Chapter 11
After dropping Juliana off, Braeden returned to the townhouse and sat quietly in his study, lost in thought.
“Lochlan,” he said, breaking the silence. “Tell me, how does one go about proposing?”
“…Excuse me?” Lochlan flinched slightly, unsure if he’d heard correctly.
He had served the great demon Belial for centuries, and in all that time, he couldn’t think of a word that suited this man less than proposal.
Swallowing hard, Lochlan glanced at Braeden, gauging his mood, and cautiously replied,
“You’re thinking of proposing?”
“I believe I should.”
Though Braeden said the word proposal out loud, his expression remained calm and composed. Still, all day long Lochlan couldn’t help but tense up as he recalled all the outrageous things Braeden had done in the past without batting an eye.
“As for how to propose…”
Lochlan didn’t know everything. He was a demon, after all, and proposals were hardly something he ever cared to learn about. It wasn’t as though he could give a detailed briefing on the subject.
“I’ll prepare a report and submit it.”
“Good.”
Braeden nodded, agreeing that was for the best, and stood from his seat.
“I’ll need to make a trip to Mount Kankantier.”
“You don’t mean… you’re planning to open your subspace?”
“I may not know much about proposals,” Braeden replied calmly, “but it seems a rare jewel is necessary.”
He said it with a straight face, but Lochlan nearly staggered in shock.
What Braeden was planning now and was to retrieve the crystallized remnant of thought he had hidden in his personal subspace.
A crystallized thought from an archdemon held value far beyond that of any magic stone. It was something truly priceless.
Is he really planning to use something so valuable for a fake engagement?
Lochlan’s thoughts grew tangled.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Braeden spoke with a tone that made it clear he had already made up his mind. It was as if he knew exactly what Lochlan was about to say and didn’t want to hear it.
“Understood. Safe travels,” Lochlan replied, though it was all he could really say.
“Oh, and look into the House of Count Barnett.”
Braeden remembered the small wound he had seen on the corner of Juliana’s lips and gave the order with quiet firmness.
“Yes, I’ll include that in the report as well.”
Braeden nodded slightly in acknowledgment. With calm and graceful steps, he walked forward. Then, as if vanishing into thin air, he disappeared from Lochlan’s sight.
In just a few steps, Braeden had crossed space and arrived at Mount Kankantier, the highest snowy peak in the northern region.
He stood at the summit.
The mountain, where snow never melted even once throughout the year, was a defining symbol of the North’s formidable reputation. Once used as a place of exile for notorious criminals, it was infamous for freezing people to death. Even now, it continued to roar with violent snowstorms, displaying its overwhelming power.
But the moment Braeden set foot on the snow, the raging blizzard came to a sudden halt. Not just Mount Kankantier, but the entire world seemed to fall silent, as if holding its breath.
Before the archdemon who revealed his true presence without hesitation, all things in existence grew still and trembled in fear.
With a soft crunch of snow beneath his boots, Braeden stepped forward, climbing to the steep cliff that seemed to touch the sky. He raised one hand and traced a circle in the air. Following the motion of his fingers, a glowing red sigil appeared.
The moment it surfaced, a deep rumble shook the earth and sky. Yet Braeden’s face remained completely calm, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. He reached his hand into the center of the sigil without a trace of hesitation.
From the narrow gap that opened around his arm, thick black smoke began to seep out slowly, curling into the air. Moments later, as Braeden withdrew his hand, the smoke and the sigil vanished instantly.
What remained in his grasp was a crimson stone, the same deep red as his eyes.
The crimson gemstone gave off a noble, steady glow in his hand. At a glance, it looked almost like a diamond, but this was no ordinary jewel. It was the crystallized thought of an archdemon, condensed over thousands of years.
Just as sacred relics gain power when blessed by divine hands, this stone, hardened by the weight of Braeden’s own will, held a power far beyond that.
Braeden was just about to leave with the stone when the air suddenly twisted. From the gap that formed in the distorted space, someone slowly emerged.
“It’s been a while. Have you been doing well?”
The voice belonged to a woman dressed in a lavish dark purple gown, sparkling with layers of jewelry. She greeted him with a sly smile.
“Still haven’t given up that ridiculous hobby, have you?”
Braeden’s tone was cold as his eyes scanned her appearance. A faint crease appeared between his brows.
“Why should I? I live my life with passion,”
she said with a smirk, twirling once in midair as if showing off her look.
“Just say what you came for, Mammon.”
The moment Braeden spoke her true name, the air trembled slightly, as if reacting to its weight.
Among the archdemons, only Belial and Mammon lived pretending to be human.
“Did you really have to use my true name? I have a perfectly lovely name, you know. Cheryl Clemence,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“State your business.”
Braeden cut her off, his voice firm and cold, leaving no room for playful banter.
