Chapter 7

Elian lowered his gaze, studying Leon with an expression that seemed to weigh something carefully. "No one would ever say 'I owe him a favor' to Prince Aric. In fact, no one dares to say such a thing to him or anyone like him."

"Why?" Leon frowned; confusion evident on his face. "I don’t understand."

Elian straightened up, his expression calm and composed, though his tone carried a trace of gravity. "Do you know where this place is?"

Leon shook his head. "I haven’t had the chance to find out. When I arrived, I was forced to start preparing for the wedding. Where would I find the time to learn anything?"

Elian offered a faint smile. "This is the Darkwood Continent," he said at last, his voice low and commanding. “For you, it might as well be another world."

Leon remained silent momentarily, his mind flashing back to the strange experiences he'd had so far. After a pause, he nodded. "That much I could guess. After all, one needs that kind of ritual just to get here."

Elian's gaze suddenly deepened, his eyes seeming to pierce right through Leon. "But there’s one thing you could never guess."

Leon looked up, puzzled. "What?"

"Everything here is ruled by demons." The moment Elian's words fell, the air in the room froze, heavy with an unspoken tension.

"D-demons?" Leon's eyes widened in disbelief, his voice trembling as he struggled to process what he had just heard. He muttered to himself, "Then... if Aric and Jasper are princes... that means..."

Elian nodded slightly, finishing the thought Leon couldn’t bring himself to say. "Yes. Those referred to as 'princes' are all members of the ruling families—the highest echelon of power in our world. You could say they are the demons among demons. Because of this, no one here dares to casually utter the words 'owe you a favor.' Owing a demon a favor often comes at a price you cannot afford to pay."

After Elian left, Leon sat in a corner of the room, his arms wrapped around his knees, his forehead resting lightly against them.

Elian's words replayed endlessly in his mind, like an echo plunging into an unfathomable abyss.

Demons… They’re all demons.

Aric was a demon. Jasper was a demon. Even the subordinates who had served him—all of them were demons.

The thought of how these "demons" had just recently bathed him, dressed him, and then paraded him onto the wedding stage sent a shiver crawling up his spine.

And then there was the most unsettling part… Aric kissed him.

He was kissed… by a demon.

"Oh, God!" Leon suddenly lifted his head, shaking it vigorously, trying to fling these chaotic thoughts out of his mind. But those words, sharp and unyielding, pricked at his nerves like needles, refusing to let go.

He clutched his arms tightly, his body trembling slightly. “Why is this happening to me?”

Never in his life had he imagined ending up in another world. Even when he found himself here, he had forced himself to accept it. But this world… this world was nothing like he could have ever envisioned.

There were no heroes, no fairy tales—only a cold, uncanny reality. And then there were the—beings that could no longer be called "human."

The more Leon thought about it, the more overwhelmed and terrified he became. “Focus, Leon. Stop thinking about it. If you keep this up, you’ll lose your mind. You need to do something—anything”, he told himself firmly.

Leon’s eyes scanned the room, searching for a distraction, anything to pull his thoughts away from the demons. His gaze wandered slowly across the space.

He spotted the large table that had just been placed there. On the far side of the table, an assortment of strange documents lay in a messy pile, illuminated by the dim, yellow glow of a lamp.

He walked over and picked up one of the books from the stack. Opening it, he was greeted by unfamiliar writing—symbols and letters that seemed to bleed with darkness. The sight made his skin crawl. He quickly shut the book, feeling the chill around him deepen.

Leon’s gaze shifted to an ornate cabinet, its intricate design immediately catching his attention. The slightly ajar door revealed its contents: a golden mask, a skull etched with runes, and a small vial glowing with a faint, ominous red light. He instinctively stepped back, his heart pounding violently in his chest.

Forcing himself to look away, his eyes continued to roam the room until they settled on a massive wardrobe. The piece was undeniably luxurious, adorned with intricate dark engravings that resembled the crest of some ancient family.

After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and pulled open the doors.

