Chapter 7
Chapter 7
***
She had no idea how long she had lingered on the brink of death.
Every time she trembled in her dreams from a vague sense of unease, a cold hand would gently brush across her forehead. After a few repetitions, even that chill touch had become oddly familiar and habitual, almost comforting.
It wasn’t until the crushing weight pressing on her chest began to lift, until the fever burning like a molten sun subsided, until the dizziness that spun her world dulled to a manageable hum, that her mind finally cleared.
It felt like ages since she’d last opened her eyes. Her eyelids were heavy as lead. With great effort, she blinked her blurry vision into clarity. The first thing she saw was a red moon she remembered from somewhere.
Only after realizing that it wasn’t one of the twin moons hanging in the demon realm’s sky did she hear a low, resonant voice cutting into her ears.
“So, you’re not avoiding my gaze anymore… Does that mean you finally acknowledge me?”
I’m just not fully conscious yet, Your Majesty.
Acknowledge what, exactly? In her dazed mind, she tried to piece together how she had even survived. Behind her, Lucifer seemed lost in thought, and she did her best to roll her eyes around to take in her surroundings.
She wasn’t in the usual basket that served as her crib.
‘Mmm, this otherworldly softness…’
She didn’t need to confirm since it was clearly a bed. Was it Lucifer’s bedroom? Though the dim light barely illuminated the space, she could see Lucifer clearly. Draped in a red robe, he was lying on his side, watching her intently.
He wore no shirt beneath the robe.
The same godlike body she had glimpsed in the bath shimmered under the gentle glow and his muscles sculpted to perfection. She felt oddly honored. As if, after brushing so close to death, this sight was her reward.
‘You endured, self, so this was the prize.’
Even more touching than the sight was the quiet knowledge that he had remained by her side through her illness. Somehow, she had known he was there always holding her hand, cooling her fevered forehead, patting her chest.
She had dismissed it as a pathetic dream. Who would take care of her like that?
But it wasn’t a dream.
Her heart fluttered, her fingers curled up without her meaning to. Though truthfully, they were already balled into fists.
“Bella.”
“…”
She wanted to say thank you for saving her, for nursing her back to health. But in the helpless body of an infant, she had no way to express it. All she could do was roll her eyes and look back at Lucifer.
She no longer felt frightened the way he once had.
“You understand me now, do you?”
“…”
“Of course you do. You’re my daughter.”
She blinked in shock. If she had hands that could reach her ears, she would’ve tried to clear out what must’ve been an auditory hallucination.
‘Daughter? Your Majesty, what on earth are you saying?’
What had happened to the Demon King while she was on the verge of death? Then the memories came back. She had cried out in desperate pain, using every ounce of strength even the reserves she hadn’t used since she’d last nursed.
And that red-haired man had definitely misunderstood something back then.
Sure enough, his voice piped up from beside the bed.
“Human infants at this stage are practically mindless and can’t comprehend speech, but Lady Bella seems to be unusually intelligent for a human. As expected of Lord Lucifer’s daughter.”
“Of course.”
Lucifer’s reply came with a satisfied snap of the tongue, as if it were only natural for his child to be exceptional.
‘Wait… when exactly did I become his daughter? Wasn’t I the Hero’s daughter?’
All she did was suffer through a fever for a few days, and now suddenly the Demon King had decided she was his child? Had he perhaps caught her cold and started hallucinating? If he fell ill, who would feed, clothe, and protect her until she grew up?
‘I must survive under the Demon King’s protection!’
Surely someone who could kill with a mere flick of the finger wouldn’t fall to a common human illness… and yet she worried.
“Didn’t she recover? Why is she groaning again?”
“The fever’s definitely down. Could it be… hunger?”
“Already thinking about eating as soon as she opens her eyes?”
“She must want to replenish the energy lost while she was sick.”
“Even magical beasts that graze on grass have more stamina than this.”
Lucifer clicked his tongue and looked at her with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. Did he really expect more from a human infant who’d barely hit the hundred-day mark?
“Don’t human babies drink milk?”
“Yes, since they don’t have teeth to chew.”
“How pitiful they are to be born and unable to chew.”
