Chapter 57: The Embrace and the Key to Serenity

“Good morning, my lord, is breakfast ready?”

Wade emerged from his room, having tidied his clothes. Today, he had uncharacteristically chosen to wear casual attire instead of his usual knight’s uniform.

Freed from the restrictive fit of his work clothes, he felt considerably more comfortable, yet his posture remained impeccably straight.

“Not yet.” Wade’s voice was barely a whisper. “Let her sleep. There’s nothing urgent anyway, so don’t disturb her.”

“Understood, my lord.”

The butler smiled knowingly, trailing behind Wade. He expertly placed Wade’s breakfast at its usual spot.

Wade nodded, waving the butler away to attend to other tasks. A quiet breakfast, he believed, was best enjoyed in solitary peace.

The morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting tree-shaped shadows that formed random patterns on the table. Eating was a matter of muscle memory, requiring no particular focus, allowing his thoughts to drift back to the previous night.

Wade was not one to help others fulfill their wishes. In a sense, it was almost an occupational hazard for him.

When Lamia’s silent plea surfaced in Wade’s mind, he instinctively reached out and pulled her closer.

‘Because it was a heartfelt cry, a voice that no one should have been able to hear.’ ‘How could Wade ignore such an unconscious plea, never intended for another’s ears?’

‘So—you’ve never revealed this side of yourself to anyone else, have you?’

‘This version of you, only I know, right?’

‘…Ha.’

This realization quietly swept through his heart. It carried with it an ineffable sense of satisfaction, even a hint of secret delight.

The formidable and majestic Dark Demon King, so powerful on the battlefield, had, in that embrace last night, revealed a state of utter defenselessness, a blankness tinged with vulnerability.

****

When Lamia was embraced by Wade, her initial reaction was a fleeting moment of surprise.

This was swiftly followed by confusion.

Yet, as her breathing gradually steadied, her thoughts simply vanished.

She hadn’t fallen asleep; her thoughts had genuinely ceased to exist.

Her heart settled into a calm rhythm. She said nothing, thought of nothing, simply relished the serene feeling of Wade’s embrace.

Her previously lowered hands lifted, returning his embrace. She enjoyed this embrace, and this was her way of responding to it.

“I feel like you’re a bit tired,” Wade had murmured softly into Lamia’s ear then. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

He had also heard Lamia respond with a soft “Mm.”

What followed was a long, unaccustomed silence.

There were no thoughts from Lamia, no words from her lips—only the sound of breathing and the steady beat of a heart.

However, perhaps it was that inner voice that had startled Lamia, or perhaps Wade had grown too accustomed to hearing it. The sudden quiet now caused a strange ringing in his ears.

Afterwards, they spoke no more of it. The incident, that entire charade, simply passed.

****

The moment Wade gently closed the door and his footsteps faded into the distance, leaving only the sound of her own breathing in the room, Lamia opened her eyes.

The other side of the bed still retained his body heat and the lingering scent of the salves Wade had applied last night. She wondered if his body felt any better.

The instant Wade had stirred, the Demon King’s innate vigilance had slowly drawn her consciousness back. Yet, she remained in a state between sleep and wakefulness, her thoughts not fully clear, and her inner voice had not yet manifested.

Her ears caught the faint conversation from outside the door: “Let her sleep,” “Don’t disturb her.” His voice was hushed, carrying the slight hoarseness unique to early mornings, yet it possessed a distinctive tenderness.

‘Tenderness… Ah!’

A rare word indeed.

In the Demon King’s City, she naturally seldom used such words, and rarely even heard them spoken.

After all, theirs was a world where strength commanded respect. Words like “tenderness” would only hinder the speed of a punch.

[It’s morning… I should get up…]

[No, no… there shouldn’t be any urgent work I need to handle today.]

Although the curtains blocked the light, Lamia still heard the chirping of birds with a touch of melancholy. It was already a new day.

Logically, a new day called for a new morning meeting and new tasks to tackle.

