Chapter Text
The morning began like any other.
Which, considering the circumstances, was already a bad sign.
Kim Dokja walked through the castle corridors with a folder full of reports tucked under his arm. He had spent most of the night reviewing inventories, calculating food reserves, and reading military reports that only managed to worsen his mood.
Hero Yoo Joonghyuk's advance was as efficient as it was terrifying.
Three fortresses had fallen during the last month.
Two demon generals had been defeated.
And the few nobles who still remained loyal to the kingdom seemed torn between fleeing or pretending nothing was happening.
The situation was disastrous.
Which meant he needed to discuss it with the Demon King as soon as possible.
With a tired sigh, he arrived in front of the royal chambers.
He knocked twice.
"Your Majesty."
Silence.
Dokja frowned.
"Your Majesty, I have this week's reports."
Nothing.
Strange.
The Demon King was irresponsible.
Lazy.
And completely incapable of managing his own kingdom.
But he rarely ignored meetings related to Yoo Joonghyuk.
After all, the hero was the reason he had spent the last several months panicking.
Dokja knocked once more.
No answer.
Finally, he pushed the door open.
And froze.
The room was empty.
Not empty in the sense that the Demon King had gone for a walk.
Empty in the sense that it looked like someone had taken everything they considered valuable and fled during the night.
Several chests were missing.
Weapons were missing.
Decorations were missing.
Even the ridiculous golden statue of himself that the Demon King insisted on keeping by the window was gone.
Dokja stared at the disaster for several seconds.
Then slowly closed the door.
He opened it again.
The room looked exactly the same.
"..."
A feeling of dread began settling in his chest.
Very slowly.
Very quietly.
Like a death sentence.
Then he saw it.
On the desk.
A letter.
And a crown.
Dokja felt something inside him die.
Because he already knew nothing good could possibly come from this.
He placed the reports on a chair and walked toward the desk.
He picked up the letter.
Opened it.
And began to read.
"Dear Dokja,"
He already hated the way it started.
"If you're reading this, it means you managed to get into my room before Yoo Joonghyuk arrived to kill me."
Dokja closed his eyes.
Took a deep breath.
And continued.
"After much reflection, I have come to the conclusion that dying would be a very unpleasant experience."
"Incredible."
"Therefore, I have decided not to do it."
"Incredibly incredible."
"As you can understand, this forces me to temporarily leave the kingdom."
Temporarily.
Of course.
Because permanently abandoning the kingdom would have been irresponsible.
"However, I couldn't simply leave the throne empty."
Dokja felt a spark of hope.
Maybe he had appointed a noble.
A general.
Literally anyone else.
"So I'm leaving it to you."
The hope died.
"Congratulations on your promotion."
Dokja kept reading with a blank expression.
"You were always better at running the kingdom than I was."
Because that was exactly what a subject wanted to hear from his king.
"Besides, the soldiers respect you."
How fortunate.
"And if anyone can convince Yoo Joonghyuk not to destroy the Demon Kingdom, it's probably you."
Probably.
Probably.
The favorite word of cowards.
At the bottom of the letter was a single line.
Written in rushed handwriting.
"Good luck."
Dokja remained motionless.
He read the sentence once.
Then again.
And again.
Until he finally placed the letter back on the desk.
He picked up the crown.
Studied it for several seconds.
It was heavier than he expected.
A beautiful crown.
Ancient.
Valuable.
And, in his opinion, a perfectly suitable blunt weapon with which to strike a certain runaway king if he ever found him again.
The problem was that he couldn't find him.
Because the bastard had already escaped.
"..."
Dokja looked at the crown.
Looked at the letter.
Looked at the crown again.
Then raised his eyes toward the ceiling.
"This has to be a joke."
The universe did not answer.
Which was unfortunate.
Because Kim Dokja had several complaints to file.
The door burst open.
"Your Majes—!"
The voice cut off abruptly.
Dokja looked up.
One of the demon generals stood frozen in the doorway.
Looking at him.
Looking at the crown.
Looking at the letter.
Looking at the crown again.
The silence became unsettling.
"It's not what it looks like," Dokja said immediately.
The general's expression changed.
And that was exactly what made Dokja panic.
Because it was an expression of understanding.
As if he had just realized something deeply moving.
"I knew it."
"What?"
"I knew His Majesty Kim Namwoon had a plan."
Dokja blinked.
"No. No, he didn't."
"Everything makes sense now."
"No, it doesn't."
"The transfer of power."
"There was no transfer of power."
"The succession prepared in advance."
"It wasn't prepared."
"The absolute trust placed in you."
"That didn't happen either."
The general looked at him with shining eyes.
"How moving."
"What part of this is moving?"
The demon dropped to his knees.
Dokja felt a catastrophe approaching.
"We've been waiting for this day."
"I haven't."
"For years we've watched you guide this kingdom from the shadows."
"That was literally my job."
"You were always the one who solved every crisis."
"Because nobody else did."
"You were always the one who maintained order."
"Because Kim Namwoon spent the military budget on stupid things."
"A true ruler."
"I'm not a ruler!"
The general jumped to his feet.
Far too excited.
Dangerously excited.
"Long live Demon King Kim Dokja!"
Dokja felt his heart stop.
"No."
"LONG LIVE THE DEMON KING!"
"No."
"LONG LIVE THE DEMON KING!"
"NO!"
It was too late.
