CHAPTER 167: CHAPTER 167: GLIMPSE OF PAST

Cassian was still grumbling inside his head, every thought dripping with profanity and escape plans. His boots itched to turn, but every time he tried to move, the hall’s eyes burned hotter into his back.

He was trapped here...pinned by the Demon King’s hand on his shoulder, the gossip thick in the air, and his own bad luck acting like it had a personal grudge.

He just needed a distraction to slip out from here.

Instead, he got the opposite.

"Come," the King said, voice rich and smug, "sit with me."

Cassian opened his mouth to say no, to plant his feet and act like the pillar behind him, but the Demon King didn’t wait. His grip shifted from shoulder to arm in a smooth, firm grip, like a man used to getting his way without resistance. And then he tugged.

Cassian wasn’t ready for the sudden force. His balance tipped forward, his body jerking with the momentum, and that’s when it happened.

The loose chain around his neck slid against his skin, and the small pendant he’d carelessly tied to it tumbled free from the neckline of his shirt. Normally it stayed tucked away, hidden where no one could see. But now it swung into the open, glinting faintly under the lamplight.

The king’s hand, in the process of pulling Cassian closer, brushed across his chest—just enough for his knuckles to graze the pendant. A casual, unthinking touch.

He didn’t even notice. His eyes stayed locked on Cassian’s face, expression unreadable except for that faint curve at the corner of his mouth.

Cassian, on the other hand, felt it like lightning.

The second skin met the metal, his vision jolted.

He froze mid-step, breath cutting short. The hall blurred around him, sound warping until the laughter, the whispers, the rustle—all of it—dimmed into a distant sound.

His eyes went blank for a fraction of a second.

And in that heartbeat, the world inside him changed.

Countless memories surged, not in neat order, but in bursts, each of them enough to make his chest ache. Every fragment had one common person: the Third Demon King.

The first image hit like a punch to Cassian. He was standing alone in a ruined place with blood on his hands, while demons gathered in every corner. The chanting was deafening: Kill him. Kill him. The air had reeked of blood and fire. And through it all, a figure had stepped forward.

The third Demon King.

He’d stood there, tall and unyielding, between Cassian and the crowd. Without any hesitation. Just like an unmovable shield.

Another flash was of Cassian half-conscious, a blade at his throat, and the King’s voice cutting through the chaos like a whip: "Touch him, and you answer to me."

Another was one of them laughing in some half-forgotten palace room, the king flicking Cassian’s forehead just to annoy him, the two of them bickering like cats in the sun.

And again—Cassian cornered, hopeless, until that same hand—the same damn hand still gripping him now—hauled him out of danger.

Over and over, scene after scene. Every moment where the rest of the realm turned away, this man had stepped closer. Against other demon kings. Against his own kind. Against the tide.

Even when he’d teased, provoked, and needled Cassian until his teeth ached with frustration... His eyes had never once held cruelty.

It was just his nature to tease Cassian in every way till he got under his skin. But he had never had a malicious gaze for him.

Cassian’s breath hitched. He felt it. The weight of years he hadn’t remembered until now.

By the time his vision cleared and the hall snapped back into focus, his throat was tight, his pulse uneven.

He was staring at the king. His eyes were hazy with something he couldn’t name, and for a terrifying second, he thought the man might see it.

Cassian forced himself to look down, hiding the shift in his face before anyone noticed.

The king arched a brow. "Hm?"

"...Nothing," Cassian muttered, voice steady enough that no one else would hear the way it scraped in his own ears.

But inside, everything had tilted.

His mind kept replaying those memories, layering them over the man in front of him. This is the only person in the entire demon realm who stood beside me after Dorian.

The realization was a dangerous thing. It made his heart clench with something warm and treacherous.

And worse—it made him wonder how much of his current grudge was built on misunderstanding.

The king tilted his head slightly, as if sensing some change, but he didn’t comment. He merely tightened his hold on Cassian’s to urge him to walk.

"Come," he said again, softer now, though still with that maddening self-assurance.

Cassian didn’t answer. His feet moved anyway, carrying him toward the dais where the king’s seat waited.

The hall parted for them, people bowing their heads in varying degrees of respect or envy. Cassian kept his gaze low, not because of fear this time, but because he wasn’t ready for anyone to read the mess in his eyes.

The king stopped at the base of his seat and turned, still holding him.

Before Cassian could decide whether to sit here or not, a voice from the crowd cut through the murmurs—loud, bright, and eager to feed the hall’s hunger for another spectacle.

"Oh! My god—the Fourth Demon Lord is here... with his mate!"

The ripple that went through the room was immediate.

Cassian’s brow furrowed. Fourth Demon Lord? He’d never crossed paths with him—not in this life, anyway—but had only seen him in his hazy memories. Curiosity tugged at his attention before he could stop it. Slowly, he lifted his gaze over the heads of the crowd.

Two figures emerged through the parting demons. The man was striking, all sharp elegance and cold poise, his presence alone enough to draw stares. But Cassian barely registered him—because the woman at his side stole the breath from his lungs.

For a moment, everything else vanished.

She moved like light through water, her hand resting lightly on the Fourth Demon Lord’s arm, her eyes scanning the hall with an expression that was both serene and untouchable.

Cassian’s stomach twisted sharply. His heart missed a beat.