Although Nero declined the dream service, the succubus shopkeeper still handed her a menu, allowing Nero to order whatever she liked.
Yes, this place also served food.
However, most customers came for the succubi themselves—like how no one visits a maid café just for the coffee, right?
Waiting for her food wasn't boring either, as Nero had a plethora of succubi around to flirt with.
Her lively conversation with the shopkeeper wasn't hidden from anyone; the entire room had heard every word. With Nero's friendly demeanor and lack of hostility, the succubus staff began to relax around her.
Normally, their clientele was exclusively male, so having a female customer—one more beautiful than most of them—who was genuinely enjoying their company felt novel and refreshing.
"Eh? Nero-sama is the adventurer who defeated a Demon King Army general recently?"
"That's incredible!"
Who wouldn't enjoy being praised? Especially when the compliments came from a group of stunning beauties.
"Umu! Yes, keep the praise coming! I am that amazing!"
Nero saw no need for false modesty. In her eyes, every compliment about her was entirely deserved.
Samiri silently brought Nero's food to the table, placed it down without a word, and prepared to leave.
The farther she could get from this woman who haunted her nightmares, the better.
Back at her peak, she had been cut down by Nero with a single slash. Now, reduced to her current frail state, what chance did she have if Nero recognized her?
Damn it! I came to this remote town to escape her, so why am I running into her here?
The more she overheard Nero's recent achievements—such as her one-on-one victory against a Demon King Army general—the more hopeless Samiri felt.
Although she had constantly grumbled about Nero over the past few months, fantasizing about getting revenge, now that they were face to face, Samiri had no choice but to cower.
"Good, she doesn't seem to have noticed me… I'll just sneak away quietly… quietly…"
Samiri decided to retreat to her room.
She suddenly remembered that she had a drawing of Nero pinned to her wall, one she had been using as a stress outlet—punching it whenever she got mad.
She needed to destroy that incriminating evidence immediately and then flee to another city.
After all, she had chosen this town specifically to avoid Nero. If Nero was here, staying was no longer an option.
As for how she would survive in a new city… She would figure that out later.
Samiri had already made up her mind; not even the shopkeeper could stop her.
But before she could take another step, a hand clamped down on her shoulder.
"Have we… met before?"
Hearing those words whispered in her ear, Samiri felt her soul freeze.
"I-I don't think so. Nero-sama, I don't recall ever meeting you," she stammered, struggling to keep her voice steady.
"Then why…" Nero narrowed her eyes, her hand still firmly on Samiri's shoulder. "Why does it feel like you're terrified of me?"
"Turn your face toward me," Nero commanded, her gaze sharp and unwavering.
Samiri hesitated but eventually complied. After all, when she had first encountered Nero, she'd been in her Balzac vessel. There was no way Nero would recognize her now, right?
Please don't recognize me. Please don't recognize me.
As Nero studied her face, she fell silent, seemingly deep in thought.
Wine-red hair. A petite succubus. And so timid, so easy to tease.
Shamiko? Yoshida Yuko?
The sense of déjà vu was overwhelming.
As Nero contemplated, Samiri, pinned under her grip, was on the verge of tears. The oppressive silence made Nero seem more menacing than a destroyer. Samiri didn't even dare to breathe, her large teardrops trembling at the edge of her eyes.
Am I going to die here today?
Will she cut me in half again like last time? Or will she tear me apart piece by piece like a roasted chicken? Or maybe she'll burn me at the stake?
Why, oh why, did I ever agree to help that old Demon King just to save up for a fishing rod?
Just as Samiri resigned herself to her fate, salvation arrived in the form of the shopkeeper.
"Nero-sama, you're scaring my precious employee, Shamiko."
The shopkeeper puffed out her cheeks in mock displeasure, shooting Nero a playful glare.
"Shamiko?" Nero blinked in surprise. Even the name was similar?
"That's right, Shamiko. Isn't it a cute name? I gave it to her myself," the shopkeeper explained as she wrapped an arm protectively around Samiri, gazing at Nero with a teasing smile.
"Shamiko here is a recent hire. She's still getting used to the job and is quite shy. Please, try not to frighten her."
"Umu! My apologies. I'll be more careful," Nero said, folding her arms across her chest. "It's just… How do I put it? She feels oddly familiar. Looking at her reminds me of someone I know well."
Nero crouched slightly to meet Samiri's gaze directly, her vivid green eyes studying her face closely.
The more she looked, the stronger the sense of familiarity grew.
Especially the way Samiri seemed on the verge of crying, yet stubbornly held back her tears. It was just so… nostalgic.
Unable to bear Nero's intense scrutiny any longer, Samiri fled behind the shopkeeper, clutching the back of her dress as if it were her lifeline.
For the first time, Samiri felt genuinely safe, shielded by the shopkeeper from this terrifying woman.
"Hey, Shamiko," Nero said casually, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Can you repeat something for me?"
"W-What is it?"
Samiri's guard went up immediately, though she felt slightly relieved that Nero hadn't recognized her as Balzac.
Nero, however, was struck by how much Samiri reminded her of Yoshida Yuko from The Demon Girl Next Door. A playful idea struck her.
"Repeat after me: 'Don't think this means you've won!' Just once."
Samiri's heart, which had just started to calm, plummeted into despair.
That's what I said to her when I fled the battlefield last time!
She recognized me after all—?!