Misunderstood Hero: My Family Are All Villains

’All of it is... mine.’

The Holy Palace was directly connected to the Last City, so once they reached the end of the stairs, they were already upon its beauty.

And what a beauty it was, combining both the style of the desert and a more modern design that Malik hadn’t expected to see.

All the houses were white, with large arches and windows that let the morning light pour through.

Their roofs were tiled in clay, and their chimneys released thin trails of smoke into the clear sky, proof of lives being lived behind those walls.

The roads in between were paved with a gray stone that seemed to absorb the Suns’ heat, keeping the ground cool even as the day grew warmer.

Statues and fountains were dotted about the city, many of them close to much larger buildings of worship that rose above the surrounding structures.

What stood out the most were the incredibly massive walls surrounding the city, thick and tall enough to withstand a siege from any army.

They made the Last City feel more like a fortress than the main hub of commerce that it was apparently known for—something that Malik recognized from its appearance alone.

There were traders and merchants everywhere he saw.

Most of them had set up bazaars in the middle of the streets, their colorful canopies stretching across the road, while others seemed ready to move at a moment’s notice.

Their wares were packed into wagons, making it obvious that they were traveling merchants passing through.

It truly was an incredible sight.

Malik found himself slowing down just to take it all in.

"This is the kingdom you saved."

Layla smiled softly beside him.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?"

Malik hummed in response.

"Thanks for suggesting this. I needed to show my face around."

"Oh..."

Her purple eyes widened, as if she hadn’t expected him to actually thank her.

"Of course! Y-You can thank me by buying me food."

He tilted his head at her, genuinely confused for a moment.

Buy her food? She likely had more gold than he did, being the Queen and all...

Then the realization hit him—oh. Was this a husband and wife thing? A way to spend time together, be seen together, and act like a normal couple despite everything?

Malik wasn’t used to that yet, but he understood the gesture.

"Sure, I’ll buy you whatever you want."

Dunya was here, walking a few steps behind.

Since she was here, the budget of his entire sultanate was directly at his beck and call.

The Sultan never seemed to carry coins himself; he didn’t need to, not when his personal maid was literally a teleport away.

While he had his commander, Aladdin; his grand vizier, Noor; and some others whose names he hadn’t yet remembered, acting as the ministers, tax collectors, and administrators, Dunya—a maid—was more important than all of them.

Even more than all of the generals of his armies and the local police, the Faraja.

After all, Dunya was personally connected with the Sultan, and the Sultan, Malik, was an absolute monarch, able to do and decide whatever he wanted.

Nobody could stop him.

And now, this very ’monarch’ stood before a cooking stall that sold meat.

The stall was small but clean, with a clay oven and skewers of spiced meat arranged in neat rows.

Apparently, they were called kebabs.

Malik looked down, inspecting them, searching for the best one with the same focus he might give to a battle plan.

The stall owner was stunned beyond oblivion.

His mouth hung agape, and the tongs he had been holding dangled from his fingers, utterly forgotten.

He wasn’t the only one.

Barely anyone moved around them.

People had stopped in the middle of the street, stuck staring at their Sultan.

They simply couldn’t believe it.

Yes, they had seen him yesterday on the projections, his face displayed across the land. But now he was right in front of them, close enough to touch and speak to.

They could reach out and feel his hair.

He was real!

But no matter how much they wanted to do so, they knew better than to try.

It wasn’t only fear that stopped them, but also respect.

Malik was out with their Queen, Layla, and the two of them were finally back together after many lonely nights; they were sure.

They wouldn’t dare interrupt them and their apparent date!

And so, after a long moment of frozen silence, the people finally shook themselves out of it and bowed their heads towards him—a quick, respectful dip, enough to convey their awe without intruding.

Once they thought their message had been received, they started to move again, shuffling away with hurried steps.

Though they tried to act naturally as they left, they were barely able to do so.

Most of them bumped into each other, and some even dropped their purchases.

It was cute.

Of course, this scene repeated with every new group that passed.

