The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 3 Read Free Page A

and thrown into the alien world of “Japan.”
    He lived in Room 201 of Villa Rosa Sasazuka, a wooden apartment complex built sixty years ago in this neighborhood. The hundred-square-foot, single-room rental served as his temporary Devil’s Castle as Satan attempted to achieve independence through low-wage labor, even though the past few months had proven rather frantic for him.
    The first year was a constant battle with poverty and disaster, but he nonetheless devoted himself wholeheartedly to his work on a daily basis.
    Then, nine months ago, he found a long-term gig at the MgRonald restaurant situated in front of Hatagaya station, a single stop from Sasazuka. After that—in no small part thanks to being blessed bya talented, fast-track manager—he finally began to find some semblance of stability in his life.
    This humdrum routine began to rip at the seams the moment the Hero Emilia, still chasing after the escaped Devil King, appeared before him under the guise of “Emi Yusa.”
    Whether Maou’s completely lawful, high-fructose-corn-syrup-heavy lifestyle could really be described as a “humdrum routine” for a bloodthirsty space alien demon was a matter for debate, but that can be discussed later.
    Regardless, there was no doubt that “rip at the seams” is an apt way to describe what happened next, what with one of his ex-generals attempting to assassinate him and the Hero herself being double-crossed by the humans allegedly supporting her.
    But once it all passed and normalcy returned to his life, it was back to his old Joe Shmoe job, back to three meals a day and a warm floor to sleep on. Maou devoted all the strength he had to keeping this status quo…well, the status quo.
    Even when the Hero took the train three stops down in order to gripe at him on his doorstep, even when a chief cleric from the Church on Ente Isla moved in next door in an attempt to poison him with her allegedly demon-poisoning sacrosanct food, the Devil King stuck to his daily routine, doing what he believed necessary to jump-start his goals of world domination.
    Living a sound personal life, and faithfully building up his reputation in hopes of climbing the MgRonald corporate ladder, was what Maou believed would propel him once again to the throne of overlord.

    After Suzuno Kamazuki—known on another world as Crestia Bell, chief of the Church’s Reconciliation Panel and a girl currently attempting to poison the Devil King by being his private chef, to little effect—destroyed his bicycle, Maou made her pay restitution for it, exaggerating a great deal of its feature set in the process.
    She still looked peeved as they walked along, not entirely convinced Maou was dealing fairly with her.
    “…Did that, uh, cost more than you were expecting?”
    Maou tried to get back on Suzuno’s good side, even though the woman had pulverized his bike and attempted to kill him not long ago. Suzuno opted against returning the gaze, sighing listlessly under the parasol.
    “I think I am beginning to understand why Emilia allows you such leeway in this world.”
    “Oh?”
    “Are you on friendly terms with the owner of that bicycle shop?”
    “Yeah. …Well, not really at first. We both met when we kept volunteering for neighborhood cleanup duty. But his wife liked taking their kid over to MgRonald a lot. We’ve kinda come to know each other a lot more since.”
    The friendship, as Maou described it, couldn’t have been more run-of-the-mill. Turning a street corner to duck into the shade, Suzuno sighed—partly in relief that she escaped the sun, partly due to a sinking sense of disillusionment.
    “I had resigned myself to my fate once you said we were traveling to the bicycle shop today.”
    “What d’you mean by that?”
    Suzuno removed a thick booklet from her tote bag and handed it to Maou.
    “I am referring to the monetary figure that you, the Devil King, would attempt to extort from me. It sent shivers up my spine, to be frank,