Chapter 87: The General’s Intent and the Demon King’s Softness

“Great General, are you truly just going to let the Demon King go?”

Inside the Demon King’s castle, a crimson-hued demon stood in the similarly somber hall. His confidantes—several demons who could barely be called humanoid—knelt on one knee, their resonant, hollow voices conveying their dissatisfaction.

Great General Orlan stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his crimson eyes narrowed to slits.

“Great General, you—”

“It’s fine.”

Seeing Orlan remain silent, the demon pressed further, but Orlan merely raised a hand. With those two simple words, he silenced the creature.

“Let her go.”

He spoke, his footsteps echoing dully through the grand hall.

“But, to indulge her so freely?”

“It matters not.”

Orlan turned his back, then pivoted, lowering his head to gaze at the demons.

“Since this generation’s Demon King has already begun to show cracks, we shall wait until the Tower’s magic is renewed. Then, our King will be reborn. I shall personally re-educate her on how to become an excellent Demon King.”

****

Breaths. Heartbeats. An embrace.

Ah, yes—and the faint perspiration on his forehead, along with the constant brush of his eyelashes against her chest as he blinked.

The weather wasn’t particularly cold, allowing Lamia to wear an outfit that revealed her chest and collarbones. Thus, as she embraced Wade, his head, his face, his breaths, and even the subtle movements of his lips were keenly felt against the sensitive skin of her chest.

Especially those constantly fluttering eyelashes, which twitched erratically with nervousness, like a mischievous tickle.

*Thump, thump.*

Wade’s heart raced. Of course it did—was that even a question?

Being held in the arms of a humanoid creature, one whose appearance and physical form were at least that of a human female, and having his head pressed against her chest—he was, after all, an adult male with a normal psyche and healthy bodily functions. Confronted with such an unexpected event, a slight surge of excitement was surely unavoidable!

[Hehehe…]

Lamia seemed to notice Wade’s momentary fluster. Within her mind, that mischievous chuckle resurfaced.

[His heartbeat is much faster than mine was just now… Hehehe. This must be what Lilith spoke of earlier—’a flutter of the heart,’ right? Hehehe… My so-called flutter has subsided, but White Knight, yours hasn’t! Clearly, I have the upper hand!]

…

Lamia’s thoughts left Wade utterly speechless, a mix of amusement and exasperation.

He wasn’t sure where to even begin with his retort.

Heartbeat, flutter of the heart—it seemed to be true enough. But, how could she so casually dismiss her own reaction from moments ago?

She had been so flustered, even glancing at him in a panic. How could she not acknowledge her own ‘flutter’?

‘Ha, you stubborn Demon King. In truth, I should be the one with the upper hand!’

Logically, Wade should have immediately looked up and caught Lamia’s still-blushing expression. Yet, Wade did not. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, did nothing at all.

He simply remained there quietly, treating it as a well-deserved perk after so many years of diligent work.

After all, receiving his grandfather’s mission to “get along with the Dark Demon King” was, in a sense, part of his job.

‘Hmm… it’s work, then.’

‘So… let me work a little longer…’

Lamia’s cheeks still retained a faint blush.

The posture of holding Wade brought her a subtle sense of satisfaction. Burying his head against her chest seemed to trigger a special, almost parental emotion within her.

It was the presence of a ‘maternal instinct.’ This feeling of holding someone in her arms brought a certain contentment.

Though strange, as ‘the Tower,’ this was simply how she was.

In the Demon King’s castle, she had always treated her subordinate demons and her people with a similar, encompassing affection.

While her full black armor had made her appear fiercely intimidating back then, at her core, it was the Great General who had instructed her to be so formidable.

Orlan had argued that to command respect, kindness was secondary; paramount was demonstrating absolute power and the absolute authority of a superior being. Her imposing, black-armored figure was merely a result of her desire to display her might. Otherwise, given her identity as ‘the Tower,’ the inherent ‘benevolence’ within her instincts would have naturally softened her appearance.

Lamia had served as the Demon King for an extended period since her birth. In her nascent state, she had, of course, possessed only blank instincts. Under the Great General’s tutelage, she had suppressed her innate benevolence, believing her people did not need such a kind king. Thus, she never revealed that side of herself again, dedicating her entire being to the well-being of the demon race.

Yet, here with Wade, this ‘softness,’ hidden away for centuries, was unexpectedly being unearthed…

[But… how can I be the Demon King like this?]

After silently ridiculing Wade’s current state, Lamia’s self-deprecating and helpless thoughts turned to herself.

‘Yes, how could this current, utterly un-serious version of myself become an excellent king?’

‘I want to be a king everyone acknowledges, a king in everyone’s hearts.’

She existed to ensure a better life for her people, so her very purpose was to fulfill the wishes of others.

No matter how much Wade might hope for her to possess more self-will, rather than simply completing tasks, the ‘role of the King’ would relentlessly suppress her true inner thoughts, like cursed underlying code.

Just like now, her thoughts clashed.

Should she savor this current warmth?

Or maintain the Demon King’s composure?

“…………

Haaah—”

“Ngh…!”

Wade seemed to be contemplating the same question, his thoughts mirroring Lamia’s.

However, when Wade unconsciously sighed, hearing Lamia’s sound and the involuntary tremor that ran through her body, he finally realized the implications of their subtle positions and the warmth and location of the breath he had just exhaled.

“—Ah, sorry.”

This time, Wade had no choice but to sit up, looking at Lamia, whose face was flushed from a physiological instinct.

Lamia was, of course, somewhat bewildered. She still didn’t understand the peculiarities of the human body. She merely felt a tickling sensation on her chest and had instinctively let out a sound.

“…………”

Wade looked at Lamia awkwardly, then cleared his throat. He glanced around the now completely silent coffee shop, then discreetly took Lamia’s small hand.

“Um… Lamia, how about—we head home first?”