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It was quiet, finally. After Master Etna had gone off on a rampage for a good three hours, the whole squad's morale was shot. There were talks of another strike, but since that last one had failed miserably, Fred wanted no part of it. He was satisfied sitting in his bunk in the prinny barracks reading his "Princess Heart: Netherworld Edition" manga all night long.
Sure, he was supposed to be saving up hel for the day he could finally reach the next life, but it was so tempting...... He never had been good at resisting the allure of a good manga. Of course, this particular manga was one that had to be kept secret from Master Etna. Since the main heroine was....... well-endowed..... neither Master Etna nor King Laharl would have allowed poor Fred to live a comfortable afterlife if either of them ever found out about his hobbies. It was a risky pasttime, but the beatings were worth his love's Sexy Breast Beam Flare!
Hearing footsteps of one of the higher-ranking demons passing by in the hall, Fred quickly shoved the book back into his fanny pack and laid back to pretend to be sleeping.
Another close call.......... Actually, most of the time, possibly due to poor management from King Laharl, the prinnies didn't even have anyone telling them what to do other than Laharl himself, or Master Etna. As a result, whenever the prinnies didn't have any explicit orders, they were more or less left to their own devices. Master Etna would usually make sure this wasn't a problem by overworking them both night and day, giving them so much work that they wouldn't have any time to goof off. Fred was one of the prinnies that goofed off AS he worked, so he'd adapted well to this kind of treatment.
However, he wasn't a masochist. He knew full well what would happen were he ever to slack off and stop working altogether while Master Etna or King Laharl were watching. With bosses like them, even already being dead wasn't enough to keep you from feeling unfathomable pain.
Fred shook his head, buried himself back under his blanket, pulling a flashlight out of his pack to read by. Those bouncing beauties could heal any bruises those slavedrivers could inflict......
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