Chapter 29: The Wrong Room (Am I Going To Die?)
Chapter 29: The Wrong Room (Am I Going To Die?)
I stepped foot into the room and noticed there was something strange. I still remembered when I left the room with Rin, the lights were still on, but now... it was pitch black.
I blinked. "...Why is it so dark in here?"
Perhaps Rin had turned off the lights before and I didn’t know? Well, whatever, I was too tired to care.
I stepped further inside, squinting, hands extended like I was some blind bat-person searching for a switch on the wall. I could only hope that a demon didn’t jump out of the wall and attack me.
"How do you—ugh—how do you turn on the lights in this stupid place?"
"Snap your fingers," a voice said lazily from somewhere in the room.
I obeyed instantly—because apparently exhaustion makes you stupid—snapped my fingers, and said, "Thank you."
Then my brain caught up.
Wait a hot minute.
Did someone just speak to me?
I didn’t need an answer to that because someone did just speak to me.
And just like that, it felt like someone poured a bucket of cold water over me. Who just told me to snap my fingers?
And like I was suddenly on a stage as that thought came through, the lights burst across the room in a soft red-gold glow. My eyes adjusted quickly, and the first thing I saw was—
A body pillow.
Floating.
In the air.
A huge, overstuffed, ridiculously white fluffy body pillow drifting like a ghost that had given up on haunting and wanted to cuddle instead. It looked like I had used my levitation spell on it. Was this some kind of demon? Was there a pillow demon? Wait— I shook my head. I really needed to stop being so ridiculous.
A pillow demon didn’t— I paused because it was at that point I noticed something else... wings.
Massive black wings wrapped protectively around whoever was hugging the pillow... not a pillow demon then.
The wings shifted slightly, revealing just enough space for a pair of glowing ruby eyes to peek out from behind the fabric—
And my entire soul left my body.
I screamed.
It wasn’t a dignified scream like the dignified princess I was. No, this was a full-blown, I-am-being-murdered, opera-level scream.
The figure in the air screamed back—still hugging the body pillow—jerking mid-air like a startled cat, except much larger and with wings.
"WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING?!" he yelled, voice muffled by the pillow.
"WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING?!" I screamed back.
"You scared me!"
"You’re the one floating in MY ROOM like a demonic balloon animal!"
The wings snapped tighter around him in what I could only interpret as offense. The pillow wobbled. He flailed one leg and then slowly rotated in the air, the way someone does when they’re trying to stay asleep but life refuses to cooperate.
He finally pushed some feathers aside, revealing his face—and there was absolutely no mistaking those ruby eyes, that hair, that expression of someone half-asleep and deeply irritated that the world was still existing.
Zorathys.
Of course it was him. I should have known from the very beginning.
Because why wouldn’t the demon king be in my bedroom floating in the air hugging a huge body pillow? No reason at all.
"You," I pointed accusingly, "what are you doing here?"
He yawned. A deep, slow, bone-heavy yawn that made his eyes droop like he was about to pass out mid-air again. "What do you mean, what am I doing here?"
"You’re in my room," I hissed. "Shouldn’t you be in yours? Somewhere very far away, preferably."
He blinked slowly, fighting to keep his eyes open. "I’m having difficulty understanding what you mean."
"You are in my room!" I repeated louder this time. "We’re not even married yet! You shouldn’t be in my room— it’s... it’s unethical."
"Oh," Zorathys said to me.
"Just oh?" I asked him.
"Firefly..." he said slowly.
I still don’t understand why he calls me that, and I’m not going to admit that I may like the nickname a teeny bit. I’ve always been a fan of nicknames after all. But that wasn’t the issue now.
"...This is my room," Zorathys told me. "You’re in my room."
"No, I’m not," I argued with him.
"Yes, you are."
"This is my room."
"It very clearly is not."
We stared at each other in an exhausted standoff. He gestured around with one wing.
"Look around."
I inhaled sharply, turned, and finally took in the full space.
...Ah.
This was definitely not my room.
This room was darker and even larger than my own. Warmer in an ominous, ancient way. The walls looked alive with faint runic carvings. The air smelled like a mix of cedar and something I recognized instinctively as him.
The bed was enormous—twice the size of mine—and so luxurious it looked like it was plotting to smother someone out of pure affection.
And right there, glaringly obvious in the back of my mind, came the words from Marrok and his gang... yes, that’s what I’m calling them now.
"One time someone opened the door to the King’s room and we never saw him again."
"It was a very delightful and honorable kill but it was scary."
"It is a rule to not open the King’s room whenever he’s having a nap."
"He doesn’t play with his sleep, rightfully so."
And I...I was standing in the KING’S room.
While the King was asleep.
Or at least trying to sleep.
I felt my soul preparing its resignation letter.
"Oh no," I whispered.
Zorathys gave a sleepy blink. "What?"
"Oh no, oh no, oh no..."
My brain helpfully provided images of myself being murdered in extremely creative ways, all of them involving sharp claws or an offended demon king pinning me into a wall.
Am I going to die? No, wait. I am going to die. It’s the Demon King. He doesn’t play with his nap.
I looked up at him, ready to start apologizing for accidentally trespassing and begging for my life—
But then something else caught my attention.
He was still in the air.
Not floating gracefully.
Not levitating majestically.
No.
He was flopped sideways in the air, hugging his enormous pillow like it was his emotional support plushie, wings drooping, eyes half-closed, hair a mess, drifting slightly like a lazy cloud.
My panic paused.
"You..." I said slowly, squinting at him.
"Yes...?" he replied, suspicious and half-asleep.
My fear evaporated in the face of a far more pressing question.
"Why," I stepped closer, pointing at him, "are you sleeping... in the air?"
He blinked again. His wings twitched.
Then, as if finally processing the absurdity of the moment, he stared back at me with equal confusion.