Tap... tap... tap...
That sound again.
The sound of his boots against the obsidian floors of the Demon Palace echoed endlessly in his ears.
Too loud.
Every step was like dragging a mountain behind him.
Guards and nobles lined the halls—eyes wide, heads bowed so low they trembled—but he barely noticed.
He didn't care.
He couldn't care.
His thoughts were somewhere else—
Or someone else.
Her voice.
That voice.
"Do you hate me, father...?"
A sharp sting cracked through his skull. His hand rose, slow and stiff, brushing back long strands of white hair clinging to his face. He blinked, eyes void and lifeless, the whites veined with black like bleeding cracks in glass.
Thud.
The heavy double doors of his chamber closed behind him as he entered. The silence inside was worse.
It screamed.
He staggered toward the grand chair carved from the bones of ancient beasts and sank into it. The throne groaned under the weight of power—but also of despair. His fingers gripped the sides like anchors holding him to this world.
Buzz... buzz...
A constant droning in his ears.
Like flies.
Like chains.
Like her laughter.
He held his head. Palms pressed into his temples.
"Do you hate me, father...?"
"Do you... hate me?"
Her voice kept looping in his mind—soft, broken, filled with pain.
And for some reason, it hurt.
He clenched his teeth, jaw tightening till veins popped along his throat.
He hated her.
Yes. He loathed her.
Her blood—not his.
Her presence—a stain.
She was born of betrayal. A living wound.
A walking reminder of the night he lost everything.
"Sit three."
"And enjoy the show sweety."
A slave. A puppet. A fool wearing a crown.
Once the strongest in the Demon Realm—feared, worshipped.
Now...?
Nothing.
She broke him.
His queen.
No—his master.
The chains weren't physical.
They were embedded deep—in his soul.
Etched in every order, every look, every smile that wasn't his to claim.
And then—Rei was born.
The cursed child.
His enemy's child.
He should've hated her instantly.
He did.
So why—why the hell—
Why did he ask her that damned question?
"Do you hate me?"
He buried his face in his hands, nails digging into his skin. A low growl escaped him—animalistic, feral.
"Tch... useless thoughts..."
He tried to dismiss them.
Tried to erase her from his mind.
But every time he closed his eyes—
Her eyes.
Those broken, tear-filled eyes stared back at him.
This was the first time he saw her crying.
She never cried.
He cannot understand it.
Those damn eye…
Just what did they want from him?
Forgiveness?
Love?
A father?
He wasn't that. Not anymore. He was a corpse that moved when commanded. A dead king pretending to rule.
Still...
He mumbled to no one, voice raspy and slow like dragging chains—
"Should I... talk to her...?"
There was no answer. The room stayed silent.
The drumming in his head returned, louder, thicker.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
"No."
He stood up slowly, movements unnatural like a puppet jerked by invisible strings.
"Let it rot."
His voice cracked.
"Let it... rot..."
He turned his back to the window. Below, the Demon Realm thrived. But to him, it was just ash waiting to fall.
"Amel," the Demon King murmured, barely above a whisper—but it echoed like a death knell in the silent chamber.
A shadow twisted behind him, and from it stepped a demon in a sharp butler's uniform.
Marquess-ranked.
High enough to command cities, yet here he was—bowing low, face nearly pressed to the cold stone floor, not daring to make a sound.
The air in the chamber was thick—too thick.
The king didn't look at him.
Didn't even blink.
Staring ahead at nothing, eyes sunken with dark circles, his presence oozed a maddening calm. Like something ancient trying to remember how to feel.
Then came the command:
"Invite her for tonight's royal dinner."
The butler's brows twitched faintly. He hesitated. Just for a second.
He didn't dare raise his head, but he asked quietly,
"...Lady Rie?"
That's when it hit.
BOOOOM—
The entire room trembled.
Demonic energy surged outward like a hurricane crashing into a chapel.
Pillars cracked. The floor beneath the butler spiderwebbed with deep fractures. The lights flickered. The walls screamed as if crying out in pain.
The Marquess couldn't breathe.
He couldn't think.
He felt every bone in his body tighten, his heart nearly stopped, the overwhelming aura screaming into every cell of his body that he was going to die.
His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
He didn't even know if he was still alive.
Then—it stopped.
As sudden as it came.
The pressure vanished like a mirage.
And the Demon King spoke again, voice slow… hollow… like a man walking inside a dream.
"...All three of them."
That was all he said.
But the butler understood.
The king was asking him to invite rie for today royal dinner
The prince and princess always ate with the king and queen.
so the only one he wanted to invite today was...
Lady Rie.
'Damn can't he just said so…'
He knew Something had happened today. He'd heard bits—fragments.
Lady Rie tried to kill the princess… the prince had been enraged…
But he didn't know the full story. And he didn't want to know.
Before the king could say more—
Before another wave of mana might crush the room—
He bowed deeper and whispered:
"Understood," he said, voice barely a whisper as he pressed his forehead to the floor.
Then he vanished like mist—without a trace, without a sound.
Left behind, the Demon King sat alone in the dimly lit chamber. His fingers drummed against the armrest of his throne-like chair. His head tilted to the side ever so slightly. His eyes—dark like abyss and sleep-deprived madness—stared into the flickering flame of a nearby candle.
And again...
That voice echoed in his mind.
"Do you hate me...?"
"father"
His fingers stopped tapping.
His jaw clenched.
And for the first time in centuries—
He didn't know the answer.