Chapter 51
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Demon Dragon
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Celia returned to her own room and leaned back against the door, letting out a soft sigh.
"Kerdik, you were trying to kill him, weren't you?"
As she shot a faintly reproachful glance at the empty air, black smoke began to billow thickly from nowhere.
Kerdik materialized in midair, floating in a relaxed pose as if lounging on an invisible bed. He smirked.
"Who cares if trash like that dies? If anything, it'd be a boon for the rest of humanity."
Celia burst into incredulous laughter at his words.
"Is the mighty Demon King actually fretting over human lives?"
"I was just sharing my personal take."
He shrugged nonchalantly, as if to say it was no big deal. Then, with clear irritation, he added,
"Still, listening to that nonsense got under my skin."
Celia sat down on the sofa, watching him grumble lightly.
Kerdik floated over in front of her and asked,
"Anyway, I've been meaning to ask—why bother dealing with a human like that?"
He looked genuinely baffled.
He had watched her assist Clobero from the sidelines the whole time, but he still couldn't figure out her motive.
To him—who had zero interest in humans—that man was utterly unfit for the throne.
Kerdik was curious why Celia wanted to crown someone like him king.
"You're only asking now?"
"I mulled it over plenty, but nope. No clue."
Celia eyed Kerdik, who grinned cheerfully like he truly hadn't a hint. She replied,
"You're right—he's no throne material."
Her eyes narrowed into a sly smile.
"That's exactly why I'll put him on the throne. And make sure he rules this country long and hard."
"Why?"
"Because I hate this place."
Celia cast her gaze downward.
"Everyone here can find happiness so easily."
"The kings must've ruled wisely."
"Exactly, Kerdik. But not every king can pull that off. Humans just aren't built for it."
Everyone harbors greed.
Few can rein it in properly.
Especially those unbound by circumstances—their avarice only swells.
Yet Adea's successive kings defied that.
All were sage rulers who governed superbly.
"This kingdom's an anomaly."
Celia's eyes narrowed.
"Unless some colossal force props it up as this perfect utopia, the whole setup's impossible."
Kerdik's mind flashed to someone at her words.
"That half-breed girl?"
"Probably."
Celia nodded.
"No idea what that half-dragon's deal is... but it grates on me."
Kerdik clicked his tongue, watching Celia spit the words with venom.
'She really despises her.'
Whatever brewed inside, Celia always projected gentle warmth outwardly.
This raw emotion was a first, even for Kerdik.
"Clobero on the throne means misery for the masses. That's why I'm making it happen."
"Twisted."
"Born that way."
Celia shot back flatly.
The life Kerdik knew of her was joyless—mired in misfortune and gloom.
The hatred blazing icy-blue in her heart struck even him, a Demon King, as both chilling and exquisite.
On Duke Parkro's birthday, the ducal estate's staff buzzed from dawn, prepping a lavish party.
By early evening, fellow nobles began readying themselves to attend.
Silia—who usually shadowed Eirana—was swamped all day baking an apple pie for the duke.
With nothing else to do, Eirana headed straight for Lea's room.
Lea, getting party-ready with her maids' help, tensed at Eirana's visit.
Once dressed, Lea asked cautiously,
"How do I look?"
She had fussed over her outfit for the occasion, eager for Eirana's verdict.
"It suits you perfectly. You look beautiful."
Lea beamed at Eirana's courteous words.
She knew flattery wasn't Eirana's style.
As Lea smiled shyly, Eirana glanced at the maids and said,
"I need a private word with Her Highness."
The maids eyed Lea.
Tense at the one-on-one, but innocent, Lea nodded readily.
Maids filed out. Eirana tossed out bluntly,
"Do a good job."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Eirana nodded at Lea's rigid salute, then asked abruptly,
"One thing— you tight with that Tobid girl and her clique?"
"Redina, you mean?"
"Don't care about names."
Lea blinked in confusion, then recalled the incident days ago. She shook her head fiercely.
"No! Not at all! I don't know them!"
Acquainted? Sure.
Tobid marquisate wielded clout in the crown prince faction.
Lea and Redina Tobid naturally crossed paths.
But Eirana changed everything.
Lea had heard she was there that day.
Well-versed in high-society ways, Lea guessed those girls targeted Eirana.
Not close, but Lea knew Redina's type well enough.
She relished lording over underlings—prime fodder for Eirana's fists, manners be damned.
'If they find out we were even chummy, I could catch hell too!'
Lea's princess rep lately? Stellar.
No more spoiled brat—now the gentle-hearted royal.
Eirana's violence? Vanished.
But Lea knew better.
