A Good Person Cannot Become King
The dawn at the Human Envoy's Office was quiet. Even though news had spread that the inner palace of the Demon King's Castle had become a sea of blood, this place alone remained excessively still. The thick curtains were drawn, and beyond the windows lay the characteristic dark-red mist of the demon realm, hanging low. The candles were burning down to their ends. In front of them sat a woman.
Golden hair. Skin that glowed white even beneath the dawn light. Blue eyes. Elysia Arten, the second princess of the human kingdom of Arten.
She had not slept all night.
“Your Highness.” A low voice came from beyond the door.
Elysia lifted her head. “Come in.”
The door opened. An intelligence officer in a black coat entered. His expression was grim. In the envoy's office, a grim face from an intelligence officer generally meant one of two things: either the information was wrong, or it was far too accurate. Elysia disliked both possibilities.
“The results of the Demon Kingdom's succession war have arrived.”
She touched the rim of her now-cold teacup with her fingertips. “Speak.”
“First Prince Kairon Vergrad is dead.”
It was the answer she had expected. No—she had not wanted to expect it, yet it was the answer she had anticipated. The first prince of the Demon Kingdom had been the focal point of the moderate faction. As long as he lived, the war would not escalate immediately. But he had been too strong, too legitimate, and thus had made too many enemies.
Elysia held her breath. The officer continued reading.
“Second Prince Belion Vergrad. After his rebellion failed, he fled to the Eastern Military Camp.”
Elysia's eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. The second prince had failed as well. Did that mean the military had seized the palace? Had the great nobles installed a regent? Or had the Demon Kingdom descended into civil war? She rapidly calculated the possibilities. The Demon Kingdom falling into civil war was not a bad outcome for the human realm. In fact, it was favorable. If those monsters tore each other apart, fewer human soldiers would have to bleed. That was politics—waiting for others' blood to flow in order to spill less of one's own.
Elysia disliked that truth. But disliking it did not mean she could refuse to act on it.
“And,” the officer paused for a moment. Elysia sensed something ominous in that silence.
“Speak.”
The officer checked the report again, as though hoping the words he had read were mistaken.
“Third Prince Lucion Vergrad.”
Elysia's fingertips stopped moving.
“……”
“He has ascended as the Demon King.”
The tea in the cup rippled. She had gripped it too tightly.
“Who,” Elysia asked, very slowly, “did you say has ascended?”
The officer bowed his head. “His Majesty Lucion Vergrad.”
Your Majesty. The words fell into the room. They were strange words. Far too unfamiliar. Lucion—they were far too heavy to attach to that name. Your Majesty? Him? That gentle, beautiful man who had always seemed lonely? The man the Demon Kingdom nobles had called a prince yet never treated as one?
Elysia nearly laughed without realizing it. It was impossible. The very idea was so absurd that laughter threatened to escape.
“Is the information incorrect?”
“We cross-verified it three times.”
“Information from inside the Demon King's palace is always prone to confusion.”
“Yes. That is why we verified it four times.”
The officer's reply was calm. Its very calmness made it more unpleasant.
Elysia accepted the report and read the characters with her own eyes. It was clearly written there.
Third Prince Lucion Vergrad.
Provisional coronation ceremony completed.
The sole legitimate ruler of the current Demon Kingdom.
The sole legitimate heir. Ruler.
Elysia placed her finger over the sentence and recalled a voice from not so long ago—only a few days prior.
I suppose I cannot become king.
That day, Lucion had been smiling. Yet his eyes had not smiled.
In the old garden on the outskirts of the Demon King's Castle, between the residence housing the human envoy delegation and the demon royal palace—a gray garden where no one lingered long—they had met several times. Officially, the meetings were coincidences. Unofficially, they were secrets.
Lucion had always arrived first. Black hair. A pale face. Crimson eyes unique to the demon royal family. He was too quiet to be a demon, too cautious to be a prince. Whenever he saw Elysia, his expression held a strange relief, as though he had finally found the only person in this palace who saw him as a human being. That had made Elysia uncomfortable. And, just a little, glad.
Why do you think that? Elysia had asked that day.
Lucion had shrugged. Because everyone says so.
Everyone?
The nobles. The generals. My brothers. Sometimes even the attendants. He had smiled. It's rather peculiar to be ignored by attendants when you're a prince. It feels as though I'm the one paying their wages, yet the real power lies with them.
