I Just Wanted A Soft Life, Not A Demon Husband

Chapter 140: Of Forks, Knives, and Other Weapons of Mass Destruction

Elyn’s POV

"Your Highness," Vaelory said gently.

I should have known that I wouldn’t get any peace in this place, especially when it involved Vaelory and Rin. For two people who claimed to dislike each other, they were very much in tune—and I dare say they complemented each other too.

"Is anything the matter?" I asked her.

"Not really, it’s just that... Rin is distracting me," Vaelory said.

"How am I distracting you?" Rin asked.

"I’m trying to do Her Highness’s hair, but you keep blocking the mirror," Vaelory told her.

"I’m trying to pick suitable jewelry for my lady," Rin replied.

And that was how I spent my morning. I didn’t even have the energy to tell them to shut up.

Breakfast, thankfully, was quiet.

Zorathys did not show up.

Which was not surprising at all. While I worked my ass off, my supposed husband-to-be was sleeping peacefully.

I stared at the empty seat across from me for a moment, spoon hovering above my bowl, then shrugged internally.

I ate alone, accompanied only by Rin hovering far too happily and Vaelory making sure I didn’t accidentally stab myself with anything demonic. Why she was still behaving like that, I had no idea.

The food, like always, was good. Kethra had outdone herself once more. I wiped the plates clean—no surprise there.

Once breakfast was done, I wiped my mouth, stood, and mentally prepared myself for paperwork. My office called to me, and not in a way I liked, because I’d have preferred to be in my bed right now, sleeping the same way my supposed husband-to-be was sleeping right now.

But then again, I signed up for this—even if involuntarily.

I wondered where Morthen was. Normally, he’d be around by this time.

I had just stepped out of the dining hall when I heard a voice.

"Your Highness," Morthen said.

I stopped and turned my head toward him. Speak of the devil.

Morthen stood there in all his unsettling glory—tall, rigid, antennae twitching faintly above his head, compound eyes reflecting far too much intelligence for comfort. His glasses sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose, adjusted to the precise angle of someone who did not tolerate chaos.

"Yes, Morthen?" I asked—the way one spoke to a loaded weapon.

"There has been a change in your schedule," he said.

I stared at him in shock. "Really?" I asked. "We have things to do—work remaining from yesterday."

"The introduction ball has been pushed forward," he continued smoothly. "As such, we will not be using your office today. We will be moving to the grand hall."

I blinked. "The... hall."

"Yes."

I glanced longingly down the corridor that led to my office. It had never looked so inviting. "And why, exactly, am I being evicted from my own workspace?"

"Your first lesson begins shortly," Morthen replied.

I frowned. "Lesson?"

"Yes."

"...What kind of lesson?"

He paused.

Just a fraction.

Which was how I knew this was going to be bad.

"Dining etiquette."

I stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and say that’s a joke, but there was none of that.

"Dining etiquette," I repeated slowly.

"Yes," he said, nodding. His antennae bobbed with the action.

"Etiquette."

"Yes."

"With demons."

"Yes, my lady."

I continued staring.

Morthen’s antennae twitched—and then I couldn’t hold it. I laughed.

I didn’t mean to. It just... happened. A short chuckle slipped out before I could stop it, followed by another. And another. Then it became a full-blown laugh, because the thought of demons even having etiquette was absurd. Absolutely so.

Morthen stiffened.

He adjusted his glasses with two fingers, his compound eyes narrowing slightly. "I am aware that I am not amusing, my lady."

"At least you know," Rin muttered.

That only made it worse.

"I—" I covered my mouth, trying to compose myself. "I’m sorry. It’s just—dining etiquette?"

"Yes."

"Demons have etiquette?"

"Yes."

I laughed again.

"Are you trying to tell me that demons have etiquette they follow?" I asked.

Morthen opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Rin spoke up.

"Demons do have etiquette, my lady. We just don’t usually follow it."

I knew it. Demons didn’t really scream upper echelon of society after all.

"However," Rin continued brightly, "since you are the queen, you are going to follow it."

I looked between Rin and Morthen, then slowly cleared my throat.

"Why?" I asked. "And also, isn’t this supposed to be an introduction ball? Why am I learning dining etiquette?"

