TPDGR 13

Chapter 13……

“Ugh… ugh, it hurts so much.”

“Kkurg?”

“Are you seriously calling this pain? Do you even hear yourself? I’m a patient! I’m coughing up blood from a deadly disease!”

I groaned with all my strength before finally giving up.

The truth was, just like Kyu said, it didn’t actually hurt that much.

But I had definitely coughed up blood, and my heart was racing from the shock.

I avoided Kyu’s gaze and lay sideways on the bed.

The location was the Demon King’s Castle.

I woke up in my bed after coughing up blood and collapsing.

A status window appeared: “Abnormal Condition,” and my body had expelled the blood. I had collapsed from anemia as a result, yet my body itself showed no other issues.

That meant… was it literally just hemoptysis?

At least it seemed like I wasn’t actually sick.

I sank into the soft bed and stared at the blue window that appeared before me.

[‘Demon King Dungeon’
Grade: S-class D-class
Owner: Demon King ‘Anastassios’ (??-class)
Population: 15 (Slimes – Kim Kkyu and 14 others)
Completion: 0 (Unexplored)
Public Sentiment: 5 (Limit: 100)]

‘Public sentiment… went up.’

Probably because the population had gathered, the sentiment that had been at 0 rose slightly to about 5.

But I felt betrayed.

I had assumed that raising public sentiment and dungeon completion would make the dungeon S-rank again.

I thought that if it became S-rank, even hunters wouldn’t easily come near.

So I raised the sentiment—but why am I coughing up blood? Damn this system!

[Check the traits and manage the ‘public sentiment’ of your residents.]

I had read the explanation several times, but now I focused on the part before ‘public sentiment.’

“Traits, huh…”

[Compatibility Clash]
[The traits of ‘Public Sentiment Increase’ and ‘Dungeon Boss’ are in conflict.
When public sentiment rises, the abnormal condition ‘hemoptysis’ occurs.
When public sentiment falls, you gain the ‘Dominance Boost’ buff.

Raise or lower public sentiment from 0 to affect the dungeon’s grade!
!TIPS! You can reduce public sentiment using ‘Fear’.]

Only then did I understand why the owner of the Orc Dungeon exploited the minor orcs.

Threatening them with food and life, publicly humiliating them, and driving them into fear.

Using the dominance gained this way to forcibly extract labor—the method of fear politics! That was the trait of a dungeon owner.

Naturally, I had only thought about raising sentiment, never about using negatives to strengthen the dungeon.

Oppression and exploitation—it turned out this method was an effective form of control in dungeons.

I, on the other hand, was a bit different.

If they were hungry, I gave food; if work was required, only for security or cleaning; if they were sick, I allowed rest. I might have unintentionally said encouraging words to the orcs or Griffith.

And somehow, they went completely overboard, offering their lives to me.

If this trend continued, public sentiment would keep rising…

“Then does that mean I have to cough blood every time?”

Coughing up blood and collapsing from anemia every day?

Even if my health was fine, this was too much!

Maybe I messed up my stat allocation from the start.

If I hadn’t fed them, only extracted labor, and kept the residents in fear, I might have easily raised the dungeon’s grade.

But I didn’t want to do that.

Then maybe I could detach emotionally and treat the residents coldly. Throw garbage on the ground daily.

That way, fear politics might work.

Throw trash on the streets, verbally abuse them, and reduce the frequency of raising the “New Peak” from once a month to every three days.

Even like an annoying sister-in-law, I’d find faults with the fruits every day.

No matter how healthy my body is, I didn’t want to cough blood every time public sentiment rose.

I was deep in thought about ways to become a tyrant.

The door to my bedroom suddenly burst open, and people flooded in.

“D-Demon King! You’re awake!”

Three orcs rushed in and collapsed in front of my bed, sobbing.

They were crying again.

“Hey, I said the ugly ones shouldn’t cry.”

“Wahhh!”

“Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”

“Wahhh! How could you say that!”

“Tsk tsk.”

I turned my head sharply to the opposite side in disgust.

I couldn’t afford to show weakness.

From today, I would become a tyrant to avoid spilling a single drop of blood.

My blood was too precious to cough just because public sentiment went up.

“Grrr.”

I bared my teeth to scare them.

Then I noticed Joanna’s face on the opposite side.

“Demon King… I heard you coughed up blood.”

“….”

“What should we do…? Your face looks so pale… You don’t seem yourself… sob!”

Pearl-like tears rolled down Joanna’s cheeks.

“….”

I quietly closed my teeth.

Though Joanna’s crying made me feel weak inside, I didn’t show it. The thought of continuing fear politics had already taken root.

At that moment, three children slipped through the slightly open door and jumped onto the bed.

“Demon King, don’t be sick!”
“Demon King, you can’t die!”
“Oh my, kids, you shouldn’t be doing this!”

They were the children of the puppet troupe.

Even though the members tried to pull them away, the kids clung to me.

“You can’t do this. The Demon King won’t like it!”
“No! I won’t let go! Demon King!”

The children attached themselves to me, crying.

Their little warm and moist bodies sent strange tingles through my fingertips just from touching them.

But if I didn’t want to cough blood, I would have to growl at these budding sprouts and push public sentiment in the negative.

Why?

Because I… am the Demon King.

Becoming a tyrant looked easy. I could do what the Orc dungeon chiefs did.

Don’t feed them, don’t give medicine, beat them…

“Get down immediately, you kids!”

“No! I’m going to take care of him. Sob sob.”

I could do it.

By plunging these innocent people into fear, I could become a dictator…!

“Wahhh! Demon King!”

Throwing trash, exploiting people, ignoring their struggles—this was a path I could take for my own well-being.

“Wahhh!”

As the kids clung to me, the five puppet troupe members’ eyes also grew moist.

Not only them.

Griffith, who risked his life for twenty-one days fighting Han Hyunjin, had tears welling in his blue eyes…

Even Joanna kept crying…

Everyone except me was in a sea of tears.

I didn’t even know why they were crying like this.

“….”

My heart twisted oddly.

“Damn it.”

I stretched my arms and hugged the three kids tightly.

“I can’t do it.”

How could I drive nails into the hearts of such good children?

How could the tyrants in romance novels even do it?

Seeing their faces, I had no desire to live selfishly.

“Demon King?”

“Just a little blood. I’ll cough it up and that’s it.”

“Eh?”

I looked around at everyone, trying to act nonchalant.

“Everyone, don’t be surprised if I keep coughing up blood. It’s normal for me.”

“What? Normal for you?!”

“There’s a reason. So even if this happens again, don’t panic or cry!”

I spoke in as solemn a voice as I could.

If I could manage it, I’d just cough alone in a place where no one could see…

Then no one would have to worry.

It all seemed simple. It wasn’t serious in the first place.

I hugged Kyu and the kids, patting them with a satisfied heart.

“Oh, our sickly Demon King. What should we do?”

I ignored the orcs and Griffith muttering about weakness or illness.

No way—I’m the world’s strongest Demon King. Why would I be weak?

I’m extremely strong; I’m just coughing up blood occasionally as a cleansing ritual.

I explained it to the dungeon residents.

So there seemed to be no problem.

Meanwhile, Han Hyunjin, who had brought Ana directly to the Demon King’s Castle, was trapped in the dungeon’s basement.

A few hours ago, when Hyunjin had carried the bleeding Ana into the castle, he spoke to the shocked Griffith and orcs.

“The Demon King is in critical condition.”

Without a mask, blood foamed at the corners of Ana’s mouth.

Black blood stained her chin and pale neck, her face completely drained of color.

The orcs quickly took the Demon King away, and Griffith approached.

Bang!

Griffith roughly grabbed Hyunjin by the collar and slammed him against the wall.