Chapter 11
"Who are you and how dare you come to this place?" the guard questioned Yuta harshly.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm lost," Yuta whispered, stuttering.
Had he gotten himself in trouble? Would he be punished?
Yuta was also surprised to see that this guard was human, why would strong demon creatures need human guards?
The guard, seeing his nervous expression, eased his stony expression a little. "My dear, this place is one of the demon king's personal spots. No one, and especially not a slave, is allowed here," he said, eyeing Yuta's servant attire.
The demon king. The words hit Yuta all over again. That beautiful, terrifying figure with the overwhelming demonic aura—that had been Lord Elrien himself.
"Please forgive me. I was looking for the garden and got lost," Yuta pleaded.
"It's alright as long as he didn't see you, but you better be careful next time. You might even get killed for this," the guard said in a serious tone.
Yuta nodded gratefully. It was a relief that he wasn't going to be punished.
"And boy? The garden is on the other side," the guard added.
Yuta sent him an appreciative smile, nodded, and ran away quickly.
So that was indeed the demon king he had seen just now, Yuta thought as he hurried back. He didn't look the way a demon king should look… He had half expected horns, hairy feet and arms, along with dirty long claws. Weren't those the way they were described in his storybooks?
How could someone with such beautiful looks be so cruel? he thought, then shook his head.
"Yuta, oh Yuta, this palace is so dangerous. Every little thing leads to punishment or even death. How will you survive?" he whispered to himself.
He looked up at the sky and said a short prayer. "Mother, Father, if you are watching me, please bless me so I won't get into any trouble, alright?"
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"What took you so long? You got me so worried," Ren said, holding his heart.
"I got lost for a while. I'm sorry I got you worried," Yuta replied with a sheepish grin.
"As long as you are safe," Ren replied. "Now come along, there are still things to be done. We cannot sleep if we don't finish our assigned tasks on time"
Some moments later, Yuta was busy washing dishes in the kitchen, humming to a song, when he was called.
"Hey, new slave," someone called, but Yuta didn't realize he was the one being referred to. He just kept on humming.
Then he was tapped harshly.
"I was talking to you. Are you deaf?" an unfamiliar boy said harshly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were referring to me. My name is Yuta. Do you need anything?" Yuta asked, not offended by the open hostility of the slave.
"Who cares what your stupid name might be," the boy said haughtily. "Now go and pour that hot water away," he commanded.
Yuta didn't want to offend anyone, especially the old servants who treated the newcomers with deep contempt, so he just smiled and picked up the bowl of steaming dirty water.
"Make sure to come back right now!" the boy added rudely, causing Yuta to be surprised. Why did he speak in such a manner?
Weren't they all humans who should stick together?
Yuta hurried with the water in order to get back quickly to avoid any situations. He was rushing around a corner when someone suddenly stepped into his path, causing the hot water to spill on both of them.
Yuta winced in pain and looked up to see a very furious-looking Lyrian. The demon's pale skin was already reddening where the scalding water had hit him, and his golden eyes blazed with murderous rage.
"I'm so sorry, I was jus—" Yuta started when he was slapped hard across his face, the force of it shocking him and sending him flying against a pillar.
"You lowly slave! Why don't you look where you are going? Now you've burned me!" Lyrian snarled, his demonic aura flaring with his anger.
Yuta started explaining before Lyrian cut him off. "But you stepped into my path when—"
"You dare talk back!" Lyrian hissed like an angry snake, and Yuta decided to keep quiet. Why was it always him? Why did trouble seem to be attracted to him?
But Lyrian's rage went deeper than just the burn. Hours earlier, his lord had rejected him coldly, dismissing him like he was nothing. The humiliation still burned in his chest, and now this pathetic human had given him a target for all that fury.
"You know what?" Lyrian said with a cold, promising smile. "I think you need to learn some proper respect."
He turned to the nearby guards. "Take this slave to the courtyard. Give him twenty lashes for his clumsiness and insolence."
"No, please!" Yuta gasped, but the guards were already grabbing his arms.
