Survival Guide After Accidentally Kissing a Demon - Chapter 139

Chapter 139

At the sight of the Royal Knights appearing outside her door, Beili’s heart leaped into her throat, just like Mr. Vulture’s.

However, the knights hadn’t come because she was investigating the Swan Family; they were there on behalf of Prince Cyril.

More accurately, they were there because of the Second Prince in the palace.

Overnight, the palace had been filled with corpses whose eyes and hearts had been gouged out.

The bodies were in various states of decay. Some had skin as shriveled as withered bark, while others were bloated and rotting, oozing turbid pus.

Clearly, they hadn’t all died at the same time.

The corpses were piled haphazardly on top of one another, forming a small mountain.

This mountain of flesh was stacked right outside the bedchamber of Sainthos’s noble Prince Cyril.

Unfortunately, the soldiers on night watch had no recollection of how the pile of corpses had appeared under their very noses overnight.

The noble Prince might have been awakened by the screams of the servants, or perhaps more likely, by the stench wafting from the pile of bodies.

Regardless, amidst the screams of servants and the pungent, nauseating odor of death, Prince Cyril opened his door to find a heap of corpses crawling with maggots and swarming with flies.

His exquisite, handsome face instantly turned ashen.

Thus, early this morning…

The grim-faced Prince stormed into the Royal Council Chamber. In front of His Majesty the King and the assembled councilors, he recounted the incident and insisted on one thing-

The pile of corpses was the handiwork of the Second Prince.

…

The council chamber was deathly silent.

The councilors surreptitiously observed the King’s expression.

But the King only smiled and did not respond to Prince Cyril’s words, his meaning perfectly clear.

Left with no choice, the councilors read the room. They tried to ease the stiff atmosphere with forced laughter while offering gentle words to persuade Prince Cyril to calm his anger.

Prince Cyril’s cold gaze swept over everyone at the long table. He left them with a single declaration: he would personally find the evidence that would force the King to lock the Second Prince in the Thorn Prison.

Then, he slammed the door and strode away.

…

Upon leaving the council chamber, the Prince immediately summoned the most skilled spirit medium in the palace.

A spirit medium could establish a connection with the corpses.

The Prince wanted to use this method to learn the cause of death of these people.

However…

When the medium, possessed by a restless spirit, was questioned, a strange and raspy voice-as if echoing from Hell itself-would only repeat the same sentence over and over:

‘He wants to see Bartholomew Constance.’

…

And so…

Beili was invited from her room into a royal carriage and led into the palace under the escort of the Royal Knights.

By the time she arrived at Prince Cyril’s quarters, the corpses piled outside the door had already been cleared away.

The air carried no scent of rotting flesh at all.

Only damp patches of water and the overwhelming fragrance of roses remained.

Consequently, the handkerchief Beili had held ready to cover her nose and mouth went unused.

She tucked the handkerchief back into her Spatial Bracelet and stepped inside as the soldiers pushed open the door.

…

The Prince’s bedchamber was exceptionally spacious.

It looked like three rooms joined together. At one end was the sleeping area, featuring a bed covered in soft quilts of silk and velvet.

At the other end, arranged according to the Prince’s preferences, were weapons such as longswords and bows. In a corner stood a wooden dummy riddled with arrows.

In the center of the room was a large desk, with a bookshelf behind it filled with various volumes.

On the walls to the left and right of the bookshelf hung portraits of the Prince as a child. His face had been round and innocent, showing a docile, sweet smile.

It was a stark contrast to the current Prince…

That is, the cold and stern Prince Cyril, who was currently leaning back behind the desk with his legs crossed, resting his cheek against his knuckles.

…

Inside the room, Cyril was alone.

Stepping onto the dark blue carpet with its intricate patterns, Beili walked over to the chair in front of the desk and sat down.

When she looked up at the black-haired, purple-eyed youth, she felt an inexplicable sense of awkwardness.

This was different from Holy Island Academy.

The palace’s magnificent decor, the cushioned gold chair, the prince’s coronet inlaid with massive gemstones, and his white and deep blue formal attire trimmed with gold thread all spoke of the youth’s noble status.

Even though his purple eyes were as indifferent as ever, Beili didn’t quite dare to strike up a casual conversation.

She wanted to ask him directly if he knew anything about the disappeared Swan Family, or if he had heard of the prophecy Bertie Swan had given to the Royal Family.

But… forget it.

Cyril was a prince of the Royal Family; she didn’t want to walk straight into a trap.

“You’ve been in the capital lately?” Cyril suddenly spoke. His tone was devoid of emotion, his voice as clear and cold as if it had been submerged in ice water.

