I Was Supposed to Be Feeding the Pigeons, But Somehow I Ended Up Feeding a Beautiful Demon Lord Instead - 01

Chapter 1

The sky over the royal capital was annoyingly clear and blue.

Hoofbeats clacked against the cobblestones.

Merchants shouted their wares with lively voices.

And cutting through all of that came the urgent cries of boys.

“Extra! Extra! The impregnable fortress city in the north, the Iron Wall Citadel, has finally fallen!”

“The Demon Lord’s army advances unchecked! The Holy Knights suffered devastating losses! Officials announce urgent need to rebuild the capital’s defense lines!”

Bundles of parchment flew through the air.

Citizens exchanged uneasy glances.

Every time the word “Demon Lord” was spoken, the air in the square grew heavier and colder.

The end of the world was drawing near.

Everyone said so, swinging between hope and despair over the hero’s movements.

That was daily life in this other world of swords and magic.

But for me, there was a problem far more serious than the world’s crisis.

It was the recent surge in grain prices making the cost-performance of my hobby—bread baking—much worse.

(…Wheat went up again. Probably because the northern producing region got wiped out.)

I have no power to save the world.

I reincarnated into this world with memories of my previous life, but the only skill the god gave me was [Recreation Cooking], which lets me vaguely recreate flavors I ate back on Earth.

It is an utterly everyday skill.

I have no magic power.

I have no talent with swords.

If street thugs pick on me, I am ready to hand over my wallet.

I am a genuine background character.

That is who I am.

So I leave playing hero to the actual hero.

The only things I need to protect are my own peaceful days off and my mental well-being.

I just bake bread as a hobby, feed the pigeons in the park, and take it easy.

That is my isekai life.

I turned my back on the bustling square and slipped into a back alley to avoid the crowds.

As the noise of the main street faded, I reached the border between the noble district and the slums.

There, surrounded by an old brick wall, was a small park.

The playground equipment was rusty, and the place got only the bare minimum of care.

But for me, this was the greatest sanctuary in the entire capital.

Because here, there was nothing but ordinary everyday life.

Deep inside the park, under the shade of a large oak tree, stood my usual spot—a bench with peeling paint.

Someone was already there.

A woman wore a deep hood and a thick robe completely out of season.

Large round glasses hid half her face, but I could tell her skin was unnaturally white.

She gave off an atmosphere almost like a demon, but there was no way a demon would be in the capital.

She was probably just a shut-in.

She leaned heavily against the backrest, looking completely drained as if her soul had left her body.

I approached quietly so as not to make noise and sat on the opposite end of the bench.

She did not look at me.

She seemed to notice I had arrived, though, because she let out a small, heavy sigh inside her hood.

I took a paper bag from my pocket and began tearing the bread crusts inside into small pieces.

Pigeons gathered at my feet, cooing.

They busily pecked at the crumbs I scattered—symbols of peace.

Suddenly, I felt a gaze from beside me.

When I glanced over, the woman was staring fixedly at my hands.

Her eyes were dyed with deep fatigue, yet they also seemed to hold a hint of envy.

“…Want to try?”

Without thinking, I held out some torn crumbs toward her.

Her shoulders shook in surprise.

She hesitated a moment, then timidly reached out with a pale, slender hand.

“…Sorry about this.”

Her voice was low and hoarse.

She took the crumbs and scattered them at her feet with awkward movements.

The pigeons moved over to her side.

She watched them without blinking from behind her round glasses.

“…They swarm, don’t they. Especially the white ones.”

“They’re pigeons. Some are white.”

“True. No matter how many times I order them ‘cleaned,’ they pop up again right away, just like pigeons.”

Her voice carried bottomless exhaustion and barely hidden irritation.

She seemed like someone worn out from work.

I did not know what kind of job, but with the Demon Lord’s army rampaging these days, there was surely no end of things to do.

“By the way, young man. I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Is feeding pigeons against the law?”

“It’s more a matter of manners than law. But these little guys get hungry too, and I want to get rid of leftover bread scraps. Besides, a world where people start catching and eating city pigeons is probably right around the corner. Better if they’re nice and plump when that happens, right?”

“Hmm. I see. You are good at making excuses.”

“Ahaha. Then feel free to report me. The guards aren’t bored enough to patrol a park like this.”

“Well… that’s probably true.”

She looked up at the sky as she said that.

