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0.81% The Demon Lord’s Bride (BL) / Chapter 5: Demons always good at reasoning

Chapter 5: Demons always good at reasoning

"Why don't you become my bride as the price?"

I blinked, repeatedly. Was I so drunk, that I started hearing ridiculous things?

"...come again?"

"Become my bride," the voice was unwavering, with a smile that truly felt like it belonged to a demon.

"...a what now?"

Patiently, he answered with amusement. "My bride."

"...yes?"

"Alright, you said yes, so the deal is sealed," he clapped his hand once, in a loud sound that almost sobered me up. While I was still in a shocked daze, he stood up from the table he'd been sitting at, walking towards a table with an assortment of wines.

"Hu...huh? No, wait! Waitwaitwait!" I stood up and clambered at him in panic. "That wasn't—I didn't..."

He stopped walking and stared at me—at my hands that clutched into his stupidly well-made suit. That stare rendered me speechless, and all the protesting thoughts died down in my dull mind. "...why?" All I could say was a shaky question.

"Why not?" his reply came in an easy, casual tone, as if deciding to take me as his bride was as easy as deciding which wine he would drink from that assortment on the table.

Perhaps it was indeed easy. A demon lord...probably had more than one spouse, right? Maybe even a whole castle full of concubines, like the kings and nobles in those historical stories. After all, he was the Demon Lord of Avarice. He probably collected wives, too, like one per race or something.

But even so...

"My Lord, you know I'm a priest, right?" I looked up at him, the damn tall demon. Maybe he was the drunk one...

"What's that got to do with anything?" he sat at the wine table now, making our faces meet at the same height. He tilted his head, observing me with an amused smile.

Damn demon having fun at this.

"It's got to do with everything—"

Suddenly, my chin was grasped, prompting me to stop and just stared at him. He looked straight into my eyes, and spoke in a firm tone; "You were the one who said you'll do anything, mister 'priest', so what is this behavior?"

This is the behavior of someone who received a sudden, out-of-nowhere, outrageous proposal. I wanted to be firm and subtle and dodged this in a more sophisticated manner, but I pursed my lips and whined instead.

I swear I would not drink alcohol again.

"Can I at least have some time to think about it?" I grasped his hand that was on my face, staring at him with a gaze I used to beg the nurse to let me eat junk food just once.

His eyes looked down, at my fingers that were touching his hands. I probably shouldn't brazenly touch him, right? But I did anyway, my frenzy mind just wanted to retract the thing I said about doing 'anything'. Thankfully, he didn't fling me across the room for this transgression.

"What's there to think about?" his eyes gazed lower, as if scrutinizing me from head to toe. "Do you have any other kind of payment other than yourself?"

Ouch, way to call me broke, dude.

Sadly, no, I did not have anything. Maybe if I have some kind of knowledge of the future...

I did have some, including the fact that the hero might come for him one day. But I wasn't so sure about any of the ideas and prompts; which one would be included and which one wouldn't. And I was still in the middle of recalling them one by one, since all those ideas were made in conversations—I just listened to her talking about it out of my own boredom.

So, no, unfortunately, the power of the future wasn't in my hand.

But even if I had to sell myself, that shouldn't mean as a...bride, right? "I can work with you, I can be your servant," I replied enthusiastically. "If my power is back, you can use it however you want."

The Demon Lord, however, wasn't really amused. "That would naturally happen if you're my bride too, though?"

Wow, look at that, he was right. 'Think Val, think!'

I had never felt that I was on the clever side, but that night I felt particularly stupid.

He let go of my chin, and I let go of his hand. But he grasped my wrist in place, which I couldn't muster enough brain cells to yank off, just busy looking for an excuse.

"But..." I looked at him with what I thought was a subservient gaze, "wouldn't it benefit your prestige more if I'm just your lowly servant?"

The Demon Lord Natha narrowed his eyes, the silver iris rippled in coldness. "You think I need more prestige?"

Uh-oh. "No!" I shook my head urgently. "But..."

"Sure, I can turn you into my servant," he cut me because I could come up with some glib to defend myself. The hold on my wrist tightened slightly, and I couldn't help but winced. His low voice pierced my sense with the pressure that made me stand frozen before his figure. "But I'm being magnanimous here, making you my bride so you'll become the one who got served instead,"

I sensed dread. Not anger, but something like a warning. Although it could also be my misperception and poor case of judgment.

"Since you're such an important figure here," he continued, and logic started to fly into my muddled head. The grip on my wrist seemed to wake me up a little bit.

It also helped that Natha so kindly explain it to me.

"Or do you think you can survive in the demon's territory as a mere servant?" he tilted his head, peering at me sharply. "The demon's slaughterer?"

Oh...

Right. I was an enemy with such a bad moniker. Even if I turned to the demon's side, it didn't change the fact that Valmeier had killed a lot of their kin, even if they served a different Lord. What would they think, if a person who was coined as their kin's murderer walked among themselves?

And there was no guarantee that this body could regain its former strength even after using the cure-all elixir.

