The next day,  

Lyssara Veinflare woke up with a splitting headache.  

She rubbed her temples, trying to recall last night—  

the scent of liquor, the haze of laughter,  

and that infuriating man sitting beside her.  

“…I think I got drunk,” she muttered.  

For a long moment she just sat there,  

staring blankly at the ceiling,  

wondering why on earth she’d agreed to drink with him.  

Throughout the day, she buried herself in paperwork—  

guild registrations, dorm construction progress,  

new missions being filed—  

but there was still no sign of that spendthrift idiot.  

She sighed quietly.  

“Well… maybe that’s just his way of helping the guild grow.”  

Her eyes drifted toward the set of blueprints on the table.  

Every line was perfect, every rune precise.  

Even if he drove her insane,  

she couldn’t deny that he was thorough.  

Meanwhile, far from the guild,  

**Jexy Bakian** was trudging up the obsidian steps of the Demon King’s citadel.  

“I’m broke again,” he sighed, hands in pockets.  

“Money really does fly when you’re having fun.”  

He entered the Treasury Management Hall.  

The steward demon behind the desk froze the instant he saw him.  

“Y-Young master…! You—you’re back?!”  

“Relax,” Jexy said cheerfully. “Just here for a small withdrawal.”  

The steward nearly cried.  

Every time this man appeared, the treasury bled dry.  

It had taken him decades to recover from the *last* visit,  

when half the vault was emptied overnight.  

Word of Jexy’s return quickly reached the throne room.  

Demon Lord **Dawf Bakian** broke into a wide grin.  

“Bring my grandson in!”  

Jexy entered, looking resigned. “Grandpa, I—”  

“You don’t need to say it!” Dawf interrupted proudly.  

“I already know!”  

Jexy froze. *Crap… he knows I’m here for money.*  

But instead, Dawf’s expression softened into delight.  

“I knew you could do it!”  

“Do… what?” Jexy asked warily.  

The Demon Lord waved his hand,  

and an illusion lit up the hall—  

the exact moment from the war:  

Jexy lazily seated with a drink,  

a casual flick of his wrist unleashing a storm of forbidden magic.  

Jexy’s jaw dropped. “You even saved *footage*?!”  

Dawf laughed heartily. “Behold the pride of the Bakian line!  

That composure! That dominance! You truly are my grandson!”  

“I only did that because they almost spilled my drink,” Jexy muttered.  

“Ahaha, still pretending to be modest,” Dawf said, waving it off.  

“Now then, what brings you home?”  

“Money,” Jexy said simply. “I’m out.”  

The Demon Lord didn’t even blink.  

He just chuckled. “Of course you are.”  

With a flick of his fingers, a golden slip of parchment appeared.  

“Here. Take this to the steward.”  

Jexy blinked. “That easy?”  

He smirked inwardly. *Old man’s in a good mood today.*  

But then his schemer side kicked in.  

“Grandpa, actually, to save us both the trouble—  

maybe just tell the steward not to ask questions.  

If I come for money, just hand it over.”  

Dawf chuckled. “Fine. Perform well for a while longer,  

and not just the treasury—the whole territory will be yours.”  

Jexy stared. “What would I even do with that?  

I just want the cash, not the paperwork.”  

He left before Dawf could respond.  

At the vault, the steward’s face drained of color  

the instant he saw the Demon Lord’s signature on the slip.  

“This… this is authentic?”  

Jexy grinned. “Yup. Better hurry—I’m on a schedule.”  

The old demon’s hands trembled as he opened the massive doors.  

Mountains of gold glimmered in the dim light.  

And by the time the echo of footsteps faded—  

**Half of it was gone.**  

The steward collapsed to his knees, staring at the hollow vault.  

“I just… finished rebuilding this treasury…”  

Meanwhile, far above,  

Dawf Bakian was still laughing proudly in the throne room,  

completely unaware  

that his beloved grandson had once again  

wiped out half the royal funds.