Elliott's breath hitched as he pressed his back against the wooden door, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His wide, terrified eyes were fixed on the figure standing before him, the same figure he had tried to escape.
"H-How did you get in here?" Elliott stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers clenched around the edge of his tunic as he struggled to steady his shaking body. For a moment, he had foolishly forgotten one crucial detail—Azrael wasn't human.
Azrael tilted his head slightly, his long silver hair cascading over his shoulder as his lips curled into a smirk. "What do you expect from a demon?"
Azrael's voice was smooth yet laced with an eerie coldness, his tone drastically different from the sweet and teasing one he had used earlier in the classroom. "I can walk, I can disappear, and I can appear anywhere I desire. That means, no matter where you run, no matter how far you try to flee...." His eyes gleamed with something unsettling as he leaned in slightly, voice dropping into a whisper, "You will never escape from my grasp."
Elliott's body stiffened, and a violent shudder ran through him.
This was exactly what he had feared. The devilish side of Azrael. The demon had been playful before, almost strangely affectionate, but now, the air around him had shifted. He radiated pure dominance, an unshakable sense of control that made Elliott feel utterly powerless.
Had he angered him?
Elliott instinctively took a step back, his mind racing. Had he unknowingly offended Azrael by running away? Was that why the demon's demeanor had changed? If that was the case, then he needed to tread carefully. One wrong move, and his head could be rolling on the floor.
"I—I didn't mean to run away from you..." Elliott stammered, taking an uneasy step back. His hands trembled at his sides, damp with cold sweat. "I just—well—I thought you were joking earlier.. Y-you know, about the whole marriage thing...."
A forced, nervous laugh escaped his lips, but even to his own ears, it sounded weak.
"I'm sure you were just messing around," he continued hastily. "There's no way you could actually be interested in someone like me. I mean, I'm just a plain, weak and unattractive mortal, right?" He let out another awkward chuckle, clinging desperately to the hope that Azrael would dismiss the whole ordeal as a joke.
But the demon's expression remained unreadable.
Azrael's gaze locked onto Elliott's, the intensity behind those crimson eyes sending a sharp chill down his spine.
"That's not exactly right," Azrael said coolly.
Elliott's breath hitched.
"You summoned me," Azrael continued, his voice unwavering. "And I do not regret being summoned by you." He took another step forward, his presence overwhelming. "You are not unattractive, Elliott. You have a very preety to die for face. And more importantly—" his voice dropped into something more dangerous, more possessive. "Anything I lay my hands on and take interest in is mine. And once something is mine, it cannot escape me." His smirk widened ever so slightly. "And I have interest in you."
The moment those words left Azrael's lips, Elliott's vision blurred for a second. If he stayed standing any longer, he might actually faint.
With what little strength remained in his limbs, he staggered toward his bed and collapsed onto it.
His entire body trembled as he buried his face in his hands.
This was bad.
This was really, really bad.
Azrael wasn't joking.
He was dead serious.
Elliott let out a silent scream into his palms.
He was really married now.
To a damn demon king.
Before he could spiral into further despair, Azrael's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Your room is an absolute disgrace," he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.
Azreal' cast a disdainful glance around, his silver eyes flickering with a trace of irritation. "A miserable excuse for living quarters." His gaze, sharp and unrelenting, scanned the peeling wallpaper, the broken wooden desk, and the bed that looked one wrong move away from collapsing.
Azrael's expression darkened. "Practically this place looks like a rat's nest."
Elliott winced at the insult.
Azreal's expression darkened as he turned to Elliott. "Why were you assigned to such a pathetic excuse for a room?" Though his tone sounded merely inquisitive, his eyes had already turned cold, as if he'd already uncovered the truth before Elliott could even open his mouth.
Of course, he had. Azreal' had read Elliot's mind.
Elliott felt his stomach tighten. As his thoughts spiralled. He knew exactly why he had been stuck in this room. Why the academy had shoved him into the smallest, most unkempt space available. He was weak, powerless compared to his peers. A mage who barely scraped by, constantly bullied, belittled, and ignored. He had pleaded for better living conditions countless times, only to be met with silence, mockery, or outright rejection.
Azreal's' silver eyes darkened to a deep crimson red, glowing ominously in the dim light of the room. He was angry.
Elliott oblivious to the fact that Azrael had already read his mind, felt a wave of unease settle over him. If Azreal' reacted this strongly just by seeing his room like this, then what would happen if he voiced the truth?
So, he lied.
"I chose this room myself," Elliott said with a forced sigh, trying to sound nonchalant.
Azreal' studied him in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable. For a second, Elliott thought he might call him out for the lie. He felt that Azreal would be smart enough to know it was a lie. But then, the demon king merely smiled—a smile that sent an even stronger wave of dread coursing through Elliott's veins.
"Is that so?" Azreal' murmured.
Elliott forced a nod, hoping that would be the end of it.
Azreal' didn't push further. At least, not out loud. But inwardly, his thoughts were already brewing with cold fury. The academy was truly courting death. To treat his spouse—his chosen husband—like this? He would deal with them in due time.
But for now, he would let it slide.
Instead, he spoke, his voice dropping into a smoother, almost affectionate tone. "When we return to the Abyss—my territory—you will see what true luxury looks like. Your new chambers will be nothing like this.... filth." His lips curled into a slight smile, but to Elliott, it was anything but reassuring. "Anticipate it."
Elliott's stomach twisted in knots.
There it was again. That terrifying contradiction. One moment, Azreal' was cold, unfeeling, an embodiment of pure menace. The next, he spoke as though he actually cared. It was unsettling, like standing in front of a beast that could rip him apart yet chose to nuzzle him instead.
This demon was dangerous. Far too dangerous.
Elliott clenched his fists, silently vowing that he would find a way to annul this so-called marriage. He had to. There was no way he could stay bound to a creature as unpredictable and powerful as Azreal'.
But he didn't realize. Azreal' had already read his thoughts.
The demon king's expression remained composed, but inwardly, he was seething. This foolish mortal.... still dared to dream of ending their marriage? still dared to think of escaping him? To even dream of ending their bond?
How utterly bold.
And—
Foolish.
Azrael would deal with him soon enough.
Before the silence could stretch on any longer, a sudden knock at the door made Elliott jump.
His heart nearly leaped out of his chest.
Slowly, he turned toward the door, his pulse hammering in his ears.
With trembling hands, he unbolted the lock and cracked it open.
His blood ran cold.
Standing outside were several royal messengers, their expressions stoic and unreadable.
"The King requests your presence in the royal council."
Elliott's breath hitched.
His face turned pale as realization sank in.
Trouble.
This was serious trouble.