Forced To Become The Devil’S Succubus Lover Chapter 29

The only difference was that half of his left horn was broken.

The hand that had opened the door dropped as if it had lost all strength. The ring box fell to the floor, and the golden ring rolled out of the box, coming to a lonely stop in the corner.

Dust obscured the ring’s shine; the once beautiful golden ring now resembled a pearl covered in grime, no longer attracting attention.

Su Sheng stared intently at the pair of demon horns for a very long time.

After a long, long time, his frozen brain began to churn like an old machine, huffing and puffing as it slowly processed.

The Demon King?

Loren is the Demon King?

How is that possible?

I must have seen wrong.

But…

How is it impossible?

A voice deep inside him grew louder, and the scene of their first meeting flashed before his eyes: Loren saving him, helping him treat his injuries, extending a hand, and pulling him up.

Why would the Demon King do that? Wouldn’t it have been better to seize the opportunity and kill him right then?

Suddenly, Bia on the bed spat out another mouthful of blood. The world, which had just stabilized, became chaotic again. Lishiel clicked his tongue, his entire focus on Bia, and thus failed to notice Su Sheng behind the door.

He increased the input of demonic energy, attempting to reshape the world, but the power of an avatar was not inexhaustible. Even the strongest avatar could not sustain such massive consumption, and soon, his forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat.

But the Demon King didn’t care. He raised the corner of his mouth triumphantly, humming a tune, allowing the dark energy in his meridians to gradually deplete.

Soon, it will be soon. He had seen Su Sheng’s feelings for him these past few days. Once this matter was resolved, he would reveal everything to him, and the other party would surely be moved beyond measure.

The pendulum clock by the bed ticked rhythmically. Su Sheng leaned against the doorframe, his face pale.

If he was the Demon King, why go to such lengths to come to his side? And why treat him so well? What was worth achieving such a degree of care and companionship?

Yet, he still couldn’t convince himself. The anomalies he had previously ignored, the explanations he had rationalized away, now flooded his mind all at once.

Occasionally, Loren would speak in a manner identical to the Demon King, but that wasn’t enough to prove Loren was the Demon King; after all, it could just be a coincidence.

The demon guarding the entrance to the Walg Black Market had a peaceful expression of “willing to sacrifice for the master” after death. But perhaps Loren had disguised himself as the Demon King to avoid alarming other demons, then killed him unexpectedly?

Su Sheng suddenly remembered the potion bottle belonging to Loren that the Demon King in the castle had carelessly dropped. Perhaps they had clashed before, and Loren had escaped the Demon King’s grasp but lost the potion bottle.

Furthermore, Loren’s identity was the Prince of the Felicis Kingdom, and he could be absolutely certain that his father was human.

But these could all be coincidences. Only those demon horns—he had seen them, so even if they were fake, they couldn’t be so lifelike.

His hand gripping the doorframe clenched into a tight fist, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. After a few seconds of stunned silence, a sudden surge of fury rushed into his heart. For a moment, he wanted to rush forward recklessly and kill this person, or at least punch him in the face if he couldn’t kill him.

But his feet seemed rooted to the spot. His remaining rationality told him not to do it, at least not now.

After a very long time, the ache in his legs jolted him awake. He closed his eyes, lowered his arms, and stumbled out.

After dusk, the wide streets were sparsely populated. Most people had already gone home for dinner. Su Sheng staggered down the empty street, the setting sun stretching his shadow infinitely long, making him look frail, as if a gust of wind could blow him away.

He walked in a daze, and even when he fell, hurting badly, he picked himself up and kept going.

A transparent display window at a corner reflected a young man. The youth’s face was deathly pale, and his bloodshot eyes blinked blankly.

How unlucky.

He tried to curve his lips into a smile at the window but found he couldn’t manage it.

Why am I so pathetic? he thought.

How could I fall into such a simple trap?

Stupid.

Why did I let my heart waver?

Stupid.

Turning the corner, a familiar path paved with flowers appeared under his feet—the spot arranged for the confession earlier that morning. Unknowingly, he had walked here.

In the bakery not far away, the little chubby boy was sitting, waiting for him. Noticing him, he first smiled happily, opening his mouth to tell him something, but the next second, upon seeing his appearance, he tightly shut his mouth.

He ran over, grabbed his hand, and asked worriedly, “Why are you like this? Did something happen?”

Su Sheng immediately pulled his hand back. He realized this reaction seemed overly defensive and felt a little awkward, but he quickly reverted to his usual cold demeanor, saying flatly, “It’s nothing.”

“Take these flowers down.”

The chubby boy realized something. “Is it him…”

Before he could finish, Su Sheng cut him off with a cold command: “Shut up!”

The chubby boy was so startled he immediately made a gesture of sealing his mouth.

“Don’t mention this matter to anyone else in the future, understood? Especially not Loren,” Su Sheng said flatly. When he mentioned Loren, his eyes were so cold they were almost devoid of warmth.

The chubby boy nodded repeatedly, promising, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else. Not even Mrs. Wilga.”

Late at night, Su Sheng sat upright in a shop, sipping wine in small amounts. Not letting this pathetic, heartbroken state appear before Loren was the last bit of dignity he wanted to maintain in front of his enemy.

But Loren still found him.

Loren stepped into the shop, his face full of worry, and hurried over.

As soon as he reached him, Loren naturally reached out and took his hand. “Why is your hand so cold?”

He tightened his grip, asking, “What’s wrong, Norton? It’s so chilly, why aren’t you home?”

“And what about all these injuries?”

Su Sheng looked at the man’s concerned face and worried frown. He couldn’t help but wonder what mood he was in while acting this out for him.

He pulled his hand back, stood up, adjusted his collar, and turned his face away coldly. “It’s nothing.”

Loren took off his overcoat—still the black clothes he wore in the room earlier—and carefully draped it over Su Sheng. “It’s cold outside. Your hands are frozen. Be good, put the coat on.”

The scent that once belonged to Loren, which used to fill him with joy, now permeated his nostrils, making him feel nauseous.

He reached out to pull the coat off, but Loren pressed his hand down.