I Just Wanted A Soft Life, Not A Demon Husband

Chapter 76: The Imprint I Apparently Can’t Escape

Elyn’s POV

Zorathys leveled me with a look so flat and unbothered that I immediately knew I wasn’t going to like what came next.

"You can’t get rid of the boy," he said.

I blinked at him dumbly, then turned to Azerion and then back to Zorathys.

"I’m sorry," I said slowly, "what did you just say?"

"I said," he repeated in a calm voice, "you can’t get rid of him."

Something in my chest snapped.

I chuckled a bit because surely this had to be some joke. He was messing with me.

"No," I chuckled. "I’m sure that’s a joke. I mean, you didn’t just tell me that there is absolutely nothing you can do about a snake hatchling glued to my existence, right?"

Zorathys leaned back in his chair, folding his arms like this was a mild inconvenience at best, his eyes half-closed too. "If he isn’t scattering your room. If he isn’t destroying the office." His eyes flicked briefly to Azerion. "Then it’s because he already likes you."

"That is not comforting," I said flatly.

"It should be," Zorathys replied. "The least you can do now is let him officially imprint on you."

"By imprint, you mean?" I asked him.

"Mark you?" he asked. "I don’t know what you humans call it."

"Absolutely not," I told him.

"I asked you how to get rid of him," I emphasized. "Not how to adopt him."

Before Zorathys could respond, a very small, hesitant voice spoke up from near the door where he stood with his other cowardly accomplices.

"It... it would bring many benefits."

I turned sharply.

Morthen stood there, shoulders hunched, hands clasped together like he regretted existing in the same room as this conversation. He looked like he wanted to sink into the floor and live there permanently.

"What?" I asked.

Morthen swallowed. "If—if you ever needed a guard," he said quietly, "Azerion would be one. A Syrenthis guard always watches over those they imprint on. They are ready to destroy mountains just to protect those they imprint on. He would be a very good guard for you, my lady."

"That’s unnecessary," I said immediately, but it’s not like Morthen even listened to me.

"And," Morthen added, his voice even smaller as he adjusted his glasses, "the imprint would... help his speech. He would speak more like a child around five. Less like someone who sounds like he’s just... putting words together."

I turned fully toward him now.

"And how," I asked in a low growl, "is his speech helpful to me?"

Morthen flinched and tried to burrow himself into Vaelory, who was also trying to move away from him while making sure she didn’t step closer to me either.

"I... I’m sorry, my lady," Morthen whispered.

I ignored him and turned back to Zorathys. "I don’t need a guard. Especially not one that is a snake."

Then I leaned closer to him and lowered my voice.

"I’m scared of snakes," I whispered. "I don’t care how cute he looks right now. I don’t care how small he is. He is a snake. There has to be something you can do. You’re the king of demons."

But even with all that, Zorathys just shook his head.

"It’s above me," he said.

I froze. "Above you?"

"The Syrenthis choose who to imprint on," he continued. "And they’ve chosen you."

"I don’t want it," I said sharply. "I don’t want the imprint. I don’t want a snake guard."

There was a small shuffle at my side as Azerion tugged on my dress.

Then he spoke in a soft voice.

"Yuh... yuh don’ like me?"

I looked down at him.

He was staring up at me, blue eyes wide and shimmering, his fingers curled into the fabric of my gown like he was holding on for dear life.

My chest tightened just from how innocent and cute he looked, and I was this close to giving in—but then I reminded myself that this boy was a demon. A very scary one at that.

"That’s not—" I inhaled. "That’s not what this is about."

He tilted his head. "Den... why?"

"I’m just talking to Zorathys," I said gently. "That’s all."

I hesitated, then added, "It would be better if you imprinted on him."

Azerion turned and looked at Zorathys, who just stared back with a bored look on his face—one that screamed that he didn’t want to be here at all.

Then Azerion shook his head.

"No," he said firmly. "Don’ like him."

Zorathys muttered, "I don’t like you either. It’s because of your annoying presence that I’m currently here."

I whipped my head toward him. "Why would you say that to a child?"

Zorathys gave me a look. "What did I say?"

"Why would you tell a child that you don’t like him?" I asked.

"Why would the same child tell me he doesn’t like me?" Zorathys asked back. "And besides, the demon is not a child—it just looks like one."

"How old is he?" I asked Zorathys.

"What does that have to—"

"Answer me," I told him.

He huffed, and the sound and expression came out in slow motion. It was like my eyes were playing tricks on me.

"He’s around fifty days old."

"That makes him a child," I told him.

Zorathys gave me a look. "He’s a hatchling at best."

"A hatchling who is a child," I told him.

Zorathys rolled his eyes. "I’m not even going to continue whatever this is," he said.

I rolled my eyes too while he sighed deeply, rubbing his hands down his face.

"I’m tired, Firefly," he said. "So I’ll be blunt and just get straight to the point."

He straightened.

"One. A Syrenthis imprints when they are between fifty and a hundred days old. They are still considered hatchlings... not a child like you insist they are."

"Two," he continued, "they only imprint on the scariest person in the demon realm."

I opened my mouth to argue.

"And three," he finished, "once they like someone, the imprint is inevitable. If he likes you—" his eyes met mine, unwavering, "—then there is no way to escape it."

The room went quiet.

I looked down at Azerion.

He smiled at me, and I turned to Zorathys, who was yawning widely.

It seemed I was going to have a Syrenthis for a fucking guard after all.