Chapter 24 A Law-Abiding Good Citizen
1581words
The next day, when the first ray of light filtered through the dark red clouds unique to the demon realm shone into this luxurious and spacious chamber, I finally awoke from the ridiculously soft large bed.
I felt as though my entire body had been repeatedly run over by a dozen out-of-control giant carriages, so sore that I didn't want to move even a pinky. My very bones emanated a fatigue as if they had been taken apart and reassembled.
And that culprit, the instigator, the man who drained my last bit of energy, was standing refreshed by the bed, wearing a loose black silk robe, collar wide open, revealing a large expanse of well-defined chest marked with several suggestive scratches.
He held a steaming cup of tea in one hand, while his other hand was interestedly playing with my long hair spread across the pillow. On his face was an extremely satisfied, flamboyant and punch-worthy smile, and those deep purple eyes were filled with the smug look of "I've won."
Looking at him like this, I felt a surge of anger. All the frustration from last night when he had tormented me so thoroughly that I couldn't even beg for mercy rushed to my mind.
I narrowed my eyes, frowned in displeasure, then lifted my weak and sore leg, and with all my strength, kicked hard at his calf.
"Thud."
A muffled sound.
Frederick clearly hadn't expected this to be the first thing I'd do upon waking, and he staggered from my kick, nearly spilling the red tea in his hand.
He didn't get angry, just paused for a moment, and then the smile at the corner of his mouth grew more indulgent and helpless. He deftly placed the teacup on the small table by the bedside, then crouched down and grasped my ankle that was still "stubbornly resisting," and in an extremely natural manner, as if he had done it hundreds of times before, gently massaged it.
"You're awake? Does it still hurt?" his voice carried the characteristic huskiness of early morning, and a barely perceptible hint of distress, "I'll get you something to eat."
After speaking, he planted a feather-light kiss on the top of my foot before standing up and walking towards the exit of the sleeping chamber, humming an off-key tune in an extremely good mood.
I stared at his departing figure, somewhat dazed.
That once capricious and violent Dark Lord with unpredictable moods now behaved like a thoughtful and attentive perfect boyfriend. This transformation happened so quickly that I found it hard to adapt to, but... it felt quite nice.
Just as I was about to lounge in bed a little longer, the heavy door of the sleeping chamber was violently flung open with a "bang" by some tremendous force.
Yoyo, with eyes red like a rabbit's, burst in like an angry whirlwind. She had obviously dressed up carefully, wearing an elaborate dress and exquisite makeup, but those eyes twisted by jealousy and anger destroyed all sense of beauty.
When her gaze fell on me, and on the oversized robe I was wearing that clearly didn't belong to me but to Frederick, as well as the disheveled traces on the bed that explained everything, she began to tremble with anger.
"You... vixen!"
Her meticulously manicured nails were nearly digging into her palms. Biting her lip, her face full of betrayal, resentment and unwillingness, she raised the magic whip in her hand that had appeared from nowhere, crackling with dangerous electricity, about to lash at me fiercely.
【System Alert: Hostile attack detected! Target: Yoyo, LV.45. Attack skill: 【Lightning Serpent Whip】!】
I instinctively wanted to wrap myself in the blanket, but the soreness in my body made my movements half a beat too slow.
Just as the whip with purple electric arcs was about to land on my body, a cold figure devoid of any emotion appeared like a specter before my bed.
It was Frederick.
He had returned with a plate of still-steaming, delicious-looking pastries.
He didn't even turn his head.
When he saw Yoyo's attack filled with killing intent, his expression instantly darkened, and those purple eyes that were tender just moments ago had now transformed into two cold abysses churning with storms.
He didn't even bother to use teleportation.
Just a few meters away, he casually pushed out his palm through the air.
A visible surge of pure black magical power, like a cannonball leaving its barrel, precisely struck Yoyo's body.
"Boom!"