Because he had already run off.
And he was shouting throughout the entire castle.
Dokja remained frozen.
He heard the footsteps fading away.
He heard a second voice.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
And finally—
"LONG LIVE DEMON KING KIM DOKJA!"
"LONG LIVE THE DEMON KING!"
"YOUR MAJESTY!"
Dokja closed his eyes.
Very slowly.
With the serenity of a man who had just accepted that the universe personally hated him.
Then he looked at the letter Kim Namwoon had left on the desk.
Read it again.
And for the first time in his life, seriously considered committing retroactive regicide.
Dokja had barely had time to sit down when the door to the Demon King's chambers opened again.
This time, it wasn't a demon general.
Which did not mean things were about to improve.
"I heard the rumor and came as fast as I could."
Lee Hyunsung entered first.
Han Sooyoung appeared behind him.
Dokja felt a small spark of hope.
Finally.
Reasonable people.
People who would understand that all of this was a misunderstanding.
People who would help him find a solution.
"Hyunsung-ssi."
Lee Hyunsung looked at the crown.
Then the letter.
Then the throne.
Finally, he looked at Dokja.
"So it was true."
"No."
"No?"
"No."
"But the crown..."
"No."
"And the letter..."
"Especially the letter."
Lee Hyunsung picked up the document.
He began reading.
His expression changed several times.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
Horror.
Resignation.
When he finished, he let out a long sigh.
"That sounds exactly like something Kim Namwoon would do."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
For a few seconds, silence reigned.
Then Hyunsung looked at the crown again.
And to Dokja's horror...
he nodded.
"Well."
"Well?"
"It could be worse."
Dokja stared at him.
"It could be worse?"
"Yes."
"Hyunsung-ssi."
"Yes?"
"The strongest hero on the continent is advancing toward our capital."
"I know."
"Our king ran away."
"I know."
"And for some reason everyone thinks I'm the Demon King now."
"Yes."
"And it could be worse?"
"It could still be Kim Namwoon."
Dokja was left speechless.
From behind Hyunsung came a burst of laughter.
Han Sooyoung had doubled over at the waist.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Han Sooyoung."
"HAHAHAHA!"
"Han Sooyoung."
"HE REALLY DID IT!"
"Yes."
"HE ACTUALLY RAN AWAY!"
"Yes."
"HE LEFT YOU THE KINGDOM!"
"I know."
"HE LEFT YOU A LETTER!"
"I know."
"AND HE WROTE 'GOOD LUCK'!"
"HAN SOOYOUNG."
She had to brace herself against a pillar to keep from collapsing.
Tears were beginning to gather at the corners of her eyes.
"This is incredible."
"It isn't."
"It's the most Kim Namwoon thing I've ever seen in my life."
"That doesn't help."
"You know what's the best part?"
"I don't want to know."
"He'd probably been planning it for weeks."
Dokja felt a chill run down his spine.
Because that sounded terrifyingly plausible.
"No."
"Oh, definitely."
"No."
"He was probably watching you during meetings thinking, 'Yeah, he can handle it.'"
"No."
"'I'll leave him the kingdom.'"
"No."
"'What could possibly go wrong?'"
"Han Sooyoung."
"'Dokja will fix it.'"
"HAN SOOYOUNG."
She laughed again.
Even harder.
Hyunsung cleared his throat.
"Anyway..."
Dokja turned to him in desperation.
"Thank you."
"I think we should start preparing a diplomatic response for Yoo Joonghyuk."
The hope died immediately.
"Excuse me?"
"If the kingdom already recognizes your authority..."
"It doesn't."
"It does."
"It doesn't."
"It does."
Dokja slumped back against the chair.
Hyunsung continued.
"Then we need to act quickly."
"We?"
"Of course."
"Of course?"
"We're not going to abandon you."
For the first time that morning, Dokja fell silent.
Hyunsung smiled.
A small smile.
A sincere one.
"Besides, I honestly think you'll be a better Demon King than Kim Namwoon."
"That's not a very high standard."
"It's still true."
From the other side of the room, Han Sooyoung lifted her head.
Still smiling like a criminal.
"Although I have to admit something."
Dokja no longer trusted that tone.
"What?"
"I'm really looking forward to seeing Yoo Joonghyuk's face when he finds out you're the Demon King."
The room fell silent.
Dokja blinked.
Hyunsung blinked.
Han Sooyoung smiled.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
"Oh."
"..."
"Oh, this is going to be hilarious."
Dokja narrowed his eyes.
He knew that expression.
It was the same one Han Sooyoung always wore right before she ruined his day.
"I don't like that look."
"What look?"
"That one."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do."
She ignored the comment and began circling around him.
Slowly.
Like a predator studying its prey.
Dokja felt a chill.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I'm thinking."
"That is never a good sign."
"Hyunsung."
Lee Hyunsung looked up.
"Yes?"
"Look at him."
"At Dokja-ssi?"
"Yes."
Hyunsung obeyed.
He studied Dokja for a few seconds.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Don't you see it?"
"See what?"
Sooyoung pointed at the crown still resting in his hands.
Then at Dokja.
And finally at the door.
"We have a problem."
Dokja did not want to hear this.
"We do not have a problem."
"Yes, we do."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"The kingdom needs a king."
Dokja was already beginning to suspect where this was going.
And he hated it.
"Han Sooyoung."
"The people need to see their new ruler."
