Chapter 63: A Demon’s Challenge

Upon entering the room, the immediate priority was, of course, to offer greetings.

Yet, before doing so, Wade opted to address Lamia.

He chuckled, his gaze falling upon Lamia, whose complexion still hadn’t quite recovered from her nervousness. With a gentle motion, he waved a hand in her direction.

“Hmm, with a distinguished guest at home, I rushed right over,” he said. “My dear, who might this be?”

As he observed the elderly man seated across from Lamia, Wade maintained his amiable smile and offered a friendly greeting. However, it was nothing more than that; a mere nod sufficed before he settled into a seat.

Sensing the subtle tension in the air, Wade had deliberately addressed Lamia as ‘my dear,’ a conscious effort to emphasize their affectionate relationship.

“This is my maternal uncle, named—”

“Orlan.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Orlan directly revealed his true name within the demon race.

Upon hearing Orlan boldly declare his true name, Lamia’s brow furrowed perceptibly.

Lilith and Kaze were one thing; they rarely appeared in human sight, making it highly unlikely that any high-ranking humans would know their names. But Orlan?

As a Great General, was it possible that humans were privy to his identity?

Lamia herself had adopted an alias, and at Orlan’s stature, it was only logical that he, too, should have used a different name.

[ …He just said his name so clearly? ]

More than dissatisfaction, Lamia was likely consumed by anxiety.

From her perspective, she had been meticulously maintaining her disguise, desperate to remain undetected by Wade. She was terrified that a single sentence from Orlan would expose her, utterly undoing all her efforts of the past few days.

“Ah, so it’s Mr. Orlan,” Wade responded. “Since you are my wife’s maternal uncle, it is only proper that I address you as such.”

By rights, a first meeting would typically call for more deference, perhaps even an address like ‘Uncle Lord.’ However, Wade simply could not bring himself to utter such an honorific to someone he knew was a demon.

The mere formal ‘you’ already stretched the bounds of his tolerance.

[ …He didn’t notice anything, did he?… Haa… That’s good. ]

While Lamia’s face remained impassive, her inner turmoil had subtly eased, transitioning from acute nervousness to a state of cautious relief.

Wade, of course, heard her thoughts with perfect clarity. Yet, when it came to Orlan, he admitted he truly didn’t understand much about the man.

The denizens of Demon King City were shrouded in mystery; they rarely employed their true names. For many of the more primal and untamed demons, a tribal designation was often preferred.

Higher-ranking individuals might wield titles, rendering personal names a secondary, less crucial identifier.

He did, however, know the Demon King’s name—a detail Lamia herself had inadvertently revealed. In the heat of battle, after all, words often spilled forth without conscious thought.

Wade had personally overheard exclamations like [ …How could I, King Kares Lux, be affected by such an attack— ], which was precisely how he came to know the Demon King’s true name.

Regarding Orlan, however, Lamia’s thoughts suggested that revealing his name carried a certain self-incriminating implication. Why would that be?

‘Did I need to understand the special significance of this name? Or was it…’

[ …I still need to find a way to make him leave here quickly, I can’t let him ruin my current plan… ]

He understood.

Upon hearing Lamia’s inner turmoil, Wade’s understanding solidified.

He simply needed to connect Lamia’s thoughts from that night, when she had been in her Demon King form, to grasp the full picture.

It appeared that a powerful demon within Demon King City opposed the Demon King’s current scheme, having deliberately caused disruption last night. Now, another demon had conveniently arrived, brazenly stating his common name, clearly attempting to sow seeds of suspicion in Wade’s mind—

So, this was indeed the demon intent on sabotaging Lamia’s plans? It was truly astonishing. Could there truly be a demon capable of overshadowing the Demon King herself?

Pondering this, Wade subconsciously cast a glance at Lamia. While her expression remained largely unchanged, a masterful facade to prevent any cracks from showing, the anxiety simmering in her eyes was not entirely concealed.

It seemed she was desperate for him to depart.

Orlan, by contrast, presented a picture of greater composure. No trace of emotion could be discerned in his crimson eyes, and his silver-white hair was meticulously styled, reminiscent of an elder noble.

His attire, too, was the epitome of refined aristocratic fashion. He was a man of considerable gravitas and impeccable dress, yet he had arrived, ostensibly, to meddle in another’s marriage, all while maintaining such a formal and severe appearance.

“So, Uncle, is there something specific you’ve come for?”

After a quick glance at Lamia, Wade conspicuously leaned in her direction. His hand gently closed around Lamia’s nervous one, which rested on the sofa.

The sudden warmth of his palm startled her, yet almost instantly, that surprise melted into a profound sense of reassurance.

“Nothing of great import,” Orlan replied smoothly. “Merely here to check on my rather wayward niece, and… to observe you as well.”

‘—Wayward? He certainly has the audacity. I thought *she* was the one in charge of Demon King City.’

Upon Orlan’s pronouncement, Wade’s smile remained fixed, yet his eyebrow involuntarily arched with a subtle twitch.

‘What in the world is this demon even saying? Who truly holds the reins in Demon King City now?’

In Wade’s perception, Lamia had always embodied a certain arrogance. As the Demon King, she was, of course, entitled to it.

Even an exaggerated display of haughtiness was perfectly acceptable, for she was, after all, a ‘King.’

But—why?

Wade had been patiently awaiting Lamia’s thoughts, expecting her to inwardly rail against this Orlan. Through her silent complaints, he hoped to glean more insight into the man.

But—why no thoughts?

Why was she silent? Why was her head bowed so low?

Lamia… were you afraid of him?

Witnessing Lamia’s silent, bowed head, and feeling her hand, which he still held, turn faintly cool, a profound sense of displeasure rapidly blossomed and intensified within Wade.

This demon, Orlan, was clearly not as straightforward as Kaze and Lilith had been.

He exuded an undeniable aura of authority, one that even compelled the usually arrogant Demon King to display a certain… fear, perhaps even submission.

Ha? Submission?

Wade did not care for that word.

Wade’s mind swiftly pieced together Lamia’s exhausted and heavy thoughts from last night, recalling her rare display of vulnerability. Was it because of *him*? Because of this man?

“No, Uncle, you mustn’t speak that way,” Wade interjected. “The niece you deem wayward is, to me, a precious treasure…”

As he spoke, Wade gently lifted Lamia’s hand, intertwining their fingers. He drew her hand to his lips, reverently pressing a soft, cherished kiss onto her knuckles.

“If you insist on speaking that way, Uncle, I confess I won’t be pleased. You simply cannot disparage my beloved in such a manner.”

—Though the words were spoken with a smile, the kiss and their intertwined hands obscured Wade’s politely curved lips. All Orlan could truly perceive was the intense, unwavering gaze from Wade’s blue eyes, fixed resolutely upon him.