Fingertips Stained Black
The space outside the Demon King's bedroom was quiet. Too quiet.
Somewhere, firewood crackled. At the end of the hallway, armor clinked. Far off in the military camp, the low footsteps of the night shift change echoed softly.
But here, it was different. It felt as though all sound stopped at the door and turned back.
Evelyn Roadmia clutched the ledger in her arms tighter.
She felt the heavy weight of paper, leather, and numbers.
Seradin stood waiting in front of the door.
"Go on in."
"Is His Majesty inside?"
"He is."
"Is he... alone?"
The moment she asked, Evelyn realized the implications of her own question.
Seradin's eyes curved into a thin, knowing smile.
"Am I the one who should answer that?"
Evelyn pressed her lips together.
Seradin stopped smiling.
"Once you enter, my lady, I certainly won't be in there with you."
The statement was ambiguous—politically, socially, and personally.
Evelyn couldn't find a reply.
Seradin opened the door.
The bedroom was darker than expected, and far less grand.
Beneath a ceiling draped in black banners, a single candle burned low.
There was a black coat rack standing against the wall and a heavy bed.
On the desk lay documents that had not yet been closed.
It resembled an office more than a bedroom.
And in the center of it all sat Lucion Vergrad.
He was dressed lightly.
He wore neither the formal black coat tailored for the Demon King nor any heavy ornaments.
His shirt was loosely unbuttoned, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.
His hair was messy, and exhaustion was plain on his face.
He was not the king she had seen in the archives earlier.
Nor was he the terrifying Demon King who had suppressed the princess at the border.
He was not even the politician who had just declared he would convene the Blood Family Council.
He was simply a tired man.
With only a faint trace of vitality left in his face, he sat on the edge of the bed.
"You're here," Lucion said.
Evelyn tried to show proper etiquette.
"Your Majesty."
"Keep calling me that."
The corners of his mouth twitched upward, as if the title amused him.
Lucion pointed to the space beside him on the bed.
"Sit."
It was a command, delivered in a strangely casual voice.
Evelyn hesitated for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed.
The ledger lay between them.
It was a ridiculous shield.
"This is the proposal regarding the Ragmund restoration project."
Lucion didn't move.
"I believe it is reasonable for the Black King Castle and the noble families to share the costs."
"And the detailed discussions on that will take place at the Blood Family Council?"
"Yes. There are many agenda items, so we will need to extend the duration of the council."
"Then extend it."
Evelyn fell silent for a moment. With an awkward expression, she tried to bring up the next topic.
Lucion's face remained unreadable.
"Regarding the supplies for the eastern military camp, I believe reorganization should take priority."
"Why?"
"Even though Your Majesty has forgiven General Belion, leaving the entire east neglected as a result of that forgiveness seems excessive."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. To make it clear that General Belion has been completely subjugated, an exemplary punishment may be necessary."
Prompted by Lucion's brief prompts, she had to keep talking.
She needed to justify her presence here, to emphasize the necessity and pretext of her coming all this way.
"To prepare for another invasion by the Northern Grand Duke..."
"I'm listening."
"Artificial tampering was found in the delivery room records, so I believe a reinvestigation is required..."
"Go on."
She was practically squeezing out excuses, even fabricating things that didn't exist.
"Regarding the Holy See's upcoming heresy trial of the Saintess, the timing for the Black King Castle to state its position is..."
Finally, Evelyn clutched the ledger as if clinging to a lifeline, stopped talking, and struggled to lift her head.
She was acutely aware of Lucion, who was looking at the ledger—or perhaps at her fingers gripping it.
"They're dirty."
Evelyn slowly set the ledger down. This revealed the fingers she had been hiding beneath the pages.
Gasping softly, Evelyn looked down at her fingertips.
Her nails were stained with ink.
It wasn't from turning pages, copying numbers, or marking blanks all night.
It was a black stain she had deliberately rubbed under her nails after Lucion left.
The ledger made a soft rustling sound against the bed.
Silence stretched between them.
Evelyn's face flushed so red in the quiet that she felt as if she might burst.
How did it come to this?
Even on the day we broke up, I thought I held all the cards. How did things turn out like this...
"Eren is not my child."
Lucion's voice finally allowed her to breathe.
"But I declared him as mine. Because I had to call him that."
Lucion continued calmly.
"The moment someone calls Eren the posthumous child of Arkel, he ceases to be a person. He becomes a symbol of legitimacy. You know this."
Leaning back against the wall behind the bed, Lucion spoke softly.
"He would become a weakness for the throne."
Evelyn stared at his profile.
"And a pretext for someone else."
Lucion closed his eyes.
He had needed a simple label. My child. So that no one could claim Eren faster than those words.
Without opening his eyes, he spoke.
"That child needs a face."
"A... face?"
"I cannot give him an official status yet. It's not because we haven't verified his royal bloodline. You might not know this, but this afternoon—just a moment ago, really—a royal mage visited."
Evelyn's eyes widened.
"As an unofficial envoy of the kingdom. On his way, I had him examine the magic residue on the sealed gate and the delivery room records. He was quite skilled. He finished the appraisal without even touching Eren."
A royal mage of the human kingdom.
She never expected that title to come up.
If Lucion had summoned her after such a figure had visited, it meant Eren could not be easily dismissed as a fake.
"I see."
