I Just Wanted A Soft Life, Not A Demon Husband

Chapter 171: The One Sent Instead

Elyn’s POV

Versha’s question lingered in the air between us.

"Why?"

I didn’t answer immediately. I exhaled slowly, letting the tension ease from my shoulders before I looked back at her.

"Because gargoyles forget," I said simply.

Versha just stared at me, eight eyes blinking.

"They forget where they’re going," I continued, my voice calm but firm. "They forget who sent them. And sometimes, they forget what they were sent for entirely. I don’t want a message delivered later. I want it delivered now."

Azerion shifted beside me, clearly listening.

"And besides," I added, gesturing lightly with my hand, "I only want to have a picnic. A simple one. If a gargoyle is sent, there’s a good chance we’ll end up having the picnic hours from now instead of when the food is ready."

I paused, then added the final point. "And we’re all hungry."

I didn’t need to explain who all was.

Honestly, I wasn’t that hungry, but Aziren was. His stomach had growled earlier, and due to how hard he blushed, as if embarrassed by that, I decided to take one for the team. And Azerion himself hadn’t stopped glancing toward the door as if food might magically appear if he stared hard enough. Rather than say food, though, I was very certain Azerion just wanted something sweet enough to satisfy his palate. At least he wasn’t stealing anymore... hopefully.

Versha considered this quietly.

She gave a small nod. "Normally, gargoyles are the messengers in the palace," she said. "But I understand, Your Highness. If you would prefer otherwise, I will send someone else."

Relief settled in my chest. I would definitely prefer otherwise. I wasn’t going to die again—especially not from hungry demon children—just because the gargoyles refused to move their asses fast enough.

"Thank you," I said.

Versha inclined her head. "I will also send maids to lead you and the children to the gardens. And I will ensure someone else is sent to inform Kethra immediately."

I nodded again.

Versha nodded once more in return, then turned and left the office, the door closing softly behind her.

The moment she was gone, the room felt quieter.

I placed Aziren near the edge of the table. He was swinging his legs gently, his expression relaxed, and thankfully, he wasn’t crying anymore. Azerion leaned back against the couch he had moved to sit on—a couch he had now claimed as his own.

I leaned back slightly and allowed myself a breath.

Only a few minutes passed before there was a knock at the door.

I straightened. "Come in."

The door opened.

And I blinked in shock because my eyes had to be playing a joke on me.

Standing in the doorway was... a bee.

I mean, not exactly. But close enough that my mind stalled for a moment.

She stood upright on three legs, her lower body clearly insect-like, segmented and banded in rich shades of gold and black. The surface of her body had a faint sheen, as though polished, catching the light when she shifted. Her upper body was more humanoid, though still distinctly insectoid, with two arms ending in proper hands—long fingers, jointed delicately, held neatly in front of her.

From her back extended a pair of wings, translucent and veined, shimmering faintly as they moved. They vibrated softly even when she stood still, producing a constant, low bzzz sound that filled the room.

Her head was unmistakably bee-like, with large, multifaceted eyes and thin antennae that twitched subtly as she took in her surroundings.

She was dressed to match her form—layers of fabric in warm yellows and deep blacks, the patterns arranged in neat geometric shapes that reminded me uncomfortably of honeycombs.

I stared.

I didn’t mean to. I simply couldn’t help it.

She stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Bzzz—Your Highness," she said, her voice accompanied by the constant buzzing undertone. "My name is Melisera. Bzzz. Versha sent me to attend you."

I continued staring.

Some distant part of my mind reminded me that I had already seen far stranger beings since arriving in the demon realm. I still remembered the marsh demon and her assistant, both whose names I had forgotten. And also the owl, Morthen, Versha, Rin, Marrok... one thing I was certain of was that Melisera was a beast demon.

"I see," I said slowly, once my voice returned to me.

Melisera straightened, wings fluttering faintly.

Azerion scrunched up his face, looking her over openly. "Why do you look so ugly?"

I closed my eyes for half a second. But thankfully, Melisera didn’t react the way I expected.

She didn’t look offended by that at all.

Instead, she tilted her head slightly, antennae twitching. "Bzzz. Thank you. That is how I am."

Azerion blinked.

That answer clearly hadn’t been part of his expectations.

I opened my eyes and shot him a look. "Azerion."

"What?" he said flatly. "I was just asking."

Aziren stared, eyes wide, as he watched Melisera with quiet curiosity.

I turned back to the demon. "May I ask," I said carefully, "what type of demon you are?"

"Of course," she replied smoothly. "Bzzz. I am a Honeysuckle Demon."

I blinked.

"Honeysuckle... demon," I repeated.

"Yes," Melisera said. "Bzzz."

Something stirred in my chest—an odd mix of disbelief and distant familiarity.

In my previous life, creatures that looked like this were called bees. They lived in hives. They flew from flower to flower. They made honey.

I studied her more closely now—the symmetry of her form, the patterned fabric, the faint scent in the air that reminded me vaguely of pollen.

"...Do you," I asked slowly, "perhaps... create honey?"

Melisera gasped.

It was sharp and dramatic, wings flaring outward as if I had said something scandalous.

"Bzzz! No!" she exclaimed. "We do not create honey!"

I froze, immediately unsure whether I had offended her.

"But," she added quickly, leaning forward, antennae vibrating with intensity, "we are addicted to it."

I stared at her.

I didn’t know whether I should laugh at what she had just said or cry at how absurd she looked—or do both. I was leaning toward both at this point.

"You know what, just escort us to the gardens," I told her, choosing not to drag out this absurd moment.

"Yes, Your Highness," she said as she bowed.