<CHAPTER 3>

The arms that had gradually loosened around me tightened again like iron shackles.

Had I done something wrong?

The moment I began retracing my steps, a firm knock cut through the tension.

“Are you in there?”

The man’s attention shifted briefly toward the door.

Thanks to that, the suffocating pressure that had been weighing down on me dispersed just enough for me to properly take in his features.

Sharp vertical pupils.

Fangs honed like blades.

And above all, those indescribably dark eyes.

It was ambiguous, but in the Ending World, a race with this overall appearance could only be—

Demons?

The moment that perfectly fitting deduction surfaced, the faint curve of my lips froze in place.

The blood drained from my face in an instant.

The man in front of me is a demon?

And I thought he was just someone I knew, or perhaps a one-night partner.

That’s ridiculous.

Apotheosis was a world where humans and demons stood in fierce opposition.

The continent itself was divided into the Human Realm and the Demon Realm, separating good and evil as if by destiny.

True to a game whose final boss was the Demon King, killing the Demon King was regarded as the greatest achievement in the Human Realm.

Every year, according to the Kingdom Alliance Law, a group selected to accompany the Hero was dispatched to the Demon Realm.

Even if they failed to defeat the Demon King, the subjugation party’s mission was to at least sacrifice themselves to eliminate high-ranking demons.

To a Saintess, demons were nothing less than a thousand-year nemesis.

Then why on earth am I in the arms of that nemesis right now?

In the meantime, the man had turned a somewhat grim expression toward the door.

Ten seconds passed in silence.

Then a voice called out again from outside.

“If you’re in there and ignoring me again, I’m seriously going to be upset.”

The door burst open.

The owner of the voice was another male demon with short ash-gray hair.

The goat-like horns rising from his head and his grayish skin firmly confirmed his race.

I’m going insane!

What on earth had Lamia been doing to end up sneaking into a demon stronghold?

Unlike my flustered self, the demon holding me merely sighed, as if our indecent position meant nothing at all.

The demon who had barged in grumbled at him.

“So you were in, after all.”

“Seriously, how do you bring in a woman every single day without fail?”

“I like women too, of course, but don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“Get out.”

“If at least you ended things cleanly, that’d be one thing.”

“But they all cling to the warding barrier, insisting they won’t leave.”

“And I’m always the one who has to clean up the mess—”

“I said get out.”

The last words were delivered with a low, biting intensity, accompanied by a surge of killing intent.

Even though it wasn’t aimed at me, the fine hairs on my body stood on end.

My skin tingled as if pricked by needles.

He was called ‘my lord,’ and judging by his power, he’s at least a marquis or a grand duke among demons.

Please, just don’t let him be the Demon King.

The Human Realm and the Demon Realm stood on opposite sides, but their hierarchies were similar.

A Celestial God and a Demon God each protected their respective continents, and beneath them were humans and demons who ruled their territories.

Those who bore the authority of ‘King,’ or had reached a comparable realm, were granted special powers befitting rulers.

They said that, with enough mastery, one could seize another’s breath with mere aura.

It seemed that was no exaggeration.

The gray-haired demon, struck head-on by that killing intent, recoiled as if being strangled.

“Yes, sir.”

“Enjoy your time.”

I screamed inwardly.

Enjoy your time, my foot! Don’t leave, you bastard!

Despite my desperate glare, he bowed politely and disappeared in a flash.

In the end, I was left to resolve this on my own.

I lowered my gaze back to the man beneath me.

So he’s a libertine who spends every day having ‘a good time’ with a different woman.

It was unsettling, but judging by his appearance, it wasn’t exactly surprising.

No matter how harshly I assessed him, he was undeniably handsome.

Strong, straight features.

Thick, neatly groomed brows.

Dark circles shadowing deep-set eyes.

And black hair falling in wild strands that only accentuated his decadent beauty.

More than anything, he carried that languid aura unique to the powerful, like a predator sated after a feast.

If only his voice were frivolous too.

But handsome men were selfish by nature.

His low register, steeped in warmth, was irresistibly alluring.

When I first possessed this body, it was his unreal appearance, more than the unfamiliar environment, that had stunned me.

Get a grip.

This is enemy territory.

Do you want to die because you were distracted by a pretty face?

I reminded myself again that he was the enemy, and a man who changed women daily.

I discreetly focused on whether there was any pain or discomfort between my thighs.

I couldn’t fully trust the other demon’s words.

After hesitating briefly, I spoke.

“We really just slept in the normal sense, right?”

“We didn’t… do anything, did we?”

“That’s something you should remember.”

“Are you saying we did something memorable?”

“How?”

“No, I mean—how did that even happen?”

I let out a startled squeak, but his demeanor remained composed and leisurely.

Still holding me, he rose slightly, then smoothly flipped our positions.

By the time I blinked, I was pinned beneath his large body.

His scent poured over my face, mingling with his breath.

Though his body was hot against mine, his fragrance was cool, like snowflakes in midwinter.

Our gazes locked in silence.

After a moment, he spoke in a low, husky voice.

“…We did.”

“Quite a lot.”

His expression was strange.

The predator-like aura from before had vanished, replaced by the look of a wounded man.

With the hand not holding me down, he gently brushed my disheveled hair behind my ear.

The touch was tender, almost affectionate.

Yet it made my whole body tense.

If there was one thing I had learned from experience—

Men always promise things before they get what they want.

In a world where nothing is trustworthy, a kind man is the least trustworthy of all.

As if to prove my suspicion, his massive body pressed down on me like a wall.

He wouldn’t dare in broad daylight… would he?

But it’s always the ‘wouldn’t’ that gets you killed.

The force restraining me had loosened slightly.

If I was going to break free, now was my chance.

I steadied my resolve.

Perhaps sensing my shift, his eyes changed instantly.

The softness in his gray gaze vanished, replaced by cold indifference.

But he was a step too late.

My knee had already driven into his abdomen.

Though he flinched from the unexpected blow, he immediately tightened his grip, preventing my escape.

The difference in strength was overwhelming.

With no other choice, I hooked my foot around his leg.

Using the leverage and his unbalanced center of gravity, I flipped our positions.

My vision spun once.

He was the one lying beneath me again.

Without hesitation, I smashed the wine bottle on the bedside table and pressed the jagged edge to his neck.

He clearly had no intention of letting me go, and this was the best defense I could manage.

Yet as I tensed, wary of retaliation at any second, he still looked relaxed.

Even with the sharp glass poised at his throat, he asked calmly—

“What are you planning to do, Lamia?”

His tone suggested he knew I would never truly harm him.

Just as I had felt a similar certainty from him.

“Did I tell a mere one-night partner my name?”

“Because you weren’t just a one-night partner.”

The dryness in his gaze made my spine prickle.

“You should fix that habit of speaking in ways that invite misunderstanding.”

“Now I’m curious what misunderstanding you’ve had.”

The corner of his lips lifted faintly.

A chillingly beautiful smile.

If not for the mockery scraping at my nerves, I might have clung to him like the countless other women who had passed through this bed.

But this was a tiger’s den.

I had to remain on guard.

“Don’t be curious.”

“You’re not my type.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“You’re exactly my type.”

Even at my sharp retort, he remained unruffled.

At the same time, a veined hand rose and seized my wrist.

I pressed the broken glass harder against his throat.

“A demon dragging a Saintess into his bed.”

“What terrible taste.”

“What if I whisper love while holding a blade to your neck?”

“If that’s the price, it’s cheap.”

Our gazes tangled like crossed blades.

No one took the bait.

The hook scraped uselessly through empty air.