“OH—! It looks like he's waking up…”

  “Aww, he's so cute!”

  “I'm sure he'll grow up to be a handsome young man.”

  “Hmph, it's too early for such talks!”

  Light. Blinding light.

  The Demon King's first sensation upon waking wasn't pain, nor confusion — no, it was the unbearable brightness searing through his eyelids.

  “Mmngh…”

  His tiny face scrunched instinctively.

  His newborn pupils narrowed to slits as he tried to adjust to this radiant hell.

  And once they did… the first thing he saw—were breasts.

  Full. Soft. Very close.

  Hovering just above his squishy little baby face, the generous cleavage rose and fell with a gentle breath. And above that, peeking just past the soft hills, was the smiling face of a young raven-haired beauty.

  Her deep, starry eyes shimmered with adoration.

  Her sweet, strawberry lips curled gently as if she’d waited eternity just to meet him.

  The Demon King blinked.

  Mmm~ what is this? A fine specimen… a human, perhaps? A concubine? One of my sves?

  He tried to move, to speak, to demand answers — but instead, he made a muffled, confused squeaky noise.

  And then… the realization smmed into him.

  Ah… right. That. Rebirth Magic.

  The moment he saw the sacred sword Solvaren pierced through his chest, he used a st-resort spell.

  Before his body would turn to dust.

  It was a forbidden magic — one that let the caster transfer their soul into a prepared Soul Cup.

  And this must be where his soul ended up.

  Which means… oh. Gods below. This is my mother.

  His tiny brows furrowed.

  Around her, several women in maid uniforms looked down at him with shining eyes and cheerful smiles.

  Humans. Smiling at him.

  Not in terror. Not in awe. But joy.

  The Demon King frowned harder.

  The st time humans looked happy in my presence, they were crushed under the illusion of mercy before I razed their cities. Never—not once in my millennia of conquest—did they smile without fear.

  His stubby baby fingers curled into little fists.

  “Aww…”

  One of the maids cooed, clutching her chest.

  “Young Master Lucian is so adorable! Look at those chubby cheeks! And his beautiful red eyes! All those long years Lady Mirel spent carrying him were not in vain!”

  “Hmm…”

  Another maid leaned in close, eyes squinting.

  “Why does it look like he’s angry already?”

  Clueless. Absolutely clueless.

  Angry? ANGRY?! I am INFURIATED, woman!

  The Demon King screamed internally.

  IS THIS SOME KIND OF SICK JOKE?! If I had the choice, I would've thrown my soul into a demon's Soul Cup and waited three centuries for a ritual rebirth! But no. NO. I end up here. In a mortal cradle!

  Snot ran down his nostrils.

  My army… my citadel… my thousand-year empire! Gone! Vanished like a dream!

  His baby face trembled.

  Disappointment clouded his soul.

  Being reborn in a human body… is possibly the better alternative, but still—

  “Mmmwah ??”

  Came a loud kiss on his cheek.

  He blinked again.

  Lady Mirel held him close as she pnted a kiss on his soft, plush skin.

  “My sweet son…”

  His face turned grumpy once more.

  Even if I must endure such indignities…

  THUD!

  The fancy wooden doors of the grand chamber smmed open with force.

  All the maids froze.

  Their warmth vanished like mist in the sun.

  Instantly, they bowed their heads.

  A tall man dressed in noble finery walked in. His steps were heavy, boots cpping against polished marble. His eyes locked not on the woman, but the baby in her arms.

  Lady Mirel brightened. “My lord, you’re here—I—”

  He ignored her completely.

  His stare fired down at the child swaddled in ce.

  Brown hair, square jaw, eyes full of disappointment.

  He looked so arrogant.

  The Demon King didn’t like him.

  Not one bit.

  This man… I know this face. Lord Varrian Ferros. War hero. Hammer of the East. One of the few mortals who resisted the Demon Continent in the early campaigns.

  He had been a persistent gnat — barely a thorn.

  Yet somehow, in this new life, he was now…

  My father?

  Varrian’s lips twisted into a cold frown.

  After a long, insulting inspection, he stepped back.

  “This one’s useless too.”

  The room choked on silence.

