Being the Demon Lord’s Daughter Is Boring, So I Escape to Become an Adventurer!

“Master, I will leave to receive the doctor,” Abel said.

“I will go. No one enters this room.”

“Understood.”

While heading toward his manor’s entrance, Damien sifted his fingers through his hair and sighed. There should have been no reason for Camay’s behavior, as he had taken every step to ensure her comfort. If anything, the culprits were presumably the maids who had prepared her for the meal.

Damien rubbed his thumb against his forefinger and middle finger several times. He intended to publicly reprimand the guilty servants, forcing them to grovel in front of Camay. She would not need to say a single word as she watched him deliver their punishment from a distance away. The punishment itself depended on the severity of her maltreatment, all of which would soon come into light.

Arriving at his manor was a carriage emblazoned with the crest of a platinum sword that had angel wings sprouting from its guard and interlacing its blade. This crest belonged to the Sylph family, founder of the Sylphia brand, that was renowned for their ability to forge superlative weapons and armor.

A gorgeous woman clad in a noble blazer with her hands pocketed in her trousers leapt out of the carriage. Without pause, she hustled towards Damien and spoke coolly.

“I never expected you’d call me.”

“…”

At Damien’s silence, the woman furrowed her brows.

“What’s wrong with you? Come on, let’s walk and talk.”

At her suggestion, Damien turned and headed inside his manor.

“Follow.”

The woman slipped her hands out of her pockets and crossed her arms. She side-glanced at Damien, attempting to get a read on him, but it was no use. Even under pressure, a rock like Damien would never yield. She sighed at her inability to discover his breaking point after all these years.

Although her confusion would soon be allayed, her impatience was not subsiding. Her curiosity had been growing during the trip here and was now nearing its peak. No matter how equable Damien was, the fact that he had summoned her to his mansion meant that there was something wrong—something that even he could not handle. Knowing that he was masking his anxiety, a widening grin spawned on her face. Lifting a forearm, she covered her mouth with fingers.

Ever since Damien was granted the title of Duke and was bestowed his manor by the king, he had never once summoned anyone, much less a doctor. Officials throughout the kingdom would try their hand at building a connection with him but were all disregarded. With Damien’s title, power, and treasury, if a low-class noble family were to somehow gain his favor, they would be feared not only by their equals, but even by their higher-ranking counterparts.

To Damien, this competition of clout was a never-ending farce. Nothing mattered anymore after Maria’s passing and the constant badgering of greedy nobles did not help. In the end, he decided to offload his aristocratic duties to his trusted butler, Abel, while he slaughtered monsters in the Nether. It was his only solace—a place where he could abandon virtue. Go insane—and forget her.

But one day, a monochrome day like any other, he saw silver hair and amber eyes. Unsettled by a profound recollection, he could no longer let go. Then, he smelled jasmine, lotus, and rosemary. It was her, yet not. He sought conviction for this paradox. After numerous trials, the results remained stagnant: it was her, yet not—but.

It no longer mattered. No one deserved her more than him. Therefore, she belonged to him. From now on, he would see her every day, and he would give her no reason to leave. Anything she wanted would be hers. All she had to do was stay by his side.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she was fraught. Physically, she was as healthy as could be, but nowhere near as hearty as before. With Damien’s prowess in holy magic, any injury could be mended, but he was unable to deal with this type of malaise. That was why he contacted his old classmate, Valerie Sylph, the pioneer of holistic treatment.

Abel bowed and replied, “Greetings, Dame Valerie Sylph.”

“No need for any of that. Just call me Valerie. You have my regards for taking care of Damien.”“…” Damien was in no mood to retort.

“Is the patient in this room?”

“Yes, Little Miss Camay is resting inside,” Abel said before he opened the door.

Lying on the canopied bed was a silver-haired girl with closed eyes. The ajar windows welcomed a gentle breeze that swayed the curtains and coverings.

Without delay nor hesitation, Valerie started making her way toward the bed. Her initial hustling gradually slowed down to a tromp as she neared the bed.

The little girl, noticing that someone was standing beside her, opened her amber eyes and stared curiously at the woman.

Valerie gaped at this sight. There was no mistaking it—she had recognized this face all too intimately. Her eyes immediately became downcast.

“Damien.”

Damien’s focus was seized by Valerie, who rarely spoke in such a grave tone. Even so, his response was nothing but stolid, as usual.

“Hm?”

“Leave the room. I need to be alone with her—ahem—I mean, the patient.”

“…”

Damien wanted to refuse but he needed her help. “Five minutes,” he said.

“Ten.” Valerie refuted.

Outside, Damien and Abel were waiting next to a closed door.

“Open the door in ten minutes.”

“Understood.”

Inside, Valerie dropped to her knees and leveled with the silver-haired girl. Granted a mere ten minutes of privacy with Camay, she would not waste a single minute.

“May I call you Camay?” she whispered.

“Mhm. What’s your name?”

Valerie’s eyes widened. Hearing this familiar voice had released a rush of emotions within her. She steeled herself from getting distracted. If she relished this moment, it would be over too soon.

“I am Valerie Sylph. You can call me Val.”

Camay blinked twice with surprise at Valerie’s informality.

“I can’t. I was taught it would be impolite.”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? Who taught you that?”

“Miss Tarotte did.”

“I see.” So Yanna already knew. “Call me Valerie, then, okay?”

Camay nodded.

“Miss Valerie.”

“No. Just Valerie.”

After a small pause, “Valerie.”

“Good. Now, can you tell me what’s weighing on your mind?”

Eight minutes and fifty-one seconds left, Valerie thought.