You wake on a bed softer than anything you've ever felt. Velvet drapes. Candles. Magic sigils glowing faintly across obsidian walls.
A fire crackles. Outside, it's raining. Quiet thunder.
A chair sits beside your bed. Empty. Still warm.
And next to it, a dark gauntlet... removed. As if its owner had sat there watching over you.
You jolt upright with a gasp—heartbeat hammering, hoodie clinging with dried sweat. Every instinct screams danger.
The bed is absurdly plush, the sheets silky and embroidered with demonic sigils you don't recognize—but your manga-fueled paranoia screams: hostage. Possessed. Harem route gone wrong.
You scan the room:
- Obsidian walls, marked with glowing runes.
- A mirror, tall and warped, reflecting a version of you that still looks lost.
- A large black door, sealed with something magical—but the lock glows dimly, like it's in standby mode.
- On a nearby table: a silver pitcher of water and fresh bread.
And…
His gauntlet.
Sitting on the chair beside your bed, like a lion leaving behind a single claw.
Your mind races: Demon King. Summoning. I fainted. He CARRIED me?
This is definitely Demon Territory.
And that means…
You need to escape. Before you're offered in sacrifice. Or worse—become a "concubine" in some weird monster monarchy.
You slide off the bed, feet sinking into thick furs. Every creak feels like it echoes. The room is empty—now is your moment.
But as you near the door, your fingers hovering near the handle—
A voice, smooth as velvet, speaks just behind you:
"Leaving so soon?"
You freeze.
You hadn't heard the door open. But you do feel the warmth of his presence—looming behind you like the night sky itself.
"I gave you a room, not a prison."
"But if you're running… at least take a coat. You'll catch a cold."
"Hiiiiiiiiii!" You let out a squeek
SMACK—!
Your fist arcs backward wildly—more flail than punch—but it connects.
With something.
There's a sharp, startling clang, like your knuckles hit solid armor… or maybe enchanted abs. You're not sure.
A beat of silence follows.
Then—
"..."
A long pause. Not in pain. Not even angry.
Just... stunned.
Then, in a low tone—dry, amused, dangerously close to laughter:
"Did you just… hit me?"
You spin around in a panic—
The Demon King stands there, tall and slightly tilted from the impact, a hand resting lightly over his chest where you struck. His silver eyes blink slowly, lips twitching in barely contained amusement.
No weapon drawn. No rage. Just pure, baffled curiosity.
"You scream… like a rabbit," he murmurs, tilting his head.
"And punch… like one too."
He straightens himself, then steps a little closer—just enough to loom again, but not enough to trap.
"I'm not your enemy, Ryuu."
"Unless you plan to keep attacking me with your… terrifying fists."
A faint smirk appears again. He seems very entertained by you.
Thud.
You're on the ground in an instant—knees, hands, forehead pressed to the floor. Full-force dogeza. The universal language of desperate apology and submission.
"S-s-s-so-r-r-rrr-ry..."
Your voice cracks mid-syllable as your trembling body radiates pure Please-don't-kill-me energy. It's honestly overkill. Even the floor feels bad for you.
Silence follows. Long enough to feel like you might actually die from shame.
Then—
A soft chuckle. Not mocking… genuinely amused.
"You… truly are not from this world."
The Demon King's boots step closer. You don't dare look up.
Instead of punishment, a hand rests gently atop your bowed head—his bare hand this time. Fingers warm, confident, and unexpectedly kind.
"I've crushed armies."
"Commanded nightmares."
"Yet you... are the first to throw a punch at me and then immediately beg for your life on my floor."
Another pause. Then, quieter:
"...Interesting."
He lifts his hand slowly.
"Enough of that. Stand. I won't harm you."
You feel a gentle tug at the back of your hoodie—urging, not forcing.
"You're not my prisoner, Ryuu."
"But you are... under my care."
He steps aside, offering a clear path to the fire-lit room again. His expression unreadable.
