Chapter 27: Holiday

No one complained. Partly because he paid his bills on time. And partly because several very scary demons quietly followed him wherever he went, giving rise to rumors.

“He’s a dangerous criminal exiled from Murica but kept under surveillance.”

“HEY, ORKIE! SEE YOU TONIGHT!” a dog beastman shouted from across the street.

“YEAH! SEE YA, FIDO-DIDO-WHATEVER!” Solo yelled back, already tipsy.

He made his way to the beach, spread out a picnic blanket, and activated Modern Family through his skill.

“AAHAHAHA! OH PHIL, YOU IDIOT!”

He took a long sip of ale, eyes fixed on the ghostly Earth UI only he could see.

The downside of his skill: the internet was frozen on the exact day he was isekai’d. No updates. No new episodes.

Still, 130 years was more than enough time to watch everything—America’s Hollywood, India’s Bollywood, Pakistan’s Lollywood, even Afghanistan’s propaganda film industry, Bombywood.

But Modern Family and Friends were always home.

“Ahem.”

Solo glanced to the side.

Bare feet stood on the sand. Perfectly manicured. Definitely a woman’s.

He looked up.

“Aren’t you Levi’s assistant?” he squinted. “Hannya, was it?”

“That is correct, sir,” Hannya replied politely.

“What are you doing here? Hahaha. Come sit. Watch movies with me.”

“I can’t see anything from your skill, sir.”

“Ah, right…” Solo waved lazily. “So? What’s up?”

“You, sir. You are required back in Bashington.”

“What?” Solo groaned. “I’m on vacation. Tell them I have stomach problems. Or foot problems. Or mental problems. Leave me alone.”

Four weeks ago, Lich’s revelation had shattered him.

Everything he built.

One hundred and thirty years of unifying demons.

One hundred and thirty years of developing technology.

One hundred and thirty years of forging a functioning nation.

All of it had only made the goddess’s harvest more delicious.

Defeated, he decide to fled to Dawn City for a “two-week vacation.”

That was four weeks ago.

Now he enjoyed slow living in an isekai world.

He enjoyed being “Orkie.”

Not a leader drowning in paperwork.

---

Dawn City, Solo’s Favorite Tavern

In the night time, inside an RPG-style tavern filled with wooden tables, the atmosphere was unusually quiet. Only the tavern owner, Solo, and Hannya occupied the space.

Solo enjoyed his dinner—some kind of fantasy meat—and a large mug of ale. Across from him, Hannya sipped water in composed, graceful silence.

“You sure you don’t want some?” Solo asked. “It’s great.”

“No, thank you.”

“This place is usually packed…” Solo glanced around. “Wonder where everyone is. Maybe they’ll show up later.”

“Perhaps, sir.” Hannya tilted her head slightly. “Do your drinking friends know you are the Murican leader?”

“Of course not. That’ll ruins the vibe.”

“MASTER! MORE ALE!” Solo shouted.

The tavern owner flinched, hurried over, and placed another full mug in front of Solo.

“U-uh… here, sir. I hope you like it.”

He immediately fled back to the kitchen.

“Strange…” Solo frowned at the mug. “He never called me ‘sir’ before. He usually just calls me Orkie…”

Solo narrowed his eyes at Hannya.

“So why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be back at your post?”

“I am at my post,” Hannya replied calmly. “I am the new Murican Ambassador to Ravendawn.”

“Really? When?”

“Three days ago. Madam Lilith swore me in, since you were absent.”

“Oooh… congrats.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But still,” Solo said, taking another sip of ale, “you haven’t answered my first question. Why are you still here with me? You’re not even trying to persuade me or lecture me to go back.”

“Why should I?” she replied evenly. “When there is someone more capable than me.”

“…?”

Something felt off.

The empty streets.

The empty tavern.

The nervous owner.

“Wait… no… NO…” Solo’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me…”

“Is this—the Homewreck Protocol!?”

BOOOOOOOOM!

The tavern entrance exploded. Half the building collapsed inward as dust and debris flooded the room.

“Cough—Hannya!? You okay!?” Solo shouted through the smoke. “Hannya!?”

No response.

Flap… flap… flap… flap…

A slow, ominous rhythm of wings filled the air.

“Alex… Solomon…”

A soft yet terrifying demonic voice drifted from the ruined entrance.

Solo looked up.

Through the settling dust, a figure descended—red wings unfurled, eyes glowing like burning rubies, framed by the full moon.

Elegant.

Terrifying.

Solo went pale.

It was the deadliest creature in the Demon Kingdom.

An apex demon.

His wife.

“Uhh… eh… hi, honey… Long time no see…ing you, in that form.”

Whoosh.

In the blink of an eye, Lilith—who had been ten meters away—now had Solo by the neck with one hand. She lifted the level-1 orc like he weighed less than a house cat, leaving him dangling helplessly in midair. His feet flailed uselessly, kicking at thin air, while he wheezed like a dying accordion.

“Hi, honey. You didn’t answer my call.”

Her voice wasn’t just a voice. It was many voices, layered together like in every horror movie. Solo hadn’t heard that tone since the last time he royally screwed up during an in-law visit… decades ago.

