The food was too beautiful for a place built on bones.
Elara stared at the long obsidian table before her.
Silver platters. Roasted meats glazed in dark honey. Fruits she didn't recognize. Wine the color of blood.
Demons stood along the walls, watching.
Not with hunger.
With curiosity.
Like she was an experiment.
She forced her hands not to shake.
"Eat," one of them growled.
She did.
If she refused, it would look suspicious.
If she acted too calm, it would look suspicious.
Everything was a trap now.
The system's cold voice echoed faintly in her mind:
"Primary Objective Active: Increase Favorability of Demon Lord."
"Current Affection Level: 2%."
"Failure Penalty Reminder: Soul Erasure."
Two percent.
That meant he didn't instantly want to kill her.
That was… progress?
Or maybe just curiosity.
She chewed slowly, mind racing.
In the novel, no bride survived until morning.
Not one.
So either the story had changed—
Or she had already broken fate.
Heavy footsteps echoed again.
The hall fell silent.
She didn't need to look up to know who had entered.
The air changed when he was near.
Like oxygen thinned.
Kaelthar descended from his throne and sat at the far end of the table.
He did not eat.
He watched her.
The silence stretched.
"Are you not afraid the food is poisoned?" he asked calmly.
She swallowed.
"If you wanted me dead, I'd already be dead."
A faint pause.
"You are observant."
She wiped her fingers delicately with a cloth.
"You're efficient."
His crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
"Explain."
"In the stories," she said carefully, "powerful rulers don't waste time with slow methods."
A ripple of amusement flickered in his gaze.
"You speak as if you know rulers well."
She met his eyes.
"I know predators."
The room felt ten degrees colder.
For a second—
Something flashed in his expression.
Recognition?
Interest?
He leaned back slightly in his throne-like chair.
"You do not beg," he observed.
"I don't like humiliating myself."
"You do not cry."
"Crying doesn't stop blades."
His gaze lingered on her face longer than comfortable.
Then—
"Why were you chosen as sacrifice?"
The question struck deeper than expected.
Because she wasn't supposed to be.
This body's memories flickered inside her mind.
A noble daughter.
Given to the demon realm as part of a broken treaty.
Her family had offered her willingly.
Sold her, more accurately.
"For peace," she answered softly.
Kaelthar's jaw tightened slightly.
"Peace," he repeated with quiet disdain.
A low growl passed through several demons nearby.
He raised one finger.
Silence returned instantly.
His power wasn't loud.
It was absolute.
He stood slowly.
Every demon in the hall lowered their gaze.
Elara didn't.
He approached again.
Slow.
Measured.
He stopped directly in front of her chair.
Too close.
Her pulse quickened.
His hand lifted.
Not to strike.
To tilt her chin upward.
His fingers were warm.
Calloused.
Dangerously steady.
"You do not look at me with hatred," he murmured.
"Should I?"
A dangerous question.
His thumb brushed slightly against her jaw as if testing her reaction.
"You are human."
"And you are not?" she asked quietly.
Gasps filled the hall.
One demon stepped forward angrily.
"How dare—"
He didn't finish.
Kaelthar didn't even turn.
A wave of invisible force exploded outward.
The demon was slammed into a pillar, bones cracking.
Silence.
Absolute.
Elara's breath hitched.
He hadn't moved.
Hadn't raised his voice.
He simply said, softly:
"Know your place."
The demon crawled away, trembling.
Kaelthar's attention returned to her.
"You are bold."
"I'm alive," she corrected.
Something darker flickered behind his eyes.
"Until sunrise."
The reminder.
She knew the rule.
He kills them at dawn.
Always.
Without fail.
The system chimed again.
"Warning: Survival Probability at Dawn — 12%."
Great.
Very encouraging.
Kaelthar leaned closer.
So close she could feel his breath against her temple.
"Do you wish to live?" he asked quietly.
The question wasn't casual.
It felt like a test.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No dramatic speech.
Just truth.
His grip on her chin tightened slightly.
"And if living means staying here?"
Her heartbeat thundered.
Was this a trick?
"Yes."
He studied her face as if searching for cracks.
For lies.
She forced herself not to look away.
Seconds passed.
Then he released her.
"You will be moved to the eastern wing."
Shock rippled through the hall.
The eastern wing was for royal guests.
Not sacrifices.
One demon stepped forward carefully.
"My Lord… sunrise—"
"I am aware."
His voice didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
The demon bowed immediately.
Elara's mind raced.
He was changing the script.
Why?
Curiosity?
Amusement?
Or something else?
As servants approached to escort her, Kaelthar spoke again.
Without looking at her.
"If you attempt to escape, I will not kill you quickly."
Her spine straightened.
"I said I wouldn't run."
"And yet," he murmured, "humans lie."
She paused before answering.
"Then watch me."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Watch me survive.
Watch me stay.
Watch me change this story.
The torches flickered violently.
For a fraction of a second—
His lips curved.
Not kindly.
Not softly.
But intrigued.
"Very well," he said.
"Survive."
The eastern wing was enormous.
Black stone walls lined with silver lanterns.
Tall windows overlooking a crimson sky.
Her room was larger than her apartment back on Earth.
The door shut behind her with a heavy echo.
She was alone.
Finally.
She pressed her back against the door and slid down slowly.
Her hands began shaking now that no one was watching.
"That was insane," she whispered.
The system appeared in glowing script before her eyes.
"Affection Level Increased."
"Current: 8%."
"New Sub-Objective: Remain Alive Until Sunrise."
"Only sunrise?" she muttered bitterly.
"Let's survive tonight first."
A knock echoed softly.
She froze.
The door opened without waiting for permission.
He stepped inside.
Alone.
No guards.
No witnesses.
The air felt tighter instantly.
Her heart skipped.
"You are still trembling," he observed.
"I'm human."
"And yet you claim you are not afraid."
"I didn't say that."
He approached slowly.
"Fear is wise."
"And you?" she asked quietly. "Do you fear anything?"
The question hung dangerously between them.
His eyes darkened.
"I do not."
Lie.
She saw it.
Just for a flicker.
Something buried.
Something painful.
He stopped an arm's length away.
"Do not mistake my curiosity for mercy."
"I won't."
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips.
Then back to her eyes.
"You are different," he said quietly.
"From the others."
Because she wasn't supposed to exist.
Because she wasn't written into this fate.
He lifted his hand again—
Not violently.
Not gently.
His fingers brushed a strand of her hair.
Testing.
Observing.
Her breath hitched but she did not pull away.
The tension between them felt like a drawn blade.
"If you survive sunrise," he murmured,
"you will belong to this castle."
Belong.
The word was heavy.
Possessive.
Dangerous.
"Belong as what?" she asked.
His gaze locked with hers.
"Mine."
Silence.
Not romantic.
Not sweet.
Terrifyingly calm.
The system flashed red in her vision.
"Warning: Emotional Attachment Increasing Rapidly."
Her pulse thundered.
He turned toward the door.
Without looking back, he added:
"Do not disappoint me."
The door shut.
The room fell silent.
Elara exhaled slowly.
This was no longer just survival.
This was something far more dangerous.
He wasn't sparing her out of kindness.
He was claiming her out of interest.
And interest from a demon king—
Was the beginning of obsession.
Outside her window, the crimson sky darkened.
Sunrise was coming.
And if she lived—
Everything would change.