"BAM!"
The door slammed open like it owed him money. I almost screamed. Almost.
My body jerked, my heart shot up to my throat, and I nearly cursed out loud. My survival instincts kicked in, and I jumped back on the bed like I'd seen a ghost.
Well… close enough.
Standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a face twisted in royal-level disgust, was a boy—probably two years older than me, though the arrogance in his eyes made it feel like he'd aged backward.
White hair, messy but somehow still regal. Black eyes that looked like they'd swallowed every nightmare and still wanted more. Tall. Unfairly handsome in that cold, punchable kind of way. The demon prince himself. The future Demon King.
The man she killed with her own hands.
Great. The first person I meet after dying and regressing? Of course, it had to be him.
"YOU!" he barked like a rabid dog.
"HOW DARE YOU!!"
His voice cracked through the air like thunder, slapping my eardrums so hard I had to stick a pinky in one ear.
Damn, those vocal cords...
He stormed in like he owned the very air I was breathing, his rage practically sizzling off him. But I didn't flinch. I'd seen worse. Hell, I was worse.
"HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER!!"
The moment he spat the word 'her' I knew.
Oh, I knew exactly what this tantrum was about.
Not even three seconds later, she walked in. Or maybe stumbled in. Or floated in, carried by her own anxiety.
A girl—probably two years younger than me. Petite. Fragile. A porcelain doll with legs. Her soft white hair flowed behind her like moonlight, and her bright pink eyes shimmered like she was about to cry… or maybe already had.
She latched onto his sleeve like a scared kitten, her voice shaking as she whispered, "B-Brother, please… calm down…"
"Calm? How can I be calm?"
Oh. Her. The precious little sister he worshipped like a goddess.
I watched them, my gaze flicking between the two as she tried to calm him down, her delicate hands gripping his sleeve like she had any power in this world.
The way they bickered like spoiled children, their voices rising and falling, almost made me laugh.
But then—an image of my father and mother flashed in my mind.
Bickering like children.
"…"
—twitch—
Fuck.
Don't laugh… don't laugh…
I bit my tongue hard, fighting the impulse. I could already feel the corner of my mouth twitching, as if my body was determined to mock the entire situation. I suppressed it with every ounce of willpower I had left.
But damn, it was tempting. The image of Mother… her eyes, her arrogance, her pride.
Telling Father to calm down, doing whatever she wanted, and him doing everything to make her happy.
Like mother, like daughter…
The thought swirled in my mind as I looked back at her.
My little sister.
She was already awakened—without any help—already at the Baron rank. At just fifteen.
Little monsters.
But what could I say? I was a monster myself.
The way she looked at me now, with those bright pink eyes… It was bothersome.
"Lilly, how can you defend her? That bitch just tried to kill you!"
Bitch who? Me?
Unmannered brat.
I watched them from my spot—the way they both acted out their little tantrums, arguing like children in front of me.
God. I was already tired.
But it seemed he was really angry now. Black flames began to emerge from his hand.
Damn, already a Viscount…
From their conversation, I could piece together enough to understand what this was all about…
And which time in history did i regressed.
So, it really was that day.
Right. In this timeline, this was the exact moment I "slapped" the princess.
Not that it was a slap. More like a push.
A justified one.
She tripped over a spell circle and almost blew up the training hall. I saved her life and got a death glare and a week's worth of verbal abuse in return.
But hey—demon royals love their drama.
"How dare you raise a hand against her?" he hissed again, stepping forward, eyes like pits of fire.
"…"
I blinked.
Yeah, you're right. It was my fault for saving her, I thought, sinking deeper into my frustration.
Thinking about how good my life would've been if she'd just… burned away.
Hah.
i can imagine his face as he watched his favorite sister on fire...
Then, I felt it.
The weight of four eyes glaring at me.
Is she not going to say I saved her?
Of course not. I remembered their version of events—they claimed I was the one who pushed her into the magic circle.
As I was thinking this, a sound broke through my mind. The servant had arrived.
"Young master, you cannot enter her room like this!"
Yeah, damn right you can't. This is a girl's room. You knock first, you dimwit.
I glanced at him, grateful to see the first sane person in this entire household.
But… he wasn't sane either.
Just as I shifted my gaze toward him, his next words almost made me trip—while sitting.
"This room is too dirty. You shouldn't enter here at all."
"…"
Okay, that was harsh.
I looked at the butler. He had large horns on his head, and just by looking at him, I could tell he was calm.
Too calm.
But that wasn't what unsettled me.
No, it was the fact that he was dangerous.
A high-ranking Marquis-level demon. And most importantly…
'I know him'
He is a puppet of my mother.
Now that's why I hate this household.