"Han Sooyoung."
"The nobles need a display of authority."
"Han Sooyoung."
"And the soldiers need stability."
"Han Sooyoung."
She smiled.
It was a terrible smile.
The kind of smile that preceded a catastrophe.
"So we're going to dress you appropriately and take you to the throne room."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Dokja stared at her.
Then at Hyunsung.
Then back at Sooyoung.
"Absolutely not."
"Absolutely yes."
"Absolutely not."
"Absolutely yes."
"Han Sooyoung."
"Kim Dokja."
"I'm not putting on the crown."
"You're putting on the crown."
"I'm not sitting on the throne."
"You're sitting on the throne."
"I'm not participating in some ridiculous ceremony."
"I already sent someone to organize it."
Dokja pointed at her.
"You are the problem."
"I know."
And she looked proud of it.
Lee Hyunsung watched the argument for a few seconds.
Then he decided to intervene.
"Dokja-ssi."
"Thank you."
"I think Sooyoung is right."
"...Excuse me?"
The betrayal hurt more than he had expected.
Hyunsung cleared his throat.
"Don't misunderstand me."
"I'm already doing that."
"But the kingdom needs stability."
"The kingdom needs us to find Kim Namwoon and throw him off a tower."
"That too."
"Thank you."
"But we can't do that right now."
Dokja let out a desperate sigh.
Meanwhile, Han Sooyoung was already inspecting the room.
She opened one wardrobe.
Then another.
Then a third.
"Aha."
Dokja immediately had a bad feeling.
"What did you find?"
"The ceremonial outfit."
"Put it back."
"No."
"Han Sooyoung."
"Oh, this is even better than I imagined."
She pulled out a massive black garment decorated with silver embroidery.
It was elegant.
Imposing.
And clearly designed for someone with far too much confidence in themselves.
"It's horrible."
"It's beautiful."
"It looks like an expensive curtain."
"That's exactly why it looks legitimate."
"I'm not wearing it."
"Yes, you are."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Hyunsung."
Lee Hyunsung made the mistake of looking at the outfit.
Then he looked at Dokja.
And nodded.
"I think it would suit you."
Dokja stared at him as if he had just been stabbed.
"You too?"
"It's for the kingdom."
"Everyone uses that excuse."
"Because it's a good excuse."
"It isn't."
Han Sooyoung snapped her fingers.
"Alright."
"No."
"Hyunsung."
"Yes."
"Grab him."
Dokja immediately took a step back.
"Wait."
Hyunsung stepped forward.
"Dokja-ssi."
"No."
"I'm sorry."
"Hyunsung-ssi."
"I'm very sorry."
"HYUNSUNG-SSI."
Five minutes later, Dokja was losing a battle that should never have existed.
"This is ridiculous!"
"Raise your arm."
"No!"
"Raise your arm."
"I'm not a child!"
"Then stop acting like one."
"SOOYOUNG!"
"Arm."
"NO!"
Hyunsung held one sleeve while trying not to laugh.
Which was somehow even worse.
Because it meant he was enjoying this.
A fact Dokja fully intended to use against him later.
Finally, after an unjustifiable amount of struggling...
the outfit was in place.
The room fell silent.
Dokja immediately took advantage of the pause to attempt an escape.
He didn't get far.
Sooyoung grabbed him by the back of his cape.
"Don't even try."
"Let go."
"No."
"Let go."
"No."
"Let go."
"No."
Hyunsung picked up the crown.
And that was the moment Dokja realized he was finished.
"Hyunsung-ssi."
"Yes?"
"Don't do it."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't do it."
"I'm really sorry."
With great care, Hyunsung placed the crown on his head.
The world went quiet.
Dokja looked up toward a nearby mirror.
And froze.
Because the problem was...
it worked.
The dark outfit.
The cape.
The crown.
The tired, perpetually disappointed expression he had spent years perfecting.
Together, they created an unexpectedly imposing image.
For a moment, even he understood why the demons had believed it so quickly.
Han Sooyoung was the first to react.
One hand rising thoughtfully to her chin.
Studying him critically.
"Wow."
Dokja already hated that tone.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Han Sooyoung."
"Nothing."
"Han Sooyoung."
"I'm just thinking that Yoo Joonghyuk is going to have a problem."
"What problem?"
She smiled.
A slow smile.
A dangerous one.
And an absolutely unbearable one.
"The problem of seeing you."
"..."
"..."
"I don't understand."
"I know."
And somehow, that only made her smile even worse.
One minute later, despite all his protests, Kim Dokja was being escorted toward the throne room to be officially presented as the new Demon King.
Like a condemned man being led to prison.
Only with a much more expensive crown.
----
The journey to the throne room was, without question, one of the most humiliating experiences of Kim Dokja's life.
And that was saying a lot.
"We can still cancel this."
"No."
"I can still escape."
"No."
"I can still fake my death."
"No."
"I can still abdicate."
"You haven't even been officially crowned yet."
"Exactly."
Han Sooyoung ignored him.
As she had been doing for nearly an hour.
The massive doors of the throne room appeared at the end of the corridor.
Dokja felt something inside him give up.
"I don't want to go in."
"Too late."
"Hyunsung-ssi."
"I'm sorry, Dokja-ssi."
"You don't sound sorry."
"Because I'm not."
Traitor.
Another traitor.
He had no allies left.
