"You manipulate nobles as if they were chess pieces. You steal mana signatures from magebloods and leave no trace. You even slipped out of the Drazroth Empire without disturbing a single imperial ward. No ordinary parasite should be capable of that."
Velra’s voice was calm, but each word carried the weight of a drawn blade.
Across from her, the Faceless Imposter tilted his head, the shadow of his hood slicing across his face like a black crescent. A faint grin tugged at his lips, cold and amused.
"And what conclusion," he drawled, "does the mighty Lady Velra reach from all this?"
"That you’re not just a parasite," she said softly. "You’re a parasite king."
The words dropped into the silence like a blade striking stone—hard, undeniable.
The Faceless Imposter didn’t answer. He merely stared at her, unblinking, the curve of his smile frozen. There was no flicker of surprise, no protest, not even the smallest twitch of denial. Just the weight of his presence, heavy and unnervingly still.
Velra’s thoughts churned behind her composed exterior.
Every demon race has its ruler.
The vampires, masters of blood and sorcery, once had a king—Nolkk.
The Levains, who perfected the physical form, now rallied behind Dreck, the self-proclaimed Demon King.
The gargoyles, keepers of the underground wealth, served Diamond.
Even the succubi, a race few took seriously, were guided by their queen.
And perhaps... Julies Evans.
Her crimson eyes sharpened.
"A king has duties," she murmured, studying him as if peeling back layers of shadow. "Responsibilities. Is it truly acceptable for you to roam the human world so freely?"
If her suspicion was correct, all of his puzzling actions fell neatly into place. His calculated generosity toward her. His careful probing about Dreck’s attempt to unite the demon races during their first encounter. His deliberate defiance of imperial wards and noble defenses.
The silence between them stretched like a bowstring.
Velra’s gaze deepened, searching his unreadable eyes.
His uncharacteristic stillness—no sly retort, no mocking laugh—was almost an admission.
"...So," she said finally, her voice a velvet whisper, "my guess was right."
The Faceless Imposter’s grin lingered, faint and dangerous, like a predator acknowledging a worthy hunter. But he still gave her nothing.
And that nothing was the most telling answer of all.
"You don’t deny it," she said, her voice carrying a note of quiet triumph. "Silence is the refuge of those who cannot lie without consequence."
The Faceless Imposter tilted his head slightly, as if amused by her reasoning. "Or," he said lazily, "silence is simply the most efficient way to irritate someone who wants answers."
Velra’s lips curved, not into a smile but into something sharper. "If you were merely a clever thief, you would have protested by now. Thieves always insist on their mediocrity—it keeps them underestimated. But you..." She let the sentence trail off like smoke. "You wear their doubt like a crown."
The corner of his mouth twitched, the smallest concession to her taunt.
"You speak of crowns as if they matter," he said finally. His voice was low, threaded with an undercurrent of something colder than mockery. "Kings, queens... those titles are for those who need recognition. I prefer results."
"Results?" Velra’s crimson eyes glittered. "And what result requires hiding your true name from your own kind?"
For a heartbeat, the air between them felt alive—charged with the weight of ancient truths neither dared to voice.
Velra could feel the pull of him, an instinct buried in every demon’s blood that whispered predator. If he truly was what she suspected, even standing in his presence should have been dangerous.
And yet, he sat there with infuriating calm, like a king disguised as a vagabond.
---
Julies Evans POV:
’What is wrong with her? First time we met, she bought my bluff about being some low-level parasite demon... and now she thinks I’m their king? Is she actually out of her mind? How could she possibly
...Not that I could do anything to stop Velra’s wild imagination.
For now, I’d just have to play along.
"It seems you’re too embarrassed to answer my question now that your identity is revealed," she said, her voice silky and smug.
No, you delusional idiot, that’s not it at all.
Of course, I kept those words firmly in my head where they belonged.
Before I could even open my mouth, Velra pressed on.
"If you recover your strength, come back with me."
"...Come back? Where exactly?"
"Where else? To the Drazroth Empire."
She extended a pale, elegant hand toward me, fingers long and perfectly straight.
"How can you call yourself a king if you ignore your own people? Even now, your kin are suffering through a civil war in Drazroth."
"Ah... I see."
"With your abilities, you could turn the tide. Stop wandering aimlessly and follow me. Once I’ve avenged myself and reclaimed my territory, I’ll create policies to protect the Parasite race."
"Hmm..."
I couldn’t answer her.
Not with a yes.
Not with a no.
I simply couldn’t.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[New Objective Detected!]
[In the Drazroth Empire, every demon lineage follows its own "sovereign."]
[Claim the mantle of the Brood Sovereign—leader of the Parasite bloodline.]
[Requirement 1: Secure a noble heir capable of carrying the brood’s legacy.]
[Requirement 2: Gain the trust and loyalty of the Parasite clans.]
[Requirement 3: Earn the recognition of at least three high-ranking nobles from other demon lineages.]
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
...Great. Just what I needed—a hidden quest with the subtlety of a slap to the face.
The conditions weren’t impossible, but at first glance, they were ridiculous enough to feel like the system was mocking me.
’Forget the quest for now. Velra comes first.’
I still had no idea what twisted logic had convinced her I was some kind of demon monarch.
But...
"I refuse."
Velra’s smile—soft and dangerous—froze mid-curve. Her eyes hardened, the temperature in the room dropping like a blade of ice between us.
---
Author Note:
Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.