They’d often meet up, occasionally working together on potential new business ventures. Recovery potion sales, for example. Mjöllmile was still the exclusive vendor around here, and he was now earning stable profits from his work. Just as things settled down with that, Rimuru approached him about developing a new type of food, “ramen,” brought in from his own world. This was already on sale in a handful of restaurants, and the feedback was encouraging so far.
Now, more recently, Rimuru had had him taste test something called a “burger,” talking about building a “chain” of restaurants specializing in their production and sale. Mjöllmile had agreed to test the concept, and right now he was busy assembling and educating a staff, as well as finding a location and outfitting it with everything needed. He had wanted to report back to Rimuru about his progress, but his demon lord duties kept him fiendishly busy. It had been about a month since they last spoke.
“Well, well! If it isn’t Rimuru! I thought you said you were too caught up in this or that crisis to come visit?”
Mjöllmile, surprised at this sudden appearance, couldn’t help but ask. After all, Rimuru had a thundering horde of Crusaders to deal with at the moment. He even advised the merchant to avoid Tempest for a while, as it’d be too dangerous for him. Fuze, guild master for the Kingdom of Blumund, was still cursing himself over his failure to stop Hinata, the Saint. So why was the lord himself here? All these thoughts immediately pushed Viscount Cazac out of Mjöllmile’s mind.
“Stop! Please, stop! The master is seeing another visitor!”
He could hear the voice of one of his servants, someone too new to know who Rimuru was. Upon catching sight of him, the servant stopped in his tracks and just stared at him, slack-jawed. It was a rather pathetic sight to see—but Mjöllmile couldn’t blame him, since he himself might be doing the same if he didn’t stop himself. It was fine if they were talking or scheming over something, but when Rimuru was his normal self, he was just so touchingly attractive, a completely different person.
“Rimuru, you said?”
Mjöllmile ignored Cazac. Rimuru, finally noticing him, gave him an awkward look.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were busy. I’ll be waiting over at your manor, all right? See ya!”
The sound of Rimuru’s voice brought Mjöllmile abruptly back to consciousness. He began to feel honest pity for Cazac, the viscount who told a demon lord “How dare you” to his face.
If Rimuru wasn’t so easygoing, I doubt the viscount would be breathing right now…
What you don’t know can’t hurt you, as they say, although Mjöllmile wondered if he should make an exception at the moment.
But Cazac spoke up again, his voice raised. “Look, you little boy…or girl? What are you, Mjöllmile’s mistress or the like? Do you realize you’ve both interrupted my meeting and listened in on confidential information? Do you understand the consequences of your indiscretion, hmm?”
Oh, by the gods, what is he saying…?
Mjöllmile, seeing Cazac eye Rimuru up and down with lecherous intent, could feel his heart stop.
“Oh, I apologize about that, sir. Nobody stopped me from barging in, so… Sorry.”
Rimuru was cheerfully apologetic. But Cazac was too high-handed to forgive him.
“Hmm… You know, I like your face. Look, you could use a little instruction on how the world works, I’d say. How would you like me to look after you?”
Great. And now this.
Why do I have to deal with these utter fools, day in, day out…?
Mjöllmile was beyond exasperated and well into the realm of anger. Life seemed too ridiculous to be worth it at the moment. He could handle the scorn of bush-league nobility. But treating Rimuru, a man he owed a life debt to, like some harlot was unforgivable. Cazac’s behavior had crossed the line and then some.
Yes, picking a fight with a noble would put Mjöllmile at a disadvantage, in the eyes of the law—but did that mean he should just sit there and take it? No. He was willing to be modest with rabble like this because it’d be a pain for him otherwise, but open hostility deserved to be treated in kind.
The merchant steeled himself.
“Cazac, you are being rude to the individual who saved my life. Why does some viscount think he can get away with riling me?”
“Wh-what?!”
“There will be no more business between us. I don’t want to see you in here begging me for anything again!”
“H-how dare you! A merchant, rebelling against nobility… Mjöllmile, have you gone mad?!”
“Hmph! Anyone willing to work with criminal groups and trigger cross-border crises is nothing but trouble to me. You’re liable to bring those kind to this city, too. Better to stamp out that pestilence before it can happen, I’d say.”
“M-Mjöllmile! After all the favors I’ve done for you… I’ll make sure you regret this!!”
With that, Cazac stormed out of the office, spotting the servants who had come in to see what the racket was about and figuring now was a good time to leave.
“Pfft. This child, thinking he rules the world…”
“Uh, Mollie? You sure you’re okay with riling that guy?”
Rimuru, meanwhile, was as breezy as always. He really is like nothing on this world, Mjöllmile thought as he relaxed. It’s just as I thought when I heard of his ascension. He never changes…
He then dismissed all the other potential clients in his waiting room. In this world, there were certain opportunities you couldn’t afford to miss. He wasn’t foolish enough to misread the truly important things. He was a capable merchant, and he understood the importance of finding diamonds in the rough. But he also knew that some things were vital enough to abandon everything else for.
And really, he couldn’t find it in himself to make Rimuru