The doors began to open.
Slowly.
With a solemn, echoing creak.
And then Dokja understood the scale of the disaster.
The room was full.
Completely full.
Demon nobles.
Commanders.
Soldiers.
Officials.
Palace servants.
He even recognized several administrative workers.
They were all there.
All of them.
Waiting.
"..."
Dokja looked at the crowd.
The crowd looked back.
And for a moment, the world seemed to stop.
Then someone dropped to their knees.
Then another.
And another.
And another.
Like a wave.
An immense wave spreading across the entire hall.
Thousands of people bowing at the same time.
"Long live the Demon King."
The voice echoed through the hall.
Then another joined.
And another.
And another.
Until the entire room repeated the same words.
"LONG LIVE THE DEMON KING!"
"LONG LIVE THE DEMON KING!"
"LONG LIVE HIS MAJESTY KIM DOKJA!"
Dokja wished, with every fiber of his being, that he could disappear.
"Oh, this is beautiful."
"Shut up, Sooyoung."
"Never."
Han Sooyoung’s smile was practically criminal.
Hyunsung at least had the decency to look mildly uncomfortable.
Not nearly enough, but still.
"Dokja-ssi..."
"No."
"Let me finish."
"No."
"..."
"No."
Finally, they reached the steps leading to the throne.
Dokja stared at them as if they were an execution platform.
Because, honestly, they were.
He climbed the first step.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Each step accompanied by the silent anticipation of hundreds of people.
It was horrible.
Absolutely horrible.
And then he reached the throne.
The massive obsidian seat looked even more intimidating up close.
For years, he had seen Kim Namwoon sitting on it.
Now it was empty.
Waiting.
Like a trap.
"Sit."
"No."
"Dokja."
"No."
"Dokja."
"No."
"Dokja."
"..."
"..."
"Everyone is watching."
"I know."
"Then sit."
Dokja closed his eyes.
Took a deep breath.
And sat down.
The entire hall erupted.
Applause.
Cheers.
Acclamations.
Someone even started crying.
Dokja did not want to know who.
He did not want to know anything.
He simply remained seated.
Completely still.
With the exhausted expression of a man who had lost all control over his own life.
And, to his horror, that only made things worse.
Because from below, that expression did not look like exhaustion.
It looked like authority.
Not resignation.
But dignity.
Not a breakdown.
But the calm of a ruler who knew exactly what he was doing.
The nobles exchanged impressed glances.
The soldiers looked even more convinced than before.
Even some of the demon commanders nodded in approval.
"Look at them."
Han Sooyoung leaned slightly toward him.
"They're fascinated."
"Why?"
"Because they think you're projecting royal presence."
Dokja stared at her.
"I'm having a mental breakdown."
"Exactly."
"...Exactly?"
"The difference is they don't know that."
Dokja looked at the crowd.
The crowd looked at him.
And for the first time, he realized something truly terrifying.
No one doubted him.
Not a single person.
Not one.
They all seemed completely convinced he belonged there.
As if the throne had been waiting for him all along.
As if this had been inevitable.
As if he truly was their king.
And for some incomprehensible reason...
that was more terrifying than any army Yoo Joonghyuk could bring.
The murmuring in the hall still had not faded.
It continued vibrating between the pillars, between the banners, between the incredulous gazes of the demon nobles watching the throne as if they had just witnessed a miracle.
Kim Dokja did not move.
He did not dare move.
If he did, he feared everything would break.
Or worse: that it would become more real.
Then Han Sooyoung stepped forward.
The sound of her boots on the marble was clear.
Deliberate.
As if the entire hall belonged to her just as much as anyone else's.
"Before everyone continues wasting time," she said, crossing her arms, "there's something you need to understand."
The murmuring in the hall lowered slightly.
Not because they respected her.
But because they listened.
Because Sooyoung had that kind of voice that made people pay attention even when they didn’t want to.
“The former Demon King abandoned this kingdom.”
A collective sigh swept through the hall.
Dokja closed his eyes.
Not like this.
Please, not like this.
“He left it in crisis,” she continued, not looking at anyone in particular. “He left it on the verge of collapse. He left it facing a war it could not win.”
Some nobles lowered their heads.
Others clenched their fists.
“And at that moment,” Sooyoung turned her head slightly, just enough to gesture toward the throne without actually looking at it, “someone stayed behind.”
Silence.
“Someone who did not run.”
“Someone who did not hide.”
“Someone who, while everyone else tried to survive… kept this kingdom standing from the shadows.”
Dokja slowly opened his eyes.
He did not want to hear this.
But it was already too late.
Sooyoung smiled.
Small.
Sharp.
“The former Demon King did not leave a void.”
“He made a choice.”
The nobles shifted uncomfortably.
“And that choice was to leave the kingdom in the hands of his successor.”
Dokja felt his blood run cold.
“No.”
Sooyoung continued.
“A person who had already been solving military crises.”
“No.”
“A person who had already been negotiating with generals.”
“No.”
“A person who had already been preventing this place from collapsing for months.”
“Han Sooyoung.”
“And someone who, even so, never asked for recognition.”
“Han Sooyoung.”
Her smile widened just a little more.
“Until today.”
The silence became absolute.
“Today, for the first time, the kingdom acknowledges what was already obvious.”
Her gaze finally landed on Dokja.
Direct.
Unwavering.
“The Demon King of Salvation has taken his place.”
