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Chapter 104: Quiet Monsters
Marian watched them closely.
William’s face was quiet, calm too calm. He had been laughing earlier, bright and carefree, but now... there was something off. Something hollow behind the smile.
Still, she didn’t push it.
"Well, let’s get inside and clean you up," she said gently. "You must be tired from catching that wild boar. Though honestly, you didn’t have to—we’ve got plenty of meat."
Daemon gave a polite smile. "My father taught me something important: always bring a gift for the host."
She chuckled, lifting the bag carefully. "This one’s very heavy. You were raised right. You’re such a lovely man."
"Thank you, miss. Should I help you put it in the kitchen?"
"Oh, no, no. You’re our guest. Relax. And thank you for the gift."
She carried the bag into the kitchen, the wood creaking beneath her steps.
Varian leaned close, lowering his voice.
"...Where did you really go?"
He’d only known Daemon for a day—but already, he could tell. The blood. William’s change. The bag. Something was off. Something dark.
Daemon gave a warm smile.
"I told you. We caught a wild boar," he said smoothly. "While talking to William’s friends."
He looked down at William. "Right?"
William glanced up at him.
He had done it. He had crossed that line.
And now he was one of them. Not just a stray they’d saved—but family.
The guilt was still there. But the fear of being alone, of being weak and forgotten, was louder.
He smiled.
"True."
Varian frowned but said nothing.
Ben clapped his hands, trying to cut the tension. "Alright, enough about wild boars and weird questions. My wife’s cooking now, so while we wait—any of you want a drink? We’ve got good stuff left."
Daemon shook his head. "Before that, actually... I’d like to see your son."
Ben blinked. "My son?"
"Yes. You mentioned what happened. I’ve been thinking about it. I’d like to see him for myself."
Ben hesitated, but nodded slowly. "Alright then. Follow me."
They walked upstairs together, the house creaking with each step.
They stopped at the last door on the second floor.
Ben sighed and opened it.
Inside, the room was dim.
A man sat hunched in the corner, wrapped in bandages. Half his face was burned beyond recognition. His breathing was shallow, his body thin and trembling from years of damage.
Robert.
Once the brilliant royal advisor to King Velrick of Aurelia.
Now—barely a shadow of the man he had been.
Ben sat down in the chair across from him. "I’m home, son. After two years."
Robert’s one good eye turned, slowly.
He saw his father... but didn’t speak.
Ben smiled softly. "I brought someone. A friend. He says he knows you."
Daemon stepped forward, calm, quiet.
"This is Daemon," Ben said.
Robert’s eye widened.
Daemon.
That stupid kid. The cursed prince of Veryndor. The reincarnation of the demon king.
He remembered the fall of Aurelia. He remembered the fire, the screaming, the sky tearing open, and the boy with the red eyes watching nobles burn.
"Hello, Robert," Daemon said with a faint smile. "I’m glad you’re still alive."
Robert’s body began to shake.
And then—
his mouth started to foam.
"Robert! What’s wrong?!"
Ben rushed forward, kneeling beside his son as Robert convulsed, his mouth beginning to foam, eyes wild and unseeing.
"Hey—Robert, are you alright?!" Daemon asked, voice sharp with concern—but his eyes didn’t match it.
Ben turned to Daemon, panic in his voice. "Did something trigger him? Was it you—?"
Daemon’s expression softened into an innocent confusion.
"Is it... because he saw me? Maybe he remembered something?"
He let out a light, practiced laugh.
"I mean, I didn’t do anything wrong... so why is he shaking like that?"
But inside, he was smiling.
Of course Robert remembered.
Of course he recognized him.
The last time Robert saw Daemon, the city of Aurelia was burning and the royal family was being slaughtered.
Daemon had stood in the flames—untouched, unblinking—while the old world collapsed.
And now, Robert was nothing but a crippled remnant, unable to speak or move, trapped in his own mind.
Daemon didn’t need to finish him.
He was already finished.
Still—he owed Ben something for his kindness.
"Let me try to help," Daemon said.
Ben looked up, startled. "You mean the same power you used on William?"
Daemon nodded.
Ben stepped aside.
Daemon approached the bed and placed his hand gently over Robert’s chest. A pulse of red energy spread from his palm—faint, unnatural, unlike divine magic, but just as potent in its own way.
Robert stopped shaking.
His breathing steadied.
