He lifted her up, his cold lips briefly touching her forehead: “You’re hurt.” “I know,” Naily looked up, grinding her teeth: “But I don’t want to go with you.” Kalsas finally stopped ignoring her. He stared at her silently for a while, his gaze changing, with a cruel heat emerging from icy restraint, burning directly into her heart. His words remained gentle, yet chilling: “Roland? Was it him this time? It’s okay, he’s gone now.” He leaned close to her ear and breathed, each word landing softly: “It’s okay, Naily. No matter who it is, I’ll make them disappear.” Could this be called love? At most, it was a madman’s self-righteous obsession. Naily couldn’t help but tremble, her blue eyes holding back tears, yet blazing with inner fury. She firmly shook her head, her voice clear: “It’s not about anyone else.” She mustered courage to look into his eyes: “I simply cannot love you.” Kalsas’s expression froze momentarily. Then he turned away and cast an instant movement spell, returning to a room in the demon’s lair. He placed Naily on a soft armchair, half-kneeling to maintain eye level: “Are you tired?” He was avoiding the conversation.
Naily wavered for a moment; perhaps it was not yet time to speak clearly. Rashly breaking ties would only bring danger to herself. But thinking of Roland’s brave charge and Kalsas’s cold, unmoved expression, her last hesitation quickly vanished.
Naily took a deep breath and raised her voice: “Kalsas.”
The black-haired youth paused, his cool fingertips hovering near her forehead, then sliding down her nose to her chin, forcefully lifting her face. He tilted his head and pecked at the corner of her lips.
At such close range, Naily could see every ripple in Kalsas’s long-lashed eyes. But the undercurrents and emotions were too complex, revealing nothing.
She just felt disgusted and afraid.
Naily turned her head coldly, her voice tight: “Kalsas, I…”
“Karl,” the other party stubbornly interrupted, his fingers stroking her chin as if about to turn her face back.
“Karl,” Naily avoided his fingertips, turning her hard-gathered courage into words, “Your attitude makes me very uncomfortable, uneasy, and disgusted.”
She paused, glancing at his expression. The demon king in the form of a youth finally stopped moving, expressionless, but clearly waiting for her to continue. “Because you like me, you assume I’m your possession and that I must also like you, right?”
Kalsas’s gaze flickered, not denying it.
“But that’s wrong,” Naily’s voice trembled, she bit her lip, and faced the black-haired youth directly, gripping the hand that had quietly fallen on her knee. “I’m a person independent of you. I have my own thoughts. You have no right to demand that I act according to your wishes.”
Kalsas looked at her calmly and said, “But I gave you a chance to like me. We agreed.”
Naily withdrew her hand, laughing dryly: “Yes, I promised if I fell in love with you, I’d stay. But…” She bit her lip nervously, hesitating for a moment. This was her last chance to turn back.
Could she glide over this paper-thin ice with casual words, hoping to live peacefully and gradually influence this demon king to understand respect?
Naily had always been optimistic and compassionate, but now she had not a shred of confidence.
Perhaps Roland’s death had touched her bottom line. Before this, she hadn’t witnessed Kalsas’s true evil; deep down, she still believed he had some unspeakable reasons for demanding others’ love.
But Kalsas not only broke the agreement first but also killed an innocent hero before her eyes.
The moment the single-handed sword pierced the white cloak, this one-sided emotion completely exceeded Naily’s tolerance.
She believed in human goodness, but she didn’t have the capacity to forgive everything.
Like a rabbit driven to desperation, she was a small white rabbit who would bite, scratch, and headbutt when cornered, only seeking mutual destruction.
She chose to speak the truth: “You tampered with the tea.”
As the last word left her mouth, the air seemed to freeze.
Kalsas continued to look at her silently, but a more terrifying coldness gradually emerged in his deep red eyes.
Naily spoke: “You broke the agreement first, Karl.”
He lowered his head, not in an attitude of admitting fault. His pale fingers clenched into fists, pressing on the armchair’s sides until his knuckles turned white.
He suddenly struck the armrest, his words floating from the deepest part of his throat: “Why? Why don’t you understand? Why?”
Naily instinctively curled back, her spine pressed against the chair with nowhere to hide. Kalsas stood up, leaning in to trap her in the armchair, almost nose-to-nose.
His eyes held a demonic fire, red and horrifying.
She bit her teeth, staring back fearlessly.
“Why don’t you understand?” Kalsas’s voice was hoarse, the ending rough, each word seeming to grind a bloody mark on his own heart.
His gaze was painful and desperate, staring unblinkingly at Naily, as if seeking a path of redemption from her. But he couldn’t find it. He could only strike the chair’s armrest again, moving even closer, a charming yet chilling smile on his lips: “No one will love you more than me.”
His fingertips traced her cheek, lingering tenderly.
Naily closed her eyes, her eyelashes trembling.
Kalsas seized the opportunity to kiss her eyebrows, nose, lips, and cheeks. He paused after each kiss, as if observing Naily’s reaction.
But Naily just kept her eyes tightly shut, pale-faced, neither responding nor looking at him.
Kalsas didn’t mind at all, his attitude becoming even more ardent. A blush spread across his pale cheeks, his gaze flowing, finally settling on Naily’s slightly parted lips.
“Accept reality, Naily, this is your reality,” he spoke seductively, breathing near her lips, each word carried with his breath, “You are mine, you can only be mine, Naily.”
The black-haired youth’s tongue skillfully pried open Naily’s lips, teasing. The brown-haired girl, tightly closing her eyes, trembled even more, her breathing becoming rapid. He was clearly satisfied with her reaction, narrowing his red eyes and then enveloping her lips, gently and meaningfully rubbing back and forth.
Naily’s cheeks gradually turned red, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.
Kalsas was very close to her, just needing to abandon his posture of leaning against the chair to bury himself in his chest. She indeed did so, her right hand resting on his shoulder, then moving down in a half-embracing position. Kalsas paused for a moment, then cupped her face, deepening the already long and suffocating deep kiss.
Nelly suddenly opened her eyes, blue light emerging in her hand. It was a dagger, without hesitation stabbing towards Kalsas’s heart from behind.
Nelly seemed prepared, taking advantage of Kalsas’s momentary stiffness to seize the dagger from his waist and draw it across her own neck. Rather than continue this entanglement, death would be better. Maybe by some chance, she could return home. The youth’s icy fingers gripped her wrist with incredible force. But the sharp blade had already cut a deep gash in her neck, blood splashing across his face.
In excruciating pain, Nelly wanted to laugh: Having studied at a medical institute for three months, she had found the carotid artery quite accurately. Dizziness from blood loss swept over her. Her last sight was Kalsas’s ruby-like eyes, slightly widened and seemingly panicked. She thought: The neurotic Demon King had actually shown an expression other than a smile or a blank face.
In a haze, Nelly clearly felt the dull pain on her neck.
This pain actually carried warmth, coming and going, making her confusedly wonder why she wasn’t dead.