One second.
Two.
And then the hall reacted.
As if those words had been a divine command.
“LONG LIVE THE DEMON KING OF SALVATION!”
“HIS MAJESTY!”
“LONG LIVE THE DEMON KING OF SALVATION!”
The sound filled the hall like an unstoppable wave.
Dokja felt the air leave his lungs.
“…No,” he murmured.
But no one heard him.
“LONG LIVE THE DEMON KING OF SALVATION!”
“No… no, no, no…”
He turned toward Sooyoung in desperation.
She was watching him from the side of the throne.
Completely satisfied.
Like someone who had just set a perfectly controlled fire.
“Sooyoung…” his voice came out lower than intended. “What did you do?”
“I gave you a title.”
“You gave me a sentence.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“This is literally the opposite of not being dramatic!”
“Shh.”
“DON’T SHH ME.”
But she wasn’t really listening anymore.
Because the hall was still chanting the title.
Again and again.
As if they had been waiting years for it.
As if it finally made sense.
And Dokja, sitting on the throne he never wanted, under a title he never asked for, felt something worse than fear.
Foreign certainty.
The absolute certainty of thousands of people believing in him.
And the complete inability to correct them without destroying them first.
---
The first day as the Demon King of Salvation began with an uncomfortable truth:
Nothing had really changed.
Kim Dokja was still handling reports.
Still reviewing military briefings.
Still reorganizing supplies that had been a mess for weeks.
The only difference was that everyone now watched him as if every movement carried deep meaning.
“The northern army requests instructions,” said a commander.
“Reinforce the third border and redistribute support units.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Dokja didn’t even look up from the document.
And yet the commander bowed as if he had just received a prophecy.
From the corner of the room, Han Sooyoung watched the scene with clear satisfaction.
“Incredible,” Hyunsung murmured.
“What is?” she asked.
“How everyone listens to him without hesitation.”
Sooyoung smiled faintly.
“That’s not new.”
“Not?”
“It’s always been like that.”
She looked at Dokja.
“Just no one used to put a crown on him.”
---
The second day was worse.
Or better.
Depending on who you asked.
Internal conflicts in the kingdom, which had previously required weeks of pointless noble debates, were resolved in minutes.
Not because decisions were simpler.
But because no one dared delay them anymore.
“Your Majesty, about the mining region tax…”
“Reduce it by fifteen percent. Redistribute the burden to central districts.”
“Are you sure—”
“Yes.”
“Understood.”
“… …”
“… …”
“Anything else?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
The meeting ended.
Always like that.
Fast.
Efficient.
Devastatingly orderly.
In the corridors, officials began speaking in low voices.
“It’s as if it was always this way.”
“No hesitation.”
“No doubt.”
“Even in difficult decisions.”
Dokja, meanwhile, was starting to notice something unsettling:
It was working too well.
---
The third day, the kingdom stopped trying to adapt to him.
And started depending on him.
A logistics issue.
Solved.
A commander dispute.
Solved.
A minor potential rebellion.
Solved before it could grow.
Even the oldest demons in the council began bowing with genuine respect, not forced obedience.
And that was the worst part.
Because every time Dokja solved something, the hall reacted as if something extraordinary had happened.
When in reality… he was just doing what he had always done.
“This is absurd,” Dokja muttered, closing another report.
“What part?” Sooyoung asked from the window.
“All of it.”
“It’s efficient.”
“It’s exhausting.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“It isn’t.”
She shrugged.
“You’re saving the kingdom.”
Dokja looked at her.
“I’m not saving anything.”
“Of course you are.”
“I’m preventing it from collapsing.”
“Exactly.”
Silence.
Dokja lowered his eyes to the document.
For the first time, the word felt strange.
Saving.
Not governing.
Not managing.
Saving.
And that was what the title was starting to weigh on him.
“Demon King of Salvation.”
Not because he chose it.
But because everyone believed it.
---
By the end of the third day, something had changed.
Not in the kingdom.
In the people.
Soldiers no longer just obeyed orders.
They trusted.
Nobles no longer just accepted decisions.
They anticipated them.
And the citizens, who still hadn’t seen him directly, began speaking of him as if he were a calm certainty in the middle of chaos.
And Kim Dokja, for the first time in a long time, had no clear exit.
Because the most dangerous thing was not power.
It was the silent dependence growing around him every time he solved a problem.
And the fact that, no matter how much he insisted otherwise…
Everything kept working better when he was at the center of it.
And for the first time in a long while, the Demon Kingdom approached something that could be mistaken for peace.
It was not true stability.
It was not safety.
But it was order.
And for a place that had lived on the edge of collapse for years, that was enough.
Until that day.
The morning seemed normal.
Almost suspiciously normal.
The office was quiet.
Too quiet for a kingdom that, according to reports three days ago, had been on the verge of permanent collapse.
Kim Dokja turned the page of the document without looking up.
“Reassign resources from the southern region. If we continue the current supply pattern, there will be a shortage in two weeks.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Another report.
Another solved problem.
Another seal.
Everything worked with unsettling efficiency.
Dokja wasn’t sure whether that comforted him or worried him.
Probably both.
Then the door burst open.
“Your Majesty!”
The general who entered was out of breath.
Too pale.
Too fast.
Dokja didn’t even flinch.
“Speak.”
The general swallowed hard.
“The hero… Yoo Joonghyuk…”
Silence.
