Lily was thrown into a cold, damp stone chamber, the door slamming shut behind her with a chilling finality. The room was bare, devoid of any comforts—just a simple, hard bed and a single flickering torch casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air smelled stale, the cold seeping into her bones. She huddled in the corner, shivering as her mind reeled from everything that had happened.
The food was no better—bread as hard as a rock and plain water. Gone were the delicate, warm meals she'd grown up with. There were no maids to tend to her, no soft pillows, no sweet desserts. She was utterly alone, forced to do everything by herself, though there was hardly anything to do in this bleak cell. It was an existence she couldn't have imagined in her wildest nightmares.
"Why did I flee?" she thought bitterly. She would rather be a mindless doll in her palace than live through this hell. Every day in captivity made her miss the life she had taken for granted—the dresses, the comforts, her warm bed. That life now felt like a distant dream, completely out of reach.
The demons guarding her were terrifying, with glowing eyes and monstrous forms. Their presence was a constant reminder of her powerlessness, of how insignificant she was in this world. She was too scared to speak, too frightened to make a sound in their presence. What would be the point? No one would listen. They were demons, after all, and she was just a weak human princess.
Her days passed in fear and dread, her heart longing for the safety of her palace. But that hope was slipping further and further away, replaced by a growing despair.
Something changed, however, when the Demon King began visiting her. At first, she would tremble in his presence, her body shaking with fear. She couldn't bring herself to utter a single word. His towering presence, his black eyes that seemed to pierce through her soul, were too overwhelming.
Each time he visited, he mocked her fragility. His words cut through her like a blade, filled with disdain.
"Look at you, all alone and helpless. No power to change your fate," he would sneer, his voice dripping with cold amusement. "In my world, strength is everything. Your softness is a weakness. And weakness gets you killed."
Lily shrank under his words, humiliated and terrified. She hated how powerless she felt, but there was nothing she could do. She was trapped in this nightmare, utterly at his mercy.
One day, however, his words took on a different, more ominous tone. He looked at her with a strange glint in his eyes and said, "…perhaps I should teach you how the real world works."
That marked the beginning of her torment. The Demon King had her thrown back into the forest, alone, with nothing but a sword for protection. Every time she was sent into those dark woods, she was hunted by creatures far beyond her strength. She was brought back only when she was so battered, so broken, that she could no longer move.
Each time, she learned something new. Each time, she became a little stronger. But she didn't want to. She had no desire to fight, no desire to survive like this. She would much rather stay in bed all day, far from the brutal trials the Demon King forced her into.
The demon king even made her learn dark magic, which he was personally teaching her, at first she resisted, but Lily quickly realized that as with everything else, she didn't have a choice. And so, she started learning dark magic.
It didn't end there. He made her spar with his demon soldiers—merciless warriors who held nothing back. They wouldn't stop until she was beaten unconscious on the cold ground. Every blow, every fall, left her bruised and aching. And the Demon King watched it all, his eyes never leaving her, as if she were some kind of twisted experiment.
He would critique her, of course. "You're not holding the sword properly," he would say, his tone dry and condescending. "Your aim is off. You should've struck at "that" moment."
She wanted to yell at him. How was she supposed to know how to fight? No one had taught her how to hold a sword, how to strike! But her fear kept her silent. She never dared to speak up, even though she longed to throw the sword at his smug face. Sometimes, she even missed her cell—it was the only place where she was free from this torment.
Whenever she was recovering in her cell, the Demon King would still stop by. He would stand in the doorway, his voice echoing through the small chamber.
"In my kingdom, survival means embracing power, not hiding from it," he would say, his eyes cold but somehow expectant.
Over time, something shifted. His mockery began to take on a different tone, as if he was testing her. She hated every moment, every trial, but she couldn't deny that something inside her was changing. Slowly, painfully, she was becoming stronger. She didn't want this strength—it was being forced on her—but it was undeniable.
Occasionally, he even offered something that resembled a compliment. "Not bad," he would say after a particularly grueling fight. But it was never more than that. No, the oh-so-mighty Demon King would never give her a real compliment. She could probably slay a dragon, and all he'd say would be "good enough."
From the Demon King's perspective, though, things were different. He saw something in Lily that she couldn't see herself—a quiet resilience. She had survived the forest. She endured every harsh sparring session, every brutal lesson, and she hadn't completely broken. Despite the fear in her eyes, despite her protests, she hadn't given up.
This intrigued him. Maybe she wasn't as weak as she seemed. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this human princess than he had first thought.
And that potential fascinated him.