Survival Guide After Accidentally Kissing a Demon - Chapter 102

Chapter 102

Beili wandered aimlessly across the grass.

The royal attendants were already busy. Some were pitching tents, others were chopping wood for fuel, and some were carefully carrying pot after pot of flowers and greenery out of the carriages.

There were even people holding pieces of stained glass, beginning to construct a glass house.

…Who was this eccentric?

They were only out for a three-day excursion, yet they were actually building a house? It was truly eye-opening.

Beili frowned slightly, marveling at the sight in her heart.

Just then, she suddenly heard someone speak-

“Didn’t they say-that mysterious Second Prince would appear at the Hunting Forest? I haven’t seen him at all…”

Beili looked toward the source of the voice. A group of teenagers, a few years younger than herself, were huddled together in discussion.

Hunting Day was a grand festival in any kingdom.

During these three days, Beili would be able to see every Noble in the Santos Kingdom at the forest grounds.

But there were too many people.

She didn’t have the energy to memorize their names, families, or their Beast Forms.

Speaking of Beast Forms.

The rules of Hunting Day dictated that, barring an emergency, no Noble was allowed to undergo Beast Transformation.

This was because, once transformed, there was a high probability they might be hunted down as if they were ordinary birds or beasts.

“I can’t believe my eyes…”

Someone suddenly noticed something and cried out, “Look-look over there! There’s a freak!”

“What freak? Where?”

“Oh… I think I see him. You don’t mean that person in the black robe and mask, do you?”

The others looked in the direction he pointed and indeed saw a figure draped in a black robe and hood, wearing a metal mask that completely concealed their face. The person was covered from head to toe.

Standing amidst the crowd dressed in magnificent finery, the figure was jarringly out of place.

Like a spectral ghost.

“Ugh…” someone muttered in disgust. “Covering his body so tightly, I’m certain his skin must be rotting.”

“Oh, just hearing you say that, I can already imagine him crawling with maggots!”

They discussed him eagerly, unable to stop themselves from breaking into rowdy sneers.

Soon, however, a panicked voice broke through the laughter:

“Damn it! Can’t you guys keep it down? He seems to have heard us; he’s walking right toward us! It’s all your fault!”

“What?!”

“Oh, this is terrifying… Turn around, let’s go back!”

They cried out in agitation.

A tall figure appeared behind them, rebuking them in an incredibly cold and harsh tone:

“You stupid, vulgar lot, whose eyes must have fallen into a cesspool-how dare you be so disrespectful to the Second Prince of the royal family!”

With a sharp crack, a whip sliced through the air.

The man lashed out without mercy, striking each of the children once.

Before the gathered teenagers could even react, they had been severely punished.

With expressions of agony, they scattered, wailing and crying.

…

The grass was pressed down, making a faint rustling sound.

Footsteps approached.

The figure in the black robe and silver mask walked quietly to the side of the grey-haired, red-eyed girl.

The man who had delivered the whipping bowed respectfully to him and said, “Second Prince, the insolent ones have been punished. They will not speak such words again.”

The person addressed as the ‘Second Prince’ did not speak.

The metal mask on his face reflected a cold, silver glint under the bright sunlight.

Its rigid lines remained unchanged.

No one could tell what expression lay beneath the mask.

Even his eyes were hollow and lifeless.

…

The man remained on one knee, waiting respectfully.

The masked Second Prince continued to maintain his silence.

He raised a hand.

His fingers, encased in a snug black glove, gave a light wave-a gesture of dismissal.

Seeing this, the kneeling man had no choice but to withdraw respectfully.

Immediately after, the black-gloved hand reached out toward her quite naturally.

“Let’s… walk…”

A familiar, clear, and soft boyish voice drifted from beneath the mask.

Amidst the subtle, prying gazes of the people around them, Beili blinked her red eyes and then took the hand he offered.

Choosing a direction at random, the two of them walked toward the woods.

The noisy, bustling campsite with its drifting smoke receded behind them.

Their surroundings grew increasingly quiet.

There was only the occasional birdsong from the forest and the sound of dry leaves and twigs crunching beneath their feet.

Beili’s dark red gaze shifted from the perfectly fitted silver mask to the top of his head, which was covered by the black hood.