"There will be a luncheon with the rulers of the seven Dukedoms. Well, except the Duke of the beast territory, since he’s no longer in power. Hours after that, the ball will begin and continue until the next day," Morthen informed me, adjusting his glasses.

I sighed, knowing there was no way to escape this.

"Alright then, let’s get ahead with this," I told them.

Morthen inclined his head. "As you wish."

We moved back into the dining hall, and Morthen told me to sit.

Plates were placed on the table by gargoyles and some other servants who apparently knew my schedule for the day before I did.

Then cutlery was placed in front of me.

There were so many pieces—most of which I had never seen, even when eating with Zorathys.

The cutlery numbered eleven. Yes, I counted. What was one even supposed to do with eleven utensils?

I hadn’t known there were eleven ways to stab food.

"What is this, Morthen?" I asked.

"These are all cutlery used in formal demon dining," Morthen said calmly, adjusting his glasses.

"They look like murder weapons," I said honestly.

"That is because they are multifunctional."

Of course they were.

The first utensil sat closest to my plate—a long, elegant knife, its blade curved slightly inward like a crescent moon. Its surface was the color of polished bone, etched with faint runes that pulsed almost imperceptibly.

"This," Morthen said, "is the Primary Flesh Divider."

"It is used for main proteins."

I eyed the blade. "Right."

Next to it was a fork—but calling it a fork felt generous. It had three long, narrow prongs, each barbed at the tip, and the handle ended in a small sculpted skull.

The skull was smiling too, and it reminded me of Rin when she smiled.

"This is the Grip Fork," Morthen continued. "The skull prevents slippage."

I leaned closer. "Does it... bite?"

"Only if mishandled."

Rin beamed. "It bit someone once."

"I’m pretty sure that was because of you," Vaelory said with an eye roll.

The third utensil was smaller—a delicate spoon, shallow and narrow, its bowl shaped like a teardrop. Tiny wings were carved along its handle.

"This is the Essence Spoon," Morthen said. "For broths, souls, and infused liquids."

"...Souls?"

"Yes," he said. "Sipping a soul is the best way to enjoy it."

Vaelory gasped in shock while I just stared. But then again, this was the demon realm.

The fourth was a short blade with a serrated edge that looked entirely too aggressive for polite dining. The handle was wrapped in something that looked suspiciously like leather.

"This is the Bone Saw Knife," he said.

"For...?"

"Cartilage."

I nodded solemnly.

Vaelory gasped again.

The fifth utensil was thin and needle-like, with a pointed tip and no visible edge. It looked harmless.

That was a lie.

"This is the Vein Pin," Morthen explained. "Used to extract delicacies."

I stared. "From the food."

"Yes."

"...Good."

The sixth was another fork, but this one had only two prongs, curved slightly inward like fangs.

"This is the Twin Fang Fork."

"Let me guess," I said. "It holds things that fight back."

"Correct," he said with a nod. "There are some foods that fight back sometimes, but Kethra doesn’t really make dishes like that because the king doesn’t like his food screaming."

The seventh utensil was rather unsettling. It was small, almost dainty, with a rounded handle that ended in a tiny skull—this one not smiling. Its blade was flat and paddle-like.

"This is the Skull Spreader."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I don’t even want to ask."

"It is for pastes."

"Of course it is."

The eighth was a long spoon with a deep bowl and jagged edges.

"This is the Marrow Scoop."

"...I hate how self-explanatory that is."

The ninth utensil was perhaps the worst. It looked like a cross between a fork and a hook, the prongs curved sharply, ending in wicked points.

"This is the Hook Fork," Morthen said. "Used for slippery meats. They are quite delicious too."

I didn’t ask any more questions.

The tenth utensil was a thin blade with an ornate handle carved into the shape of a coiled serpent.

"This is the Venom Knife," Morthen said.

"And finally," he said, gesturing to the smallest utensil of all.

It was tiny. Almost delicate. The handle ended in a miniature skull, its mouth open as if screaming. The blade was thin, sharp, and cruel.

"This is the Finishing Blade."

I stared at it.

"...Finishing what?" I asked.

"Finishing blade—for finishing foods."