For the first time in hours, Dokja’s hand stopped.
Just a second.
Then continued.
“What about him?”
“He has entered the capital.”
The air in the room changed.
Not dramatically.
Inevitably.
Like a countdown reaching zero.
“He’s already here,” the general added. “He’s heading directly to the palace.”
Several officers in the room tensed.
Some stepped back.
Others instinctively reached for their weapons.
Waiting for orders.
Waiting for chaos.
Waiting for war.
Dokja slowly closed the document.
“Understood.”
The general blinked.
“…Your Majesty?”
“I said understood.”
Silence.
“…What do we do?”
At last, Dokja looked up.
And the expression on his face was not fear.
Not surprise.
It was practical resignation.
The same expression he had worn for three straight days to keep the kingdom from collapsing.
“Let him pass.”
The general froze.
“Pardon?”
“Do not intercept him. Do not provoke him. Do not delay him.”
“But he’s the hero. If he reaches the palace—”
“Exactly.”
Dokja stood up.
Calmly.
Too calmly.
“If he wants to come here, let him.”
The general did not understand.
No one understood.
But no one dared to question it.
Because that was the problem with the “Demon King of Salvation”:
Even when he gave no explanation, it sounded like he knew exactly what he was doing.
Dokja reached toward his desk.
Picked up a folder.
Then another.
And another.
“Prepare the throne room.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And make sure there are no interruptions.”
“Are you going to… confront him?”
Dokja paused for a second.
Then shook his head.
“No.”
“Then—”
“I’m going to negotiate.”
Silence.
Because “negotiate” was not the word anyone expected to hear in this situation.
Dokja was already walking toward the exit when he added, without stopping:
“And do not allow anyone in before me.”
“Even the hero?”
“Especially the hero.”
---
The corridor leading to the throne room was empty.
Too organized.
Too aware of what was about to happen.
Dokja walked with steady steps, holding the folder against his chest.
Inside were carefully prepared documents.
Preliminary agreements.
Non-aggression clauses.
Formal alliance proposals between the Demon Kingdom and humanity.
He had started drafting them two days ago.
Not because he knew Yoo Joonghyuk would arrive exactly today.
But because he knew he would come eventually.
He always came.
The hero was not unpredictable.
He was inevitable.
The only variable was timing.
And Dokja preferred to be prepared.
“At least this will be quick,” he muttered.
The throne room doors appeared at the end of the corridor.
He could already feel the tension beyond them.
The guards were in place.
The nobles were assembled.
Sooyoung was probably smiling somewhere.
And the world, once again, was about to revolve around a decision he never wanted to make but that no one else could make for him.
Dokja adjusted the folder in his hands.
Inhaled.
And pushed the doors open.
The throne room was silent.
Not the awkward silence of waiting.
But the tense kind of silence that happens when everyone knows something is about to break.
Kim Dokja entered without hurry.
Walked up the steps.
And sat on the throne as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Behind him, the heavy door closing echoed through the hall, sealing everything in.
“This is getting more absurd…” he murmured to himself.
To his right, Han Sooyoung was already leaning against the side of the throne, where advisors usually stood.
She had simply taken the spot without asking.
As usual.
“You’re late,” she said.
“I’m not late.”
“Yes, you are.”
“There was no set time.”
“There’s an implied time.”
Dokja ignored her.
He simply handed her the folder.
“The treaty.”
Sooyoung took it with a bored expression.
“Another version?”
“The final one.”
“You said that about the last three.”
“This one includes revised territorial concessions and stricter non-aggression clauses.”
“How romantic of you.”
“It’s not romantic.”
“Of course not.”
Sooyoung flipped through the documents quickly.
“You’re assuming he’ll accept.”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I’m assuming he’ll listen.”
She looked up at him, amused.
“You’re still underestimating the concept of ‘hero’, you know.”
Dokja didn’t respond.
Because in truth, he wasn’t underestimating it.
He was calculating it.
And the calculation was simple:
Yoo Joonghyuk always arrived.
Always entered.
Always advanced.
And always chose the most direct option.
That’s why he was waiting.
Minute one.
Minute two.
Minute three.
The air in the room began to shift.
The guards tightened their spears.
The nobles stopped breathing properly.
Even Sooyoung stopped flipping pages for a moment.
“He’s coming,” she murmured.
Dokja gave a slight nod.
The door did not open immediately.
Another minute passed.
Then another.
The silence grew heavy.
As if the entire castle were holding its breath.
Then—
CRACK.
The throne room doors slammed open.
The sound echoed violently through the stone walls.
And he entered.
Yoo Joonghyuk.
The hero.
Sword still drawn.
Brow furrowed as if the world itself were a mistake that needed correcting.
His gaze swept the room in a fraction of a second.
Guards.
Nobles.
Throne.
And finally—
It stopped.
On Kim Dokja.
For a moment, time seemed to compress.
Joonghyuk did not speak.
Did not lower his sword.
Did not advance.
He simply looked at him.
Directly.
Fixed.
As if everything else had ceased to exist the moment he saw him sitting there.
Kim Dokja held his gaze.
Calmly.
Too calmly.
“Welcome,” he said at last. “I’ve been expecting you.”
The silence in the throne room became almost unbearable.
Yoo Joonghyuk did not move.
Kim Dokja did not move either.
From the outside, they looked like two statues facing each other in a court of war.