Unable to resist, she broke the silence first, asking in confusion, “You’re the Second Prince now, so why aren’t you wearing a Prince’s Crown on your head?”
“That thing… it’s too, too heavy…”

He held her hand, his tone through the mask sounding somewhat helpless.

“Then what about the clothes?”

Beili looked at the black robe and black gloves he was wearing and asked, “After all, the other prince is dressed so magnificently, while you don’t have a single gem on you.”

The silver mask turned toward her.

He tilted his head, ‘looking’ at her.

After a moment of silence, he asked with a hint of a smile in his voice:

“Do you wish for m-me… to dress like… Cyril Elvis… like that… do you?”

“Ah? Of course not.”

Beili immediately shook her head. She paused for a moment before explaining, “I thought the people in the palace had intentionally wrapped you up so… tightly. So, you requested this yourself?”

“To obtain the status of a p-prince… one needs to… hide their appearance.”

The boy’s voice came in intermittent fragments from behind the cold, hard lines of the mask. He said:

“This is the… cough… agreement I reached with th-that person.”

That person?

Beili held his hand and asked, “By ‘that person,’ do you mean His Majesty the King of Sainthos?”

He nodded slightly and gave a soft “Mm.”

“Ashera, are you really His Majesty’s child?” Beili asked again.

This time, he neither nodded nor shook his head.

Through his gloves, Beili squeezed his hand, signaling for him to answer.

He remained silent.

After all, the adolescent version of Ashera usually answered almost any question she asked.

So, Beili stared with her red eyes and pressed further, “Is that something you can’t say?”

“He won’t allow m-me to tell y-you these things… S-sorry, friend…”

His hollow golden eyes looked down as the boy’s apologetic words drifted from within the silver mask.

“…”

He could actually use his other self as an excuse.

“Fine, it’s not like I absolutely have to know.”

As she spoke, she withdrew her hand.

The masked boy’s eyelashes trembled slightly, and his hand froze in mid-air.

On the other side.

Beili turned her hand over, intending to show the boy her evolved Morpho Butterflies.

Suddenly, her hand, clad in thin black lace gloves, was snatched by him.

“No…”

A somewhat dejected voice came from under the mask as he whispered his answer.

No? No what?

Her thoughts stalled for a moment before she realized that the “no” Ashera meant was-he was not the child of the King of Sainthos.

Her brain suddenly felt overwhelmed. Beili opened her mouth, thought about it, and decided to set the matter aside for now rather than prying further.

Beili gave an “Mm” and tried to pull her right hand away from the boy’s tight grip because she wanted to show off her Morpho Butterflies.

The boy kept his head lowered. He held on tightly, as if competing with her.

The way they held hands eventually shifted until their fingers were interlaced.

…

Beili sighed inwardly.

She had no choice but to lower her right hand and raise her left, summoning a Morpho Butterfly.

“My butterflies have become much stronger, Ashera. Can you sense it?”

The masked head tilted slightly, as if he were ‘looking’ at the Morpho Butterfly perched on her fingertip.

“It is… a little d-different.”

Hearing his confirmation, a hint of smugness instantly flickered in her jewel-like, deep red eyes.

But then Beili frowned in distress, thinking of that valley in the Constance Family territory, which was utterly barren of both Death Mana and sinful Mana.

“Since leaving Holy Island, I’ve had almost no source of Mana, Ashera…”

She turned her gaze toward those cold, silver lines and said suggestively, “Why don’t you ask the person who woke you up if there’s any other kind of Mana I can absorb that doesn’t require killing?”

Fearing the guy would use himself as an excuse to refuse again, Beili reminded him in a low tone:

“Tell him this while you’re at it-even though he hasn’t decided on the terms of our cooperation yet, if he’s sincere about collaborating, he should consciously step into his role as my Magic Mentor by now.”

He seemed to be thinking.

As their fingers remained interlaced, the boy’s fingers brushed irregularly against the back of her hand.

The mask hid all of his expressions.

However, Beili could still guess that he must be smiling right now.

As if he had found the answer, the boy suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Holding her hand, he abruptly lowered his head.

The sunlight fell upon his deep black headscarf, all light swallowed by the fabric.

“H-h-he said…”

From within the silver mask tilted toward the ground.

After a moment, a fragmented, faint, and husky murmur drifted out:

“You can… kiss me.”