DEMON KING'S Love Redemption

Chapter 26

"They’re... they’re gone," Vann said, his voice actually trembling this time from the adrenaline. "Good thing that exorcism worked. I thought we were goners for a second."

Freya didn't move. She didn't sheathe her dagger.

She stepped toward Vann, her gait slow and rhythmic, until she stood directly in front of him. The acrid scent of sulfur from the lingering magic still hung heavy in the air between them.

"Vann," Freya said. Her voice was low, little more than a deathly whisper.

"Yes, Lady Freya?"

"Why did they call you 'Your Majesty'?"

Vann’s heart skipped a beat. He’d already rehearsed an answer for this. "That... that must have been because of the glow on my face, Freya. You know how cultists are—always looking for mystical signs. They probably thought this luminescence was a mark of their long-lost prince. Quite the hilarious misunderstanding, wouldn’t you say? Hahaha..."

Vann’s laughter rang hollow and brittle in the chilling night air.

Freya narrowed her eyes. She pressed the tip of her dagger against Vann’s chest—not to pierce him, but to feel his pulse. "They spoke your name, Vann. They didn’t just say 'Your Majesty.' They said your name with such clarity. It was as if they had been worshipping you for a thousand years."

Vann swallowed hard. "My name... Vann is a common name, isn't it? Maybe they have a leader named Vann too. I mean, there are three other Vanns in the lower years at the academy alone."

Freya pressed the blade slightly harder against Vann’s robes. "Don't play me for a fool. I saw how you moved out there. You didn't fight them like some panicked student. You shattered their formation with the precision of a seasoned commander. And every time you struck, your shadow under the lantern light... it didn’t look human."

Vann went silent. He met Freya’s gaze, and for a fleeting second, he saw a glimpse of a future where Aethelgard’s holy sword pierced his chest once again. A profound sorrow washed over him. He only wanted them both to survive. He only wanted to change the destiny that had pitted them against each other since the dawn of time.

"If I truly am the monster they say," Vann whispered, his voice dropping an octave and losing its theatrical edge, "would you drive that dagger home right now, Freya?"

Freya recoiled. Her grip on the dagger faltered. She saw a painful honesty in Vann’s dim red eyes—a wound far deeper than any physical scar. Standing before her was no longer the bumbling student with the glowing face, but a man who looked as though he carried the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

"I don't know," Freya answered honestly, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "I should hate you. My instincts as a hero are screaming that you’re a threat. But... but when you won that dragon plushie earlier, even if you did wreck the stall... I felt like you were trying so hard to be someone you're not."

Vann reached out, hesitating for a moment before finally gathering the courage to wipe away a stray tear on Freya’s cheek. "I just want to be a Vann who can walk beside you without blood coming between us, Freya. That’s all."

The tender moment was shattered by the rhythmic thud of steel-toed boots from the main road. The glow of magic lamps from the royal guards and academy professors began to flood the plaza.

"VANN! FREYA! WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED HERE?!"

That booming voice belonged to Professor Mordred. The old man leapt from his horse, followed by a company of Knights of Light. He surveyed the devastation across the square, the lingering wisps of dark energy still floating in the air, and Vann, whose hand was still resting on Freya’s cheek.

Vann jerked his hand back, quickly putting his mask of panic back on. "Professor! Thank goodness you’re here! A group of lunatics in black robes attacked the festival! They were trying to kidnap Lady Freya!"

Mordred didn’t respond immediately. He walked to the center of the plaza, picked up a scrap of black cloth, and sniffed the residual mana in the air. His piercing gaze fixed on Vann as if trying to look straight through the boy’s skull.

"The Diabolos Cult," Mordred muttered. "They’ve grown bold enough to appear in the heart of the city. And you, Vann... you drove them all off by yourself?"

"I just... used the exorcism techniques we learned in Magical Ethics, Professor!" Vann replied with a polite bow, despite the cold sweat trickling down his spine. "Plus, a bit of luck—my glowing face must have blinded them!"

Mordred narrowed his eyes, staring at Vann’s face, the glow of which had now almost entirely faded. "Lucky, are you? We’ll see just how far that luck carries you when you face the Inquisition Council tomorrow morning."

Vann froze. The Inquisition? That was a nightmare for anyone with even a drop of dark mana in their veins.

"Professor," Freya spoke up, her voice calm yet resolute. "Vann is telling the truth. He saved me. If it wasn’t for his bravery—odd as his methods might be—I might have been taken. I will provide a full testimony to the Council that Vann acted as a protector of the academy."

Vann looked at Freya in disbelief. She met his gaze with a slight nod—a silent promise that for tonight, his secret would remain safe with her. But Vann knew this wasn't the end. It was the start of a much larger hunt.

As the guards began securing the area and evacuating the remaining citizens, Vann stood beside Freya, gazing at the ruins of the once-beautiful festival. He felt a new weight settle upon his heart. The Diabolos Cult wouldn't stop. They would keep trying to force him back onto the throne he so despised.

"Tomorrow is going to be a long day," Freya whispered beside him.

"A very long one," Vann agreed.

Vann glanced at his robe pocket, where the blue dragon plushie he’d won was tucked away. He handed it to Freya without a word.

Freya took the toy, clutching it tight to her chest. "Thank you, Vann. For the dragon... and for the exorcism."

As they walked back toward the academy under the escort of the knights, Vann looked up at the night sky. A pale silver full moon was emerging from behind the clouds. He knew his performance today had saved him from immediate execution, but he also realized something terrifying.

Professor Mordred was watching him from a distance with a smile that never quite reached his eyes. The professor didn't buy Vann’s act for a second. And in Mordred’s hand, an ancient artifact—The Seeker of Darkness—began to pulse with a deep, blood-red light every time Vann took a step.

Play your part while you still can, Demon King, Mordred’s voice seemed to echo in Vann’s mind through a subtle mana transmission. Because tomorrow, I will show the world who this 'model student' really is.

Vann clenched his fists. His greatest performance had only just begun, and this time, the stage was the entire kingdom of Aethelgard.