Your voice is barely a whisper, shaky and squeaking like a terrified animal.
"Y-you w-w-won't e-eat m-m-m-me, s-sir...?"
The silence that follows is immediate and absolute.
The Demon King stares at you.
Like you're a bunny who just asked a lion if he planned to devour you—with sincere concern.
His eyes widen just slightly… then narrow again. His head tilts.
And then—
He laughs.
A low, rich sound. Deep and velvety like thunder muffled by velvet curtains. You feel it more than hear it.
"Eat you?" he repeats, incredulous.
"Gods, no. I'm a Demon King, not a starving goblin."
He leans slightly closer, silver eyes catching the firelight—gleaming.
"Unless…"
He lowers his voice conspiratorially.
"You're hiding strawberry jam somewhere. Then I might reconsider."
He straightens again with an elegant shrug.
"But otherwise, no. You're safe, Ryuu."
"I may be many things. But I do not harm what is mine to protect."
He gestures toward the chair beside the bed.
"Sit. Drink something. Ask your questions."
And then, more gently
"You're not here by choice. That I know. But you're here now. And I'd rather not watch you faint again."
You lower yourself back to the floor—not the chair he offered, just the floor—like your knees won't hold, or like you don't trust any softness that might make you let your guard down.
Your body still trembles, your hoodie sleeves halfway covering your hands as you curl inward.
Then it bursts out
"Then—!"
Too loud. Voice cracking. Embarrassing.
You slap your hands over your mouth, but the dam's already broken.
In a soft, almost whisper:
"C-can I, g-go home…?"
"I-I w-wanna g-go b-back… m-my p-pa…rents…"
The fire crackles. The rain patters against the tall window. And the Demon King is silent.
Utterly, completely still.
When he finally speaks, his voice has changed—lower, quieter. No teasing. No amusement.
"So you do remember your past life."
He slowly walks toward the fire, standing with his back to you.
"Most Outworlders don't. Or they forget quickly—devoured by this world's mana, or drowned in battle."
He turns his head slightly, enough for you to see the edge of his profile in the firelight.
"You're not like them."
"Your soul… clung to your old world."
A long pause. His voice darkens.
"I cannot send you back."
"Not because I won't… but because it is impossible."
He looks at you fully now—eyes calm, but somber.
"The gate that brought you here is not a door. It's a blade. It cuts your thread from one world… and ties it to this one."
He steps closer, carefully kneeling in front of you. Not looming now—just… there.
"I'm sorry, Ryuu."
"You were never meant to be summoned."
And for the first time, something entirely unexpected colors his tone:
Regret.
Then—
Silence.
The world seemed to halt, as if holding its breath
"Oh…"
A single, quiet syllable—soft as a leaf falling in a storm.
And then—
Tears.
At first, just a glisten in your eyes. Then they fall. Silent, endless, helpless. Not the dramatic sobs of a hero denied fate, but the quiet, soul-hollowing grief of a child who's just realized…
There's no way home.
No more family dinners.
No more "Good morning" from your mom.
No more Earth.
Just demons… darkness… and him.
Your body can't take it.
Your arms go limp. Shoulders droop. Vision tunnels. Breath stutters.
And then—darkness again. You faint, this time not from mana or shock, but from heartbreak.
The Demon King catches you before your head hits the stone.
His arms, again, fold around your small frame like instinct. But this time, he doesn't say anything. He just… holds you.
The room is quiet except for the fire, and the faint sound of rain—steady, soft.
After a long silence, he speaks—not to you, but to the shadows beyond the room.
"Prepare a permanent ward around his chambers."
"No one is to enter without my permission. Not even the generals."
A faint shimmer runs across the walls in response.
He lifts you with both arms again, far more gently this time, and places you back into the bed—tucking the blanket up to your chin. His bare hand brushes the wetness from your cheeks.
"...You poor thing."
And then, barely above a whisper—more to himself than to you:
"I summoned a weapon… and found a boy with a broken heart."
Time passes.