CHAPTER 10 — Afterglow, Romance Killers, and a New Piece on the Board

  By the time the stadium started emptying, my body finally remembered I was ten.

  My legs felt like jelly. My cheeks were still hot from embarrassment. And my pride was somewhere back in the sky, still being chanted at by strangers like I was a mascot.

  Scorin stayed close—too close, like he thought if he let me drift one step away, I’d get swallowed by the crowd. He didn’t say much. He didn’t need to.

  Noxx padded beside us, lantern dimmer now, tail low and tired. He’d done his job. He’d evolved. And he still looked like he wanted to bite that prince again just for sport.

  Nira hovered at my shoulder and sighed dramatically.

  “Well,” she said, “congratulations. You survived public worship.”

  “I’m never going outside again,” I muttered.

  “You say that,” Nira replied, “but you’re going to. Because your father will schedule it.”

  I shot her a look.

  She grinned. “See? You’re healing already. Anger is medicinal.”

  Scorin’s gaze flicked to me like he wanted to say something. His lips parted—

  Nira leaned toward him like an executioner.

  “Oh,” she whispered. “Here we go.”

  Scorin stopped breathing for half a second.

  Then he cleared his throat and said the safest thing on earth.

  “…Did you enjoy the music?”

  I stared at him.

  Nira covered her face with both hands. “Hopeless.”

  Noxx made a soft sound like he agreed.

  We returned to the castle for the first time in what felt like forever.

  The gates were open—too open—like someone was expecting us.

  Scorin walked me up the steps with that careful, noble pace, the kind that made everything feel like a ritual instead of just a walk home.

  I hugged Noxx to my chest out of habit.

  Noxx wheezed.

  Nira poked her head out of the lantern.

  “Stop strangling your familiar,” she said. “He can’t evolve into ‘Air Breather.’”

  “Shush,” I whispered.

  Scorin turned toward me at the threshold, and for a second the night got quiet enough to hear my heartbeat.

  “I…” he started.

  His eyes did that red-glint thing—treasure-vault thoughts.

  My stomach did the stupid flip again.

  He stepped half a pace closer.

  “I had a great time,” he said, his voice lower.

  “I did too,” I said, and instantly wanted to bite my own tongue because it sounded too soft.

  Scorin’s shoulders loosened like he’d been holding himself together with discipline alone.

  He opened his mouth again—

  And the door slammed wider with the force of fate.

  Aunt Sera stood there, hands behind her back, smiling like a villain who got paid per interruption.

  “My, my,” she said brightly, eyes bouncing between us. “Please. Do go on.”

  I turned into a red stop sign.

  “Aunt Sera!” I yelped. “Can you just be normal?!”

  She laughed like I’d told her a joke.

  “Your mother is expecting you,” she said. “The bath is ready.”

  Then she glanced at Scorin with that same smile.

  “And you, Prince. Don’t stand there like a rejected love letter. You have duties, don’t you?”

  Scorin’s jaw clenched just slightly—humiliation flashing hot.

  But he forced his posture back into Noble Mode.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said like he was talking to a general.

  Nira drifted out of the lantern again, eyes narrowed.

  “Wow,” she muttered. “What’s with all the romance blockers these days?”

  I stormed inside.

  Noxx finally got air.

  The bath was ridiculous.

  Hot water. Scented stone. Herbs that smelled like “royalty” and “sleep.”

  I sank into it like I’d been shot again—except this time the wound was exhaustion, not bullets.

  Noxx curled up on the rug, lantern dim and gentle.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  Nira floated in the steam, suddenly less smug. Still annoying. But quieter.

  For a moment, I let my eyes close.

  And for a moment… I forgot.

  I forgot I died in my mid-thirties.

  I forgot I used to be Sophia Valac in New York—Trauma/ICU, night shift, steel spine.

  I forgot the manga. The prophecy. The nonsense.

  I just felt like a little girl with an evil father… trying not to cry.

  Why did the author make Malphas so cruel?

  The thought hit and my throat tightened.

  The water hid the tremble in my hands.

  Nira watched me like she could tell I was slipping.

  She didn’t joke this time.

  She just whispered, softer than usual, “Hey.”

  I sniffed. “Don’t.”

  Nira blinked. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t be nice,” I muttered, and hated that my voice cracked.

  Nira sighed. “Fine. I won’t be nice.”