Inside hung rows of impeccably tailored clothing, nearly all in dark tones. The suits were perfectly cut, exuding an air of elegance and authority so intense it bordered on oppressive. Even the way they hung seemed deliberate, projecting an aura of flawless precision.

Leon couldn’t resist running his hand over the fabric of one of the jackets. The smooth, luxurious texture was so foreign to him that it felt almost unreal, a stark reminder of a life he could scarcely imagine—one that seemed worlds away from his own.

And these clothes… belonged to Aric.

The realization made Leon’s heartbeat quicken. His mind flashed back to the moment he had been held by that man—the undeniable power in his embrace. Without thinking, Leon’s fingers traced along the shoulder line of the jacket, his thoughts drifting to those broad shoulders, the firm lines of muscle, and the strong arms that had effortlessly wrapped around him.

He gripped the collar tightly, trying to suppress the memory, but it was futile. The kiss came rushing back to him, vivid and inescapable.

It was his first kiss, and yet the force of it had nearly swallowed him whole. He could still recall the intense heat of the man’s presence as he drew close, the lips that were both aggressive and, strangely, tender in their touch. His face flushed instantly, and he quickly lowered the jacket, as though he had touched something too hot to handle.

"Calm down, Leon!" He gently slapped his own cheek, trying to shake off these distracting thoughts. Yet the dangerous allure that radiated from Aric seemed to cling to him like an unshakable shadow, trapping his mind in its grasp.

"He’s a demon..." Leon muttered, trying to use that fact to remind himself of the truth, but instead, it only tangled his emotions further. It didn’t clear his mind—in fact, it only made things more complicated.

He quickly shut the wardrobe doors, unwilling to look any longer. Taking a deep breath, he turned to leave, but his gaze unintentionally fell upon the sword in the corner.

His gaze fixed on the sword. It was an object that seemed completely out of place in the room, its presence jarring against the luxurious surroundings.

Lying there so still, it emanated an eerie pull, as though it was calling to Leon, drawing him in step by step. When his fingers finally brushed against the hilt, a coldness surged up his arm, sharp and venomous, like poison creeping into his veins.

The sword appeared to be crafted from obsidian, its blade dark as night, gleaming faintly with an otherworldly glow. The hilt was intricately carved with tiny, tormented faces—faces twisted in agony and struggle like they were silently screaming in pain.

The moment Leon’s fingertips brushed against the blade; an icy, searing sensation shot up his arm. He felt like the darkness itself was invading his consciousness. His pupils contracted sharply, and in the blink of an eye, the room around him vanished, replaced by a scene of blood and horror.

The image flooded into his mind like an unbidden nightmare. Blood—dark, crimson blood—flowed across the ground, forming a river. The air was thick with the nauseating stench of it. Piles of lifeless bodies lay scattered around, each face twisted in an expression of hopelessness. And standing at the heart of this hellish scene was Aric.

He gripped the sword, its blade stained with blood, emitting a sinister, dim glow. Aric’s expression was chillingly cold, his features sharp and unyielding like they had been carved from stone. His deep, unwavering eyes held no trace of mercy as if this massacre were nothing more than a routine task.

In the next moment, the scene shifted. A half-naked figure, panic-stricken, appeared, running for his life. His face was a mask of terror, constantly glancing back, but no matter how fast he moved, he couldn’t outrun Aric. In the blink of an eye, Aric’s sword had pierced through his body.

The figure let out a scream of excruciating pain, his body writhing in agony. His eyes bulged, wanting to ask something, but no words came. With a swift, precise motion, Aric withdrew the sword, and the blood that splattered from the wound sprayed out in a fountain, its vivid red almost blinding.

As the person fell, an invisible darkness swallowed him whole. He vanished, along with his soul, into the void, completely erased.

"Ah!"

Leon screamed out, jolting back to reality. His hand immediately jerked away from the sword, and before he could regain his balance, he collapsed onto the floor. His chest rose and fell in frantic gasps, his back drenched in cold sweat. The sword, disturbed by his sudden movement, clattered to the ground with a heavy, dull thud.