TBR CH187

When the Demon King spent long nights alone in the Demon Palace, he sometimes recalled the words the human had once spoken to him—he always recalled those words the human had once spoken to him.

“What if,” Kriesmeier’s voice was low, he murmured, “what if I deny it?”

The human’s amber eyes reminded him of the wine of the Lord of Gluttony—sweet, yet capable of corrupting the mind. He remembered the drunken, flushed dancers spinning.

When the dark golden hurricane in his eyes subsided, Roland stood before him, unarmed, yet utterly determined.

“I will have you.” He chuckled, “This desire will only end when you kill me. Kriesmeier, do you think I haven’t made up my mind? I’m not the kind of person who gives up easily on someone I adore. If you don’t love me as much as I love you, then be very careful about our battle. If I have the chance, I will imprison you. Perhaps force you to drink those love potions, though I once found them childish.”

“Despicable tactics,” Kriesmeier said softly.

Roland blinked at him. “I think it’s better if we’re frank,” he said. “Don’t pretend that even abyssal demons have some hypocritical moral bottom line. You can no longer hide the fact that you’ve fallen in love with me, so why bother? From another perspective, if we love each other, I don’t mind becoming your Demon Queen.”

A thousand silver candles seemed to flicker simultaneously. They had never truly illuminated the Demon King’s silver-grey, muted long hair.

In the flickering palace, the Demon King’s palm rested on the throne made of white bones, the hard, white bone piercing his palm. At the moment of stinging pain, he looked straight ahead, raising a hand to cover his eyes, as if someone truly stood there. His voice was swallowed by the empty palace: “—Despicable human.”

Kriesmeier once pretended that he wasn’t deeply immersed in hopeless waiting. But even the Demon King couldn’t truly deceive himself. He had been waiting.

Abyssal demons rarely fell into slumber, and their rare sleep was always poor; their pitch-black souls did not allow them earthly peace. Kriesmeier once dreamed of a landscape of stark white bones, blood flowing backward into the sky, the earth trembling in vast black fissures, and his siblings wailing in endless flames. But since Roland disappeared, his dreams had basically only had one theme.

The Demon King opened his eyes, a little tired. The room was still dim. He forgot how his consciousness had abruptly ceased, but his injuries were too severe, and his power was almost depleted. Although the pain was inexplicably alleviated, reaching the limit of his physical strength was always unavoidable.

He was still not better now. But he was at least much more awake. He slowly realized that he was in another world, the reason for his sluggishness being that the black-haired young man was still leaning against his wings in the same posture he remembered last, also deeply asleep.

The wings tightly bound him, forming a cage built for him, and the other showed no sign of breaking free. Just like a black cat napping in his arms. Kriesmeier couldn’t comprehend the strange emotion in his heart. In that instant, he even wondered if Roland was still a fragment of his long nightmare.

He had seen humans countless times in illusions, killed humans… occasionally trying to kiss him before they dissipated. But this time, he extended his slender, pale fingertips and touched Roland’s soft, damp hair. This was a real human, with flesh and blood, a vibrant, beating heart. This seemed to signify both a loss regained and a final loss.

He finally just placed his palm over the human’s forehead. The other seemed to close his eyes, but ultimately didn’t wake up. Kriesmeier hoped this action was discreet enough, at least he didn’t want Roland to realize it. He didn’t want to expose his weakness so early. The Demon King with the broken horn lowered his eyes, and under the cover of his silver-grey hair, he kissed the back of his own hand—kissing the human’s forehead through his own palm.

He suddenly stiffened. It wasn’t that the young man suddenly opened his eyes. Even the Archmage hadn’t expected to sleep so deeply—he probably hadn’t expected even himself to fall asleep in the Demon King’s wings. One must know that since coming to the real world, he had basically not closed his eyes peacefully.

Therefore, Saint Roland, who always planned flawlessly, forgot what he had to conceal. Under the Demon King’s pale knuckles, he detected the young man’s imperceptible trembling. That trembling stemmed from a deep-seated pain in his soul, a pain that seemed to cleave him in two, leaving him no escape even in his dreams. Fine beads of sweat seeped from his forehead; his hair felt damp and cold, as if freshly pulled from water.

“—Despicable human,” Kriesmeier thought again.

But he couldn’t control himself from slowly, bit by bit, retracting his wings, completely trapping Roland within them. The Demon King had given up trying to figure out how love and hate had intertwined. He was familiar with the pain transmitted from his fingertips; this was originally the pain he had suffered. He leaned down, lowered his eyes, feeling the demon’s heart beating little by little.

A kiss could not truly alleviate the pain caused by the forbidden spell. But a transference spell could.

When Roland opened his eyes, he was faced with another chilling sight in the mundane sense. The Demon King’s dark golden eyes could hardly be closer, as if a beast was about to devour its prey. At this distance, the color of his irises was like cold, burning flames, with a hint of all-consuming black flickering in their core.