That’s normal! That’s perfectly normal! The two of them stared at her in silence, their eyes full of pity.
‘You two are the strange ones. You’re demons!’
She suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to grow up peacefully among humans. But… feeling Lucifer’s steady, attentive care over the past days also made her think… Maybe being the Demon King’s daughter wouldn’t be so bad.
Just a little. A very little bit.
‘But now… food!’
At this point, she could be handed some milk and she’d drink it with gratitude.
“They say babies instinctively suckle when presented with milk.”
“Ho? So they have no intelligence, no teeth, and yet somehow survive? At least they’re born with that minimal instinct.”
Why did they make something as sacred as feeding sound so terrifying? The way they said suckling instinctively made her think of draining bone marrow. And Lucifer, hearing this, looked at her with glowing approval, like her survival instinct was something worthy of praise.
She hadn’t even eaten yet, but already swallowed nervously.
‘No matter what they give me, I have to eat it…’
She couldn’t bear to disappoint those proud eyes.
The Demon King declares: Our baby’s survival instinct is exceptional!
Just as she braced herself for whatever strange object they’d present, Lucifel spoke.
“Then let her try yours.”
“Shall we?”
…Excuse me?
She must’ve misheard. A lingering fever must’ve caused another hallucination—
‘Shall we?’ WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SHALL WE?!
As her mind reeled in horror, the red-haired man calmly picked her up. He was wearing a simple robe, draped across just one shoulder.
His bare chest which was tattooed in intricate black and red designs came right up to her face.
‘Dear heavens. God, save me.’
Unlike Lucifel, whose body ran cool, this man’s chest was blisteringly hot against her cheek.
‘Put it away! PUT IT AWAY! You don’t have milk!’
He was clearly, biologically male. Where on earth had they gotten their ‘knowledge’? She turned to Lucifel with tearful, pleading eyes. He only tilted his head with a serene expression as if he were waiting for her to start suckling.
‘My dignity. My self-worth. I wasn’t even asking for much…’
She had been a fully grown adult before this. Almost thirty! She had pride and human dignity! And no part of her wanted to latch onto the chest of this man, no matter how good-looking he was. She stared at the ceiling, lips tightly sealed, and finally Lucifer spoke again.
“Regnator.”
“Yes.”
“She doesn’t seem to want yours.”
“Hmm. Seems so. She hasn’t even tried. Lady Bella must be picky.”
“Hmph.”
“She keeps looking at you, Lord Lucifer. Maybe she prefers you.”
“My milk?”
“Yes.”
At Regnator’s absurd suggestion, Lucifer let out a dry chuckle. Then his sharp red eyes slid toward her.
“This lowly creature wants my milk?”
(TN’s note: Tell me I am not the only one dying in this part… TELL ME!!)
No, sir. I would never. Also, why do you have to say it like that? Still, Lucifel didn’t seem the least bit offended. If anything, he looked ready to lean in and actually try it.
‘I can’t… I can’t face the Demon King’s nipples head-on.’
If she rejected both of them, she might never eat again in this realm. She couldn’t afford to anger the Demon King. How could she explain to them that men don’t produce milk? To prove the point, she had to play along.
With silent tears in her heart, she latched onto Regnator.
“Oh?”
Both men seemed impressed. She sucked with all her might, lips trembling, though nothing came out.
‘Mother… the one who abandoned me to this fate… I’m going to die of starvation here…’
Silence settled in. When she dared to peek again, Regnator was watching her calmly with a completely neutral expression, which only amplified her humiliation.
‘Damn it. I just want to die again at this rate.’
She had begged to live, and now she wanted to die of embarrassment. Regnator’s cold, unreadable stare made her squirm. Of course, nothing came out. But she had to pretend to try and had to suck as if her life depended on it. Eventually, she stopped and began crying furiously, trying to express with every fiber of her being that there was nothing there.
“She doesn’t seem to be getting anything from me.”
“Why?”
“Shall we have you try instead, Lord Lucifel?”
“How tedious.”
She had thought they’d finally learned the truth that men don’t produce milk. But clearly, it had all gone to waste.
(TN: I just pray this wouldn’t escalate further. Let’s wish for the best…)
