Lana
My stomach felt warm. Maybe it was the herbal soup Sylas had prepared. Or maybe it was the way Kaelith forced me to finish five slices of bread despite my pitiful attempts to refuse.
I could stand again. My steps still resembled those of a newborn deer, but at least I didn't collapse in the bathroom anymore.
And now, as night descended, I sat facing the Demon King—alone—in his dark and lavish private chamber.
I was supposed to meet him this morning, but of course… that had been impossible.
I sat on a long sofa. My clothes were simple, loose, and covered almost all of my body—but apparently, not enough to hide everything.
The Demon King's eyes had been fixed on me since I entered. His gaze wasn't lewd, but neither was it entirely polite. He reclined on the couch opposite mine, his chin resting on his half-gloved, long fingers.
Then, he smirked.
Satisfied. Mischievous. Intrusive.