With that condition, I might as well meet my end the very moment I stepped out of this room.

No—I might even die this very moment, if I aggravated this Demon Lord in front of me.

"You think they won't try to tear you apart if you have no status here?" he spelled out the things that had been swirling in my mind, capturing me in that quagmire-like silver eyes.

He pulled on my wrist, and had me stumbled forward, just like when he shuffled me away from the palace's balcony. Like a prisoner trapped inside his mesmerizing moonlight of eyes, I could only stand frozen, pliantly being moved, as his voice continued in my ears. "I showed you my kindness and consideration, yet you vehemently shoved it away?"

Ah. It wasn't an anger that he spoke with, it was dejection.

"Your answer?"

"...Yes," what else could I say at this point? I couldn't think far about the consequences of my answer would be, but I just wanted to live for now.

You couldn't rebel if you're dead, anyway.

"I didn't hear it quite clearly enough," he pulled me again, and I had to brace myself by clutching onto his broad chest. Darnit!

"Yes!" I hissed my answer, a little bit louder.

"Good," finally, he let go of my wrist with a smile, and I used it to wobble backward for a bit, just so I didn't have to look closely at that face and eyes. But his fingers moved to my face, and I shuddered from the cool feeling of his skin on my cheek. "It'll be a waste if I lose you right after I fix you, right?"

Haa...damn demon. So what if you look like the man of my dream?

I glared at him with cold contempt, even as his fingers caressed my cheek. There was a playful smile on his face that made me think everything up to this point was just his cunning ploy. My glare narrowed, as I looked at him with suspicion.

"For such a good boy, I'll give you a welcoming gift," he retreated his fingers, and I scooted back again before he could touch me more.

Good boy my ass! I'm already well over twenty he—

And then my eyes, which had been following his hand's movement—saw the Demon Lord opening up his hand. A small fissure appeared on top of his palm, like a small, swirling portal. The portal glowed then, in a blinding golden light, and I had to close my eyes for a while.

When the light receded, and I opened my eyes, what greeted me was the view of the most beautiful, intrinsic small bottle filled with a golden liquid. There was a mesmerizing sheen on it, and the bottle was surrounded by a shimmering light, as if there was a special effect being played in my eyes.

Or probably I was just drunk.

Either way, there was only one thing I could infer from this showy appearance.

"Is that..." I felt my voice catch up in my throat, my fingers wiggling in an itch to just snatch the small bottle away.

The smile on Natha's face was almost as blinding as the magical effect on the bottle. "The one you've been looking for..."

I had to clench my fingers, lest I'd end up throwing myself at the bottle—at him. Gulping silently, I looked at it with unblinking eyes.

"The cure-all elixir,"

Amrita.


next chapter

Chapter 6: Demons are more thorough about contract

The Amrita

Other than that it was a cure-all elixir, I had no knowledge of its origin, ingredients, or the extent of its potency. But as expected of something so rare that only one character was known to have it, everything from the golden luster to the beautifully crafted bottle screamed precious. It even floated majestically above the demon lord's palm.

'If this is a game, that would be something like an end-game reward, probably...'

I couldn't help but gulp. Without realizing it, my body had leaned forward, like I was in a trance. Maybe because I was.

On that small little box was a gleaming hope, a long-awaited moment of being freed from pain. Something that I desperately prayed for in my previous life, until I was numbed of everything and just gave up. Gave up until my body gave in and I faded.

And now it was there, at the tip of my fingers, just by stretching my hands for a little bit...just a little bit...

But I couldn't reach it, for a strong hand grabbed my stretched arm, stopping my finger from touching it.

And I broke.

Forgetting about being tactful, about holding back, I snapped and looked at the demon lord with contempt. Anger. Frustration. Why?

"Why?!" raising my voice should be the last thing I do, but I couldn't hold into any reason at that moment. I glared at this demon, who stood between me and my freedom.

But when I saw his face—more surprised and concerned than offended—a little part of my mind that was still a little bit sober mustered up some conscience. A realization that I was at the mercy of his pardon, and I felt desperation come up into my throat.

"Please...please..."

I begged. In a weak, desperate, broken voice, clutching into him like a beggar asking for money.

It was a pathetic sight—the hero's companions would have a field day if they saw me like this. What about the demon then? Would he laugh? Would he mock me? Would he tell me to sing and dance and lick his shoes while at it?

I'd do it. There was no such thing as dignity for a dying man. So what if I didn't have any pride? Pride didn't prevent the piercing pain I had to endure every morning as I woke up, didn't heal the constant throbbing of my muscle, didn't chase away the needles pricking my organ.

But that golden liquid might. And this demon could.

I'd gravel, I'd kneel, I'd—

"Hey," suddenly my view was covered by a solid chest, and I realized I was pressed into his body, arms circling my back. And then a caress, on my hair, and a gentle pat on my back. "Calm down," low, soft advice flowed into my ears.

I blinked into his chest, slowly feeling my tensed body unraveling between the pat and caress. His skin was cold, but his touch was strangely warm. No, it was strangely familiar. Or was it just my mind that desperately craved contact? It had been so long since someone hugged me—years, since I became too weak to even move from my bed.

