The Demon King
* * *
“……And so, they loved only each other and lived happily ever after.”
The hand that had been turning the final page of the book froze, searching for a nonexistent next page in disbelief.
“What? That’s it? It just ends like this?”
Ebony Bladin muttered with an incredulous expression.
After the funeral of the Marchioness of Lilche, Ebony had learned that Ishtel had commissioned a single book from a printing house. Curious about its contents, she had slipped the printer some money and obtained a copy of the yet-unpublished volume.
“Good grief. I thought it might be the Marchioness’s memoirs, but she’s just prattling on about some fairy-tale princess.”
Thoroughly deflated, Ebony set the storybook down beneath her chair. She slowly closed her purple eyes and sank deep into thought.
Perhaps it carried some symbolic meaning she had missed? She carefully retraced the tale’s events, but nothing came to mind.
“She usually reads dense political treatises. Who knew she had such a sentimental side?”
Maybe it was a childhood book the Marchioness used to read to her—an inheritance of sorts. Ebony decided to let the matter rest there.
“It’s about time.”
She pulled a golden pocket watch from her coat and clicked her tongue in time with the second hand.
Tick. Tock.
The watch was approaching two in the afternoon. The moment the hands struck exactly two o’clock, the heavy door creaked open and Illid appeared.
“It’s been a while, Your Grace. I trust you were comfortable in the detached palace?”
Ebony rose from her seat as Illid approached. His eyes looked sunken and his face gaunt—perhaps the palace confinement had been harder on him than expected.
“Don’t look so ashamed, Your Grace. For someone in politics, a single stint behind bars is hardly a blemish. Besides, the detached palace is far better than a real prison, isn’t it?”
Her voice was light and breezy, as if it might blow away on the wind. Illid ground his teeth and seized her by the shoulder, shoving her back into the chair with enough force to rattle it.
“Ouch, that hurts.”
Ebony grimaced as the back of her head struck the chair frame hard. Illid’s voice leaked out between clenched teeth, barely containing his rage.
“You strut around acting so clever and superior, yet you couldn’t even keep one measly secret? Look at the mess you’ve made!”
“Isn’t that exactly what I wanted to say to you, Your Grace? You played the part of the virtuous, considerate gentleman so perfectly—why on earth did you strike your own sister? She’s not a child. And honestly, aren’t we the ones who truly deserved to be hit?”
Ebony let out her signature cackling laugh. The sound grated on Illid’s nerves; he scowled fiercely.
“Enough with the nonsense. I didn’t call you here to listen to your jokes.”
“My, how frightening. Don’t use that tone with me. You’re far more attractive when you’re gentle and affectionate than when you’re all dark and brooding like this.”
Ebony reached up and brushed aside the strands of black hair falling over his forehead. Her fingertips trailed lightly down his cheek. Illid jerked her hand away in irritation.
“I told you—Ishtel must never learn what I said about Karina. So why does she know everything?!”
“Why is that my fault? The fact that Ishtel Regentra figured out you were the culprit from such flimsy evidence only proves how remarkable she is!”
Ebony shot back, her voice sharp with indignation.
“It’s hardly my fault that both the dead old hag and her living granddaughter happen to be brilliant, is it? If anyone’s to blame, it’s Your Grace for failing to deny it convincingly. Your acting skills clearly need work.”
With wide eyes, Ebony swatted his hand away and straightened her collar.
“Seeing you lash out at me like this… I take it things have gone sour between you and Ishtel Regentra?”
At those words, Illid’s blue eyes flickered with fury. Ebony crossed her arms and clicked her tongue in mock sympathy.
“Your silence tells me I’m right. My goodness, with a face and status like yours, you still couldn’t win a woman’s heart? Ah, though I suppose there is one other man with both a handsome face and high position.”
Her biting sarcasm scraped at his pride. Ebony covered her mouth with one hand and giggled. Illid glared down at her mischievous purple eyes and ground his teeth audibly.
Me? Losing? To that ignorant brat Hellion?
When he had first traveled from the South to the capital, Illid had never imagined Hellion could be his rival.
To him, Hellion had been nothing more than a tall child. The ease with which he could play the kind older cousin had all stemmed from the confidence that Hellion could never measure up to him.
Yet the boy he thought would never even reach his ankles had proven a far more difficult opponent than expected. He should have realized it the moment Hellion completed every deliberately arduous task the Emperor had assigned without complaint. He should have driven a deeper wedge between them while Hellion was still circling around Ishtel.
On the day Ishtel announced their separation, he should have lied through his teeth if necessary to change her mind instead of simply weeping and clinging to her.
Illid slammed his fist down on the nearby desk hard enough to shatter it. He felt no pain. Twisted emotions born of desire and jealousy spread through his entire body.
