The Darklord Citadel, as its name suggested, was truly a city.

Beyond its walls, watchtowers, and dungeons lay residential districts, commercial zones, public entertainment venues, and other daily necessities—all centered around the Demonlord’s palace. Compact yet complete, it was a city in every sense.

Compared to certain human capitals, Demon City was smaller, its buildings arranged with meticulous order and reinforced by magic for unparalleled strength.

Strolling down the main street, Lilith watched skeleton guards marching in formation, elderly slimes squabbling over radish prices with goo flying everywhere, and a lizardman courier pedaling a bicycle while delivering packages with his three-clawed hands…

Demons bustled about their lively, orderly lives—ignoring, of course, their wildly non-human appearances.

A few humanoid demons mingled in the crowds, but most residents sported forms too bizarre for humans—or even other demon races—to accept.

After all, humans dominated this world’s population. Even elves and dwarves, their numbers dwindling, were nearly classified as human subspecies.

Spotting an eye tyrant struggling to pedal a bicycle using only purple tentacles sprouting from its head—no limbs or torso in sight—Lilith felt a flicker of relief.

*At least I hatched from a dragon egg that could take human form…*

…

Lilith slipped past the palace gates with her token, politely declining the guards’ offer to guide her. She navigated the courtyards alone, familiar with the path to the throne room.

Though she’d never actually met the legendary Great Demon King during her last visit, the route was etched in her memory.

Truthfully, her knowledge of this infamous ruler came only from fragmented tales told by her boss, colleagues, and the so-called "mother" who’d hatched her.

As she walked, Lilith admired the palace’s majestic architecture and lavish decor. Every visit left her awestruck. If not for the demon flags fluttering everywhere and the pervasive violet color scheme, she might’ve mistaken it for an ancient Chinese imperial palace.

At the end of a long staircase, she pushed open the throne room doors. A pitch-black corridor stretched before her, flanked by dim marble pillars. It gave her the uncanny feeling of entering the final boss stage in a survival game.

"I-I’m here, Great Demon King…?"

Lilith stepped inside. The nearest pillar roared to life, igniting with eerie blue flames.

With every few steps she took, the pillars behind her dimmed while new ones ahead flared up—like automatic motion-sensor lights.

"Strange… where is the Demonlord…?"

"*Kneel!*"

A commanding voice echoed through the hall. Lilith froze, lifting her gaze toward the source: the legendary throne.

"*Insolent fool… Who gave you leave to address ‘Demonlord’ so casually?*"

Amidst the gloom, a cascade of silver hair shimmered like moonlight. Slitted pupils gleamed with arrogance and amusement.

"*Who permitted you to look upon your king?*"

Lilith flinched, bowing her head until her eyes met only the throne’s base.

There, an opulent gown with a daring thigh-high slit glittered under the torchlight. Its hem pooled across the floor as its wearer delicately adjusted sheer white stockings with manicured fingers, sliding them up a smooth ankle toward a strappy high heel.

A plump, porcelain leg—youthful yet undeniably alluring—arched gracefully beneath the silk.

"*Had your fill of staring? Approach and kneel properly!*"

The icy command carried queenly authority.

"Y-Your Majesty! Forgive me—I didn’t mean to—"

Lilith hurried to the throne and knelt on one knee, demon etiquette drilled into her bones. But before she could explain, something soft yet firm pressed against her throat, silencing her.

The figure on the throne had risen. A bare foot slipped from its shoe, toes elegantly hooking under Lilith’s chin. A familiar, intoxicating fragrance drifted from the silk stocking.

"*This is your punishment.*"

"*Kiss it. Until I am satisfied.*"

Lilith stared at the delicate "ice cream" hovering before her eyes, stunned.

"Y-Your Majesty… uh, Your Highness… this… isn’t appropriate…"

*This isn’t how it was supposed to go! It was so intimidating when I first entered…*

"*Do you dare disobey a Demonlord’s command?*"

That tone. That cadence. Even the voice felt… familiar.

"W-well… as you command."

Lilith cradled the silk-stockinged foot, throat tightening as she swallowed hard.

Just as she steeled herself to sacrifice what little dignity remained, her peripheral vision caught a silvery dragon tail flicking restlessly beneath the throne’s hem.

The figure above burst into laughter, snatching her foot away.

"*Silly girl. It’s me~*"

The regal chill vanished, replaced by playful warmth.

Lilith looked up—and gasped.

"M-mother?!"

Seated on the throne was none other than the dragon who’d found and hatched her egg: Feliana Claudelein, the youngest Silver Dragon Queen in history.

(Incidentally, still unmarried.)

In a way, Lilith was the most uniquely positioned princess in dragonkind—though her bloodline was… debatable.

"Mom? What are you doing here? Are *you* the Demonlord?"

"*What? Of course not—* And stop calling me ‘Mom’! It’s so uncouth. You’ll break your mother’s heart, little Lilith~"

Feliana leaned down, sweeping Lilith into a crushing embrace that buried her face between ample curves.

"M-mother… please—can’t breathe…"

"It’s been ages! Mother missed you terribly~ Let me hold you—have you gained weight, my sweet Lilith~? You must eat properly alone! No skipping vegetables~ And no staying up late~"

Feliana nuzzled Lilith’s cheek, cooing like she was cuddling a baby.

Lilith squirmed futilely before surrendering to the affectionate assault.

*Just like at home. Sometimes I feel less like a daughter and more like a pet…*

"…Mom. Stop. I’m here on official business. The Great Demon King summoned me—where is she?"

"*Sob…* My Lilith only cares about work after we reunite? Am I less important than the Demonlord to you…?" Feliana’s eyes welled with theatrical tears, lower lip trembling.

Lilith ignored the performance. She knew this trick too well.

Yield an inch, and her mother would take a mile—teasing relentlessly until Lilith might truly end up kissing feet to atone.

"*~Your grumpy little face is adorable too! A hidden edition expression! My precious Lilith was born to be kissed by Mother—*"

"*…Help…*"

…