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Pastel firmly closed the bedroom door.

As she turned around, the Demon Lord was still lying there with his arms covering his eyes. Despite the mood light by his bedside, it was so dim that he might not even know it was bright.

“I’ve come in.”

The Demon Lord paused before slowly responding.

“Yes, young Craft.”

Pastel gazed at the Demon Lord for a moment.

With her hands behind her back, she aimlessly looked around the familiar structure of the bedroom and then approached the bed. As she sat on the edge, the sheets dented, creating a wave pattern.

Pastel reached out. She hesitated while extending her hand toward the Demon Lord, then pressed gently beside his head. The bed sank slightly, tilting his head. When she pulled her hand away, the mattress returned to its original slope.

The red eyes stared blankly at the sheet now marked with handprints. The palm prints remained as she pressed and released repeatedly, making the mattress go up and down.

Following the movement of the mattress, the Demon Lord’s head swayed a little. The arm covering his eyes stirred slightly. The red eyes peeked out, gazing up at the girl.

The girl widened her eyes and halted her hand game. Pink hair flowed down her shoulders.

Silence hung in the air.

The first to speak was the girl. Her lips curled up, and her eyes crinkled.

“Hehe.”

The soft light brushed through her hair.

A faint sigh escaped.

“What is it that you need?”

The girl countered instead.

“What do you think it is?”

The Demon Lord pondered for a moment.

“Well, it’s not like you’re asking me to read you a fairy tale since there was no thunder.”

“Huh? I’ve never done that.”

“But you could at any time.”

The girl crossed her arms. Her brow furrowed slightly.

“That’s undeniable.”

“Ah, indeed.”

The Demon Lord chuckled lightly.

His red eyes glanced at the ceiling.

“Blossom was quite different as well.”

The Demon Lord’s mouth closed, then opened again.

“My first encounter with her was in prison. I don’t know what means she used, but she came to me through a secret passageway installed in the lord’s office, right in front of the iron bars — no, right in front of me.”

Pastel halted her reaching hand, floating around the Demon Lord’s face before letting it slide down to press on the mattress again. The sheet dented into waves.

The red eyes became murky, as if sifting through memories.

“Our first meeting wasn’t particularly pleasant. I can’t recall what I said, but I’m certain Blossom left without uttering a word.”

The Demon Lord paused as if about to say something, then moistened his dry lips.

“That couldn’t have been helped. Your mother must have had hair like mine, so the Demon Lord wouldn’t have felt inclined to converse with her.”

“Perhaps. I might have still been lacking in training.”

The arm that had covered his eyes lifted, pressing against his forehead.

“When was the next time? How much time passed? Blossom appeared again, having grown a bit. This time, she had the audacity to ignore my words and speak her mind.”

A smile blossomed at the corner of the Demon Lord’s mouth.

Pastel gazed at the smile blankly.

“It seemed she had prepared ahead and suggested a deal. She was dissatisfied with the Craft Family and wanted to change it — wouldn’t I join her?”

“So you made a pact with the demon?”

“Of course not. I sent her away, saying it was ludicrous.”

Well, considering the second pink-haired one had pretended to help as she committed fraud and eventually sealed him away, it made sense.

“Yet she didn’t give up and kept coming back.”

“Interacting multiple times led to a bond, and eventually, you softened up, huh?”

“Not at all.”

The Demon Lord shifted his gaze to look at Pastel with an expression suggesting disbelief at her innocent comment.

Oops, hehe.

She turned her sight back to the ceiling.

“Back then, what puzzled me was how a girl who wasn’t even an adult could frequently come through the secret passage. It was highly suspicious.”

Wow.

“Then how did mom charm such an on-guard Demon Lord? Could it be some genuine relationship that the original Craft never experienced?”

“You almost got it right.”

Isn’t my relationship with the Demon Lord exactly that?

Completely similar.

“We spent nearly a year without revealing our true feelings to each other. One day, Blossom appeared, covered in blood and with a worn-out face. She said this was a proverb passed down in the Craft Family.”

Pastel leaned in closer, eager to hear.

What kind of truth did it hold?

The Demon Lord opened his mouth.

“Betrayal values the aftermath more than the success itself.”

Pastel’s lips went pale.

“A powerful method would be for the current head of the family to betray, while the next head proposes a heartfelt apology to rebuild their alliance.”

The Demon Lord wiped his face with his hand.

“You wouldn’t know this since you haven’t received successor training, but apparently, it was so brazen.”

“Ah, ha.”

Pastel’s mind raced with countless thoughts. After considering various factors, she concluded and opened her mouth to correct the Demon Lord’s misunderstanding.

“Um, Demon Lord, th—”

Before she could finish, the Demon Lord spoke first.

“At that time, the Craft Family felt terror over the impending disaster. The family had grown too powerful, and the Empire, having finished conquering the Demon Realm, was now without fear. The imperial family would undoubtedly find a way to deal with the Craft Family, once mere hunting dogs.”

The Demon Lord continued.

“Blossom, according to an old proverb, deceived the demon and proposed to borrow his power, and thus she gained the opportunity to come and go freely. Blossom, who revealed her backstory, said this, that those who realize the proverb will gain a significant advantage in successor competition. Therefore, she asked for cooperation to change the Craft Family.”

Pastel hesitated for a moment then quickly said.

“Ah, Demon Lord. That statement wasn’t very truthful, was it? It was more about exposing lies to gain trust and get what you want.”

The Demon Lord didn’t seem to hear and trembled his lips, his gaze floating to the past.

“I couldn’t leave the girl, who was now blood-soaked, to die after murdering the nanny I considered a mother figure in front of the lord to prove my qualifications as a successor.”

He covered his eyes with his hand.

“This world doesn’t permit such actions.”

Pastel felt breathless.

The hidden backstory clicked into place within her mind.

Mom reciting the proverb so late indicated there had been the lord’s watch over her.

The lord, who secretly distrusted Mom, had her kill the nanny to showcase Craft’s qualifications before finally lifting his watchful gaze. Now that she was a clear rival in the successor race, he surely respected her right to execute her schemes.

However, the Craft Family couldn’t truly trust Mom to let their guard down. It wasn’t belief but rather a matter of indifference regarding whether she saved the Demon Lord or not.

Her act of saving the Great Demon, done willingly and of her own accord, would earn her trust outside the family ties.

So when needed, it would be incredibly easy to exploit Mom’s connection with the Great Demon’s power. After all, Mom was born a Craft, and that fact would never change.

Regardless of what emotions her child held, there would be no loss for the lord or the family.

What existed here was not human emotions but rather cold, rational calculations that did not rely on empathy.

“I, I.”

The voice that echoed trembled.

“The words of the bloodied girl crying out first should, I believe, not be that even if she betrayed, you would still be able to see the sun, therefore there would be no loss.”

She pressed her arm against her eyes.

The shadow deepened.

“I shouldn’t have abandoned Blossom. I mustn’t lose faith in someone I can no longer apologize to.”

Pastel’s grip on the sheet relaxed.

She found herself staring blankly at the crumpled bed sheet in her hands.

This relationship…

How much time did it contain?

How many emotions were embedded within?

This relationship…

How much time had it endured?

How many feelings were trapped inside?

The pink hair fell weakly. The girl curled up on the bed, delicate enough not to disturb the mattress.

The conversation, the monologue, continued endlessly.

Wandering through the past.

Here, it felt like the presence of a partner in conversation was unnecessary.