The room was too lavish for someone so unwanted.
High marble ceilings, crimson velvet curtains, a chandelier made of frozen phoenix tears—Kujo sat in the very center of it all, perched on an ornate chair far too elegant for a man labeled as the shame of the demon throne. He rested one elbow against the armrest, eyes dull with boredom and faint resentment. This wasn't his choice. It never was.
On his lap sat a petite girl with short teal-green hair and red-orange eyes. She wore a black and red strappy bikini-like outfit with jagged flame motifs and skull-themed designs on her legwear. Her cape was tattered and red, attached to gold shoulder pieces with bone-like spikes. She had a black choker, gold chains across her chest, and one long sleeve on her right arm with claw-like adornments. A small red feather accessory decorated her hair.
Her name was Dimara—a Chimera, a creature born of magic, emotion, and fragments of discarded flesh. Just like him, she was rejected by those who once claimed to own her. Unlike him, she never forgot what it felt like to be alone.
"Master," she whispered, kicking her legs gently as they dangled over his thighs, "Can we go now? Let's sneak away and play games in the ruined gardens again. Please?"
Kujo sighed. "You know I'd rather be anywhere else, but I have to stay here, Dimara. My parents are forcing me to sit through this."
Dimara puffed out her cheeks and let out a dramatic groan, her clawed fingers wrapping around the ends of his jacket. "They don't even like you. Why should you listen to them?"
That was the unspoken truth—he was only here because disobedience meant another public punishment. The demon king and queen had no love for their fifth son, the "mongrel" born of a half-human consort. In the royal court, being 25% human wasn't a stain—it was a curse.
He wasn't the strongest. He wasn't the smartest. He wasn't the heir. He was just… Kujo. And everyone reminded him of it every single day.
A tall, curvy woman with long pink hair and glowing yellow-green eyes stood by his side, arms crossed beneath her imposing chest. She wore a very revealing armored outfit made of black and silver with sharp gold accents. Her top exposed most of her chest, while her hips were covered only by high-cut armored pieces. She had a long, tattered red cape attached to her shoulder guards, and her legs were covered in tall, silver and gold armored boots with blade-like edges.
This was Fiore, a demon knight of noble blood who once led an army in the eastern territories. Now she chose to follow him. Her reasons were her own. She rarely spoke of them. But she never left his side.
"Sir," Fiore said sharply, her eyes flicking toward the door, "Focus. Someone approaches."
Kujo sat upright just as the doors opened. Hoofbeats echoed through the chamber as the latest guest entered the room—an enormous woman, taller than even Fiore, with deep red skin, long braided orange hair, and eyes like smoldering coals. She was clearly a Minotaur, dressed in ceremonial silks that could barely contain her overwhelming figure. Her golden nose ring glinted as she took a seat across from him, her expression unreadable.
Dimara shifted uncomfortably on his lap, clearly annoyed.
"Prince Kujo," the Minotaur noblewoman said, voice deep and honeyed. "Your court continues to waste resources on impractical diplomacy. We should invest in real profit—slaves. Particularly humans. They're cheap when bought in bulk."
Kujo's fingers twitched.
He leaned forward just slightly, speaking with the most neutral tone he could summon. "The cost of long-distance transport makes it inefficient. Especially from the human borderlands. It's not viable."
That was a lie. He simply didn't want to deal in flesh. Especially not human flesh. It wasn't about morality—he had no illusions about this world—but more about the twisted satisfaction his family would get from seeing him command a horde of shackled humans.
The Minotaur's jaw tensed. "So you're just stalling me again, are you? Like last month. Like the time before. Do you take me for a fool, prince?"
Dimara flinched, her soft pout replaced by something far more dangerous. Her body tensed like a coiled beast, and her right hand slowly melted into a mass of writhing, black-and-green tendrils. Spiked and alive, they slithered upward, crackling with a low hum of cursed energy.
"Watch your tone," she growled.
The tendrils lashed forward before Kujo could speak, wrapping tight around the Minotaur woman's thick neck, lifting her slightly off the ground. The noblewoman gasped, clawing at the unnatural mass as it squeezed harder.
"Dimara!" Kujo barked.
Her eyes burned with fury as her voice cracked. "She insulted you. She looked at you like trash. I won't let her—!"
Kujo reached up with one hand and patted her head.
Her whole body froze.
Soft strokes. Slow and comforting. Dimara's breathing calmed, her tendrils retracted. The rage melted from her face as her claws reformed into fingers, and she curled up against his chest with a low whimper.
"Bad girl," he whispered, "but thank you."
Fiore let out a tired sigh beside him, not even drawing her sword. "You really need to teach her restraint. One of these days, she's going to strangle someone important."
"She already did," Kujo muttered under his breath, glancing at the choking noblewoman who was now slumped forward, coughing violently.
He stood, gently shifting Dimara off his lap and walking toward the Minotaur. He offered her a handkerchief.
"Forgive her. She's… loyal."
The noblewoman slapped the cloth away, face red with humiliation. "You'll regret this. Your family won't protect you forever."
He smiled politely. "No. They never have."
The woman stormed out, her hooves cracking against the floor.
Fiore exhaled slowly. "That could've gone worse."
"No," Kujo replied. "That's exactly how I expected it to go."
He turned to Dimara, who was now sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up, pouting again.
"I just wanted to protect you…" she whispered.
"And you did," he said, kneeling beside her. "But next time, try not to kill anyone in front of witnesses."
She gave a guilty nod and clung to him again, burying her face in his shoulder.
Fiore looked down at the two of them, expression unreadable.