Chapter 89: The First Bite of Apple Pie

Lamia learned things incredibly quickly—or rather, she was a genius at learning.

While she struggled with the more abstract aspects of emotions, and had even been in a rather ‘divine’ state lately thanks to the succubus’s terrible advice, her learning speed and precision in action were undeniable.

Was it because she was the Demon Lord?

Had her learning ability elevated to this extent because she needed to become “the praised figure in everyone’s hearts”?

“Ta-da! Apple pie!”

With a soft thud, a plate landed before Wade, bringing with it the sweet, distinct aroma of apples. This was Lamia’s first attempt at baking, personally delivered.

Considering the timeline, this was absolutely Lamia’s debut in the culinary arts. Logically, there should have been a period of trial and error, yet on her very first try, Lamia presented an apple pie worthy of praise.

Wade sat primly at the dining table, having already prepared to savor the meal. He had even made it quite formal, setting out a knife, fork, plate, and a napkin tucked into his collar.

Wade had always held a respectful attitude toward food. Having experienced hunger for several years in his childhood, he understood what a luxurious and blissful experience it was to enjoy a delicious meal.

He was also quite the gourmand; upon seeing the apple pie Lamia brought, his eyes lit up entirely.

Previously, Lamia had indeed shown glimpses of her skill, such as bringing back pastries for the knight order or delivering lunch to the church. These second-hand meals, prepared by Lamia, had always been remarkably delicious.

However, Wade had assumed she must have had other chefs assist her, so he hadn’t been overly surprised then.

This time, though, Wade personally stayed at a small table in the back, eagerly awaiting Lamia’s dessert. He watched with his own eyes as Lamia, fully absorbed, meticulously worked on her apple pie debut.

Wade’s presence wasn’t to supervise; he was simply curious about how Lamia cooked. Just curious.

He observed her long hair, tied back for convenience and casually draped over her shoulder, and watched as she donned an apron over her everyday home clothes.

Lamia deftly tied the apron straps into a delicate bow, the trailing ribbons swaying with her movements at the small of her back. The purplish-red stood out strikingly against her white dress.

Wade was a relaxed person; after all, he was merely a wealthy knight, not a stickler for aristocratic rules. Naturally, he allowed Lamia the freedom to wander loosely around the mansion and even to shuffle out in her slippers.

This relaxed demeanor didn’t convey slovenliness, but rather a distinct charm—a sense of ease.

It was like a true old married couple: the husband returning home to find his virtuous wife in an apron and home attire in the kitchen. Afterward, they would eat together, chat, complain about their day’s work, and curse their dreadful boss.

After dinner, he would handle the dishes while his wife helped the children with their homework.

Children…?

The thought made Wade freeze.

Just by watching Lamia bake an apple pie, his mind had wandered to such a place?

No, no, no—definitely not! Having children with the Demon Lord was a hurdle he simply couldn’t overcome. Their relationship was far too peculiar; it was utterly impossible…

Im… impossible…

“Wade?”

“Ah.”

Only when Lamia’s voice reached his ears did Wade snap back to reality. Lamia, wearing an apron and baking an apple pie, was a moment that had already passed. Now, the apple pie sat on the table, its sweet scent still lingering around his nose.

‘Haa… Good heavens, where did my mind go? Children? How long has it even been?’

The apple pie before him had golden, crispy edges, slightly upturned and gleaming invitingly with oil.

Lamia took a small knife and sliced the apple pie, revealing apple chunks soaked in syrup within. The warm steam, laden with sweet fragrance, wafted directly into his nostrils.

She had even mimicked the promotional images in a cookbook, skillfully weaving a small lattice decoration from extra pastry and dusting it with powdered sugar.

This was hardly a first attempt; it looked more like a signature dessert from a patisserie window.

“How is it?”

Lamia sat beside Wade, retrieved a slice of apple pie, and pushed it towards him. Her face was alight with anticipation; even without hearing her thoughts, Wade knew she was waiting for his praise.

Lamia’s eyes sparkled, just like the syrup-coated, ripe red apples.

“Perfect.”

Wade didn’t stint on his praise. “Perfect.” Beyond those two words, he truly couldn’t conceive of another to describe his feelings.

“Hmph, hmph~ Of course it is! Alright, hurry and eat, these are all for you. If it’s not enough, I can make something else. We’ve tried apple pie, how about banana pie? Or I saw in a book—lemon tart?”