His eyes fluttered shut, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
"Done," Daemon said simply, withdrawing his hand.
Ben blinked. "But... the burns, they’re still there."
Daemon gave a soft shrug. "I’m not a priest. I can’t heal permanent damage. I can only stabilize the body."
It was a lie.
He could heal Robert fully if he wanted to.
But he didn’t.
And he never would.
Ben exhaled, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. "Still... thank you. At least he’ll sleep peacefully now."
Daemon nodded, offering a calm smile. "I’ll head downstairs."
He turned and walked out, his cloak trailing behind him.
The air outside the room was cooler.
And quieter.
Daemon descended the stairs with the same easy grace he always had.
But inside—
He was satisfied.
Robert would live.
And remember.
That was punishment enough.
Daemon descended the stairs, his boots quiet on the old wooden steps.
As he reached the bottom floor, Nyxtriel was already waiting. Her arms were folded, golden eyes steady, but the faintest tension lingered behind them.
She stepped forward. "My lord. Did you see Robert?"
Daemon nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. I saw him. He’s no longer a threat."
"I see," she said softly, lowering her gaze. "That’s good."
There was a pause.
Something unspoken hovered between them.
"What is it?" Daemon asked, tilting his head.
Nyxtriel fidgeted slightly. "...Do I still have to eat human food?"
Daemon blinked, then laughed—genuinely, caught off guard.
Her eyes narrowed. "What’s so funny?"
"It’s just..." he grinned, shaking his head, "you’re cute when you try pretending to tolerate humans."
She scowled. "I’m not pretending."
He leaned against the wall, smirking. "Was that why you stabbed me the first time we met? Because you hated humans so much you couldn’t tell I wasn’t one?"
Her eyes widened—then she blushed, looking away. "No! That was different! I—I thought you were a threat. I didn’t know it was you until your blood touched me. That’s when I remembered... Seraphiel."
Daemon’s smile faded.
"You still call me that," he said. "You still see me as him."
"You are him," Nyxtriel said quietly. "Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I haven’t."
Daemon ran a hand through his hair, frowning. "You keep saying that. Like I’m just a shadow of someone you used to follow."
Nyxtriel looked at him, her expression softening.
She stepped forward.
Closer than usual.
And before he could say anything else—she grabbed his collar.
Stood on her toes.
And kissed his cheek.
Daemon froze.
Eyes wide.
One hand instinctively lifted to touch the spot she kissed, as if to confirm it was real.
"Why did you do that?" he asked, completely thrown off.
Nyxtriel turned, walking away with a subtle sway in her step.
She paused at the doorway.
Smiled back at him.
"Because you’re jealous."
Then she disappeared into the hallway.
Daemon stood there, staring after her, heart pounding.
"...I’m not jealous," he muttered.
But even he didn’t sound convinced.
Ben came down the stairs and spotted Daemon still lingering near the hallway.
"You haven’t gone to the living room yet?"
"I was just about to," Daemon replied with a faint smile.
Ben nodded, and the two walked together.
The others were already seated when they entered.
Soon after, Marian stepped out from the kitchen, her hands full of steaming plates. Nyxtriel, reluctantly, helped her serve the food—keeping her expression polite, if distant.
The table filled with roasted meat, vegetables, and spiced stew. The air was thick with the smell of cooked flesh and warm bread.
Everyone sat.
And began to eat.
"Damn," Varian said between mouthfuls. "I didn’t realize how hungry I was. After what they fed us in that prison, this is a damn blessing."
"Oh my, then eat up," Marian said sweetly. She turned to Daemon. "This is the meat you gave us—it made more than I expected. You weren’t kidding about how much you caught." n𝚘vp𝚞𝚋.com
Daemon smiled. "Glad to hear that."
Varian grinned. "Ben, you’re a lucky man. Your wife’s cooking is incredible."
"Thank you, my friend," Ben said, raising his glass.
Nyxtriel forced a small smile. "It’s... very good." She hated it. But she chewed and swallowed with grace, playing her role perfectly.
"I’m glad you like it, dear," Marian beamed.
Varian was halfway through another bite when something crunched in his mouth.
He paused.
Pulled it out.
A small, jagged bone—and something else.
"...Huh?" he muttered, holding it up. "Maybe it’s just a bit of—wait..."
He stared at the fragment.
It wasn’t just bone.
It was a fingernail.