Yoyo didn't even have time to scream before her entire body, like a fragile fallen leaf, was violently thrown to the ground by this irresistible force, pathetically spitting out a large mouthful of fresh blood. The elegant magic whip also fell to the ground with a "plop," its light completely dispersed.
"Master... Master..." Yoyo lay prostrate on the ground, looking at Frederick in disbelief, her eyes filled with despair and heartbreak.
But Frederick couldn't be bothered to give her another glance, as if she were merely an annoying insect. He carefully placed the dinner tray by the bedside, then slowly turned around, looking down at Yoyo on the ground. That gaze was as cold as if he were looking at a dead person.
"Who gave you the courage," his voice was soft, yet carried a chill capable of freezing one's soul, "to dare touch my person in my bedchamber?"
Yoyo trembled at his terrifying gaze, but jealousy and unwillingness ultimately overcame her fear.
She raised her hand, pointing at me shakily, and with all her might, reluctantly screamed: "Do you think he truly loves you?! Look at your own face! You're nothing but a substitute for that woman! A pitiful, lowly counterfeit! You fool!"
She thought that by using the word "substitute," she could hurt me and drive a wedge between us.
Hearing this, my previously sleepy expression suddenly changed.
Very well.
It's time to let these presumptuous little songbirds see clearly who the true mistress is here.
I deliberately pulled the blanket up a bit to cover the essential areas, then sat up in bed. I didn't immediately get out of bed, but unhurriedly put on that silk robe belonging to Frederick, which still carried his body warmth.
Then, barefoot, I stepped on the cold, smooth obsidian floor, walking one step at a time to Frederick's side.
Imitating how he acted last night, I reached out my hand, stood on tiptoe, and gently pinched his well-defined chin, forcing him to look up and meet my gaze.
"Tell me," I said to him, smiling like a cat that had stolen cream, my voice not loud but clear enough for everyone in the bedchamber to hear distinctly, "who is better, your mentor Winifred or... me?"
This question was absolutely the deadliest of deadly questions. In front of a romantic rival, forcing your current boyfriend to choose between you and his "ideal love." No matter how he answered, it seemed wrong.
Yoyo on the floor also had a flash of malicious delight in her eyes. She clearly believed that this question would put Frederick in a dilemma, or even make him angry at me for the offense.
But Frederick didn't hesitate for even a second.
He extremely cooperatively wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me into his embrace, then lowered his head and gazed deeply at me with those purple eyes filled to the brim with deep affection and indulgence.
"Of course it's you."
His voice was so gentle it could drip water. His tone suggested I had asked the most foolish question in the world. As if I had asked whether the sun rises in the east—something completely self-evident.
In that moment, my heart was completely filled with immense sweetness and satisfaction.
Meanwhile, Yoyo on the ground seemed to have heard something utterly inconceivable and froze completely. The color drained entirely from her face, leaving only a deathly pallor. She covered her mouth, unable to believe what she had heard, and finally let out a suppressed, heartbroken whimper before scrambling away from the chamber, crying as she fled.
Frederick stared at her retreating figure as she left in a sorry state, his eyes once again returning to that indifferent coldness. He calmly asked me, as if discussing today's weather:
"Not going to kill her?"
I could feel that with just a nod from me, the woman who had just run out would completely disappear from this world in the next second, without leaving a single trace.
This is the Demon King, acting on whims, regarding life as worthless as weeds.
But I couldn't let him do that.
I gave him a big eye roll and landed a moderate punch on his firm chest.
"Can you just follow the law? We should be good citizens of the magical world."
Though a flash of obvious confusion crossed his eyes, clearly not understanding what "good citizens of the magical world" meant—a phrase brought from another world.
But I knew my goal had been achieved.
In any case, the less killing he commits, the greater his chances of surviving the inevitable grand finale.
After all, as a veteran gamer who has once had a god's-eye view and completed countless games, I am very, very clear about how powerful and unreasonable the protagonist's halo can be.
I must plan the best path to survival for him, and also for myself.
