In the darkest corners of the universe stood a grand castle—the home of the rulers of the demon realm. The fiery red hair of young Rubia seemed to ignite the grim surroundings.
In these lands, the sun never shone. The only light came from faint, flickering flames in a few torches scattered along the worn palace walls and atop dusty, old furniture.
Rubia was the sole daughter of a wise king and a fierce warrior queen. Yet after countless millennia, her desperate attempts to gain their attention remained unanswered.
"I can help," she offered timidly, noticing her father struggling with the endless piles of papers strewn across his desk.
The sight was always the same: his tired face buried behind the work that never seemed to end. The doors to his study were always open, so she could see his golden hair from afar—but every time she tried to get closer, it felt like an invisible barrier stopped her, keeping them apart.
"Go back to your chambers, Rubia," he said without looking up.
"Yes, Father," she bowed slightly and went back to the place she came from.
Her chambers were the only place she truly knew—the one she had spent most of her countless years.
Sometimes she wondered if things would have been different in another demon family. Did all demon parents treat their children this coldly? When did she start convincing herself it was just her race's nature—a harsh, unchangeable truth?
Her parents were cold, but all demon parents were like that. At least, that's what Rubia told herself.
Then one day, her mother—the strongest of their demon kind—returned from war against the enemy forces. After hundreds of years apart, Rubia finally saw her again.
No one resembled Rubia more than her mother—like an older version of herself, but more powerful and beautiful
There she was, wearing her battle armor, walking with confidence and grace, as if nothing could stand in her way. Rubia's heart lifted.
"Rubia," her mother said, brushing the girl's back with a brief pat before continuing down the long corridor.
It was normal; all demon parents were like that. Rubia would have to work three times harder if she wanted to become a good queen one day. Only then could she help her parents—and finally be recognized as family.
And so she worked. Over millennia, no demon was wiser than Rubia—not even her father. When she surpassed his skills and began sharing the royal burdens, it only pushed them further apart.
As the endless years passed, Rubia focused on royal administration, burying her yearning for her parents' attention. She imagined that one day she would be as busy as they were—as the future queen of the demon realm.
But she was wrong.
When Ravi arrived—the new prince, a perfect copy of the king—everything Rubia had convinced herself of began to crumble.
For Ravi, the demon king and queen were the loving parents Rubia had always wished for. She could only watch as the golden-haired child burst into the king's study, hugging him with an innocent smile and receiving warm embraces in return. She saw the warrior queen return early from battle to visit her youngest son, as if he were the only child she had.
That was a real family.
And Rubia was not part of it.
She didn't understand it. She just couldn't belong.
It was so frustrating.
She sighed quietly and focused on what she knew best: ruling the kingdom.