“I-I’m sorry, babe! I couldn’t charge my phone—there’s, uh… no electricity here?” he gasped.

Lilith narrowed her eyes sharply.

“I see. And how was your holiday?”

“G-Good?” Solo squeaked.

“Is that so?”

CRASH!

Lilith flung Solo into the bar. Shelves buckled, half the liquor stock exploded in a wave of glass and booze.

Whoosh.

Before he could even apologize again, she had him by the neck and hoisted him up a second time, like Solo was a particularly disappointing bag of groceries.

“NOW TELL ME! WHO IS THE SLUT THAT’S KEEPING YOU HERE!? IS IT A CAT GIRL? OR A BUNNY GIRL?!”

“N-No girl… I swear… please… can’t breathe…” Solo’s voice squeaked somewhere between panic and plea.

Lilith didn’t blink. She flung him again. This time he smashed through tables and chairs.

“Cough… gasp…” Solo wheezed, finally inhaling air like it was the last puff on Earth.

“DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME! YOU ALWAYS ASK ME TO WEAR THOSE ANIMAL EARS! YOU MUST HAVE FOUND A REAL ONE HERE!”

“Honey… honey…” Solo tried to reason, his voice trembling. “I promise you… there are no girls. Now calm down… we’re not in Murica. We don’t want to cause a diplomatic incident with our only ally, right?”

He tried to sound confident, but Solo knew better. The only thing sharper than Lilith’s rage… was her professionalism.

Lilith’s smiled sweetly.

“Oh, but we are in Murica,” she said. “Technically, you are standing on recently purchased land for the new Murica embassy. I signed the deal three hours ago… as the acting Prime Minister.”

“Oh shit…” Solo muttered, eyes dropping to the ground beneath him.

“NOW GET READY, MY LOVE,” Lilith sweet smile turn to a grin. “YOU HAVE A LONG NIGHT AHEAD OF YOU.”

A ball of crackling demonic energy sparked to life in her palm, buzzing like a blender.

---

On a Street Nearby

BOOOMMM!

Hannya and the tavern owner watches at the explosion from afar. Curious townsfolk tried to sneak closer, but Secret Service agents and Dawn’s guards formed a strict 500-meter perimeter—standard procedure for the Homewreck Protocol.

Homewreck Protocol was a special emergency procedure devised by the Murican Secret Service.

Its rules were simple:

1. If the Prime Minister and Chief of Staff about to fight, evacuate neaby area.

2. Lure the weaker spouse in.

3. Let the stronger spouse vent in a controlled environment.

4. Expect “somewhat acceptable” property damage.

“Thank you for your prompt cooperation, sir,” Hannya said, handing a bag of gold to the tavern owner.

“Ah… sure…” He had already packed his luggage in a rush.
“Uh… Miss Demon, may I ask… is it true? That Orkie is actually a wanted criminal?”

“Yes,” Hannya replied calmly, “He is wanted for his crimes right now.”

The tavern owner blinked. While Hannya continue watches the land clearing for her new office being in progress.

---

Dawn Castle, East Wing

The East Wing had always been reserved for foreign dignitaries.
This time, it hosted the Prime Minister of Murica… and his wife, the Chief of Staff.

Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the master bedroom, gently waking Lilith. She stretched beneath the sheets, enjoying the warmth—an odd little habit she’d picked up from Solo over the years. She hated how comfortable it was.

She swung her legs off the bed and walked toward the bathroom.

Click.
Click.

Locked.

Right. She’d locked it last night.

Lilith sighed, reached for the key on the nightstand, and unlocked the door.

Inside, Solo was asleep in the bathtub. Bruised. Bandaged. Half-submerged. Snoring peacefully, like a man who absolutely did not remember how he got there.

She kicked the bathtub.

“Guh—huh??” Solo jolted awake.

“Get out,” Lilith said flatly. “I’m taking a bath.”

Battered, bruised, and wobbling, Solo dragged himself out of the tub. Every bones on him complained on each step.

Later, Solo examined himself in the mirror. Poking his wounds.

Lilith stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her hair, steam trailing behind her.

“Honey…” Solo said carefully. “You killed me three times last night.”

“You deserved it,” she replied, already getting dressed.

Solo briefly considered whether he should try passing a Domestic Violence Act again.
The last time he brought it up after a fight, the entire demon parliament had laughed so hard someone fainted.

Banning domestic violence in violent demon households?
Comedy gold.

“I don’t know if I should thank the goddess or not for this curse,” Solo muttered.

“You should thank me for not killing you in my true form again,” Lilith snapped.
“Ugh. That reminds me of that slutty harpy.”

“Oh come on, honey, that was fifty years ago—”

“Shut up,” she cut him off. “For a long-lifespan demon like me, fifty years is basically last month!”

“…Sorry.”

Solo’s eyes drifted downward.

Lilith was wearing a bikini under her light summer dress.

“Uhh… I thought you came here to drag me home,” Solo said. “What’s with the outfit?”

“You’re not the only one who gets to take a vacation.”

SLAM.

She left.

Solo stood there, blinking at the closed door.

“…Wait! I’M COMING WITH YOU!”