But inside, the situation was entirely different.
Dokja was smiling.
A controlled smile.
Measured.
Perfectly rehearsed.
The kind of expression he had used hundreds of times in impossible negotiations, resource crises, and decisions no one else wanted to make.
Calm.
Authority.
Distance.
That was what he needed to project.
That was what the Demon Kingdom expected of its Demon King.
That was what he needed Joonghyuk to see.
Inside, however, it was another story.
He’s here.
He’s actually here.
He shouldn’t be here this fast.
Why is he so close?
Has he always been this intimidating?
The sound of Joonghyuk’s footsteps cut through his thoughts.
One.
Two.
Three.
The hero advanced.
Without hesitation.
Without doubt.
As if the throne were not a barrier.
As if nothing in the room could stop him.
The guards tightened their weapons.
No one dared to intervene.
Sooyoung, from her position, watched with a smile that only grew more entertained.
“This is better than I expected…” she murmured.
Dokja did not hear her.
He only saw Joonghyuk approaching.
And then he noticed it.
Really noticed it.
The hero’s expression was not hostile.
Not the cold gaze of an executioner.
It was…
Focused.
Intense.
Too intense.
Joonghyuk was no longer looking at the throne as a symbol.
He was looking at the person sitting on it.
And that, for some reason, was much worse.
Because the closer he came, the more details became impossible to ignore.
The dark horns curling from his head, as if they were a natural extension of his existence.
The black wings spread behind him, folded with dangerous elegance, as if darkness itself had chosen to rest upon him.
The way the light in the hall did not make him look less imposing… but more.
As if the contrast between the divine throne and his demonic figure only made him harder to look away from.
Joonghyuk felt something strange in his chest.
It was not fear.
Not hostility.
It was a pressure he could not name, uncomfortable, as if his body had forgotten how to react properly.
…What is this?
He had not been prepared for this.
No one had prepared him for this.
The Demon King was supposed to be a threat.
A monster.
A calamity.
Something that justified his sword.
But what he was seeing…
did not fit any of those categories.
It was too beautiful to be only an enemy.
Too dangerous to be only human.
Too… impossible.
Joonghyuk kept walking.
One more step.
And another.
Until he was close enough to see Dokja’s expression clearly.
The calm.
The calculated serenity.
The slight tilt of the head as if everything had already been anticipated.
And that made him pause for a moment.
Because there was no empty arrogance in that gaze.
There was intelligence.
Control.
Something that felt… familiar.
Joonghyuk tightened his grip on his sword.
But he did not raise it.
Not yet.
Dokja, for his part, kept smiling.
Perfect.
Stable.
Completely fake.
Because inside his head there was only one clear thought:
Don’t come closer.
Don’t look at me like that.
This shouldn’t be this difficult.
And yet…
the hero kept approaching.
Like a moth drawn inevitably toward a flame it did not realize could burn.
---
Yoo Joonghyuk had seen many things in his life.
Monsters that should not exist.
Kings who collapsed the moment they thought they were safe.
Entire cities reduced to ash by decisions that no longer mattered.
He had learned to look at chaos without blinking.
To move without hesitation.
To cut down what needed to be cut.
But none of that had prepared him for this.
Kim Dokja.
Sitting on the Demon King’s throne.
There was no correspondence between the title and what stood before him.
Because what Joonghyuk saw was not simply an enemy.
It was…
wrong.
Not in the sense of danger.
But in the sense of understanding.
His mind tried to force the image into something familiar.
Demon King.
Threat.
Target.
But every attempt failed at the same point.
The light in the hall fell on him as if the world had deliberately chosen to highlight him.
It did not hide him.
It did not distort him.
It revealed him.
The horns did not make him look like a beast.
They gave him a presence that could not be ignored, like a crown the world had no choice but to grant him.
The wings did not look like weapons.
They looked older.
Something that did not fully belong to this plane.
And his gaze…
that was the real problem.
Dokja’s eyes did not ask for permission.
Did not seek approval.
Did not break under pressure.
They simply observed.
As if he had already calculated every possible outcome of this conversation before Joonghyuk even entered the room.
The hero gritted his teeth slightly.
He should move forward.
He should speak.
He should treat this like any other mission.
But his body did not respond with its usual clarity.
Because there was something deeply destabilizing about the way Dokja fit into that place.
As if the throne was not forcing him to adapt.
But as if the throne had been waiting for him all along.
Joonghyuk took another step.
And somewhere between distance and proximity, he realized something that irritated him more than expected.
He was not looking at a monster.
Not even at a worthy enemy.
He was looking at someone… beautiful.
Not in a simple sense.
Not something that could be named without losing meaning.
It was a dangerous combination of calm, restrained power, and an invisible fragility that only existed because he knew it was there.
And that was the worst part.
Because Joonghyuk did not understand why he was seeing him like this.
There was no logic.
No prior experience that explained it.
Only an uncomfortable certainty growing behind his thoughts:
He should not be looking at him this much.
But he could not stop.
Kim Dokja did not fit the role the world had given him.
And yet…
it was impossible to imagine him in any other.
---
“...therefore, I believe a formal alliance would benefit both the Demon Kingdom and human nations.”
Kim Dokja’s voice echoed clearly through the hall.
Calm.
Controlled.
Perfectly measured.
Exactly the kind of voice expected from someone sitting on a throne.