[But…]

[But this isn’t the Demon King’s City… Although I have a mission, I need to figure out how to get White Knight to—ah, he’s gone out, so… so I’ll just lie here a little longer.]

She relaxed. The sensation of being allowed to “sleep in” was somewhat novel to her.

In the Demon King’s City, even without urgent military affairs, there were always dutiful, even annoyingly verbose, attendants reporting an endless stream of tasks. She often wondered where all those trivial matters even originated.

Here, however, she was merely “Madam,” a newlywed wife indulged by her husband, permitted to linger in bed.

[Lilith was right, no matter what the marriage entails, at least the honeymoon period is quite comfortable…]

This realization stirred a faint ripple in her heart. She couldn’t quite tell if it was awkwardness, or a touch of… comfort?

Her emotions drifted uncontrollably back to the previous night, recalling that embrace.

Reflecting on it now, Lamia still felt a certain—’Hah, truly incredible.’

‘How did I even embrace him?’

According to her original plan, when suppressed like that, she should have found a way to demonstrate her capabilities. She should have sought to display her power to avoid falling into a disadvantaged position. This was already ingrained in her as a demon, part of her very essence. As the Demon King of the Demon King’s City, as a high-ranking individual, she would absolutely never allow anyone to trample over her.

Yet, at that moment, Wade’s arms had encircled her, his warm body temperature enveloping her. His chin had rested on the crown of her head, his breath gently caressing her ear.

When he softly called her name, when he uttered the word “rest,” it was like a command, a wondrous key. All her so-called plans, calculations, the responsibilities of a Demon King, the tasks she absolutely had to complete—those tedious matters constantly hounding her—melted away as swiftly as ice dropped into hot water.

In their place came a near-blank tranquility, or perhaps… serenity.

It wasn’t a powerless submission, nor was it a calculated pretense.

It was simply a pure “stopping.”

Stopping her taut nerves, stopping her ceaseless thoughts, stopping the burden of playing “Demon King” or “wife.” It was merely being embraced securely as a “living individual” by another “presence.”

So, it was a key.

Just that bit of concern, just a few words.

It had opened Lamia’s heavy door. She had always yearned for someone to say such words, to offer her an excuse to rest, and so when Wade spoke them, she accepted his concern without hesitation.

She had wanted to lay down some burdens and rest countless times, to simply empty her mind and enjoy a moment of peace. But each time, as the Demon King, she was hounded by an endless pile of work and the constant prodding of her Grand General.

That very night, Grand General Orlan had even directly arrived… to check on the progress of her plan.

Orlan, in truth, had not initially approved of this plan. He believed that rather than attempting to stall for time, it would be better to simply kill their target, by any means necessary.

Assassination, poisoning, murder, even using another’s hand to kill, or framing them.

Humanity’s internal factions were most terrified of individuals like Wade, who possessed immense power. If such a person were to be falsely accused of murder, everyone would fear him, distance themselves, and even internally conspire to deal with him. Why would the demon race need to do anything at all?

But Lamia had refused.

‘Out of—out of what?’

Lamia couldn’t recall. She only felt that doing so would have been a regrettable waste.

Ultimately, Lamia had exhausted every possible method to persuade Orlan, even resorting to her authority as the Demon King.

As the Demon King, the embodiment of the Tower, she was theoretically the highest-ranking entity among the demon race. However, because Orlan had been the guide for successive Demon Kings, Lamia instinctively acquiesced to his suggestions, even harboring a sense of “fear” towards him.

That night was precisely such an instance. In truth, it was impossible for the plan to show significant results within just a few days; Orlan had come simply to make things difficult for her, to force her to abandon it. Yet, unexpectedly, Wade had actually been struck by her attack, thereby preserving the plan.

‘Yes… I saved this plan.’

‘I saved my current—temporary—family.’

Lamia curled up, shrinking into a ball on the bed. It was as if she intended to replicate the warmth of Wade’s embrace with the lingering heat, before she was fully awake.

[…Hah, that’s good.]