Oh, he hugged me.

"Breathe," he spoke again, and I realized I had been holding my breath all this time, too agitated to function my body properly. "I'll give it to you, so calm yourselves, mm?"

Ah...I was quite sure now that the author modeled this man from that doctor. I got it now, why it felt familiar—the gentle touch and the voice pattern when he tried to calm me was exactly like the doctor.

For better or worse, it did work as my body relaxed involuntarily and my lungs worked again, and I pulled away with a burning feeling on my face. When I turned my head away in embarrassment, he grasped my chin so I faced him again.

As I pressed my lips to hide any nervous sound, he scrutinized my face and body, going as far as turning my face here and there. The embarrassment that I felt made everything seem to be moving terribly slowly, and it felt like hours before he nodded in satisfaction.

Satisfaction about what, I couldn't tell.

"Just so you know, I wouldn't give you the entire bottle," he said.

I wanted to react violently, but the embarrassment from earlier compelled me to react more mildly. "Why?"

"Because you don't know how to use it," the bottle was no longer floating, but grasped securely on the demon's hand. "From the look of it, you're probably planning to drink the whole thing."

Eh, why? So I shouldn't?

"You'll die if you do."

...oh. Oh. Like an overdose? I bit my lips, realizing my hindsight about this substance. Of course something this rare wouldn't be that simple. Again, he explained it to me.

"This whole amount is something that had been accumulating for a hundred years. It's a substance that directly impacts one soul. If you ingest more than your soul could take, your soul will explode," he looked at me firmly, like a lecturing teacher. "You understand what will happen if one's soul explodes, do you?"

I actually didn't, but Valmeier knew—it was common knowledge anyway. Simply put, our existence would vanish, not just our bodies. There would be no resurrection, not even in a forbidden way like a lich transformation.

"So this will stay in my hand, and I'll give you the amount you need to fix your mana system. That would be the deal," the bottle vanished from his hand for a while, and he opened up his palm at me, a deep smile on his face. "In exchange, you'll be my bride."

Well...did I really have any other choice?

Maybe, if I had more time to think about it. But he didn't give me the time to ponder much. "You have one chance."

Damn, he really was a demon. I pressed my lips and hesitatingly put my right hand on top of his palm, which he grasped tightly. With his other palm, he covered the back of my hand and suddenly, they glowed.

My eyes widened and I looked up at him, which gazed at me with that moon-like orbs. Again, a sense of familiarity pricked my heart with uncomfortable feelings. I keep telling myself to remain vigilant, to not lose my sense of caution. But those unwavering eyes, that face, the calming smile, all the nostalgic sense and feeling I had about him—about who he resembled—muddled my judgment.

And that thought distracted me from the piercing coldness that flashed on the back of my hand. When the glow between us was gone and I looked down, there was a carving there, in the same dark shade of blue as the pattern on the demon lord's skin, shaped like a circle made of two wings.

A brand. He branded me.

"The contract is made," he informed me, and I realized the same brand was carved on the inside of his palm that he used to brand me.

Well, there's no going back now...

I stared at the brand—the demon contract—for a while. There was not much the humans knew about the demon kind, but one of the things that they knew was about the demon's peculiarity and insistent on contracts. So I guess that one was true. I was quite ashamed, actually, that I didn't think about demanding a proper contract before blurting out my request or my agreement.

But now that the contract was finalized, it meant...

"I told you earlier, that I will only give you a taste," he said at my eager expression, which deflated it.

"A taste?" I asked in disappointment. What was this about? What else now?

He chuckled at my sulking face, and tilted my face again with his cold fingers. "A good medicine should be taken gradually, lest it inflicts more harm than benefit," he said in a tone that could be used to calm children in a tantrum.

That child was me.

I narrowed my eyes, just for the fact that he resembled the doctor more and more. Right, just like proper treatment, nothing could be as miraculous as insta-heal. So I just sighed and nodded.

With a satisfied smile, he gave me a command. "Open your mouth."

I opened my mouth without hesitation as a habit of someone who consumed medicine all his life. But instead of giving me the Amrita, he stared at me silently, with unreadable eyes and a slightly raised brow.

"...what?" I asked after he stayed unmoving for a long time.

"You suddenly become so obedient," the smile was back on his face, a hint of amusement on the way it curved.

I tilted my head slightly at that, staring at him with confusion. I opened my mouth because he told me to; because he would administer the cure orally, right? If people in charge of your drugs told you to open your mouth, you did. If they told you to give them your wrist, you did.

Was it something that warranted a reaction like that?

He put a thumb on my lower lip, and tug it down, so I opened my mouth again. The small, pretty bottle was in his hand again, this time with its cork unscrewed. I watched as the golden liquid tilted to the opening, and my heart beat faster. It was drumming so much in anticipation that I could hear it in my ears. The shimmering golden liquid finally touched the bottle's neck, and it dripped, once, straight into my throat.

And my heart stopped beating.


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