Chapter 37:

Guessing the Guest’s Guesstimating

The Wolf-Demon of Sloth is Trying to Ruin My Life, So I'll Turn Her Into a Housewife

Jarel watched, intensely curious, as Quinn made breakfast using nothing but the smells drifting into her nostrils.

As it turned out, the fixes made by her “master” - as she referred to the real Demon of Sloth - were truly just that. She wasn’t a true human, but at the same time she could pass as one. Her ears and tail were no longer permanent fixtures. At a thought, they could vanish - and just as easily reappear.

Her obsession with cheese was still present, but it no longer governed her actions.

Which was why, before breakfast, she had insisted on a trip down to the supermarket, where they had tested those fixes and acquired an unholy amount of cheese. Now she was using some of it in whatever breakfast she was making.

From Jarel’s point of view it looked like pan-made cheese toasties, but the presence of red wine told him otherwise.

He had no idea what she was doing.

But he couldn’t deny that the smell drifting through the room was heavenly.

He smiled and called out,

“That smells incredible!”

Her tail went wild as she glanced back, beaming.

“Thank you!”

That was something else that hadn’t been “fixed” - her ears and tail still reacted to her emotions. Maybe that was intentional. Or maybe neither demon minded that her thoughts were always on display.

She hummed lightly as she cooked, hips swaying gently to her own tune.

An idea sparked in Jarel’s mind.

He reached for the television remote, quickly navigated to a music streaming service, and found a suitable playlist. Gradually, he increased the volume - not enough to interrupt, just enough to ease it in.

Her humming stopped as she noticed.

But her body kept swaying.

And then Jarel realized he was staring.

He blinked, trying to work out what dreamworld he’d drifted into, but couldn’t. He’d simply been watching her without a single thought in his mind.

Like an obedient dog.

The comparison made him smile.

And then he realized he was doing it again.

He forced himself to look away, unaware of how much time had passed. He checked the music - four songs.

Around twelve minutes.

He exhaled slowly, a strange relief creeping in. It felt like hours had passed in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly Quinn turned, a spatula in hand, one ear drooping slightly.

“What’s this?”

He frowned.

“A spatula?”

She stared at the utensil for a second, then laughed and shook her head.

“No, I mean the sound.”

He grinned.

“Oh, that’s music. Do you like it?”

She nodded.

“I do!”

He leaned back.

“If you didn’t know what this was, then what were you doing before?”

She blinked.

“Cooking?”

Now it was his turn to laugh.

“No, I mean the sound you were humming.”

She stared at him like he was insane.

“What sound?”

“You weren’t aware?”

She shook her head.

“How long ago?”

“Before I started playing music.”

She shrugged.

“I don’t remember.”

Then she turned back to the hob, adding one last thing as she did so.

“It’ll be ready soon.”

He smiled.

“You’re amazing.”

Her tail picking up speed told him everything he needed to know.

He chuckled, resting the back of his head in his hands, closing his eyes as if sunbathing.

And he listened.

To the music.

To the sounds of his fiancée cooking.

He couldn’t even remember how many days had passed since he met her - and yet here he was. Relaxing on the couch. Being lazy.

And there she was. Cooking for the two of them. Only a label away from being a housewife.

Neither had won, and neither had lost.

A draw.

But the future still beckoned. And towards it, they would run.

And then the expected happened, as it often did.

The front door opening without a knock.

Jarel didn’t even need to raise his head to know it was Sayang. He opened his mouth to greet her, but Quinn beat him to it.

“Oh, hello Aunty! And, um… Mahalina.”

Sayang chuckled.

“Oh, just call me Aunty. Makes things easier.”

It all clicked.

That was why she preferred it - it addressed both of them at once.

Now Jarel was curious what Quinn was actually seeing, so he cracked open an eye.

Just Sayang.

Mahalina must’ve been inside.

He shut his eye again, before his thoughts spiraled into questions about how something like that was even biologically possible.

“I see my worthless nephew is being a great help.”

Quinn giggled.

“That’s my fault. I told him he wasn’t allowed to stand up.”

Jarel smiled, grateful he didn’t have to defend himself. That would almost certainly have ended with a fresh bruise on his scalp.

Sayang chuckled.

“But I thought you no longer worked under the Demon of Sloth, dearie?”

Quinn nodded.

“I don’t, but…”

She glanced at Jarel.

“Something feels wrong about changing anything.”

Sayang nodded knowingly.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll adjust quickly. He’ll do whatever you ask, you know.”

Quinn blinked.

“He will?”

Jarel didn’t like where this was going - but he was defenseless as Sayang delivered what might’ve been the truest statement of the decade.

“He’s head over heels for you. I believe the younglings call it ‘simping’. Either way, you’re the one with the power in this household, and would still be even if you weren’t a demon.”

Jarel could hear Quinn’s tail thumping against the kitchen drawers as she beamed.

“You’re right! I am!”

He didn’t move.

Not until Sayang’s voice turned cold.

“But I would like it if my failure of a nephew could at least greet me when I walk in.”

He shot upright, remembering at the last second that fully standing would likely result in banishment to Hell.

“Morning, Aunty!”

Sayang smiled, satisfied, then cracked her knuckles.

“Now, I smelt something amazing and just knew my niece-in-law was cooking, so I popped over.”

Quinn giggled.

“Take a seat, Aunty. I’ll get my worthless boyfriend to set the table.”

“Hey!”