Chapter 10
As Yuta walked straight, he saw two separate paths. What did Ren say again? Left or right?
Yuta stood confused for some moments. It should be left, he thought as he proceeded in that direction.
After walking for some time, he began to wonder if he took the right path. There were trees everywhere and the place looked serene and quiet. Yuta was about to turn when he heard a splash of water. Curiosity got the best of him as he walked in the direction of the sound.
Then he saw him.
Hair long and dark as midnight, shoulders bare, eyes closed. The demon aura radiating from him was so thick it was almost visible, pressing against Yuta's senses like a physical weight. This creature was dangerous—more dangerous than anything Yuta had ever encountered.
But he was also by far the most beautiful being Yuta had ever seen in his short human life. He didn't look human. He looked divine, like something carved from shadows and starlight.
As if pulled by an unknown force, Yuta could not stop staring.
The figure suddenly stood up from the water, and Yuta's face flushed bright red as he realized the demon was completely naked. He had never seen any adult unclothed before, let alone someone so magnificently formed.
Just then, soft footsteps approached through the trees, and Yuta watched in shock as Lyrian emerged, his pale form glowing in the dappled sunlight. The demon began removing his clothes with practiced ease, clearly intending to join the dark-haired figure in the water.
Yuta gasped as realization hit him. He understood now what he was witnessing—an intimate moment between the demon lord and his favorite pet. His face burned with embarrassment and something else he couldn't name as he watched Lyrian slip into the water.
Suddenly he was pulled back by strong arms. He looked up to see an unknown middle-aged guard glaring at him with murderous intent.
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Elrien needed a cold splash of water, and quickly. His body was feeling very hot and feverish—he always felt this way whenever the full moon was near.
He jumped into the cold lake, which was one of his secluded spots in his castle. The water was cool against his burning skin, and he closed his eyes, trying to relax.
But then a certain face infiltrated his thoughts—not a clear image, but impressions. White hair catching moonlight, gentle hands tending to wounds, a voice soft with compassion.
In his snake form that night, his vision had been different, more focused on heat and movement than clear details. But he remembered the striking paleness of the human's hair, how it had seemed to glow like silver threads.
What was wrong with him? It seemed as if that unknown human had cast a spell over him.
He stood up angrily, but then his nostrils flared as the smell of fresh lavender infiltrated his senses. It was impossible—he could smell that same scent again?
He felt as if he was being watched and turned sharply. For just a moment, he could have sworn he saw a flash of white hair, a familiar silhouette, then he blinked and it was gone.
The sound of approaching footsteps made him tense. He didn't need to look to know who it was—Lyrian's scent was unmistakable, cloying and overpowering compared to that delicate lavender he'd been chasing.
"My lord," Lyrian purred as he slipped into the water beside him, his pale skin gleaming wet. "You look troubled."
Irritation flared in Elrien's chest. For weeks now, Lyrian's presence had felt suffocating rather than satisfying. Where once the demon's touch had provided distraction, now it only served to remind him of something he was missing—something gentle and pure that existed somewhere beyond his reach.
Lyrian moved closer, his hands reaching for Elrien with the confidence born of long familiarity. "It's been weeks since you've visited the harem, my lord. Have I displeased you somehow?"
The demon's voice carried a note of hurt and confusion. For months, Elrien had maintained a healthy appetite for physical pleasure, and Lyrian had been his most frequent companion. But ever since that night in the forest, everything had changed.
"What's wrong?" Lyrian asked, his golden eyes searching Elrien's face for answers. "You haven't been yourself lately."
Elrien caught Lyrian's wrist before those familiar hands could touch him, his grip tight enough to make the demon wince. "If you want to keep your head," he said in a voice like winter frost, "you'll make yourself scarce."
The threat hung in the air between them, and Lyrian's face went pale with shock and humiliation. He had never been dismissed so coldly, so completely. The rejection cut deeper than any physical wound, and for a moment, his carefully constructed mask of seductive confidence cracked to reveal the desperate creature beneath.
"I… yes, my lord," Lyrian whispered, backing away through the water.
As his favorite pet retreated, Elrien closed his eyes again, trying to recapture that elusive scent of lavender and the memory of gentle hands that had touched him without fear or calculation.
What he didn't know was that the source of his obsession had been mere steps away, watching with wide, innocent eyes.