The underworld was always loud—shrieks of the damned, the clang of steel, the hiss of fire. But deep inside the black palace, there was a chamber where silence reigned.
On a grand bed lay a boy with long lashes and pale lips, curled up like a cat. He had slept through wars, rebellions, and even his own birthday celebrations. He was the Demon King's younger brother—the only blood relative the ruler had left.
And the most useless parasite in all existence.
The great Demon King stood at his bedside, golden eyes flickering with both anger and helplessness. His armor carried the weight of countless battles, yet the sight of his little brother's sleeping face was the one thing that made him falter.
"Wake up," the king growled, shaking him by the shoulder.
The boy groaned, burying himself deeper into the blankets. "Five more centuries…"
A vein throbbed in the Demon King's temple. "You've done nothing but sleep and eat since you were born. You don't fight. You don't study. You don't even walk outside unless I drag you." His voice lowered, almost breaking. "Are you truly content living like this? A parasite leeching off my name?"
The boy cracked one eye open, drowsy and unbothered. "…Yes."
The Demon King froze. His fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into his palm. Rage and sorrow warred inside him. He loved this brother—his only family—but watching him waste away, indifferent to everything, was unbearable.
"…Then I will force you to live," the Demon King whispered. He lifted his hand, black fire gathering in his palm. "Perhaps in another world, stripped of everything you know, you will find a reason to wake."
The boy blinked, finally sensing danger. "Wait—"
But before he could move, the flame pressed against his forehead. His body jolted, eyes widening as memories burned away. His past, his power, his very identity—all sealed in a prison of darkness.
The last thing he heard was his brother's voice, hoarse with desperation.
"Forgive me… But I cannot let you rot away. Sleep elsewhere. Live elsewhere. Wake, and find something worth clinging to."
The fire swallowed him whole.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer a prince of demons. Not even a boy.
He was hungry. Cold. Weak. His reflection showed a face too delicate, a body too soft—one this world would call "female."
And so his parasitic journey began again.