Reading the report, Seraphina finally felt a bit better.
This was probably the first truly good news she’d received in a long while.
She picked up her pen and wrote at the end of the report: “Continue observation. Record detailed growth data. Maintain secrecy. Report immediately on any developments.”
When evening came and those nauseating dishes were set on the long dining table, Seraphina had to admit she could hardly endure them anymore.
…
The mornings in the Demon King’s Castle were always filled with a damp chill that clung to the air. Seraphina wrapped her thin silk nightgown tighter around her.
Standing by the window, she looked out at the garden, where those strange, never-withering plants swayed in the cold mist.
The emptiness in her stomach hadn’t lessened at all. Ever since she’d come to the Demon Realm, she hadn’t had a single proper meal.
At first, she’d even wake up hungry in the middle of the night.
The reason was simple—everything here tasted awful.
That rock-hard black bread, that foul, gamy meat soup… just remembering it made the back of her tongue ache.
Long exposure to this “raw and bloody diet” hadn’t made her accustomed to it—it only deepened her disgust.
I can barely even remember what normal food tastes like anymore.
She had sworn back at the Blackstone Outpost—she might be trapped, her freedom gone, but she would at least reclaim the basic dignity of decent food!
BZZZZ—
“Heave…!”
The heavy doors of the Demon King’s Hall creaked open as Seraphina pushed with all her might. It was the usual time for her audience with Movira.
But why was she the one opening the doors? Normally, Movira opened them with magic before Seraphina could even knock.
Sure enough, when she looked up, the grand throne above the steps was empty.
“She’s gone out again?”
Not even a notice this time—she’d made the trip for nothing!
Seraphina turned to leave, but the sunlight caught one of the gems in the throne, and the glint stabbed into her eyes.
“Tch…”
For a moment, she froze, staring at the magnificent seat.
If Movira wasn’t here…
Wouldn’t it be fine to just sit there, just once…?
Her own Princess Regent’s Throne was grand enough—but next to this one, it was nothing at all.
The thought alone made her heart pound.
She glanced sharply around. The vast hall was empty, eerily silent except for her own breathing.
“Just… just once?” she whispered to herself, a mix of guilt and excitement twisting in her voice.
No one knew how far Movira’s will could reach. She might very well be watching even now.
But that empty throne—the seat of the Demon Realm’s highest power—was hanging there, waiting, almost inviting her.
On tiptoe, Seraphina carefully crossed the soft, ornate carpet that stretched down the center of the hall. Step by step, she approached the towering throne.
The closer she got, the heavier the pressure she felt.
It was forged from some unknown black metal and dark crystal, its tall back gleaming faintly with embedded gems that pulsed with ghostly light.
It radiated an icy, suffocating presence.
Standing before it, she hesitated—then gave in to the irresistible urge, turned around, and slowly lowered herself onto it.
The seat was higher and broader than she expected—and far colder.
She even had to lift herself slightly on her toes to sit properly.
The chill seeped through her thin nightgown, making her shiver.
When she tried leaning back, her small frame couldn’t even reach the backrest. Her feet dangled above the floor, unable to touch it.
It was uncomfortable—completely unlike the languid, commanding poise Movira always displayed when sitting there.
And yet, from this vantage point, the vast, echoing Throne Hall unfolded before her.
For the first time, she could imagine what it felt like to be Movira—to look down upon kneeling clan leaders, to decide the fates of countless beings with a casual tone.
Even when she presided over her own Princess Regent’s Hall, it wasn’t like this.
Her throne there was a cheap imitation, a symbol more than a source of authority—nothing like this one.
A strange, intoxicating sense of power flooded her chest, mingled with the forbidden thrill of defiance. Her pale cheeks flushed faintly pink.
Almost without thinking, she lifted one hand and placed it lightly on the cold armrest—just as Movira would.
“BZZZZ—!”
A faint, low hum reverberated directly inside her mind.
Seraphina froze, her eyes widening. She felt the throne tremble beneath her.
Then a faint but unmistakable wave of pure energy spread outward from the seat, rippling through her body like a cold tide—and within it, that familiar, terrifying essence belonging only to Movira herself.
It vanished as quickly as it appeared—so fast that Seraphina almost thought she’d imagined it.
But her heart had already stopped. Her blood turned to ice.
“Mo… Movira?!”
Her gaze darted around the hall—still empty.
But the fleeting thrill she’d felt moments ago was gone, replaced entirely by dread.
She sprang from the throne as if burned.
The movement was too abrupt—she nearly fell from the elevated platform, stumbling before barely catching herself.
All her excitement was gone, replaced by pure panic. She didn’t dare look at the throne again and practically scrambled out of the hall, hands and feet both helping her flee.
Her mind kept replaying that instant of magical resonance, that terrible suspicion that Movira had already felt everything.
I’m doomed… I’m doomed…
Back in her study, Seraphina dropped into her chair, pressing her burning face in her hands. I’ve done something incredibly stupid… again!
Movira definitely knew.
What was I even thinking?!
She coughed sharply, trying to imagine herself back in court, forcing her mind to calm down.
After a long while, her breathing steadied. She focused on the pile of documents before her.
The Demon Realm’s mornings were always dim; under the pale glow of the magic crystal lamps, her pen scratched briskly across the parchment as she drafted key orders and notes.
“Lina!”
Her voice cut through the quiet. The door opened in response.
“What is it?”
Lina entered, her bearing calm—too composed, really, for a mere maid. More like a colleague than a servant.
But Seraphina wasn’t in the mood to dwell on that now. She had something important to announce.
“Send word—today’s morning assembly is postponed by two hours. Notify all racial representatives within the castle that attendance is mandatory. There’s something very important to discuss.”
As she gave her orders, Seraphina’s pen never stopped moving.
Lina bowed lightly and turned to leave.
The sound of her footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving Seraphina alone in the quiet room—heart still fluttering faintly from her forbidden act.
Please… let her not have noticed.
But somewhere deep down, she already knew—Movira always noticed.
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