I Just Wanted A Soft Life, Not A Demon Husband

Chapter 178: Of Balls, Wars, and Things That Apparently Count as Proposals

Elyn’s POV

Days passed. And I don’t mean it in the way one takes note of days that pass happily—nope. The days just blurred together to the point where I wasn’t even sure I was actually living anymore.

They blurred—smeared together into a long, exhausting stretch of schedules, lists, revised lists, arguments about the lists...I wasn’t the one doing the arguing though. I just watched people argue. And then came more lists because apparently the previous ones were wrong.

If someone asked me what day it was, I would not have been able to answer without looking around for clues.

Morning and night stopped meaning anything.

All I knew was that the introductory ball was approaching, and I was drowning in it.

I had not realized how much effort went into welcoming the new bride to the Demon King until I was knee-deep in it. Seating arrangements alone felt like an elaborate death trap disguised as etiquette. Every noble house had rivalries, grudges, unspoken insults that dated back centuries, and blood feuds that somehow survived even when no one remembered how they started.

Naviel looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days.

Ignivar looked worse.

I was convinced that if either of them collapsed face-first onto a table, they would simply keep working from the floor.

We had taken over the larger office—which was actually Zorathys’ office—with parchment scattered everywhere, magical sigils hovering in the air marking placements, territories, alliances, and potential disasters. The air constantly smelled of ink, wax, and faint stress-induced magic.

Zorathys, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen.

Well.

That wasn’t entirely true.

He did show up.

But he was somehow more useless when present than when absent.

The first time he appeared, he strolled into the chamber like he was entering a casual gathering rather than a room full of people on the brink of collective collapse. He leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, shadows coiling lazily at his feet, and watched us for a solid minute.

Then he said, casually, "Why are you all stressing over this?"

Naviel slowly turned toward him, eyes hollow.

Ignivar stopped mid-sentence. "It’s the introductory ball," he said to Zorathys, like he couldn’t believe why Zorathys was even asking the question in the first place.

Zorathys hummed. "Yes. And?"

"And seating matters," Ignivar said tightly. "A great deal."

Zorathys looked genuinely puzzled. "Why?"

Naviel rubbed his temple. "Because if we put the wrong nobles next to each other, it will cause conflict."

Zorathys shrugged. "Who cares if they cause conflict? Just put them anywhere and threaten them to behave."

There was a beat of silence at Zorathys’ words. Even I was taken aback.

Ignivar inhaled sharply. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, that would be catastrophic."

Zorathys just shrugged like he didn’t care.

Ignivar gestured at the diagram showing the seating arrangement. "Imagine seating the fox demons beside the succubi and incubi."

Zorathys considered that. "That does sound entertaining."

"That would cause a fight," Ignivar pressed. "Possibly a war."

Zorathys frowned. "So?" he asked Ignivar. "If a war starts, I’ll just put an end to it."

I exhaled slowly and pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose. "Or," I said, "we could prevent the war from starting in the first place."

Zorathys turned his head toward me. "There’s always a war in the demon realm."

"That doesn’t mean we encourage it," I said. "It can at least be reduced to a minimum if we try."

Zorathys laughed softly. "There’s nothing minimal about demons when it comes to fights or wars. You should know that by now."

He pushed off the pillar and walked closer, eyes gleaming faintly. "Besides, I enjoy watching them fight."

I stared at him. "That’s comforting."

"And the annual competition should be approaching soon anyway," he added.

Naviel straightened slightly. "Yes. It should be held a few days after the introductory ball."

I looked between them. "What competition?"

Zorathys waved a hand dismissively. "I’ll tell you later."

"Later when?" I asked.

"When it matters," he said. "You shouldn’t trouble yourself with it."

I raised an eyebrow. "But I should trouble myself with the ball?"

"Yes," he said easily. "Even though I don’t think you should. But then you like working. Personally, you just have to show up on the day of the ball and it’s done."

I stared at him.

Then I pointed at the door because there was absolutely nothing I could say to this demon husband of mine who was so rooted in laziness that he didn’t care about what others thought.

"If you are not going to be of any help," I said very calmly, "then get out."

The room went quiet.

Naviel froze.

Ignivar suddenly found the floor very interesting.

Zorathys blinked. "That’s harsh."

I crossed my arms. "Is it?"

"I came to help you," he said.

"You came to observe," I corrected. "And then suggest chaos."

He tilted his head, studying me. "Is it wrong for a husband to come see his wife?"

I smiled sweetly. "We are engaged. Not married. And honestly, I don’t even remember you proposing to me."

That was because he didn’t.

Zorathys snapped his fingers. "Of course I did."

I stared at him. "You did not."

"I did," he insisted. "The day I took you from the human realm."

I blinked. "That was not a proposal."

"I even told your father that I liked you," he added.

I made a face. "That is a lie."

He tilted his head again. "Are you sure it’s a lie, or are you just misremembering?"

"I remember that day perfectly," I said flatly. "And you never told my father you liked me. Neither did you propose."

Zorathys hummed. "I told him we were a perfect match."

"That is not the same thing."

"It is," he said. "We’re both not interested in women. That translates to me saying I like you."

I stared at him in disbelief. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"It makes perfect sense to me," he replied. "You’re just refusing to see it."

I sighed deeply, the kind of sigh that came from somewhere far deeper than exhaustion.

I didn’t believe him.

Not for a moment. There was no way Zorathys liked me. That just wasn’t possible—I was very certain of that.

I straightened. "Just get out, Zorathys, so the rest of us can work in peace."

His eyes widened. "Why would you say something so harsh," he asked, then dipped wine from a glass I had no idea he was even holding, "when I came here to help you?"