Wade’s awkward sharing seemed to make Lamia’s mood even better than before. He watched Wade pick up his fork, blowing on the hot apple pie. Those eyes, previously filled with expectation, now held a deep fondness.

Fondness?

The instant he recognized this emotion in her gaze, Wade paused.

Why would she feel this way? Fondness…? For him? For him, whom she knew to be the White Knight?

This inexplicable emotion made Wade feel even more guilty about “demolishing the city walls.” Such a significant act, one that would earn great military merit, had somehow become a source of apology for him.

‘No, you’re too irresolute, Wade, too irresolute! Wade Nairt!’

‘Work is work, life is life. You have to keep them separate!’

‘This could be one of the Demon Lord’s schemes…!’

Yet, in the next second, as his gaze met Lamia’s, this internal struggle dissipated once more.

It was like an egg yolk mixed with milk; the fragile cohesion he had just managed to maintain was effortlessly broken apart by Lamia, then enveloped in sweet, fragrant milk.

“No need to go to such trouble.”

Finally, Wade pursed his lips and, with his fork, brought a small, gently warmed piece of apple pie, which he had just blown on, to Lamia’s lips. The sweet aroma immediately wafted around her nose.

“You should eat some too, since you put so much effort into making it… I can’t finish all of this, so you have some.”

“You’re not eating? I was worried you wouldn’t be full.”

“No, no, no, this is a big one. I’m not that big of an eater…”

“Didn’t you eat everything I brought last time—”

“That was different…!”

‘Food given by one’s wife, personally brought to their mouth—of course, you have to eat it all. Even if you’re stuffed, you have to eat it.’

Lamia blinked at the apple pie offered to her lips. Wade held the fork with fingertips that seemed to tremble slightly with awkwardness, as if he had never performed such a gesture before.

The first piece ever offered, emanating sweet warmth, was right before her, a hint of glistening syrup clinging to it.

As for Wade, he had initially been looking at Lamia, but upon seeing her confused expression, he shyly averted his gaze. The fork remained suspended in mid-air, and he turned his head, attempting to conceal his reddening face beneath his golden hair with the pie’s rising steam.

[Does he… not trust what I’ve made? But he ate so enthusiastically last time.]

Wade’s awkward sharing seemed to open up some thoughts for Lamia.

Wade’s awkward sharing. Lamia pondered, Lamia considered.

It was a kind gesture of sharing, but in Lamia’s eyes, because of Wade’s twisted demeanor, she immediately misinterpreted it as, “Is he not trusting it?”

After all, their demon race drank heavily and ate large portions; they simply ate what they liked, without all these complicated customs.

They also lacked any “joy of sharing” emotion. Generally, if one received food and didn’t eat it but offered it to someone else, it either meant they didn’t like it or they suspected it contained something, wanting the other person to taste test for poison.

“Ah—that, the first bite of something freshly made is always the best. Of course, it should be for you, since you worked so hard on it, right?”

Realizing that his somewhat awkward kindness had been misinterpreted by Lamia in this way, Wade quickly turned back to her and explained his true intentions.

Of course, he didn’t actually voice the selfish emotions he harbored.

“Just because it’s the best bite, it should be for you. Didn’t you say you wanted to eat my dessert? So I made it especially for you.”

Lamia’s reply didn’t sound like a casual excuse; she genuinely believed it. Her thoughts aligned perfectly with the words she spoke.

For some reason, Wade suddenly felt like he’d hit a wall.

He had been expressing his goodwill to Lamia, and he had even gone out on a limb, doing something that felt rather embarrassing. This kind of feeding gesture was truly something he had never done in his life.

In that moment, he had almost forgotten why he had even made such a movement; it was as if some strange force had guided him. But once done, there was no taking it back.

Yet Lamia didn’t understand. She didn’t comprehend how much emotion was contained within this act of sharing food.

Moreover, she had always been the one to share. As the Demon Lord, she was constantly trying to share her possessions with those who needed them more.

She had rarely received gifts from others; her entire existence had been about giving.

This was something she considered entirely natural.

But if she couldn’t even grasp such simple gestures of goodwill from others, then how would she ever discern deeper emotions?

Lamia’s eyes now held a mix of emotions: anticipation for Wade to eat the apple pie, a desire to see his satisfied expression, confusion at him offering the food to her, and a touch of that innocent purity unique to non-human beings.

As for Wade, seeing Lamia’s expression, his feelings grew even more complicated.

Indeed, his emotions toward Lamia had always been complex.