It never truly left. One misstep, and brutal beatings resumed.
She wanted none of it.
Eirana inwardly tsked at Lea's near-hysterical denial.
'Overdid the discipline?'
"Right. Steer clear. Not friend material."
Lea nodded, mentally axing Redina Tobid from her circle.
Chuckling lightly at Lea mulling her social ties so gravely, Eirana said,
"Anyway, today's Duke Parkro's spotlight. Loosen up and have fun."
She figured a breather now and then kept things balanced.
Lea nodded, then puzzled,
"Not joining the party, Eirana?"
"Hate the racket."
Eirana shrugged and headed back to her room.
Alone in his room just before the party, Duke Parkro called out at the knock.
"Come in."
Delon Parkro entered.
"Father, what's this about?"
Delon looked puzzled at the pre-party summons.
Duke Parkro gave his son a faint smile.
"Hard to believe—it's been ten years since you took the reins."
On his fiftieth birthday, he'd passed most ducal duties to Delon and stepped back.
Delon had steered House Parkro masterfully since.
"Heir's duty."
Delon replied matter-of-factly.
Duke Parkro eyed him steadily, then nodded.
"True enough. But you've played heir far too long. Time's up."
Delon froze at his gentle smile.
"At tonight's party, I'll hand you the title."
"Father."
He had led for a decade, true—but not solo.
His father: wise, shrewd duke.
Guided him through crises from the shadows.
Ten years retired, yet retainers adored him still.
Complications aside.
"Kingdom's unstable now. Our shift would stir more chaos..."
Central politics? They sat it out.
But House Parkro's sway remained unmatched.
Adea looked calm, yet unrest brewed domestically.
Crown prince vs. grand duke factions muddied governance.
New duke now—even seamless—would roil things further.
"That's precisely why you need the title."
The duke's tone sharpened.
"We withdrew from court—not mere royal fealty, but to check them too."
Out of sight, no threat—yet free to build unchecked power.
Royals reined central nobles; Parkros, the locals.
"Our loyalty's to the realm, not the throne. When royals clashed fiercely, we mediated."
"I know... but"
'Is now the moment?'
Parkros stepped in when succession wars ravaged the land.
Not yet that dire.
Delon figured.
"Fair—I didn't view it gravely either. Changed my mind."
The duke sighed softly, paused, then addressed... someone?
"Wouldn't you say?"
'Who?'
As Delon frowned, a reply came.
"You think so?"
Delon jumped at the clear girl's voice.
A silver-haired girl with eyes closed stood behind him.
'That hair... familiar...'
Before he could ponder, she glided demurely to the duke, offering a clutched box with a smile.
"Happy birthday, Daid. Hope it suits your palate—a little gift."
"My thanks."
The duke accepted with polite delight.
Gift delivered, she turned to Delon.
"Pleased to meet you, Delon. The spitting image of young Daid."
Unusual aura from the start—but this enigma treating a newly sixty top noble like a kid? Delon was lost.
To his son, the duke said,
"This is Leria—one of our founding heroes."
Delon gaped.
Then bowed crisply.
"Delon Parkro."
Founding houses knew: Leria guarded the realm.
Delon had half-expected a someday encounter.
Introductions done, the duke offered her the prime seat and asked,
"Daid, why yield the duchy now?"
He smiled wryly.
"Because you appeared."
Twenty years back—first sighting since inheriting from prior duke—drought gripped the nation.
"Nationwide incidents lately... graver than I thought."
"..."
Leria showed for cause.
So he believed.
"I'd retire fully, handle territory; you, court matters."
"Enter the succession fray?"
Delon blinked in shock.
Leria shook her head.
"No—just observe, Delon."
He met her gaze.
"Keep it from turning too bloody."
Delon sighed at her resolve.
"The reason?"
"Unrest stirring nationwide—ill winds. Can't elaborate, but the kingdom's at risk."
Succession turmoil in the capital? Domestic woes plummet.
No kingdom withstands royal cracks unscathed.
Delon mulled silently, then ventured,
"Presumptuous, but a word?"
"Go on."
"Crown Prince Winzer fits the crown best. Second Prince Clobero? No. Becoming king's beyond him."
Clobero topping Winzer? Unlikely.
Winzer impressed Delon deeply.
His enthronement? Inevitable.
Worth watching the obvious?
Delon wondered.
"I follow."
Leria smiled.
"But crowning's the royals' call. Not mine—or Parkro's."
She gazed out the window.
"I want a land where folk thrive. Can't meddle eternally."
Overreach breeds ruin.
Leria knew from scars.
Watch. Nudge from peril. Her duty.