I gave a slow nod in response, not trusting myself to speak. The pain that had been threatening to tear me apart was gone, but in its place was a maelstrom of confusion, and scrambled memories that I could hardly piece together. The Rite of Insight… It was supposed to give me the knowledge of my ancestors. Despite my flubbing the last phrase, it had apparently worked - at least, if you were willing to stretch the definition of “ancestors” to include past lives. It was having nineteen years of new memories shoved into an twenty one year old head that gave me such a splitting headache, and caused me to pass out. Even now that things had settled, there were still a lot of memories to sort out.

I had apparently been a man in my last life, for one thing. My name had been Jacob Divington. I was, at the time, a high school graduate. I’d worked as a bag boy, trying to save up some money, and I’d held a vague plan to go to college. I’d lived in my parents’ basement. And I’d died in what I could only imagine to be a car crash, after falling asleep at the wheel on my way to work. 

It was sort of a pain that I’d died, but since I recovered all my memories in this new life it hardly seemed to matter. Even if it was strange to go from straight human male to lesbian demon queen, I’d in all honesty already spent twenty one years like this and it wasn’t like I’d ever held complaints before. I was starting to realize that I had been a bit of a spoiled brat up until this point, in fact, so if anyone should have been complaining it was the staff around me. 

There was one thing that worried me, though. That game I had been playing before death, Tower Conquest. It had taken place within the Dimona tower, where I now lived. It had involved defeating ten demon generals, all of whom I recognized from my own life. And the demon queen, who was treated to such a cruel fate at the end of the game, had been named Devilla Satanne.

For a moment, I was desperately tempted to deny it. I wanted to roll about screaming and crying, like the brat I had been this entire life so far. At the same time, I wanted to curse my past self for being such a terrifyingly arrogant individual that even my own demon generals would turn against me. Anger and despair both welled up within me, fighting for dominance, and for several moments I could only stare at my delicate looking hands. The hands of a demon queen.

Eventually I had to face the truth, though.  I had been reborn as the villainess of a porn game. Not only that, but I was already the same age as the Devilla in Tower Conquest. That meant I had less than a year until the heroine came for my head. 

With no other choice, I turned my thoughts toward survival. I desperately wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but there was no time for that. I had less than a year to either find a way to save my people from extinction, defeat the heroine, or simply escape the tower. 

The first option seemed impossible. Even with two lives to draw on, I was still working with only the combined experiences of a spoiled princess and a bag boy. The second option, meanwhile, felt pointless. If my generals all ended up supporting the heroine, then it would hardly matter whether I won or not. My life as a queen would already be over.

In that case, wouldn’t it be best to simply escape the tower? It seemed pretty selfish, at first glance, but it wasn’t as if my presence was actually helping my fellow demons. Most of the time I only managed to get in the way. If I left, my generals would be free to run the country as they wished. They might even be able to find a way to defend against the heroine, and maintain sovereignty.

...Though, really, that would only be delaying the inevitable. There’d still be another heroine, after all, and the next one might not be so compassionate. If we ended up with a particularly vicious one, and there wasn’t a demon queen there to face her, demonkind really could end up getting wiped from the map. 

Even if I wasn’t doing the best job of getting along with my people, I didn’t want to see them killed. If possible, I wanted those who’d been supporting me so far to live happy lives. Ideally, they would be able to achieve the same peace with humanity that they found in the game. Just without the part where I lose to Lucy.

I considered the matter for several moments, trying to examine the issue from different angles. I couldn’t run away. If my generals weren’t desperate to be rid of me, there was simply no way they’d accept working with Lucy. Defeating Lucy, on the other hand, would leave me with ten weakened generals who hated me. Even if I managed to hold onto power and replace them all, after the fact, it was likely that the church would take advantage of our weakened state, whether they had a heroine or not. Replacing the generals preemptively wouldn’t do me much good, either, Even if I could find powerful enough replacements, who actually liked me, there’d be no chance to train them for the job. Removing ten experienced generals in favor of ten inexperienced sycophants wasn’t going to do me much good in battle.

I needed a way to secure my people’s future without sacrificing my own. It was a tall order, and for a long moment I couldn’t think of anything.

Then it hit me. A slow smile began to spread across my lips, gradually transforming into a manic grin. If I wanted to secure a future for my people, I needed my generals to rebel against me. If I wanted to avoid meeting a bad end, I needed to run away. I had been looking at those two things as mutually exclusive - but why? Yes, I did need to be present for them to rebel against me, but I didn’t need to be present after they rebelled against me. So long as I was there when Lucy entered the tower I could simply give a hysterical command for my demons to protect me, then run away in secret. Even if my people eventually realized I wasn’t there anymore, it would be too late for them to put together a better offensive, or designate a new leader. They’d have no choice but to take Lucy’s offer of peace.

But what would happen to me? Running away meant losing my place in this world. With all of demonkind hating me, I’d have no choice but to hide among humans.

That wouldn’t actually be impossible, though. Since this world didn’t have photographs, most humans would have no idea what I looked like. A little hair dye would cover up my pure white hair. I could pass my nails off as painted, and avoid manifesting my wings. My purple eyes might still catch attention, but since Lucy herself had orange eyes I didn’t think that it would be a dealbreaker. The only real concern I had was how I’d manage to support myself. Perhaps as an adventurer? I could exterminate monsters, guard caravans, or perhaps gather out of the way magical ingredients. Even hiding my inhuman strength, I could still boast magical strength far beyond what a human could muster.

I only had one real concern about this plan of action. Namely, I feared that I might be a little lacking in what this world viewed as common sense. I didn’t know how to cook, for example - not without what I still thought of as a modern oven or stove. I also didn’t know how to wash my own clothes without a washing machine. And then there were considerations such as the name of local currency or the price of common goods and services. I could maybe get past the last two, by pretending to be a foreigner, but bluffing wouldn’t help to clean my clothes or fill my belly.

My preferred way of handling this would be to simply learn the skills for myself in the time I had left. Cooking was my main priority, followed by cleaning. I could thankfully already sew, if only barely, thanks to the home ec lessons I’d taken as Jacob. Still, I wasn’t going to turn down the chance to improve that, either.

How exactly was I supposed to master these skills, though? As queen, I couldn’t exactly head into the kitchen and simply start making dinner. I’d draw far too much attention - and far too many questions. Even if I used a spell to blend in with the staff, I’d either get called out as an unfamiliar face, or “fired” for my inability to do the job.

I needed a teacher. Someone who knew the profession, of course. Someone who I could control, and keep silent. Someone no one would raise an eyebrow at seeing, whether they were walking into my bedroom, or busying themselves in the kitchens.

It didn’t take me long to come up with an answer. Compared to trying to figure out how to save both my people and my skin, this one was quite obvious. In fact, the answer was making a very big point of not staring at me in the face.

Turning my attention to the maid who’d spent this entire time standing silently by my side, I gave her a quick once over. She was a lesser succubus, with golden blonde hair that had been cut right above the shoulders, and a little curl at the end of her tresses. I thought perhaps I recognized her, but it was difficult to say. I had never paid attention to my maids before now. But that was about to change.

I let my frown shift into another smile. The maid seemed to stiffen for a moment, and I thought for half an instant that I was somehow seeing terror in those pitch black eyes of hers. It was probably just my imagination, though.

“Hey you,” I started, wishing I’d bothered to learn this one’s name. “How would you like to be my personal maid?”