He gripped the frame of Ebony’s chair again, his voice turning threatening.
“If you’ve made a mistake, you must take responsibility, Countess. Make Ishtel come back to me. By any means necessary.”
“Oh? Why the sudden change in attitude? Weren’t you treating her as little more than an accessory that came with the position of Crown Prince?”
Ebony tilted her head with a bored expression.
“Ah, I see. You’re panicking because you fear losing the prey you thought you had secured. You’re afraid Hellion will steal her away. That makes sense. People only recognize something’s true value once it slips into someone else’s hands.”
The corner of Illid’s mouth twitched violently. Ebony’s words stung precisely because they rang true, wounding his pride.
“Stop wasting time with pointless chatter and return Ishtel Regentra to how she was. Scheming in the shadows is your specialty, isn’t it? Isn’t that why you and my sly father worked so well together?”
“Your father truly loved his son, yet the son seems to hold his father in rather low regard.”
At the mention of Voltero, Ebony let out a dry, hollow laugh.
“In any case, I’m not well-versed in matters of love between men and women. I can drag her before you somehow, but whether she’ll fall in love with Your Grace again… that I cannot guarantee.”
“I’ll handle that part myself.”
“Oh really? And exactly how do you plan to win back the heart of a woman who has already flown far away?”
Ebony pursed her lips and blew out a breath. The black hair covering the corners of her eyes swayed gently with the motion.
Illid stared directly into her purple eyes.
“The Countess of Silanda fell from grace long ago, and the Marchioness of Lilche is dead. All of Ishtel’s strongest backers have vanished. This is our chance. Eliminate everyone who remains. Use any method, no matter how dirty.”
If there was one thing Illid had learned while spending time with Ishtel, it was that she was endlessly weak when it came to her family.
Unless something as unexpected as the Countess of Silanda’s situation arose, she would never let go of her family’s hands.
“Fortunately, her older brother is an easy target. And though his wife is clever, she’s nearing her due date. Her body and mind won’t be at their usual strength. Aim for her.”
Ebony blinked slowly at his words.
“Wow. That truly is crossing a river with no return. If someone dragged my sibling into something like this, I would swear eternal loyalty to them, but…”
Ebony knew the Regentra siblings well. Though it seemed like one-sided affection from the older brother, it was clear the younger sister loved him just as deeply.
“She’ll be left in ruins. Are you truly fine with that? She might spend the rest of her life resenting you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Illid cut her off with a cold voice.
“As long as I can keep her by my side, that’s enough.”
Wow. This man has truly lost his mind.
Ebony stared at him in silence. The deep blue of his eyes, lost in thought, radiated a merciless light.
She clearly remembered the first day she had visited the Southern Archduchy. Her elderly father had told her to make Voltero’s son the Crown Prince and use him to crush the Regentras.
Voltero had welcomed her with open arms, seeing her as a useful pawn. In contrast, Illid had barely even greeted her properly.
An ambitious father and a powerless son. She later learned that it had only been a short time since Illid’s fiancée had died.
“Please don’t grieve too deeply, Archduke Illid. I hear the woman who will become Your Grace’s new bride is both exceptionally beautiful and wise.”
She had offered shallow consolation, but he never responded.
At the time, she had thought it was for the best. After all, Ishtel Regentra was nothing more than a trophy that came with the position of Crown Prince.
Yet something had changed in him. Now he was desperately demanding that she be brought before him by any means necessary.
Had he truly fallen in love with her? Or was it simply a competitive urge not to lose to his younger cousin?
Whatever it is, the fact that he can so casually order me to hurt the woman he claims to want by his side is truly—
Ebony shook her head and rose from her chair. When she turned her gaze, the storybook she had set on the floor caught her eye.
—He really is no different from the demon king.
The demon king who had cursed the princess he loved. No matter how many masks named “fate” one wore, the true heart hidden beneath would eventually rise to the surface.
Ebony picked up the storybook. On the final page, the demon king had vanished, and the illustration showed the princess and prince living happily ever after.
But reality was not a fairy tale. And most people never became the protagonists.
Even if the role one was assigned on the unfair stage called the world was that of the villain, it was an actor’s duty to perform it willingly. And Ebony was someone uniquely suited to such roles.
She walked over and stood before Illid. Reaching out, she straightened the carelessly tied cravat at his neck.
“When I first saw you, I thought you resembled your mother. But seeing you today, it seems you take after your father quite a bit as well.”
Under her fingertips, the cravat was tied into perfect symmetry.
“Then I suppose we’ll have to use some truly filthy and despicable methods from now on. Even if you come to regret it later, don’t blame me.”