He was leaning over, scrutinizing him, his broken horn stained with ominous blood, ready to pounce at any second.

“Kris,” the Archmage said calmly, “good evening.”

Kriesmeier stared at him strangely. Roland’s consciousness gradually returned, and his stiff limbs slowly regained strength—and more pain. He found it hard to imagine that in this situation, he had actually accidentally fallen asleep with Kriesmeier, just like every sweet night in the past.

The problem was, both of them were now incomplete. Roland hoped he hadn’t revealed too much while disoriented. Kriesmeier had a very peculiar pair of wings; when facing enemies, every feather was sharp enough to tear vital points, but when the human leaned against them, they felt softer than a pillow.

Perhaps this softened his will. Roland tried, but finally gave up trying to break free from the wings.

“I was wondering if I could collect your feathers to make a pillow,” the Archmage joked. “That would be a rare collectible. Although it might be put away, because I can hardly imagine needing such things when you’re nearby.”

“Roland.” The Demon King’s voice was as cold and deep as metal, staring at him without blinking.

“Shh,” the human readily extended a finger to Kriesmeier’s lips, gesturing for silence. He smiled nonchalantly. After waking up, the tremors caused by the pain seemed to vanish instantly, or perhaps were perfectly concealed. “My dear, whatever you just realized, we’re not discussing that topic for now.”

Kriesmeier looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped. The beast in front of him forcefully suppressed the urge to tear something apart, merely biting Roland’s finger silently, with a very light pressure, leaving a slight, ticklish gnawing mark on his fingertip.

Roland soothed his silver-grey long hair with his other hand. It wasn’t smooth to the touch; instead, its texture was like linen, the rough strands rustling between his fingertips, leaving a peculiar sensation. He knew Kriesmeier had already discovered the traces of his magic that he had tried to conceal. He had thought he could hide it for a little longer.

Just before the Archmage, unable to sustain himself, fell asleep in Kriesmeier’s dark wings, he had a conversation with the Grimoire. The Grimoire was placed face down on his desk, and the Demon King was very clingy even when asleep, so Roland had to use his staff to cast a spell to make his phone fly into his hand.

He calmly skipped over a large number of the other’s historical messages, filled with screaming, until the world consciousness belatedly realized that no matter how Roland courted death, it would be difficult for the Demon King to kill him. Out of concern for Roland’s safety, the Grimoire did not leave. So it also heard the subsequent series of questions and answers, including Roland’s background, the Demon King’s past, their final battle, the characteristics of the Abyss Demons, and the moment this unusual couple first developed feelings for each other—a perplexing memory of murder.

The Grimoire listened with great interest, even offering many comments. It was now an app, so it had added a feature to view historical messages, making it unnecessary to erase previous notes every time new content was written. This also made it very easy for Roland to scroll down and browse its opinions. It finally left a message on the screen, sighing: “I have to say, you two really are a perfect match.”

“Right?” Roland smiled. “I’m glad you finally realized that. Would you like me to invite you to my wedding with Kriesmeier? I can save you an invitation.”

The Grimoire unhesitatingly wanted to agree, then remembered the Archmage’s excellent statement to the Demon King about “if everyone knows, then you don’t have to worry about being held accountable for killing yourself.” It rarely flinched, manifesting as a momentary dimming of the screen. However, the world consciousness quickly recovered.

“Seriously,” the Grimoire quickly wrote in a hurried script, “what do you plan to do next?”

“I want to let Kris experience life here,” Roland blinked lightly. “This world is quite remarkable, isn’t it? There are many delicious foods, and strange and wonderful tools. But I want to take him to the mall first to buy a suitable outfit. Dark cloaks and greatcoats are clearly unsuitable here, and my magic can’t conjure things I don’t understand… Do you think he’d look good in a suit?”

The Grimoire couldn’t help but follow his train of thought and imagine it. It admitted that with the Demon King’s aura, formal wear was indeed the most suitable choice.

“But,” the world consciousness chose to interrupt Roland’s thoughts. The white text on the black screen paused for a while before slowly reappearing, “I mean, you understand you can’t stay like this forever. He… you realize his injuries are still irreversibly worsening. This world is made of different rules, and his power from the abyss cannot be sustained. You’ve even shared half of his pain. Moreover, the worlds have been violently torn apart, and the Demon King has disappeared, which could lead to the spread of fissures and system alerts—”

“I know,” Roland said.

“You must…” The Grimoire stopped. “Wait, you said you know. Well, I suppose so.”

“At least Kris and I have some time,” Roland whispered, his amber pupils reflecting the Demon King in the room. Even though he was unconscious, he still completely enveloped Roland with his wings. From the moment he cast the spell, he felt an unbearable pain that almost overwhelmed him, but the Archmage also had a willpower beyond ordinary people. “That’s enough, I know what to do.”

