He spat the tea all over the floor.
Selene cursed loudly from across the room.
Kael waved a hand apologetically. "Sorry… guess the tea wanted to get out too."
He bent down, scooping up the soggy pages, scanning the words with mounting disbelief:
BOUNTY OF 100,000 GOLD COINS ON THE PERSON NAMED 'DEVIL'
'WTF?!!!'
Selene scrubbed harder, muttering about careless hands and ruined floors, but Kael's eyes were frozen on the front page, the headline stark and damning.
DEVIL IN VEILSPIRE: MYSTERIOUS FIGURE SLAYS NORTHERN DUKE'S SON ADAM — KINGDOM IN PANIC
He read on, his heartbeat rising with each line:
"Eyewitnesses claim the figure emerged mid-battle, cloaked in shadows, bearing no sigil. He aided our elite students — only to turn on them. His blade was cruel, his movements monstrous."
"Wore a red mask, carved like a devil's grin. His cloak was black, edges burning as if it hungered."
"Inhumane. Fast. Silent. One moment he stood beside us… the next, he struck down Adam without hesitation."
Kael's fingers gripped the paper tighter.
"Some survivors say he devoured the heart of an undead beast mid-battle."
"Others swear the dead around him rose and bowed."
"A spirit? A cursed knight? A foreign god's champion? No one knows — but all agree: he is not one of us."
Selene finally looked up, her brow furrowed.
"Kael… it's everywhere. People are terrified. The taverns, the markets — they're calling him 'The Devil of Veilspire.'"
Then her eyes narrowed as something clicked. "Wait—how does this Devil know your name?"
Kael stiffened, eyes flicking to the side.
"Uh… I think… he asked me. Yeah. Inside the temple. I told him my name and he, uh, shoved me aside. Thought I was harmless, I guess."
Selene stared at him, unconvinced. Her silence stretched. Then—softly—she looked away, muttering, "Fine…"
She didn't press. But her eyes said she didn't buy it.
Kael sighed, a slow exhale through his nose as Selene busied herself with the now-damp sheets of newsprint.
She didn't ask again—but the silence between them hung heavy.
He turned back to the paper, eyes skimming line after line of increasingly absurd speculation. Then—
"Oh no… oh no…" he muttered, face falling.
Selene looked up. "What now?"
"They think the Devil's a bastard prince," he said, deadpan.
"Or a royal spy. Or a half-demon warlock cursed from birth. One guy claims he rides a flaming horse and speaks in riddles while eating souls."
Selene blinked. "...Does he?"
Kael groaned and buried his face in the paper. "No! But honestly, if they keep going, I might start believing it myself."
"Why are you so... sensitive about him?" she asked quietly, her eyes narrowing just slightly.
Kael stiffened. The air in the room seemed to hold its breath.
"Umm… we could say... friends," he said, not meeting her gaze.
She stared at him for a long moment. Her expression unreadable.
Then, with a soft sigh, she nodded. "Alright. Friends."
But her eyes said she didn't quite believe it — and Kael knew she'd tucked the question away for later.
###
Soon after, Kael left the house in a creaky old carriage, letting the morning sun wash over the dusty cobbled roads.
He hadn't brought Selene — no need to drag her along for this. Just a quick errand to offload those scrolls.
Eleven in total, but he planned to sell only eight.
Two were for himself — and the last he had set aside for Selene.
As the carriage rolled through the inner city, Kael leaned his elbow on the window frame and peered out.
And instantly regretted it.
Whispers, gossip, hushed tones and wild eyes — they were still talking about the Devil of Veilspire.
"He vanished into smoke—just like that!"
"My cousin swore he saw the mask up close. Said the eyes were glowing red!"
"No man could move like that. Maybe he's not even a man…"
Kael facepalmed with a groan. "What the hell…"
He recalled that day—when he had limped home bloodied and broken. His father had questioned him about the Veilspire incident, voice grave.
Kael had answered carefully, eyes lowered.
"He was not of our world. If we chase him… we may find more than we wish."
It was supposed to end the discussion.
Instead, it had only fanned the flames. Now the streets buzzed with hysteria.
The nobles whispered. The masses feared.
And Kael? He was stuck trying to offload eight damn scrolls while hiding a devil's mask in his vault.
Kael noticed they had entered a quiet alley.
Perfect, he thought.
"Stop!" he yelled sharply.
The driver panicked, slammed on the brakes, and the carriage jerked to a halt.
The driver quickly turned back toward Kael's side and opened the carriage door.
Kael lay on the floor, clutching his leg.
"I have a headache… in my leg," Kael groaned, voice weak but calculated.
The driver's eyes widened in confusion. "I'll quickly bring a doctor!"
As he turned to leave, puzzled—headache in the ...leg?
But kael struck suddenly, hitting the driver hard on the back of the head.
The driver crumpled unconscious onto the cobblestones.
Kael smirked, brushing dust off his hands as he looked around the empty alley.
"I can't exactly sell stolen spell scrolls in White Market, right?" he muttered to himself with a dark chuckle.
"Better find a... less honest buyer."
Kael took a slow, deliberate breath, then ran his hands through his hair, mussing it into a rough, unkempt mess.
He shrugged off his coat, leaving only his simple shirt beneath, now stained with dirt and wear.
He caught his reflection in the carriage mirror—a shadow of the noble he once was.
A faint smirk played on his lips.
"Perfect," he whispered to himself.
Carefully, he wrapped a coarse cloak around his mouth and nose, concealing his features further.
Without hurry, he stepped down from the carriage and melted into the bustling streets, his movements measured and quiet, becoming just another face in the crowd.