Where did you learn such jokes?
One picks them up while living. There are moments when, if you don't laugh, you start wishing you were dead.
Elysia had fallen silent for a while after hearing those words. Then Lucion had asked:
Do I seem like someone who cannot become king to you as well, Princess?
Elysia remembered that question. She remembered it far too well. She had looked at Lucion then—a handsome man, a lonely prince, someone kind, gentle, and somehow precarious. But not a king. A throne was not a seat made for good people. It was a seat for those who could step on others' necks and keep their expressions unchanged. For those who could lie while smiling, command while weeping, and discard even those they loved if necessary. That was the kind of person who sat upon it.
So Elysia had said, You are a good person.
Lucion had smiled faintly, as though the words were meant as comfort. Seeing that smile, Elysia had continued.
But a good person cannot become king.
For the briefest instant, Lucion's gaze had wavered. Truly, only for a moment. Then he had smiled again. I see.
I did not say it to hurt you.
I know, Lucion had replied. Like a fool. With a face that truly believed he knew.
Even in that moment, Elysia had known he did not. She had known that she had not comforted him—she had judged him. You are not dangerous. You are not a piece in the succession game. You are easy to use. You can be discarded.
……
Returning to the present, Elysia stared down at the report. That man who could be discarded had become the Demon King.
“Your Highness,” the officer said carefully. “There is one more matter.”
“There is more?”
“Yes.” He held out the next report. “Immediately after ascending, His Majesty Lucion Vergrad executed Archduke Kalen Drak.”
This time, Elysia truly froze. “Who?”
“Archduke Kalen Drak.”
“Lucion did?”
“Yes.”
“He gave the order?”
“Yes.”
“Personally?”
“According to the official report, yes.”
Elysia could not answer. Lucion had become the Demon King. That could have been a political accident. If the first prince had died, the second had failed, and the nobles had needed a legitimate heir, then yes—it was possible. Sometimes the throne fell upon the person who least desired it, like a curse. But issuing an execution order was different. The Lucion she knew was not that kind of person. A man who could not even bring himself to kill an insect with his own hands. A man who reached for letters before swords. A man born in the demon royal palace yet who hated the smell of blood. And that man had, the moment he ascended, cut down a great noble?
“Kalen Drak belonged to the second prince's faction,” the officer explained. “There were suspicions of his involvement in the rebellion, and reports indicate he demanded temporary full authority from His Majesty immediately after the ascension.”
“So he killed him?”
“Yes.”
Elysia lightly bit her lip. Politically, it was correct. Completely correct. The moment one ascends the throne, one kills the first person who tries to seize the leash. It was a cruel yet effective choice. The choice a king would make. No—the choice a king must make. That was what made it more horrifying. The very fact that Lucion had acted like a king.
“That cannot be,” Elysia said quietly. The officer said nothing.
“Lucion is not that kind of person.”
“Your Highness.”
“That man……” Elysia stopped. That man was a good person. That is why he could not become king. She had been the one who said those words. Yet now he had become king. And to become king—or to survive as king—he had killed someone.
Elysia suddenly looked down at her own hands. They were clean. A princess's hands were always clean. Orders were given by mouth; blood was shed by soldiers. Information moved across paper; death occurred at the borders.
She had obtained information from Lucion. The conflict between the first and second princes. The fractures among the Demon Kingdom's nobles. The military's discontent. The tension within the palace. Lucion had not considered any of it great secrets. He had merely spoken of the palace life he found unbearable. Because he was lonely. Because he wanted someone to listen. Elysia had listened. And remembered. And reported. And had it analyzed. For the sake of national interest. For the sake of peace. So that more human soldiers would not die. Those justifications were all real. They were not lies. Only… Lucion had never been among those justifications. She had never counted him among those she would save.
“Your Highness,” the officer said. “We must decide on our negotiation policy toward the Demon Kingdom.”
Elysia slowly raised her head. “Negotiation?”
“Yes. Now that a new Demon King has ascended, it would be wise to send a congratulatory envoy from our side first. Especially since His Majesty Lucion has had prior acquaintance with Your Highness—”
“Do not say that,” Elysia's voice turned cold. The officer closed his mouth.
“Say what?”
