DKIE CH21: The Hype

Luka realized his imagination had still been too weak.

He had thought about the possible outcomes: either the Saint would hand him over, or somehow use his identity to maneuver politically. He had never expected it would turn out like this.

That overly calm tone, as if it was the Demon King who was being unreasonable.

Now, nobody dared even look at the Demon King’s face. Not even Alec, standing the closest—his head bowed, barely daring to breathe.

“Let it be, then.”

Only the Saint seemed completely at ease. Smiling warmly, she continued speaking to the Demon King:

“You’ve come all this way—surely not just to quarrel with dragons and myself. The Ten-Thousand Realms Assembly has already begun. Why not go down and have a look around together?”

When the great ones talked, no one else dared make a sound.

The Saint’s voice carried clearly into every ear.

Luka raised his eyebrows inwardly. This human Saint seemed just a little different from her lofty, sacred appearance.

That last sentence, after all, had implicitly placed humanity and dragonkind on the same side—yet without twisting the truth. After all, the Demon King had indeed just clashed briefly with a dragon.

The Demon King’s gaze grew colder. The Saint’s smile remained bright and easy, just as at the start.

The crowd’s hearts rose to their throats. Then suddenly—the Demon King laughed. That visible smile on his face chilled them far worse than any cold sneer had before.

“Very well. Let’s go enjoy this little tour together. Just as well, I can see whether the Holy City still bears the same spirit it showed during the Battle of Saman.”

At once, anger flared in countless human hearts.

The Battle of Saman—one of the bloodiest fights of the Demon-Human War. Back then, the Saint alone had held back the Demon King plus two demon warlords. But humanity had too few peak powers; the Holy City had nearly fallen to a stealth strike.

Demons—all should be damned.

That fury, however, unconsciously turned upon Luka.

Feeling the hostile stares, Luka turned sideways and snapped without restraint:

“What are you glaring at me for? Glaring at me instead of glaring at Alec? There’s a pureblood standing right here and you pick on me? Blind, are you?”

Alec turned a cold look toward him.

Luka raised his hand loftily at the crowd: “Gentlemen, let’s all glare at him together.”

Then, demonstrating, he widened his own eyes until his pupils bulged like bronze bells.

No one followed such a ridiculous move. Returning to his lazy slouched posture, Luka gave a soft dismissive click of the tongue:

“Cowards.”

“You—!”

“Quiet.” Someone beside Alec hissed.

At some point, the Saint and Demon King had already moved to the center of the plaza. The law enforcement captain received the order: the Assembly must continue as planned.

The icy atmosphere slowly softened. Nervous stallholders, hesitant till now, finally relaxed when it became clear the Saint and Demon King weren’t actually about to start a fight.

Gradually, attention returned to the exhibits.

According to his plan, Luka was just about to activate the inscription on the livestream wall.

But suddenly, from afar—“da da da”—hoofbeats like thunder.

A dark tide surged closer, among them half‑centaurs.

Enemy attack?

Even before Luka processed, a shrill voice pierced forward:

“Luka! Luka! Let me at him!”

It was Lilian.

Small in stature but somehow at the very front, side by side with the centaurs.

During the Assembly, besides guests and travelers, each race also sent their own journalists.

And Luka—walking, talking front‑page headline that he was—was to them like starving wolves scenting fresh meat.

In the blink of an eye, they swarmed him. Pens rustling furiously, centaurs craning their long torsos over the crowd.

“Prince Iliad, may I ask, how did you escape the Demon Realm to arrive in the Holy City?”

“Luka, will your new book describe in detail the breakdown of the Demon King and Holy Maiden’s marriage?”

Notably, Lilian still called him by the pen name, not by his identity. Luka secretly nodded in approval—typical Lilian, even now remembering to promote his book.

He answered: “All I can say is—it will be a series. Besides My Demon-King Father, there may be more to come.”

Of course, if he died early, he wouldn’t write them.

“…My Holy-Maiden Mother. My Wandering Diary. My Half-brother One. My Half-brother Two. …The Hidden Side of My Grandmother.”

Like rattling off a menu, flawless without pause, Luka finally shut his eyes in mock agony:

“And… My Heartless Dad, Rebellious Mom, and Broken Self.”

The reporters gaped.

They made a living off sniffing a story. They knew how to chase heat. Yet this—this ability to milk every pebble in the latrine pit of Demon Realm into serialized text—was beyond anything they had seen.

