I moved to the window, threw it open, and looked down. Three stories. Normally that would be a death sentence, but I had magic, and magic made everything easier. I whispered the incantation under my breath, feeling the mana respond instantly, wrapping around me like a safety net.​

“Darling, wait—”

I jumped. The wind rushed past me, cold and sharp against my skin. Feather Fall activated mid-descent, slowing my fall to a gentle drift. I landed in the courtyard below, my bare feet hitting the cobblestones with barely a sound. I was still wearing my silk pajamas, expensive light-blue fabric embroidered with gold thread, and I’d grabbed the sword so fast I hadn’t bothered with a scabbard. I looked absolutely ridiculous.​

A maid walking past froze, staring at me like I’d just materialized out of thin air. Her tray of teacups clattered to the ground, porcelain shattering across the stones.​

“My Lord? You’re—you’re supposed to be—”

“No time.”

I took off running toward the smoke rising in the distance. My pajamas flapped around my legs, the silk catching the wind and billowing out behind me like the world’s least intimidating cape. My hair was a mess, I was barefoot, and I was wielding a decorative sword that probably couldn’t cut butter.​

This was peak main character energy, no cap. Chaotic, desperate, and lowkey unhinged.​

I sprinted through the castle gates, past confused guards who didn’t know whether to salute or stop me. The city streets opened up ahead, smoke curling into the sky like dark fingers. I could hear the screams now, clearer, sharper. Metal clashing against metal. Magic crackling through the air.​

My internal monologue was going full-throttle panic mode. This was what happened when you tried to be a good boss, when you tried to manage two armies without a proper HR department. Employees went rogue. Subordinates took initiative. Everything spiraled into chaos because nobody respected the chain of command anymore.​

I rounded a corner and saw the Market District ahead. Stalls were on fire, debris scattered across the cobblestones. Civilians ran in every direction, some clutching children, others dragging injured friends. And in the center of it all, standing on top of an overturned cart, was a demon I didn’t recognize.​

He was massive, easily eight feet tall, with red skin and curved horns. He wore spiked armor and wielded a flaming greatsword that left trails of fire in the air. He laughed, a booming sound that echoed across the square.​

“Run, humans! Run and tell your Hero that the Demon King is coming for him!”

Oh, I was going to fire this guy. Effective immediately. No two weeks’ notice, no severance package. Just straight-up terminated.​

I tightened my grip on the sword and kept running, silk pajamas and all, toward the chaos I definitely didn’t authorize.