  Lady Mirel’s smile broke.

  “Excuse me?!”

  Her angelic voice cracked.

  Varrian’s voice was calm, almost cruelly indifferent.

  “Fifteen years you carried that child. And I thought — just maybe — he would be the sign we've desperately been waiting for. That our House would rise again.”

  He looked away.

  “But it was all a sham. This child is a disappointment.”

  “Varrian!” Mirel’s voice trembled with anger.

  But the maids behind her were already shaking their heads, mouthing don’t.

  There was fear in the air.

  Lady Mirel bit her lip and lowered her eyes.

  She said nothing more.

  Meanwhile, the Demon King's soul nearly exploded with rage.

  A DISAPPOINTMENT──?! ME?! DO YOU NOT SEE THE FLAMES OF ETERNITY IN THESE EYES? DO YOU NOT SENSE THE COSMIC MIGHT OF A THOUSAND DEMON WARS? FOOL! IGNORANT FOOL!

  And yet… his lips quivered.

  Then—

  Ah-choo!

  A loud, cutesy sneeze escaped.

  He blinked.

  Wait a moment… something's wrong… there should've been a Pilr of Legacy upon my birth. When a soul as ancient as mine is reborn… the heavens mark it. A sky-splitting beam of crimson light should’ve erupted. It's a universal w. A divine rule. Did they… not see it?

  He closed his eyes in deep, silent contemption as a heavy baby sigh escaped his lips.

  BANG!

  The doors smmed shut as Lord Ferros exited.

  Silence remained. No smiles returned.

  Even the knights guarding the room kept their head low, as if pitying the noble woman.

  Lady Mirel gently caressed her child’s head.

  “Oran has been waiting to meet you, Lucian. I’m sure your older brother will be thrilled.”

  Oran? Brother?

  The Demon King pouted.

  How many more surprises will I suffer today?

  If he could groan, he would.

  “Uh…”

  A maid suddenly fidgeted.

  “Is it just me, or does something feel… off?”

  Everyone turned.

  The maid scratched her cheek nervously.

  “Young Master Lucian… doesn’t cry.”

  “Huh?” Another maid blinked.

  “Yeah… he just doesn’t. Isn’t that… unusual?”

  A dozen eyes swiveled back to the baby.

  Lady Mirel's brows arched. Even she looked suspicious.

  The Demon King turned grumpy again.

  How many more insults must I endure? Is my dignity not buried deep enough already? All of this is Caelum's fault—yes, that blond bastard Hero! The next time I see him, I will fy his soul, bottle it, and py it like a flute for ten thousand years!

  His tiny arms filed.

  His underdeveloped fists waved furiously.

  “Eh?” a maid leaned in. “Is he… is he trying to cry?”

  Another maid shook her head. “No tears. Just… angry.”

  “At least he has strong bones?” one whispered.

  Lady Mirel chuckled softly.

  “Perhaps… if I feed him, he’ll cry?”

  Feed—?

  The Demon King’s eyes widened.

  Wait… Wait, what’s happening?!

  Lady Mirel slowly unbuttoned her dress to reveal her soft, supple breasts.

  The maids leaned in approvingly.

  No. No no no—

  She gently pressed him against her breast as the warmth of her skin swallowed him.

  You dare—! I shall not—NEVER shall I be—

  The nipple touched his mouth.

  He resisted.

  Until the entire nipple folded into his small mouth.

  NOO! I am the Bane of Realms! The Tyrant of the Bck Fme! I shall not be reduced to—

  Squirt.

  Milk flooded his mouth. His eyes bulged.

  NOOO! CURSE YOU, CAELUM!!

  He screamed mentally.

  And just like that—he cried.

  Loud. Wailing. Angry.

  His face turned red as he screamed like the world had wronged him beyond measure.

  “Aww! He's crying! He's healthy!” one maid beamed.

  “Such strong lungs!”

  “I don't care what Lord Ferros says, I'm sure Young Master Lucian will grow up to be a warrior!”

  Lady Mirel smiled affectionately serenely as she breastfed her baby boy.

  The Demon King, meanwhile, wept—not from hunger, not from weakness…

  But from the bitter realization that this was only Day One.