Even the Saint glanced over.

Too many reporters pressed closer. Luka worried some demon servants might be hidden among them, waiting to assassinate him. Outwardly calm, inwardly every muscle beneath his thin shirt was taut.

Berlanie noticed. Restored to human form, his long blue crystal tail still visible, his scales radiated natural cold.

Seeing Luka’s disguised tension, the dragon’s tail instinctively curled in, forming a protective gesture.

A bold centaur even tried to jam a hoof onto Luka’s stall—until he looked up and locked eyes with Berlanie’s icy glare. At once, the hoof snatched back.

“Mistake. Unintentional.” The centaur stiffened, legs twitching nervously.

“Achoo.”

At that exact moment, Luka sneezed.

Leo was about to warn Berlanie that his unusual draconic temperature might be too cold for a human. But Alice had already flicked her fingers, releasing a small flame. The warmth drove out the chill, painting Luka’s cheeks a rosy red.

So warm.

Rubbing his reddened nose-tip, Luka felt a rare sense of safety. Warmth rose in his heart.

Not a single dragon had exchanged words with him all day. Yet their every action had, wordlessly, given him confidence.

To show thanks, Luka personally lifted three Little Monster blind boxes, handing one each to Leo, Alice, and Berlanie.

“I hope you pull the hidden edition,” he told them.

Alice blinked curiously. “What’s a hidden edition?”

“The rarest design, among all models.”

Hidden edition! The words struck like lightning into three dragon hearts.

Dragons always wanted the best and most unique.

Alice glanced down at the box. On its back were all designs, with one marked “Hidden.”

“I want them all,” she said.

Almost at the exact same moment, the other two dragons spoke too.

Leo gave Berlanie a frosty stare. Berlanie snorted back. Firelight flared in Alice’s pupils.

The silent but charged moment all but melted reporters’ brains. Hundreds of column titles exploded in their minds. Yesterday they complained of news drought—today the problem was too many scoops.

Such sweet suffering!

Luka smoothly interjected: “Each customer is limited to ten per day.”

Purchase limits—the lie of capitalism. The rich simply hired more people to queue. No shortage of loopholes money couldn’t buy.

And the dragons… peerlessly competitive by nature. No one wanted second place. Even in opening boxes, each must be the best.

Luka added gently: “Honored guests, today’s unboxings will be livestreamed across the entire city—to let everyone appreciate the charm of blindbox toys. I trust you won’t mind?”

No bottom-line rates. No guaranteed hits after a certain number. Just raw odds.

The blindbox craze of the 21st century… had finally blown across to the Saint-Magic Continent!

As more gathered, Luka stepped to the livestream wall, voice lifting brightly:

“Then let us begin.”

Livestreaming. To these people—both strange and not so strange. Some academies occasionally used the format during exams. But the cost—mountains of magic crystals burned in support—meant it was rarely seen.

Luka’s wall wasn’t just crystal, but stocked with high‑grade memory stones.

“Insane…” someone whispered.

Limited‑purchase plus livestream? Surely a losing business.

Luka, unbothered, activated the glowing inscriptions.

Unlike Alec, who had thrown up water walls to block prying eyes, Luka did the opposite. He deliberately invited Alice to the front. Speaking with utmost formality:

“The joy of a blindbox lies in the unknown. Any piece is adorable. For our very first unboxing, let the whole city witness the fate-critters that belong to you.”

A dragon’s presence already drew eyes. Alice, under spotlight, raised her box; the crowd hushed, attention fixed.

Being stared at, with such anticipation, brought Alice nearly the thrill of battle.

Moving uncharacteristically cautiously, she tore open the box. The prize was tight inside.

“Faster,” Leo urged.

Only the faintest glimpse visible, curiosity burned. Berlanie’s icy tail casually tapped the box bottom.

The trinket tumbled into Alice’s palm. She shot him a glare—but then her eyes softened.

Inside sat a little monster crouched beneath a leaf, peering curiously at the rain‑dappled world outside. Its sparkling eyes reflected the whole wide world.

The craftsmanship was far finer than the box illustration—hyperreal, lifelike.

Luka’s voice narrated smoothly: “Alas—not the hidden. But still precious. This one was crafted from stardust sand; its inspiration, the spirit of exploration.”

Considering the broadcast, he enunciated clearly, every syllable echoing down the main road.

“What’s this being sold?” Confused voices rose in the streets.