I brushed the crumbs off my empty hands and reached deeper into the paper bag for my own special treat.

“Here, eat this and relax.”

It was a round loaf fresh from the oven—my pride and joy, sprinkled with black sesame seeds.

Anpan.

Her nose twitched at the sweet smell.

“…What is that?”

“It’s called anpan. I cooked sweet beans and stuffed them inside the bread.”

“Sweet beans…? Aren’t beans supposed to be boiled with salt?”

“Just try it. When you’re tired, sugar is what you need. To keep fighting in a harsh workplace, you have to feed your brain.”

“…Harsh, huh.”

Her mouth twisted at the word “black,” and she muttered, “Hmph, charity, is it. Interesting,” before accepting it.

She took one bite and froze.

Her chewing stopped.

Time stopped.

After a long silence, she murmured,

“…Sweet.”

The sharpness from earlier had completely vanished from her voice.

She held the bread carefully with both hands and lovingly took a second bite.

From the side, she no longer looked like an official carrying the weight of the world’s misfortunes.

She just looked like a woman her age.

“You always say sweet things… But it’s not bad.”

“Sweets are justice. This should help you power through the afternoon at work, right?”

“…Work, huh.”

She gazed at the distant sky.

In that direction stood the spire of the royal palace.

“…True. There are still territories left to ‘pacify.’ …And I have to silence that gaudy brat too.”

“Gaudy? Oh, you mean those flashy wannabe adventurers who have been popping up lately? Those guys sure are loud.”

“Ku ku… Calling him a ‘wannabe adventurer.’ You really are amusing.”

For the first time today, she laughed out loud, then stood and brushed off her robe.

In that instant, the air around her tightened again.

Break time was over.

“Thank you, nameless man. …I quite like this ‘anpan’ of yours.”

She turned to leave, so I quickly called out.

“I’m Kazuya. I’ll bake more tomorrow too. Next time it’ll be cream bread.”

She stopped and looked back.

Under the hood, her purple eyes glinted—suspicious yet somehow gentle.

“Kazuya, is it. …I am Bel.”

“Nice to meet you, Bel-san.”

“Yes. …I’m looking forward to it, Kazuya.”

Bel gave one final wave and disappeared at a brisk pace.

Her movements were flawless, as if melting into the shadows.

She must be some overworked official in the royal palace.

Probably in a department that requires ninja-level physical ability.

Left alone on the bench, I watched the pigeons and muttered to myself.

Bel-san, huh. Nice name.

I wonder when I’ll see her again.

While thinking that,

◇

“Demon Lord-sama!! We have been awaiting your return!!”

Beyond the rift of spatial transfer.

The place was the exact opposite of the park’s gentle air—the throne room of the Demon Lord’s castle, filled with ominous magic.

Thousands of demons knelt.

In the front row, one of the Four Heavenly Kings, the orc general, rushed forward with excited, heavy breathing.

“To obliterate the northern fortress city in a single strike—as expected of our lord! Even the holy knights were terrified!”

“Report! The remaining enemy forces are scattering in defeat! Humanity’s army can do nothing anymore!”

“Let us charge the capital with this momentum! With your own hands, Demon Lord-sama, grant true despair to the humans!”

“The fall of the capital is near! Gahahahaha!”

Cheers rose.

The monsters’ roars shook the throne room.

At the center of this banquet of slaughter and conquest that terrified the world stood the Demon Lord Verzaria—Bel.

But her eyes did not reflect the frenzy before her.

Bel blankly stared at her own pale, slender fingertips.

“……”

On one sharp claw clung a single small brown crumb—from the anpan she had eaten earlier.

While her subordinates shouted “Turn the capital into a sea of flames!” as background music, she gently licked the crumb away with the tip of her tongue.

(…Sweet.)

The faint lingering taste of beans in her mouth.

And the memory of the wind in that park, which carried no scent of blood.

“…Demon Lord-sama? Is something wrong?”

The orc general peered in, finding the silence suspicious.

Bel gazed regretfully at her now-clean fingertip and murmured in a girlish voice,

“…Next is cream bread, huh. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Hah? Cream…? What sort of strategy is that?”

“N-Nothing! Continue.”

Bel waved lazily and sank deep into the throne.

No one in the Demon Lord’s army knew that behind her cold expression, she was eagerly awaiting cream bread.