“That His Majesty Lucion and I had prior acquaintance. That is not recorded in any official documents.”
“Understood.”
Not recorded in official documents. What a convenient phrase. It did not mean the event had never occurred. It merely meant there was no need to take responsibility for it.
Elysia spread a fresh sheet of parchment across her desk and picked up her pen. To the new ruler of the Demon Kingdom— She tried to write it. But her hand stopped. It was too distant. Lucion— She tried to write that as well. But she could not. It was too close. For the first time, she realized that even calling someone by name required qualification. And that she had already forfeited that qualification.
“Your Highness?” a maid called cautiously.
Elysia finally wrote the first line.
To the new ruler of the Demon Kingdom, His Majesty Lucion Vergrad.
Your Majesty. Again, those words. Before the ink had even dried, they seemed to mock her. She remained silent for a long time.
***
The Human Envoy's Office was located in the outer palace of the Demon King's Castle. It did not take long for a single letter to reach the office. The Demon King's office was hell. Not a metaphor—though, being the demon realm, it was literally hell as well. Administratively, it was hell too. Reports were piled like mountains upon the desk: lists of rebels, the dead, the wounded, fugitives; records of plunder damage; gaps in the military command structure; shifts in noble houses' positions; suspicious movements at the Eastern Military Camp. And the common thread running through every single sheet of paper: even I could not make sense of what they said.
……
I had been holding a pen and quietly set it down.
I'm screwed.
If one became the Demon King, shouldn't one be issuing grand commands while everyone shouted “Ooh, Your Majesty!”? Reality was different. The moment I became king, it felt as though I had received a hundred Excel files. And all the column headers were in the demon tongue. Well, I could read the demon tongue now. But reading and understanding were two different things. I could read my own medical examination results too. But only a doctor knew what those numbers meant for when I would die.
“Your Majesty.” The elderly minister, Morgat, stood before me—the same demon who had dropped the political bombshell of “You have become the Demon King.”
“A letter has arrived from the Human Envoy's Office.”
I stopped the hand resting atop the reports. “The human realm?”
“Yes.”
“In whose name?”
Morgat checked the seal. “It is in the name of Her Highness Elysia Arten, second princess of the Kingdom of Arten.”
My fingertips stiffened for the briefest moment. Truly, only for an instant. But I felt it. This body had reacted. Lucion Vergrad's heart. Damn it—it still remembered that name.
Elysia. The woman who had said a good person could not become king. The woman who had looked at me kindly while erasing me from the succession game. A letter from her.
I smiled. The corner of my mouth lifted on its own. Morgat asked, “Shall I read it to you?”
“Is it an official letter?”
“On the surface, yes.”
“On the surface?”
Morgat examined the inside of the envelope. “There is a private cipher on the inner seal. It appears to be an old-fashioned style used between close parties in the human royal family.”
Close parties. The words sounded ridiculous. When discarding someone, it was national interest. When seeking them out, it was nostalgia. How convenient. Far simpler than even a convenience store lunchbox.
“Your Majesty?”
“Burn it.”
Morgat's eyes widened slightly. “You will not read it?”
“I will not.”
“It may be diplomatically important.”
“Then tell them to send it again as an official letter.” I looked at the envelope. White. Blue wax. The lily crest of the Arten royal family. Once, Lucion had felt relief upon seeing that crest. He had believed there was someone in this palace who saw him as a person. But now he knew. She had not seen him as a person. She had seen him as a useful conduit. An information window wrapped in gentle words.
I tapped my fingers on the desk. “The Demon Kingdom does not respond to a human princess's personal greetings.”
The room fell silent. Morgat looked at me for a moment. His gaze was slightly different from before. It was no longer the look of someone regarding a crown-wearing failure. Just a little—just a very little—he was reassessing. How far this man could go. I did not avert my eyes. Inside, I desperately wanted to. Because that single name still made my heart waver. But outwardly, I smiled.
“And, Morgat.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Relay this to the Human Envoy's Office.” I spoke slowly. “Tell them the new Demon King is not so idle as to receive congratulations.”
“I will convey it exactly.”
Morgat bowed his head. I lowered my gaze back to the reports. The characters would not enter my eyes. The name Elysia lingered in my mind. To the woman who had said a good person could not become king, I had given my first truly Demon King-like reply.
Silence.