On the third day of his reign, the newly crowned Demon King, Mr. Murphy, arrived at his loyal yet modestly named domain of the succubi—Somnus Hollow.
Murphy was a man of his word, a quality evident in every aspect of his life. If he said he would visit the succubi after concluding his work, then visit them he would. True to his promise, on the evening of the second day after securing his first significant earnings, Murphy, along with several other lords, followed Tyre's lead to the succubi's land, situated a hundred miles from the royal court.
During the previous Demon King's reign, the demon lords would gather at the royal court at the beginning of each month for council meetings. Even after the Demon King's passing, this tradition persisted, though the meetings had shifted in focus—from discussing weighty matters to higher-ranked demon lords advising their less astute, lower-ranked counterparts on managing their respective clans. As a result, for many of the demon lords present, this was their first time setting foot in the succubi's domain. Their curious, darting glances made them resemble scouts more than rulers.
Just as Tyre had described, the succubi, while appearing somewhat undernourished, were undeniably attractive. More importantly, they were all properly attired—there was no sign of the scandalous destitution one might have feared.
The succubi resided in a single large settlement, numbering roughly a thousand in total. According to Tyre, high-ranking demons were always fewer in number compared to lower-ranked ones—just as no one could ever determine the exact population of slimes, given their tendency to split endlessly. Not even the Slime Lord knew.
The entire succubi population, young and old, male and female, had gathered in the central square, eager to lay eyes on their new Demon King—just as Murphy wished to see them.
A man of composure, Murphy had no inclination for impromptu speeches. Instead, he simply walked back and forth among the succubi, ensuring each of them had a clear view of his face. After completing his rounds, he finally arrived at Tyre's home—a wooden house that, at the very least, could be considered a proper dwelling.
Seated in the living area, Murphy took a sip of the peculiar-colored and oddly flavored traditional demon beverage brewed by Tyre's sister. Then, in a heavy tone, he asked, "Tyre, have the succubi always been like this?"
Tyre, puzzled by the sudden shift in atmosphere, thought for a moment before replying, "Your Majesty, could you clarify what you mean? The succubi have lived this way for decades. We've grown accustomed to it—it isn't necessarily a bad thing."
"You misunderstand me, Tyre." Murphy intertwined his fingers before him, exuding an air of a successful businessman—only missing a pair of glasses that could gleam ominously. "I was asking… Have female succubi always been, well, this size? And I mean mid-sized within the spectrum of medium, large, and extra-large."
Tyre pondered for a moment before shaking his head. Then, as if struck by inspiration, he rummaged through a storage room and retrieved a dust-laden oil painting. The artwork depicted a young female succubus—one with an unquestionably extra-large physique.
"Your Majesty, this is a portrait of my great-grandmother in her youth. She was active around three centuries ago, back when human kingdoms had yet to form, the Demon King had not yet emerged, and the entire continent was in utter chaos—like a pot of boiling soup."
Murphy studied the painting and asked, "So, you're saying the succubi have changed because they haven't been absorbing enough life essence?"
"That seems to be the case, Your Majesty. But, if I may be frank, the succubi—both male and female—are quite content with their stable lives now. They no longer seek to be involved with various factions or… diverse partners. Moreover…"
"Moreover what?" Murphy narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me… you've lost your ancestral trade?"
"…Yes, Your Majesty," Tyre admitted in a small voice. "Times have changed. Those old ways just aren't popular anymore."
Murphy sighed in understanding. He had already sensed that something was amiss during his walk through the square, though he hadn't paid much attention at the time. Now, hearing Tyre's words, he finally grasped the root of the issue.
Every single succubus had looked at him as if he were merely a guest—nothing more. Their gazes were devoid of intrigue, devoid of anything but mild curiosity.
Whether in his past life as Ren Ping'an or now as the Demon King, Murphy had always been confident in his appearance. That not a single succubus had reacted in the way demonology would dictate was nothing short of unnatural. There was only one possible explanation:
They were pure.
Pure. A word that should have had no business being associated with succubi. And yet, here they were—practically one step away from sainthood.
Though Murphy had never intended for the succubi to engage in anything inappropriate, this realization still left him deeply shaken. He found himself growing increasingly intrigued by the state of their culture.
"Tyre, if you don't mind me asking… do the succubi practice free love now?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Tyre replied, his voice reverent, the tips of his ears turning red. "Every succubus in Somnus Hollow finds their one true love."
Murphy covered his face with his hand. This was too pure. Dangerously pure.
"Alright, alright, we can discuss the topic of star-crossed romances later. For now, bring out the Soul Crystal I gave you—the one from the late Demon King."
At Murphy's words, Tyre gestured for his sister to remove the pendant from around her neck, revealing the very Soul Crystal in question.
In just a single day, Tyre had managed to travel home, craft a pendant for his sister, and return to the royal court to act as Murphy's guide. This efficiency made Murphy suspect that Tyre might secretly be a doting brother.
Murphy held up the crystal, watching the candlelight flicker through its core. "Which demon race is most skilled in crafting magical artifacts?"
"Vampires excel at potion-making. We succubi can create enchanted objects, but only harmless ones."
Murphy's interest piqued. He toyed with the crystal in his palm and mused, "I want you to replicate this crystal. I need it to feel like the original."
Tyre immediately shook his head. "That would be impossible for any demon, Your Majesty. And splitting off a portion of a soul to embed within… The craftsmanship required, the agony endured—it's beyond reach. At best, we could create an inferior version."
Murphy's eyes gleamed. "Inferior? How inferior?"
"Well… it would only be able to respond to pre-set questions. And after one use, it would become worthless. Completely impractical—utter trash, really."
Murphy shook his head. "No, no, that's still too good. Can you make it even worse? Strip away all interactive functions. Just make it record a single video and audio sequence, and whenever the user channels magic or essence into it, have it replay from the beginning. Nothing more. Would that be doable?"
Tyre stared at Murphy in astonishment. "If given enough crystals and time, we could certainly produce something as useless as that. Rest assured, Your Majesty—we'll do our utmost to ensure the highest quality."
Murphy's brow furrowed, and he swiftly interrupted, "No, absolutely not. The quality must be terrible. This is for selling, Tyre. Here's what I want—each crystal should be able to play its preset recording a maximum of two hundred—no, one hundred times. The first time should be crystal clear, but every subsequent playback must degrade in quality. By the hundredth time, the crystal should shatter completely, leaving nothing behind. If you can't achieve this, come see me—I'll teach you the High Decay Curse."
Tyre gaped at him in disbelief. "Your Majesty… Are we really going to sell this? And we'd have to record the footage in advance—wouldn't that lower its value? Also… what exactly do you plan to record?"
Murphy smirked, tapping Tyre lightly on the head.
"The late Demon King once told me you were a bright child. Why not use that little brain of yours and take a guess?"