Sometimes, he regarded Lamia as his enemy, as that detestable Demon Lord.

Other times, he saw Lamia as his unique role. He knew Lamia was posing as his wife, but upon closer thought, she was indeed his formally wedded partner… Legally speaking, she was his wife, no doubt.

Emotionally, he was adapting to Lamia; from a strategic standpoint… he had to remain wary of her.

Yet, the scales within his heart belonged solely to him, and he had to find a way to balance them.

Only now, it seemed, did he truly understand what his grandfather had said.

‘To make Lamia a happy wife…’ If that were to happen, it might truly be possible to turn her.

His grandfather must have intended this from the start: to instigate the Demon Lord’s defection without a single soldier, but through his own person and his emotions.

It was a kind of… strange-tasting marriage alliance?

Just as Lamia intended to bind him with so-called emotions, he would now turn the tables and use that very emotion to bind her.

And Lamia was indeed so…

‘…in need of me?’

In an instant, this somewhat arrogant, self-unaware thought surfaced.

‘Lamia needs me?’

‘Lamia needs me?’

‘Does she need me? Or rather, does the Demon Lord need me?’

‘Need me for what?’

‘Need me… to lead her out of the cage that troubles her?’

‘Whether it’s an embrace or comfort—Lamia, you need me, don’t you?’

Wade didn’t dare ask, didn’t dare open his mouth to tell her—‘As long as you say you need me, I will grasp your hand and pull you out.’

Because of Wade’s lack of confidence, he wasn’t sure if he could truly rescue this Demon Lord from her cage, nor was he confident that Lamia would genuinely be willing to go with him.

After all, she had been there for hundreds, even thousands of years. She must have grown accustomed to that life.

Just like this apple pie, its creation stemmed from his casual remark about wanting to eat something, and also from her constant thought that human life was too leisurely, prompting her to find something to do.

Lamia had adapted to the past lives of Demon Lords, accustomed to a life of busily fulfilling the wishes of others.

So now, if he were to take her hand, would she truly choose to follow him all the way?

Having spent so long among the demon race, having been the Demon Lord for so long. Hundreds, even thousands of years of life versus the brief time she had spent with him—which would she choose?

“Wade? Aren’t you eating?”

“…”

“…”

“Ah…”

“Haa…”

“Damn it.”

Wade looked at the bewilderment in Lamia’s eyes, then gritted his teeth.

Of course, he still didn’t know which she would choose, and he even briefly sighed inwardly that his entire lifespan might not be as long as Lamia’s short stay in the Demon Lord’s castle.

But the deepest, most hidden part of his selfishness knew that if he did nothing, he would surely regret it.

Better to make a mistake than do nothing at all.

In his twenty-plus years, Wade had never looked back to see if he had made mistakes in his life, because he believed that once things were done and the situation was set, any reflection afterward held little meaning.

What’s done is done. All he had to do was sit in this boat, drift on this water, and find the next shore to dock.

So Wade tightened his grip on the fork.

Under Lamia’s watchful gaze, he turned the fork, with the apple pie, in a circle, then turned it back towards himself.

He gently bit into the still-warm pie, then leaned forward, facing Lamia who sat beside him.

He lightly licked—not a kiss, but merely dabbed the honey-like sweetness from the apple pie onto Lamia’s lips. Then, as she momentarily froze, he nudged the piece of apple pie with his tongue, and as the sweetness melted into her mouth, he bit off half of it.

That first bite of apple pie was thus half held in Lamia’s mouth, and half chewed and swallowed by Wade.

“…”

Lamia froze. She looked at Wade’s reddened but resolute gaze, watching him lick the corner of his mouth, coiling the last bit of sweetness onto his tongue.

Because there was no magic stone powder, Lamia couldn’t discern the taste of the apple pie. However, seeing Wade’s lips unconsciously curl into a smile, she could vividly imagine the sweetness of those syrups.

“Delicious.”

Wade looked at Lamia, his expression first resolute, then tinged with shyness, but finally, breaking into a satisfied smile.

Satisfied with what? Heaven knows. Perhaps satisfied that the pie was delicious, perhaps satisfied that he had truly made a decision, or perhaps satisfied that Lamia’s red eyes clearly reflected his image once more—filled entirely with him.

“…”

“Mmm…”

“Sweet.”

Lamia also looked at Wade, then her eyelashes fluttered, her gaze dropping to his lips.

It was just like the taste of that previous kiss.