The courtyard was filled with other slaves who had been forced to watch as an example. Yuta was stripped of his shirt and bound to a wooden post, his pale skin gleaming in the harsh sunlight. Ren was sobbing some distance away, but even he couldn't save Yuta.
The first lash of the whip tore across his back like liquid fire. Yuta bit his lip, trying not to scream, but by the fifth strike, tears were streaming down his face. His back felt like it was being carved apart, each new lash opening fresh wounds that bled freely.
"Please," he whispered, but the punishment continued relentlessly.
By the tenth lash, his vision was blurring. By the fifteenth, he could taste blood in his mouth from biting his tongue. When the twentieth and final strike fell, Yuta's legs gave out completely, and he hung limply from his bonds.
The guards cut him loose, and he collapsed to the stone ground, his back a mass of torn flesh and flowing blood. The other slaves looked on in horror and pity, but none dared help him because the guards ordered another 20 strikes for anyone who dared to.
Yuta crawled away from the courtyard, each movement sending fresh agony through his ruined back. He managed to drag himself to a small alcove in a corner of the castle before his strength finally gave out entirely.
As darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, he saw something that made him wonder if he was hallucinating. There, coiled in the shadows, was a large black snake with burning red eyes—the same snake from the forest.
"You…"
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The grand meeting chamber was a testament to demonic architecture—soaring black stone pillars carved with ancient runes, and a massive obsidian table that reflected the flickering light of enchanted torches. Lord Elrien sat at the head of the table, his dark presence commanding even in this formal setting.
Across from him sat King Aldric of the human realm, a middle-aged man whose weathered face spoke of years spent trying to broker peace between their peoples. Various demon nobles filled the remaining seats, their otherworldly beauty masking the predatory nature beneath.
"The disparity between our peoples has grown too great," King Aldric was saying, his voice hinted with anxiety "The raids on human settlements, the taking of slaves—surely we can reach some agreement that benefits both our realms."
Elrien should have been listening. This was important—the delicate balance between the demon and human worlds depended on negotiations like these. But his mind kept wandering, pulled by thoughts of white hair and gentle voices.
A servant entered to refill their wine glasses, and Elrien's attention snapped to him with predatory focus. The boy had pale hair—not the silver-white he was obsessing over, but close enough to send his thoughts spiraling.
"You," Elrien said suddenly, his voice cutting through the diplomatic discussion like a blade.
The servant froze in terror, and every eye in the room turned to their host.
"Leave," Elrien commanded, his dark eyes fixed on the trembling boy. "Now."
The servant fled, wine pitcher abandoned on the table.
"And stop infiltrating my thoughts!" Elrien snarled at the empty air where the boy had stood, his composure cracking completely.
The silence in the chamber was deafening. King Aldric stared at the demon lord with growing alarm, while the demon nobles exchanged shocked glances. Their normally composed ruler had just shouted at a servant who had done nothing wrong.
"Lord Elrien," King Aldric said carefully, "perhaps we should postpone this meeting—"
"No," Elrien snapped, rising abruptly from his chair. "I need… I need air."
He strode from the chamber, leaving behind a room full of bewildered and concerned faces. The hallway outside offered no relief—that familiar burning sensation was building in his chest again, the one that preceded his transformations.
"Not now," he growled, pressing his back against the cold stone wall. "The full moon was tomorrow."
But the curse didn't care about moon phases anymore. The heat exploded through his body like wildfire, and he felt his bones beginning to crack and reshape. Within moments, where Lord Elrien had stood, a massive black serpent now writhed on the floor.
His serpent senses immediately picked up something that made his scaled form tense with recognition—that scent. Lavender and something uniquely human, but faint, as if mixed with…
Blood.
Following the trail with desperate urgency, he slithered through the corridors until he found the source. There, collapsed in a shadowed alcove, was a young boy with hair like spun moonlight. His back was a ruin of torn flesh, blood soaking through the remains of his shirt.
It was him. The human from the forest, the one who had haunted his thoughts for weeks.