Cheryl stared at him, clearly taken aback, then shivered slightly. But her curiosity quickly returned, and she asked with a sly smile,
“That thing you’re holding… what are you planning to do with it?”
Demons do not form alliances.
That unspoken rule had long been accepted among them. The stronger the demon, the more they avoided interfering in each other’s affairs.
It was likely because demons were, by nature, deeply individualistic.
But even demons change with time.
Mammon had changed more than most. Living among humans and feeding off their vanity and greed, she had grown more curious about the world they lived in.
Braeden couldn’t understand why Mammon, who went by the name Marchioness Cheryl Clemence and held sway over high society, was suddenly showing interest in his affairs.
“Have you been playing human for so long that it’s starting to mess with your head?”
His voice was cold as he asked the question.
Cheryl burst out laughing at his bluntness. The jewelry draped over her body jingled and sparkled with every movement.
“Messed with my head? How could you say something so rude to a lady?”
Her laughter stopped abruptly, and her eyes glinted with something sharp and unnatural.
“You just pulled that thing out of your subspace, and the whole area started trembling. That makes it even more obvious than speaking a true name. Isn’t it natural to be curious?”
She spoke with a feigned innocence, but her eyes were locked onto the crimson stone in Braeden’s hand, gleaming with greedy fascination. Her expression was like that of a predator staring down a tempting meal.
“Stay out of it.”
Braeden’s voice and gaze were laced with power, a clear warning that his patience was running thin.
Cheryl let out a small click of her tongue and took a step back, clearly recognizing the warning. But even then, she couldn’t take her eyes off the stone in Braeden’s hand.
A crystallized thought born of a demon. Even among demons, it was an extremely rare item.
Not only was it incredibly valuable, but if used the right way, it could lead to all sorts of entertaining outcomes.
For example, turning the human world upside down or delivering a devastating blow to the heavens. That kind of entertainment.
What is he planning to do with it?
Cheryl kept her eyes fixed on the crimson stone, her thoughts racing.
Among the archdemons, Belial was the oldest. That meant his thoughts were the deepest.
Only someone like him could produce a gem of such pure, concentrated form.
That also meant Belial was the strongest.
Still, they were both living side by side in the human world now, so he wasn’t completely untouchable.
Braeden could sense that Cheryl was weighing whether or not to attack, and he let out a quiet, amused breath.
“After all these years, has your judgment started to rot?”
With a slight click of his tongue, Braeden slowly lifted the veil that had been concealing his true power.
As Braeden released his power, the world around him trembled in fear. The snowstorm suddenly intensified, whipping violently at Cheryl’s clothes. She swallowed hard, her breath catching, and clenched her trembling hands into fists.
She didn’t want to show fear, but in the presence of such overwhelming power, her body shook on its own. It was instinctive. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
Whatever thoughts she had about looking for an opening, she abandoned them almost immediately.
“How unpleasant,” she muttered.
With an exaggerated snort, Cheryl straightened her dress, trying to regain her composure.
Just like when she had arrived, the space around her twisted and opened into a rift.
“I don’t know what you’re planning, but don’t expect me to wish you luck,” she said, her lips curling into a half-smile. It was hard to tell if her words were a curse or a farewell.
She stepped into the rift.
“What you wish for has nothing to do with me,” Braeden replied coldly.
“Perfect,” Cheryl said with a smirk. “In that case, I hope you fail completely.”
Just as Cheryl was about to close the rift after shouting her curse, Braeden casually flicked his finger.
At that small gesture, a swirl of the snowstorm was pulled straight into the open space.
With a loud scream, Mammon disappeared inside. Braeden watched her vanish without a hint of emotion, then finally turned and began to walk away, as if he had simply finished what he came to do.
After only a few steps, he returned to the study in the townhouse. Handing the crimson stone to the waiting Lochlan, Braeden gave a brief order.
“Use this to create a piece of jewelry for a woman.”
“What kind of piece should I make?” Lochlan asked.
“Make everything you can. A ring, necklace, bracelet, tiara, brooch… what else is there?”
Braeden frowned slightly, as if trying to recall more types but coming up short.
“I’ll include a list in the report,” Lochlan said with a respectful bow.
“One week. That should be enough, right?”
Make all that jewelry in just one week?
Lochlan’s eyebrow twitched slightly. Still, he was a capable aide.
With enough money, anything could be done. Of course, the jewelers would probably be worked to exhaustion, but that wasn’t the point.
“I’ll do my best to meet the deadline,” Lochlan said, bowing respectfully, as if the word impossible didn’t exist to him.
Even so, a different question suddenly crossed his mind.
Is he in a hurry to get married?
The thought made Lochlan’s face go pale. If Braeden was rushing into marriage, it could only mean he truly longed for the end—his disappearance.