“Yes,” Beili answered honestly.

“By yourself?” Cyril asked again.
“…No.”

After all, there were plenty of servants in the house, along with a doctor and a bodyguard, but there was no need to be so specific.

When speaking with Cyril, Beili had fallen into the habit of being as concise as he was.

“How long?”

“What?”

“I’m asking how long it’s been since you left Butterfly Valley for the capital,” Cyril continued.

“Three days.”

Beili answered honestly.

“Where have you been?”

“The Flea Nest in the Dark Alley, and the capital’s cemetery…”

Beili continued her truthful account, though her voice grew smaller and more uncertain as she spoke.

“…”

Then, Prince Cyril fell into silence.

Beili also fell into silence.

Damn it-!

Why did she have such a loose tongue? She had just blurted out the fact that she’d been to the Flea Nest in the Dark Alley.

Besides, those questions didn’t seem to have anything to do with the pile of corpses Ashera had dumped at his doorstep…

If Cyril knew what the Royal Family had done at the Flea Nest, wouldn’t he be able to guess that she was the one collecting information behind the scenes?

While Beili was inwardly vexed, wanting to punch herself in the head, she discreetly observed Cyril’s reaction from behind the desk.

The black-haired, purple-eyed youth remained silent. His amethyst-like eyes were cold, revealing a flicker of surprise amidst the silence-a surprise that quickly turned into speechlessness.

“How could you go to a place like that?”

“What…”

“The Flea Nest in the Dark Alley.”

Realizing he hadn’t misheard, the youth’s brows furrowed instantly.

“You are not allowed to go there again.”

He blurted out the command coldly.

After speaking, his knuckles resting on the armrest of the chair paused.

As if only just realizing his tone, he went quiet for a moment before turning his head away. In a slow, measured pace, he added:

“What I mean is… no noble lady would frequent such a place. It would lower your status. You are the eldest daughter of the Constance Family from Butterfly Valley, so I advise against it.”

So-

Why was Cyril speaking to her with such patience?

This wasn’t like his style at all.

But from the sound of it, he didn’t seem to know about the Royal Family’s bloodbath at the Flea Nest.

Her red eyes fixed on him for two seconds before blinking slightly. Beili breathed a private sigh of relief, then nodded hesitantly. “Alright…”

Then, the two of them lapsed into silence once more.

…

She and Cyril really weren’t suited to be in the same room.

It was too easy for things to get awkward.

Beili waited for a while with no further word. She raised her red eyes and asked tonelessly, “Regarding the corpses, is there anything else you need me to do?”

At the mention of the corpses, Cyril’s lip twitched, looking visibly irritated.

“There’s no need. Those bodies weren’t people from the palace,” he said coldly.

Those corpses were people sent in by Nobles who were trying to win over the Second Prince; they weren’t palace staff.

When His Majesty the King sent someone to his chambers, this was the reply given-

‘The Second Prince has intimidated those with divided loyalties. The intention was good, but the bodies were simply placed in the wrong spot.’

…

Staying in Cyril’s chambers any longer would only mean watching him maintain that sour expression.

Once Beili realized there was nothing left for her to do, she rose, curtsied, and took her leave.

Then, she was led by a Royal Family attendant to the Second Prince’s chambers.

As soon as Beili saw the youth wearing the silver mask, she immediately asked, “Why did you have to go and provoke him?”

When the girl stepped into the room, the youth in the black robe and silver mask was sitting by the edge of the bed.

He looked exactly as he did during the Royal Hunt, sitting upright in the tent while waiting for her to absorb his Mana.

Beili’s footsteps faltered for a moment. She immediately took a light breath and shook the thought away.

On the other side, hearing the girl’s blunt questioning, the youth was quiet for a few seconds. He clearly understood what she was referring to as he spoke haltingly:

“I heard s-some… things that weren’t very h-happy.”

“What things?” Beili asked.

“Those people h-hope… that Cyril Elvis… will propose a marriage contract with y-you… on the day of the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.”

The youth struggled through the long sentence.

“Who?”

“Those… who ap-appeared on Hunting Day.”

…

The story of a confident Noble who had sent themselves into the Second Prince’s chambers, only to have their eyes gouged out and their heart hollowed out, spread through the noble circles.

After this, it didn’t just cause panic among the Nobles; it also caught the attention of a certain group of them.

Most of them were loyal followers of Prince Cyril.

Hearing of this horrific incident, these people clearly sensed something was amiss.