"If we just hide a child of royal blood in a room, everyone will start imagining the worst. Perhaps they already are."
Lucion let out a short, cynical laugh.
"That's why someone needs to be by his side."
Evelyn understood what he meant.
She understood it all too well.
Her heart sank quietly.
"Are you saying he needs a wet nurse?"
"No."
Lucion shook his head.
"A wet nurse will be hired separately. I'll also assign doctors, guards, and caretakers."
"Then..."
"We need a name that will govern that tiny existence for a long time to come."
The candle in the room flickered briefly.
Lucion fixed his gaze on Evelyn.
"Those whispering about the child of royal blood will naturally ask: who is looking after him?"
His voice was low.
"Even after the Blood Family Council. Even if we reach an agreement there, do you think those bastards will actually follow the plan?"
No. They would pretend to comply while plotting something else behind his back.
He paused for a moment.
Though his face looked incredibly weary, she strangely didn't think he would collapse.
A broken man didn't look like that.
That was the face of a man on the brink, calculating exactly where he stood until the very end.
"You will take charge of Eren's delivery room records and ledger."
He looked straight into Evelyn's eyes.
In that moment, a heavy silence fell between them.
Evelyn couldn't even tell if she was breathing.
"Your Majesty."
Evelyn's voice was low and cracked.
"Are you saying..."
"Not an official mother, nor a stepmother, nor a guardian."
Lucion explained gently, almost in a murmur.
If they announced something like that right now, it would draw too much attention at the Blood Family Council.
That was why they couldn't. They had to frame it as an illegitimate child.
It was entirely plausible.
Eren wasn't a newborn; he looked to be about ten months old.
"Then what am I to be?"
"A position where onlookers can jump to their own conclusions."
Evelyn bit her lip. Lucion remained completely indifferent.
"Since we have an engagement that has not yet been broken."
Evelyn's fingertips trembled. She had known he would say that.
The tie that the Roadmia family had failed to completely sever.
The chain Lucion hadn't spared a glance for in a long time.
That chain was now back in Lucion's hands.
Not as an ornament, nor out of lingering affection, but simply out of necessity—yet spoken in a tone that sounded almost like a confession.
So you mean to use me.
She swallowed the words.
"Evelyn."
He called her name. Again, very softly.
"You came all this way to survive within the Roadmia family."
Lucion said.
"I will use that. In return, I won't let you die in my ledger."
His gaze drifted down to her fingertips.
Evelyn looked at him.
Was this a temptation? A threat? A contract?
Or...
Lucion wasn't pretending. Even though there wasn't a shred of sweetness in his words.
He didn't draw any closer to her.
He didn't hold her hand like a lover would.
Yet Evelyn found this even harder to bear. If he had held her, would it have been easier to sort out her feelings?
She couldn't even imagine refusing him.
She was in no position to push him away or escape using etiquette as an excuse.
Even though Lucion was just sitting on the edge of the bed, speaking with a tired face.
The words he spoke kept sounding double-edged.
"Before the Blood Family Council, there is something you must do."
The existence of Eren.
"Look at your fingers."
"Those who steal ledgers always start with dirty fingers."
Eren was not Lucion's child, but as long as he was placed under Lucion's name, he would become his child.
So he had said.
Would it be any different for her?
"..."
Lucion looked at Evelyn.
A silence that felt like consent.
If she stood by his side, that was how people would see it.
The opportunity had come to grasp power—to borrow his name, his throne, his commands, his engagement, whatever she needed.
Why on earth would she refuse?
Evelyn's eyes sank into an utterly dark abyss.
He gave a tiny laugh.
"Of course, most of what I give you won't be free."
"What is the price?"
"Surviving me."
The words fell heavily in the room.
A man telling her to survive him.
She couldn't tell if it was a price, a command, or a request.
It was already too late.
Her ink-stained hands trembled.
Even though she had already communicated her intent before coming here.
The candle flickered.
The hallway outside the bedroom was quiet.
As long as Seradin stood guard, the Black King Castle would not sleep.
Eren would be crying or sleeping somewhere.
The ink on the summons for the Blood Family Council was likely still wet.
The world was still preparing to collapse.
Then, Lucion spoke with a momentary look of hesitation.
"You don't have to push yourself."
That was the trigger.
With those final words, she could bear it no longer.
Evelyn lunged forward, pushing Lucion's shoulders, and he fell back without resistance.
She hadn't pushed him very hard, yet he fell back so easily. She couldn't understand why he yielded so readily.
Was it because he was tired, or had he intended this from the start?
Evelyn couldn't tell. She only resented her own clumsy desperation.
As her ink-stained fingertips gripped his collar, black smudges stained the white fabric.
From the bed, Lucion looked up at her.
His eyes, still indifferent, held only a faint spark of life.
Just a tiny spark.
She hated that.
Evelyn murmured silently to herself, very softly.
Your Majesty,
Yet the voice echoed inside her throbbing skull, trembling.
You are always like this.
Lucion did not answer.
Making it impossible to escape...
She leaned down over him.
I am truly afraid.
The corners of Lucion's mouth twitched slightly.
It was a faint smirk, as if he were still mocking her.
It seemed to say, That's because you're too smart.
In that moment, Evelyn strangely couldn't think of anything.
All she could see was the ink on her fingertips, and the small black mark it left on Lucion's collar.