To the Demon King, romance was fog drifting over cold stone—something he never learned to touch. The Demon Race reproduced without sex, like spores riding harsh winds.

He grew under strict masters, iron and fire for tutors, no childhood games—only power wrestling like storms over black cliffs. Their lands were brutal, a winter that bit to the bone and froze stray thoughts.

Asexual birth meant speed and survival, a river that never stopped. So Edlyn cared little for awe-striking beauty, whether it wore a he or a she—no hearts-and-flowers in her sky.

Edlyn sent her soul out like a pale moth in night, confirming the person was a hidden threat who had raided with Birand against the Demon Race.

One of the Hero’s Ten Heavenly Guards, a child of Icarina—if not by blood, then by fate’s threads. Her eyelids fluttered like a fan; the decision settled.

Eli led her to Icarina’s descendant, guiding her like a hand through dusk. He clicked his tongue at the sight, wonder popping like a seed under heat.

For no reason, heat pricked Edlyn’s chest, a thorn under silk. She slid her left foot and stepped on Eli, quiet as a cat under moonlight.

He yelped, a spark in the still room, then shot her a knowing look that crawled like a lizard under her skin. Discomfort rose like smoke.

Eli ruffled the silver-haired girl’s crown, calming a bristling cat, then glanced at the bed. “So, girl, who are you? Where from? Why’d a bear nab you?”

The blonde girl’s lips trembled; her voice came dry as sand. “I—I’m from a… uh… a small village. I’m Shiri Sers. And… I’m male.”

“Another small village?” Eli’s stare tilted, a compass unsure.

“…” Edlyn’s silence hung like a blade.

“…” Angela’s pause pooled like rainwater.

Eli blinked, late light finally pouring in. “Male?”

“Mm, male.” Shiri’s answer dropped like a pebble into a pond.

“Male!” Edlyn snapped, like a twig under heel.

“Mm, male.” Shiri’s words stayed steady, a lantern in mist.

“Male?!” Angela gasped, a sparrow startled from a branch.

Shiri scratched his throat, where no Adam’s apple showed, like searching for a hidden pebble. “Uh… yeah. Male.”

“Tsk. Guess the world breeds all kinds,” Eli sighed, wind whistling through reeds.

Edlyn tilted her head, moonlight cutting clean lines—this guy looked prettier than she had in her last life. Icarina’s bloodline was fierce, a hawk riding the sun.

Speaking of Icarina—every early turning point in the war circled that woman like swallows to a bell. Edlyn wrinkled her nose; among the Ten Heavenly Guards, Icarina’s command was razor-sharp.

Her surprise raids struck like night rain; Edlyn had been caught off guard, hands cold on the hilt. If only she’d slit Icarina’s throat back in the Demon Realm when she had her.

Remembering the Demon Race butchered under Icarina’s banners, Edlyn’s teeth met hard, anger simmering like a covered pot.

Eli stared at Shiri Sers, brows drawing like storm lines—there was a familiar face, a girl’s shadow flitting like a moth over lantern glass.

“Hey, Birand, let’s go moon-gazing again,” a faceless girl laughed, sweet as spring water. He touched her cheek like holding warm jade. “Alright. When I’m back.”

They were only shadows, smoke on water, and it bothered Eli like grit in a boot. Must be from his days as the Hero, a past life’s echo.

The trouble was, the feeling wasn’t his—it was a movie playing behind his eyes, just borrowed immersion, thin as paper.

“Am I different from Birand somehow?” Eli frowned, the question hanging like a lone star.

Angela watched Eli’s and Edlyn’s faces shift like clouds, shrugged, then turned to Shiri. “Need anything?”

Shiri gave her a grateful look, light as dawn. “Yeah… sorry. Could I have some water?”

“Got it,” Angela chirped, hopping away like a sparrow.

Shiri glanced at the two standing stunned by the bed, awkwardness dripping like honey too thick. Did he hit them that hard?

Edlyn stewed and stewed; then her hand cut to Eli’s waist and twisted, a full one-eighty, like wringing a wet reed.

Eli snapped out of that haze, grabbing her small hand, voice breaking like a twig. “Milady, what did I even do?!”

Edlyn shot him a sharp look, an arrow without words, then turned and walked, her back a willow swaying away.

Eli froze at that retreating silhouette, then the tide took him again—only this time he didn’t watch a screen; he sank like a stone in deep water.

He stepped forward, drew her in, and held her tight, an anchor in storm-slashed waves. “Don’t go.”

“Eh?” Edlyn blinked at him, puzzled, like a cat hearing thunder. Did the Hero just lose it?

On the bed, Shiri watched their sweetness and drowned in secondhand embarrassment, cheeks hot as coals. “Uh, sir, I’m still here.”

They ignored him, the world shrinking to two heartbeats. So Shiri wisely shut his eyes, lids falling like curtains.