Following the clues of the event, they discovered that someone among the Nobles was actually trying to support this Second Prince-a man of unknown origin, unknown status, unknown appearance, and whose very name remained unknown to this day.
And so, after careful consideration, the Nobles who remained steadfast followers of Prince Cyril arrived at what they believed was the most appropriate strategy for the moment-

Win over the Butterfly Family by reviving the long-forgotten engagement between His Highness and the eldest daughter, Constance.

But Beili…

Wait, what?

“Is this whole engagement thing with Cyril still not over?” she muttered under her breath, her teeth gritted in frustration.

Back in Vanier Snow Town, Madam Constance had told her that the matter of her engagement to Cyril had already been forgotten by everyone.

But now, somehow, people were bringing it up to Cyril again. What were these Nobles trying to do?

Suppressing the urge to complain, Beili’s brow furrowed, but she quickly realized something else.

She pursed her lips and stared into the hollow golden eyes behind the boy’s silver mask, asking softly, “Ashera, are you… unhappy because of my engagement to Cyril? Is that why you dumped the body at his door?”

Was that it?

“…No.”

Behind the cold, hard lines of the silver mask, the boy shook his head after thinking seriously. He answered, “It is… Cyril Elvis. His… his emotions make me… feel irritated.”

Beili blinked her red eyes.

She didn’t quite follow his train of thought, but she had a guess. “You don’t know what an engagement means, do you?”

Did Ashera know?

Perhaps he didn’t.

“What’s… wrong with an engagement?” the boy asked, his voice sounding dazed.

The silver mask on his face glinted with a cold light. Suddenly, he raised a hand, took it off, and tossed it aside, revealing his pale, gloomy face beneath his silver hair.

“An engagement is just… a simple… simple document that can be canceled as long as… one person wants to…”

His tone carried a trace of imperceptible contempt, and the corners of his mouth curled slightly.

“But our… Life-and-Death Contract… cannot… cannot be canceled… friend.”

His words were halting as he reminded her.

“…”

Then again, could those two things even be compared?

Beili’s brow furrowed slightly, her head filled with questions.

“In any case, Cyril won’t agree to it,” she said, trying to pull the conversation back to the main point.

The smile at the corners of the boy’s mouth slowly faded. He asked in a weak voice, “What if he… he agrees?”

“He won’t.”

Beili said with absolute certainty, “Besides, didn’t you hear his inner thoughts? He wants me to vanish from this world. Since that’s the case, he won’t agree to the engagement.”

After a few seconds of silence, as if thinking of something, the boy suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her close. He tilted up his pale face and suggested, “Then you… go tell him now… friend. Say that you… don’t agree.”

“…”

Beili was speechless.

Based on his description just now, reviving the engagement was a secret strategy discussed between Cyril and the Nobles following him.

No news had been made public yet, and he wanted her to run up to Cyril’s face and talk about it?

Beili could almost imagine the expression on Cyril’s face-rolling his eyes at her with pure exasperation-if she were to walk up and solemnly declare, “I don’t agree.”

So, Beili remained silent for a few seconds before saying hesitantly, “I don’t think there’s any rush for this.”

After a moment’s thought, she added, “Besides… this is my private business. You don’t need to worry about it; I’ll handle it myself.”

“…”

Not hearing the answer he wanted, the boy’s hand holding hers paused for a few seconds. Then, looking utterly aggrieved, he leaned his head against her stomach.

His breath became icy, radiating a freezing chill.

Beili felt a bone-chilling cold where the boy leaned against her stomach and where he gripped her wrist.

She winced as if pricked by a needle and reached out to push him away.

The boy’s body stiffened when she pushed him. His long eyelashes trembled slightly before he backed away, turning to retreat into the blankets.

Before Beili could react, frost began to form on the surface of the satin-like duvet.

She felt the temperature in the room dropping rapidly once again.

Her lips parted slightly, and her breath turned into a cloud of mist.

It was the same old routine, the same familiar atmosphere.

Beili sighed and climbed onto the bed, reaching out to lift a corner of the duvet to call the boy out.

However, as she lifted the corner, a thick, black liquid mixed with ice crystals suddenly flowed out from inside.

Caught off guard, she gasped.

Beili sucked in a breath of cold air and let go, stepping back to stand beside the bed, her red eyes wide with shock.

The thick black liquid seemed to possess a life of its own. Sensing the girl’s retreat, it gradually shrank back into the blankets.

A moment later.

Through the bedding came Ashera’s voice-a blurred, cold, and weak statement.

“You want to… marry… Cyril Elvis.”

He spoke low and slow.