"I did some preliminary research, and in the Frank Empire, the standard interest rate is around ten percent."
I lit my pipe with a snap. A fresh fragrance curled through my mouth.
"Ten percent is a bit steep for a government that's just getting on its feet. If you offered to lend at four percent, they'd thank you and accept in a heartbeat."
"Mm…"
Ivar squirmed. She seemed to be trying to stand, but the hands braced against the floor went limp, and she tumbled back down again. I bent down and hauled Ivar onto the bed.
The girl's skin glistened transparent with sweat. Vampires shared something in common with the Demon Lord—they gave off virtually no scent from their bodily fluids. When I buried my face against her chest, a pleasant skin-fragrance wafted over me.
"Ivar. You smell wonderful."
"…Four percent is too little."
Ivar murmured in a voice no louder than a mosquito.
"Unless it's at least seven percent, there's no deal."
"Hmph. You can barely keep yourself upright, yet you're razor-sharp when it comes to money. Fine. Who could outdo you in matters of commerce? Do as you please."
Ivar gave a small nod.
"…Lord Dantalion, you are remarkably frugal."
"Huh, frugal? Me?"
The word was so ill-suited to me that I was momentarily taken aback. Ivar Lodbrok was the single wealthiest person in the entire Demon Realm. Did that mean even my spending habits looked modest to a tycoon of her caliber?
"Though I do think I spend quite freely, all things considered."
"Spending freely and conspicuous spending are separate matters entirely. Looking at what Your Lordship has mainly invested in so far—Demon Lord's Castle, territory, bribes, military supplies—while remaining utterly indifferent to clothing and accessories."
Ivar seemed to be telling me I never indulged in luxury. I smirked and held up my pipe.
"You might not realize it, but this tobacco I'm smoking right now is absurdly expensive. I commissioned an alchemist to craft it by hand. It may not be visible to the naked eye, but Demon Lord Dantalion is the biggest spendthrift of them all."
"Forgive me, but that is precisely the point. No one can see it."
Ivar stroked my left pinky finger.
My left hand was missing its middle and ring fingers. She liked to fondle my defective left hand—perhaps some infantile need was being projected through the act.
"Luxury only matters when people can recognize it. Lord Dantalion, on narcotics or…"
"Tobacco."
"…You spend a fortune on tobacco and liquor, yet you are strangely stingy on items that would actually be visible to others. This outfit alone is a prime example."
Ivar picked up a crumpled garment from the bed and held it open.
"Just like the trousers, the top is solid black, worn out in spots after God knows how many years… Only a person with absolute indifference to their appearance would wear something like this."
"R-ragged?"
"Your Lordship has narrow shoulders and very little flesh, so without properly tailored clothing, you look extremely unpresentable."
"…"
Why was it that every woman I was close to—Sitri included—ripped apart my style? It was almost heartbreaking.
"It severely diminishes Your Lordship's dignity."
Ivar Lodbrok murmured with the hawkish eyes of a merchant.
"Truly, I cannot fathom why Lapis Lazuli, who is essentially half-retainer to Your Lordship, never bothers with such things. It's no different from tarnishing our company's name."
She glanced up at me timidly.
"Well… so, if Your Lordship will permit me to broach the subject. The campaign has ended and the balls are mostly over, so…"
For once, Ivar was hemming and hawing.
"If Your Lordship happens to have some free time… that is, if my suggestion wouldn't be an inconvenience in the slightest. So to speak."
"Hm? Whatever it is, you're certainly taking your sweet time about it."
I drew a deep puff of tobacco.
"Go on. We're partners, aren't we? Short of the moon from the sky, I'm inclined to grant most requests. You already helped me with the Frank Empire matter, so there. Don't hold back."
"…"
In any deal, what goes around comes around. I meant every word.
Ivar drew a deep breath. For some reason, her cheeks flushed faintly red. She appeared to steel herself, looked me straight in the eye, and spoke.
"W-would it be alright… if I were to select clothing suited to Your Lordship!"
"…"
What?
"That is, going forward, I expect that Your Lordship will continue to build a close relationship with our company, and supporting Your Lordship in various capacities is our company's duty—no, our fundamental responsibility."
I forgot all about my pipe and stared blankly at Ivar.
Realizing my gaze, Ivar grew even more flustered. Her porcelain-white skin made her deeply flushed cheeks stand out all the more.
"It is only natural as my obligation, and I assure you there is absolutely no ulterior motive or hidden agenda. That is to say, it just so happens that the opportunity has presented itself, and Your Lordship is enjoying a rare moment of leisure, so I thought I might take the burden off Your mind…"
"C-cute."
"…I'm sorry? Did I hear that wrong?"
I couldn't help myself and pulled Ivar into a tight embrace.
"How can you be this pure!"
"Wh-what?"
"Yes! This is it! This is what I wanted!"
Purity!
The kind of overwhelming purity where they're too embarrassed to even suggest going on a date!
Barbatos would be humming about going on a date only to drag me to some random lesbian-only brothel. Laura had grown so jaded she looked bored no matter what. Paimon always wore that languid, knowing smile of a seasoned adult. And Gamigin acted like she was the main wife the moment you so much as did anything nice for her.
Sitri was the only one who still got shy, but there was something off about her.
