The Demon King is different from the impression

The image of Samael kneeling before an unknown woman the previous night was still fresh in Syldra’s mind. She had planned to discreetly gather information about him over the next few days—but now, here he was, right at the front desk.

And worse—he was walking toward her.

Pushing through the crowd gathered around reception, heading straight for the staircase.

That face—still sharp and unsettling despite its youth—was turned in her direction. His gaze wasn’t fixed on her, yet Syldra trembled uncontrollably, haunted by the memory of dying beneath his hand just hours ago.

“Miss, what’s wrong?” Rosetta, noticing Syldra suddenly freeze, tilted her head in confusion. She followed Syldra’s line of sight, but being slightly shorter, her view was blocked—she didn’t see Samael at all.

“Miss~ did you see someone?” she whispered.

Syldra could only stare, eyes locked on glimpses of Samael’s face emerging between passing guests.

He drew closer. The surrounding noise—the chatter, the footsteps—faded into silence.

She was afraid.

Memories of confronting the Demon King surged through her: that overwhelming dread, the panic of facing the enemy unprepared, the helplessness of having no holy staff to defend herself, the bitter regret of death at his hands. All crashed over her at once.

It was strange—she hadn’t felt this fear during their actual battle.

Why now…?

The terror of the cold, cruel Demon King. The shock of encountering the enemy without warning. The vulnerability of being weaponless, alone. The injustice of her past death—all flooded her senses.

Last night, seeing him from afar on the balcony, there had been no sense of immediacy. But now—Samael stood here, real and close.

The face of a man who had slaughtered thousands loomed before her, expressionless, advancing step by step.

She had thought of tracking him down, investigating him—

But alone, without her staff, without allies—

Her body shook violently. Rosetta tugged at her shoulder, but it was no use.

Samael stood a head taller than her. He glanced past her toward the stairs, passing by the two girls with complete indifference.

The hem of his black-and-crimson coat brushed against the bare skin of Syldra’s right upper arm.

Cold. A distinct, prickling sensation.

All her imagined terror suddenly became real.

“Hng—!”

Syldra flinched, stumbling backward instinctively.

Her heel caught the edge of the stair. Off-balance, she began to fall.

“Miss—!” Rosetta cried, still holding Syldra’s hand.

“Ahh…”

“—.”

In a flash—a blur of motion—Samael bent down, reached out, slipped an arm behind Syldra’s back, and caught her securely.

Syldra’s hand was still half-raised, her mouth still forming a soft “ah,” when her upper body came to rest safely in Samael’s arms.

Rosetta stood frozen, one hand clamped over her mouth, eyes wide.

“……”

Syldra, realizing she’d been caught, slowly turned her head like a broken automaton, looking up at Samael.

The young man with black hair and crimson eyes gazed quietly back at her. His eyes flicked briefly to her shoulder, then blinked calmly.

“—Are you alright, Miss?”

His voice cut through her daze.

…… Calm. Composed. Not warm, but not cold either.

It carried the polished tone of nobility—one that treated strangers with respect while subtly asserting status.

“! I’m fine! I’m perfectly fine!” Syldra jolted upright, scrambling out of his grasp (quite literally), forcing a stiff smile.

“In that case, I’m relieved,” he said, giving a slight bow. His red eyes dipped toward her shoulder. “It would be most regrettable if my presence caused even a speck of dust to tarnish your radiant gown, my elegant Lady Red Kite.”

“……”

Red…

Red Kite?!

—Huh?! Is he talking about me?!

Syldra froze, stunned by the unexpected nickname.

“I am Camille-Samael of the Duchy of Camille.”

“If you feel unwell or wish to speak with me, please come directly to the VIP suite on the 13th floor. I will be available later today.”

Samael spoke clearly, his deep, resonant voice calm and courteous.

“Then I’ll take my leave. May your day be pleasant, beautiful Lady Red Kite of Lentiya.”

With another polite nod—and one final glance at the golden crest on Syldra’s shoulder—he turned and ascended the stairs.

The crest bore the Lentiya family’s emblem: a brilliant golden rose.

Only when his footsteps faded did Syldra finally exhale.

Shaken, yet her mind racing—she realized something.

…… Samael… seems nothing like the man she remembered.

Wasn’t he?!

—The man who killed without hesitation, conquered the world in ten years, left rivers of blood in his wake.

Fifteen years ago… he was actually polite?!

This made last night’s kneeling scene slightly less absurd.

But the gap between Polite Samael and Demon King Samael was now even more jarring.

“Miss… you weren’t frightened, were you?” Rosetta murmured, still flustered from the chaos.

“Huh? —No?” Syldra mumbled, dazed.

“But was it or wasn’t it?!” Rosetta whispered, exasperated.

Shortly after, a staff member approached and escorted Syldra and Rosetta away.

The commotion at the stairs had drawn many eyes. And the shining golden rose on Syldra’s shoulder—the unmistakable mark of Lentiya—hadn’t escaped the notice of the observant front desk.

The moment Samael left, they swiftly “intervened” to guide the two suddenly famous “Lentiya representatives” away.

For a house like Lentiya, fewer troubles meant better reputation.

And for lowly staff, helping big names avoid trouble meant avoiding trouble themselves.

Every worker understood this rule well.

…… From the senior female attendant, Syldra learned that the Wylding family would host a small banquet at 5 PM today in the Second Banquet Hall on the 10th floor.

Had they not come down, the staff would have sent someone up after lunch to inform them—but it seemed the ladies had come seeking the Wyldings themselves.

“We’re sorry to make you come down—it reflects poorly on our service,” the smiling attendant apologized. “The Wylding elders specifically wished to welcome you both at this afternoon’s gathering.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Sister.”

“Yeah, Sister, don’t worry about it!” Rosetta chimed cheerfully.

“That’s good to hear…” “Exactly, Sister! No need to fret—”

As Rosetta chatted warmly with the attendant, Syldra remained silent.

…… All this courtesy, all this attention—none of it was for her.

It existed solely because of the name Lentiya.

Syldra let out a nearly imperceptible sigh.

After leaving the inner hall, the lobby had thinned considerably. Syldra took Rosetta’s hand and headed upstairs.

“Are we returning to the room, Miss?”

“…… Yes. Let’s go back.” Syldra replied.

She wanted to approach Samael—but alone.

Not face-to-face conversation. Just… observe. Be near him.

When he introduced himself, he said Camille-Samael.

Camille of the Duchy of Camille.

Using a nation’s name as a surname meant he shared the same bloodline as the Duke.

In other words—he was a member of the House of Camille, direct lineage of the Duke of Camille.

And the Duchy of Camille…

Syldra’s eyes sharpened.

The Duchy of Camille was a nation that had already been annihilated before the Demon King’s war even began.