The merchant guild’s assistants shouted answers at once: “Hot sellers of the Assembly—livestreamed unboxing in progress!”

“And note—that box was opened by a member of the dragon race themselves!”

Assembly, dragons, curiosity. Like dry tinder, the herd instinct blazed—crowds gathered overflowingly.

“Wait—that’s it? A decoration? Doesn’t even hold magic?” complained some viewers after watching several. Disappointed, they turned to go.

“Unfortunately, not the hidden…” crooned Luka’s voice, still drifting from the wall.

Those leaving paused. Just for another glance.

Then another.

And another.

Soon they found they’d been standing there for fifteen minutes straight.

What was this?

Oddly satisfying. They almost wanted someone to get the hidden. And yet, perversely, they also didn’t. Especially watching dragons stubbornly keep trying and still fail—the stimulation was delicious.

They weren’t alone.

Crowding grew so intense law enforcement had to intervene. When they traced the cause, they nearly laughed.

All this delay, for a trinket toy?

“Do not loiter—”

Before they finished, one of the early onlookers stepped inside. Staring at an identical blindbox on display, he declared:

“I’ll buy one.”

Eyes stayed glued to the wall as he spoke. After all, no one yet had pulled the hidden—maybe he’d be first.

But alas, his was common.

Behind him, a derisive snort: “One only and you expect hidden? Clerk, fetch ten.”

“I’ll take some too.”

No one could say exactly why they bought, only that everyone was buying.

The queue grew explosive.

Law enforcement shouted orders at last: “Make way! If you want to buy, get in line!”

A sixth‑rank mage’s bark carried weight. The chaos resolved into a human snake of orderly buyers.

And all the while Luka’s voice guided them:

“This model features detachable wings, semi‑transparent—symbolizing courage to soar. It took dozens of material trials before success.”

“This one—sprinkled with meteor dust, the stars at your side.”

“This next is extremely rare—though not hidden, it glows at night.”

One officer himself looked back at the wall. Hearing detailed introductions, he realized—he actually sort of liked them.

“…Am I possessed?” he muttered.

Then saw a gem dealer he knew already in line.

“Buddy, you too?”

The dealer reddened. He had a collector’s obsession; anything designed in sets demanded completion. The itch to collect all was irresistible.

The enforcer’s lips twitched painfully. He fought the urge to join.

And the same scene repeated all across the city—wherever a Rhine Guild store had a wall.

At last, law officers comforted themselves: at least order in the streets was easier than riots inside the Assembly proper.

“The reporters are the real headache,” they muttered.

Indeed, on Armadillo Plaza, the press corps scribbled furiously.

Livestream plus live unboxing had ignited the entire crowd. Luka’s stall was swamped solid. He busied himself putting up display boards, answering reporter questions with a smile, and when pushed beyond knowledge or into sensitive spots—smiled mysteriously. Perfect effect.

Today had set a blazing start.

Livestreaming—a concept foreign to the Saint-Magic Continent till now—could become his lever. Money earned from Demon King gossip would give him stronger bargaining chips in partnership with Cullen. Together they could stage raffles, special events—the heat would skyrocket further.

“We’ll build it like industry,” Luka mused under his breath.

A true civilizational innovation for the magic world.

But such big dreams required serious preparation.

Absorbed in plans, Luka felt eyes burning on him again—unfriendly.

His sixth sense was keen. Through a gap in the crowd, he found a dwarf staring directly at him.

Their eyes met. Hatred glinted openly.

In past years, dwarven inventions always took center stage. Today, the spotlight was stolen by a “low-grade” half‑demon with only words.

“Just cheap tricks with words,” the dwarf thought bitterly.

He almost revealed his latest invention of surveillance crystals—to show what true value was.

But then thought better. “No. Alec looks about ready to explode already. Best not provoke further.”

Scanning the area, he saw that the demon servants who had been at Alec’s side were gone. His mood brightened.

After such a humiliation, Alec would surely set ambushes outside the city. Even if Luka slipped through, the Demon King would never forgive him.

“Not even the Saint could save you then,” the dwarf gloated silently.

But at that moment, a sudden gust swept by.

The Chief of Law Enforcement strode quickly past, releasing a tolerable aura that sent human reporters scurrying aside.

Ignoring all other races, he came straight to Luka. Lowering his voice, he gave the order he had just received:

“The Saint wishes to see you.”

Author’s Note

Luka’s Diary:
I will cling to these great figures like a ghost—to raise my value.

Alec: Read.