“I actually didn’t want to say this,” faint text reappeared on the screen. “The Demon King bought us time. As a result, thank goodness. The passage between the two worlds has opened, and things will be much easier from now on. I am truly very grateful to both of you, so, I… if my urging makes you feel awkward…”

“It’s okay.” Roland smiled silently again. “I know Kris is amazing.”

He completely relaxed in Kriesmeier’s wings. The Demon King carried the scent of blood and metallic slaughter. In this atmosphere, even the young man felt a little drowsy. He hadn’t felt this sense of security in a long time.

“I know,” he whispered, “…I know.”

When Roland led Kriesmeier out of the shopping mall, he felt as if the Demon King had “Do Not Approach” written all over his face. It wasn’t that the Demon King didn’t look good in a suit; on the contrary, when he emerged from the changing room, Roland couldn’t help but curve his eyes.

His amber eyes reflected the Demon King’s immaculate collar. The black suit made him appear even more solemn, creating an aura of danger that made even the sales assistant hesitate, unsure whether to approach. Roland helped him button his cuffs, then praised, “Very handsome.”

The dark suit and the Demon King’s gloomy and cold demeanor were perfectly harmonious. His silver-grey long hair cascaded behind him, and his dark golden eyes were particularly striking.

To avoid attracting too much attention—for instance, being recognized as looking exactly like Kriesmeier on a poster—Roland deliberately chose a time during the latest comic convention in Licheng. The area was already frequented by many people in unusual costumes. Licheng was an international tourist city with a high acceptance of various novelties. Just in case, Roland also carefully placed a confusion spell on him.

Kriesmeier’s dark golden pupils lingered on him for a while before he spoke softly: “You too.”

The Archmage felt the Demon King might have misunderstood human customs. Although complimenting the other’s beauty was Roland’s most frequent action, he truly didn’t think his current attire had anything unique about it. He had merely put on a simple trench coat because of the cool weather, considering himself at most neatly dressed.

The reason for this financial strain was—Roland truly had no extra money. He ate and lived at “Zero Distance Internet Cafe” because he was considered a semi-employee, so Shan Sheng paid him. But Kriesmeier’s suit was actually very expensive.

Archmages on the Mirar Continent rarely worried about money, but Roland felt the money was well spent. He smiled at the Demon King, extending his hand and pulling him outside. As they walked side by side on the road, Roland didn’t notice Kriesmeier’s gaze still lingering on him.

The young man wore a light-colored trench coat, his dark hair falling against his cheeks. In the bright sunlight, his amber eyes were even more vivid. He looked like the intelligent type, and very harmless. Compared to his usual Archmage robe attire on the Mirar Continent—the Demon King had indeed not lied. The Archmage himself might not have realized that his current attire was several times more relaxed and bright than the equally dark mage robes.

When he smiled, Kriesmeier found it truly hard to look away. He took Roland’s offered wrist. Roland tilted his head: “Kris, you don’t actually have to hold so tight… at least not unilaterally.” He corrected the Demon King’s grip, adjusting it to an intertwined fingers posture.

This day was the most ordinary of days. The weather was very mild, the streets were neither too crowded nor too empty, and the sunlight did not fall too intensely on their bodies. Wherever Kriesmeier walked, the crowds eerily parted. But this was harmless; they rarely had the opportunity to walk on a sun-drenched street anyway.

Kriesmeier didn’t know where Roland was taking him. He had no objection to it either, practically strolling calmly with the human on the street, which was too bright and too noisy for him, but if Roland was by his side, happily swaying his wrist, it didn’t matter.

“Kris,” Roland winked at him, “look up.”

In the distant sky—perhaps not so distant—a huge circle was slowly rotating. With the Demon King’s overly keen observational skills, he could perceive that it carried humans, but he didn’t understand what it was. The Archmage finally stopped, observing the surroundings, feeling as if he had fallen into a sea of bright colors. On the giant archway in front of them, “Licheng Amusement Park” was written in colorful, concise characters.

“I did a little research,” the Archmage hinted, “This is a suggested dating spot for lovers in this world. It’s said that if you kiss at the very top of this machine called a ‘Ferris wheel,’ you’ll stay together forever.” He didn’t particularly believe this, and was confident that a being like the Demon King, who held fate in his own hands, wouldn’t believe it either.

But since it was an excuse for a kiss—any excuse would do.

Roland was very satisfied to see that Kriesmeier was already looking at the distant rotating circle with an inquiring gaze. “Before we ride the Ferris wheel, we can explore here first,” Roland reminded him. “Although many of these are for children, we might still find some interesting things. At least with you, there will always be something interesting.”