The same bowed heads and the same hurried retreat.

A sight that Malik found incredibly hilarious.

He had to fight hard to keep his face neutral.

But eventually, he didn’t need to anymore.

"I’ll have this one and this one."

Thankfully for the vendor, he finally chose.

Malik pointed at two kebabs that looked particularly well-cooked.

"Ah—yes."

Snapped out of his stupor, the poor man scrambled to obey.

"Of course, my Sultan!"

His hands trembled as he quickly prepared the two skewers, wrapping them in soft bread and handing them to Malik with a deep bow.

"It’s free of charge, my Sultan!"

Shaking his head, Malik gestured at Dunya and grabbed the kebabs.

"I don’t steal from my people."

While he and Layla began to leave, Dunya stepped forward and handed over a few gold coins—more than enough money to buy the man an actual shop, far better than the stand he had.

"..."

The vendor stared at the coins in his palm, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out.

It seemed a dream of his had come true.

He could finally buy an entire shop!

Though... unfortunately, that shop wouldn’t be in the Last City.

Here, the land was a lot more expensive, going for tens and tens more than the price in other cities or kingdoms.

That was for two reasons.

First was that the safest place in Devil’s Maw was next to the Sultan’s home. The walls, the soldiers, and the proximity to the Holy Palace itself—all of it made the Last City a fortress against the Demons and invaders.

Second was the Sultan himself.

They all simply wished to live near him, considering that alone to be a blessing.

His presence was a shield, a guarantee that their children would grow old and their businesses would flourish.

Malik was something of a Deity in the eyes of many, and they weren’t exactly wrong.

Though not a God—not yet at least—he was an Angel. A much, much weakened one, yes, but an Angel nevertheless.

Anyhow, this ’Angel’ passed one kebab to his wife while taking a bite of his own.

The meat was hot and spiced perfectly, the complimentary bread soft and fresh.

Malik felt warmth spread through his chest as he chewed.

’That’s delicious.’

Though he didn’t show it, he was quite hungry, having not eaten anything proper for a while.

He was sure that those slave owners had fed him while his mind was lost, but it was likely far from filling, just enough gruel to keep him alive, to keep him and the others from ever considering a revolt.

"Thank you, husband."

Layla took her kebab with both hands.

She began eating it like a bird, taking small, delicate bites that barely seemed to touch the meat.

Her purple eyes were focused on the food as if it were a puzzle she needed to solve.

’...hm. Does she see this food as beneath her? Or does she just not like it?’

After a while of watching what could only be described as nibbling, Malik couldn’t help but ask:

"What’s wrong? Do you not like it?"

Layla snapped her head up, her cheeks flushing.

"Oh—ah, no, it’s just... I’ve already eaten."

So she was full.

Did she ask Malik to buy her food while thinking that he would reject her since food wasn’t exactly a necessity to her?

’It seems like it.’

Malik smiled at her, genuine warmth in his eyes.

"You’re a cute idiot."

Again, his teasing behavior had another victim falling to surprise.

Layla’s mouth parted way more than it did for the kebab, and she barely managed to keep herself in check.

Taking a breath, she steadied herself and quickly teased him back:

"No, if I were an "idiot," I would have hidden the fact that I ate earlier and forced myself to finish this kebab."

"..."

"Hehe, but by telling you this, I scored a few points as your wife, didn’t I?"

Malik looked at her for a bit longer, his golden eyes studying her face. Then he took her kebab from her hands and continued walking, taking a bite of it himself.

’Hm, she’s really dangerous.’

That had his heart skip a beat.

Layla smiled brightly at him and quickly followed, her dress swishing against the stone.

At the same time, Dunya stepped a bit closer to her Sultan, her small form almost hidden in his shadow.

Her face had turned serious, and a script of Death appeared in the air before her:

[I’ve been informed multiple times since this morning that Aram’s king has been kneeling at the South gate for many hours, begging to be shown mercy.]

Those words internally shook Malik.

’Ah, yes.’

He definitely didn’t forget about them!