For all her shyness, the place she took me to was an SM club. Pure as a schoolgirl yet performing at a level that would make even the most jaded old pervert's jaw drop six miles. It made no sense.
But look at Ivar Lodbrok!
The sole purpose of the date is to buy her lover beautiful clothes!
"How wholesome. How pure…"
I couldn't help but shed tears of emotion at this gentle soul, as delicate as a soap bubble.
"Your Lordship, why are you weeping pearls of jade? I am most perplexed."
"Ivar Lodbrok. You are truly as beautiful as a jewel."
"Wh-what?"
Ivar's blush spread all the way to her ears.
"The age of darkness reigns supreme. Upon a land once brimming with light, only shameless scheming and hypocrisy now run rampant. I, Dantalion, a wandering minstrel in search of purity, could not help but lament."
"…"
For some reason, Ivar shot me a look that seemed to say "Isn't that entirely Your Lordship's own doing," but I ignored it.
"To discover the treasure I've been seeking so desperately, right here—my very skull might float to heaven from joy. Clothes? Ah, of course I'll buy them for you. Evening gowns, party dresses—no, rings, necklaces, anything you want, just pick."
"Y-your Lordship. They should be for you, not for me…"
Ivar mumbled something, but I ignored her again.
I declared with bold finality:
"Today, Niflheim is yours to command!"
My wallet never opened easily. I was a notorious penny-pincher.
But once it did open, a Chaos Warp was imminent.
I grabbed Ivar's wrist and raised my finger like Captain Amundsen's expedition team about to conquer the South Pole.
"Come. Let us go, Ivar Lodbrok! The Demon Realm's night awaits us."
"W-wait, Your Lordship. At least let me put on clothes…"
We dashed out of the trading company building. Both of us were in our sleepwear, but that didn't matter. To be precise, Ivar had screamed for just enough time to get dressed, but I tuned it out with one ear. I hailed the most expensive carriage in the city.
"To the most famous clothing shop in this city."
I climbed aboard and announced the destination.
The elf coachman bowed politely.
"How famous a shop shall I take you to, my lord?"
"The most expensive one, of course."
"Your command is obeyed."
The carriage glided through the streets of Niflheim without so much as a jolt.
We began our pilgrimage at the clothing designer's boutique.
"My goodness, I've never seen such a gorgeous customer. Is she Your Lordship's secret lover?"
"She— I, I'm…"
Ivar stammered at the designer's question. I placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Yes. She's the new lover I recently acquired. Do show her your finest work."
"Oh my! As expected of Lord Dantalion! A classic bad boy, truly!"
There wasn't a single demonkin in the city who didn't recognize my already-famous face. The Succubus shopkeeper grew animated and rushed over with design samples suited to Ivar.
"You precious thing. Every piece is made from the finest materials. What do you think? The advantage is that they reflect the latest trends while preserving a classic elegance."
"Wh-what."
"Too modest? Don't worry. If you turn around like this—oh my! The open back adds a sexy flair. A girl as young as you, yet with that subtly mature charm—it's absolutely perfect! What do you think?"
"Hm. Looks good."
While Ivar was too overwhelmed by the owner's momentum to say anything, I coolly interjected.
"We'll take it."
"Lord Dantalion, you're amazing!"
The owner's pupils gleamed like gold coins.
"Then what about this outdoor dress? Or this ball exclusive? And this dress specialized for the bedroom—you can't pass this one up either!"
"Phew."
I exhaled a long, rich plume of smoke. Then I swept my finger across the entire display case.
"From that end to this end. Everything."
"AAAHH!"
Leaving behind the shopkeeper who had fainted from the deal of a lifetime, the carriage headed to the next destination. The goblin owner of a necklace shop rushed out to greet us at the entrance, bowing repeatedly.
"I have long heard of Your Lordship's renown. To receive Your Lordship as a customer today is an unparalleled honor."
"Recommend a necklace that suits this young lady."
"Oh ho."
The goblin raised his monocle. The eyes of an artisan gleamed.
"Fair skin, a lovely neckline, and a gorgeous collarbone. Any necklace adorned upon this young lady would surely be delighted. Your Lordship, what type of gemstone do you prefer?"
"You seem to have misunderstood my request."
I shook my head.
"I said to recommend any necklace that would suit her."
"A-any necklace, my lord?"
"Yes. Any necklace at all."
The goblin owner gulped. The artisan's careful deliberation had vanished from his pupils, replaced by a merchant's greed that shimmered in rainbow hues.
"My deepest apologies. I failed to grasp Your Lordship's true intentions. I shall bring them at once."
The goblin and his assistant scurried off somewhere in a frenzy.
"Here they are. These are necklaces crafted from the finest raw stones mined in Orbal Hell, each made over several years by renowned artisans of the Demon Realm—top-grade pieces, every one. Now then, my lady, please try them on one at a time."
Ivar tried on roughly ten necklaces, one by one.
"Which one pleases you, mademoiselle?"
"I… anything is fine."
Ivar still hadn't recovered her composure.
Niflheim was practically Ivar Lodbrok's front yard, but this was her first time walking around in her original body. She'd probably never even imagined visiting a women-only clothing store or jewelry shop.
When your lover can't make a decision, making it for her is a partner's job.
I took the pipe from my mouth and said:
"We'll take all of them."
That day, nine shop owners in Niflheim fainted.