In an erotic romance novel, I transmigrated into the role of a villager who was killed with one shot.
I was lucky to defeat the Demon King, who was the strongest in the world, while I was struggling to survive . . . But a problem arose.
“Erina! Is this enough chopped firewood?”
Oh my God! Are you planning to cut down every single tree in this area?
Seeing the firewood stacked up to the height of the house gave me a headache.
“I’m sorry, Erina. But I did my best . . . Please praise me.”
The problem was that the Demon King had become my servant. This was the all-powerful final boss in the original novel.
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