“Trade routes could be reopened within a relatively short period and—”
Joonghyuk did not hear the rest.
Not because he was ignoring it.
He had simply… lost focus.
Something that rarely happened.
And even less in a situation like this.
His attention kept drifting back to the same point.
Kim Dokja.
The way he spoke.
The ease he carried even while negotiating with the man who had technically come to defeat him.
It was strange.
No one so reasonable should look so comfortable on a demon throne.
And no one sitting on a demon throne should sound so reasonable.
“...a gradual reduction of hostilities would allow stabilization of border regions…”
Joonghyuk blinked.
Tried to focus.
Really tried.
But then Dokja made a small hand gesture while explaining one of the clauses.
And Joonghyuk lost the thread again.
Focus.
It was a negotiation.
An important negotiation.
Probably.
Definitely.
He was no longer entirely sure what part Dokja was explaining.
Because his mind kept drifting toward absurd details.
The way the light reflected off his hair.
The natural elegance with which his wings shifted when he changed posture.
The calmness of his expression.
Everything seemed too deliberate.
As if that image had been designed to be observed.
And the more he looked, the worse it became.
Because he kept noticing more details.
And then more.
And then more.
It was deeply inconvenient.
“...Do you agree, Hero Yoo Joonghyuk?”
Silence.
The entire hall turned to look at him.
Joonghyuk blinked.
Dokja was watching him from the throne.
Waiting for an answer.
Clearly waiting for an answer.
Which meant he had just been asked something.
Something important.
Something related to the alliance.
Joonghyuk had no idea what it was.
Because he had not heard half of the speech.
At the side of the throne, Han Sooyoung covered her mouth with a hand.
As if she was trying not to laugh.
Which meant she was failing miserably.
“Hero Yoo Joonghyuk?” Dokja repeated.
Joonghyuk took a moment.
“…continue.”
Sooyoung let out a noise suspiciously close to a strangled laugh.
Dokja frowned slightly.
And for the first time since entering the room, he looked mildly confused.
Because that was not the expected response.
And because, for some reason, the hero was still looking at him in that strange way.
As if the negotiation was the least important thing in the room.
Which was absurd.
Completely absurd.
But Han Sooyoung was already starting to suspect that this meeting was not going to go the way Dokja intended.
-----
“…and those are the main points of the proposal.”
Kim Dokja finally closed the folder.
The room remained silent.
The nobles watched.
The soldiers waited.
And Han Sooyoung already looked like she was preparing for something.
Dokja chose to ignore that detail.
“Naturally, I am willing to discuss reasonable modifications.”
Joonghyuk was still looking at him.
That was becoming unsettling.
“The objective is to reduce tensions between both nations and build a more stable long-term relationship.”
Silence.
“Hero Yoo Joonghyuk?”
Finally, Joonghyuk moved.
One step.
Then another.
Until he stopped at the foot of the stairs leading to the throne.
Closer than before.
Close enough for Dokja to clearly see every detail of his expression.
And that only raised more questions.
Because he still did not look like someone listening to a negotiation.
He looked like someone trying to solve a particularly complicated puzzle.
“I understand,” Joonghyuk said.
Dokja nodded.
Good.
At least there was progress.
“So I assume you have some alternative proposal.”
Joonghyuk opened his mouth.
And said:
“Marry me.”
The world stopped.
Completely.
Silence.
Absolute.
A noble dropped a stack of documents.
Someone coughed.
A guard almost dropped his spear.
Dokja blinked.
Once.
Then again.
Because he had clearly misheard.
“…pardon?”
Joonghyuk also seemed surprised.
As if the words had left his mouth without permission.
For the first time since entering the room, the hero looked like he needed a moment to reorganize his thoughts.
“A marriage alliance,” he corrected immediately.
The hall remained silent.
“Between the Demon Kingdom and humanity.”
More silence.
“It is an efficient way to reduce hostilities.”
Dokja continued staring at him.
“….”
“….”
“A marriage alliance?”
“Yes.”
“Between you and me?”
“Yes.”
“….”
“….”
“Why?”
It was a reasonable question.
Extremely reasonable.
Joonghyuk took just a fraction longer than usual to respond.
Because the real answer was complicated.
The real answer involved admitting that he had, in fact, stopped listening to the negotiation several minutes ago.
The real answer involved acknowledging that he could not stop looking at the Demon King.
And the real answer was, probably, a terrible idea.
So he chose another one.
“Because it is the fastest method to guarantee lasting peace.”
Perfect.
Logical.
Irrefutable.
Probably.
Han Sooyoung made a strangled sound.
Very similar to someone trying desperately not to laugh in the middle of a royal court.
Dokja ignored her.
“…And you believe that would resolve decades of conflict?”
“Yes.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“….”
Dokja paused.
And that was exactly what terrified Han Sooyoung.
Because she recognized that expression.
It was the expression Kim Dokja wore when he began seriously considering an absurd idea.
“No,” she muttered.
Dokja did not hear her.
He was still looking at Joonghyuk.
Analyzing.
Calculating.
Searching for the trap.
Finding none.
Because the problem was that, from a purely diplomatic standpoint…
the proposal made sense.
And that was far more dangerous than if it had been obviously insane.
At the foot of the throne, Yoo Joonghyuk held his gaze.
With perfect composure.
And the firm determination to never admit that the idea had originated approximately three seconds before he spoke.