  Then she added anyway, quiet:

  “…But you did good tonight.”

  My chest hurt.

  I swallowed it down like I always did.

  Like a nurse.

  Like a demon.

  Later, when I finally crawled into bed, Noxx was already there—body-pillow dog, warm and heavy, lantern flickering like it was falling asleep too.

  Nira’s glow dimmed.

  I thought I’d be alone.

  I wasn’t.

  The door opened quietly.

  Mother stepped in like moonlight wearing a body.

  Lysandra closed the door behind her and sat beside me. She took my hand softly, like she was afraid I’d break.

  “How was the concert?” she asked.

  I tried to be normal.

  “It was fun,” I said.

  Then I failed immediately.

  “It was almost ruined because of a prince,” I added. “And I bet Dad set him up too.”

  Lysandra’s expression didn’t change much.

  But her eyes… softened. Like she was tired of apologizing for someone she still loved.

  “Oh,” she said quietly. “Right.”

  She exhaled.

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  I turned my face into my pillow.

  “So it really is a chess thing,” I muttered. “He’s using people like pieces.”

  Lysandra didn’t deny it.

  She squeezed my hand.

  “Your father…” she said carefully, “does care. In his way.”

  I snorted.

  “In his way? His way is war crimes.”

  Lysandra’s lips twitched—almost a smile. Then it faded.

  “He is a cruel man,” she admitted. “But he understands what must be done.”

  I swallowed.

  “And whatever he thinks works… if it doesn’t break… it becomes worth more to him.”

  My eyes stung.

  “So Scorin is just… fuel,” I whispered. “A test.”

  Lysandra’s voice softened further.

  “It’s clear as day you want nothing to do with that boy,” she said.

  I blinked hard.

  “…Zephran?”

  “Yes,” Lysandra said. “That one is poison wrapped in perfume.”

  My chest loosened just a little.

  Then Lysandra continued, and the words hit heavier.

  “But Scorin… is different.”

  I looked at her.

  Lysandra’s gaze stayed steady.

  “He needs to grow,” she said. “And your father believes pressure reveals truth.”

  I gripped her hand tighter.

  “He’s such a demon,” I whispered.

  Lysandra nodded like it hurt her too.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, he is.”

  Then she brushed my hair back like I was truly ten.

  “And he’s still your father.”

  I let a tear slip out.

  I hated that it felt good to be held.

  Outside the castle, Scorin stood alone on the steps for a moment, staring up at the sky like it might tell him what to do.

  His ticket bracelet still clung to his wrist.

  Like proof he’d been happy.

  Like proof he’d been human.

  Then a pulse of magic shimmered in the air—a call, precise and unavoidable.

  His older brother.

  Vaelrick.

  Scorin’s jaw tightened.

  “I need him,” he murmured to himself. “I need him to teach me how to be… a proper noble.”

  His hand flexed like he wanted to draw the Dragonic Greatsword and cut the whole problem in half.

  But this wasn’t a problem you could cut.

  This was feelings.

  This was politics.

  This was a demon king moving pieces while smiling.

  Scorin spread his wings.

  And with one powerful beat, he launched into the night—flying toward the Neutral Zone, toward Vaelrick, toward whatever lesson came next.

  In the Neutral Zone, Zephran’s private training yard was lit by torches that didn’t flicker.

  Not because there was no wind.

  Because the wind was afraid.

  His staff cracked through the air—perfect form, ugly intent.

  WHAM.

  Stone chipped.

  He didn’t stop.

  His jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful.

  “That damn lizard,” he spat, his voice low. “Vaelrick’s little shadow.”

  He swung again.

  CRACK.

  “And the Demonic Saint…”

  His eyes narrowed, hunger mixing with rage.

  “She slapped me.”

  He said it like it was a crime against nature.

  He breathed in slowly.

  Then exhaled like he’d decided something irreversible.

  “This isn’t over,” he whispered.

  Back in my room, I was half-asleep when the Ledger flickered at the edge of my vision.

  I didn’t call it.

  It called me.

  A new comment appeared—clean, smug handwriting I recognized immediately.

  Comment: Sleep while you can. Something moved tonight. — Nira

  My eyes snapped open.

  Noxx’s lantern blinked once.

  Then twice.

  Then faster.

  Like he could feel it too.

  And somewhere far away…

  the world placed its next piece.