NOVEL NEXT Chapter 364: Less Tragic
The dining room was absurd. She wasn't sure what she expected—some formal, cold, throne-room-style nightmare? Instead, it felt… lived in. Yes, the chandelier above the long obsidian table glittered like it cost more than most houses, and the walls were lined with art and candles—but the chairs were cozy.
Lux was already there. Lounging with his legs kicked up on the side of his own chair, sipping tea like he hadn't just emotionally body-slammed her half an hour ago.
Sira was also there too, sipping her wine.
He looked up when she entered. Stared a moment too long.
She looked away first.
"Better?" he asked.
"I guess," she muttered, sliding into the seat Lyra pulled out for her.
"You look… less tragic."
"Thanks."
He grinned. "You're welcome."
The food came next. Lyra moved like a ghost—plates of grilled salmon, honeyed roots, warm herb bread, and something that shimmered like sea-glass jelly filled the table in silence.
Ariel stared at it.
She didn't move.
Lux raised a brow. "You waiting for a prayer, or…?"
She looked up sharply. "I—should I?"
He shrugged. "Depends. If you're planning to summon something with it, maybe not at my table. Otherwise, eat."
Her hand shook slightly as she reached for the bread. Her stomach growled the moment she took a bite. Warmth spread through her limbs.
Real food. Not scraps. Not leftovers.
Real food!
She teared up in happiness.
"Eat slow," Lux said, leaning back. "Or you'll puke it back up. That would ruin the aesthetic."
She took another bite. Slower. Still fast enough to make her cheeks burn.
He watched her, sipping his tea with that unreadable look he always wore.
Halfway through the meal, she finally spoke.
"Why are you helping me?"
He didn't answer right away.
"Is it pity?" she asked, quieter now.
"No."
"Then what?" Her fork clinked against the plate. "You don't know me. You don't owe me anything. I'm not… useful. I'm not rich. I'm not…"
She trailed off, frustration tightening in her throat. "I don't understand you."
Lux set his tea down. "Good."
She blinked. "What?"
"I don't want to be easy to understand. That's how you get used. That's how you get filed and forgotten. Predictable people get written off first."
She frowned. "So you're just… what? Playing a game?"
"No." His tone softened. "But I'm not doing this for free, either."
She stiffened.
"Not like that," he said quickly. "I don't want your body. I don't want you working as a maid or selling your soul or whatever dramatic nonsense you've been conditioned to expect."
Ariel didn't move.
"I want you to be something more," Lux said quietly. "Something better. Because they told you you were trash. And I hate when people waste potential. It's like bad math. It offends me."
Her throat tightened. "But… what if they were right?"
He looked at her for a long moment.
"They weren't."
Silence again.
The chandelier creaked above them, swaying slightly with the air vents.
"I don't have anywhere else to go," she whispered.
"Then don't go," he said simply. "Stay. Eat. Sleep. Breathe. And maybe… fight back."
She stared at her plate, suddenly blinking faster.
"I'll try," she said.
Lux smiled faintly. "That's the first smart thing you've said."
Her lips curved. The smallest ghost of a smile.
Lyra appeared again with a tray of tea and fruit slices, placing them wordlessly between them. The scent of honeyed citrus and mint drifted between the plates, delicate and clean—too soft for a room that still held the weight of emotional rubble.
Lux sighed, stretching back in his chair, tea cup balanced between two fingers like he didn't just dismantle someone's lifelong identity over salmon and sarcasm. "Alright. You're fed and look calmer. Progress."
She smiled and teared up again. Despite not speaking softly, it was the best thing she ever heard. Not to mention, his actions matched his words.
-Tuk!
A sharp sound cracked through the tension.
Sira set her wine glass down—firmly, not shattering, but enough to make both of them flinch slightly. Her expression was unreadable, eyes narrowing as she leaned her chin against her palm.
"Don't," she said coolly. "I hate crying girls. It makes you look weak."
Ariel's throat tightened. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat dragging all the way down her spine. She sat straighter, nodded without speaking.
Lux glanced sideways at Sira, but didn't interrupt. He knew that tone. The one she used when she wasn't being cruel—just honest. Blunt. Raw, like a knife still wet from the forge.
Ariel, eyes still on her plate.
Sira glanced toward Lux.
"You don't usually tolerate this kind of thing. Crying. Burdens."
He didn't answer right away. Just studied her face, then exhaled slowly.
"I thought I crashed into her," he finally said, voice low. "And was gonna dump her at the hospital with a sympathy check and a polite wave goodbye."
He tapped his finger on the rim of his tea cup.
"But then I checked on her and found some informations. The pearls. The identity wipe. The forged registry."
He didn't add and the scars. He didn't need to.
Ariel's lips trembled again. "Sorry. For being a burden. I—"
"Don't apologize," Lux said, raising his hand. "I get why you act this way. Your ex-family didn't just hurt you—they stripped your confidence. Broke you down, piece by piece. It's systematic. I don't blame you for it. But… this kind of fragility? It's not something Sira and I are used to dealing with."
It wasn't cruel. It wasn't sharp.
But it was final.
Ariel went quiet.
Sira exhaled slowly, swirling her wine. She and Lux exchanged a glance—and for a second, neither moved.
But inside?
Their instincts were coiled tight.
For royal demons—especially ones born from sin itself—something fragile was never just pitiful. It was temptation. But not the kind people thought.
Not lust.
Not seduction.
But the urge to shape. To break and bend and mold something weak into something beautiful and dangerous. Into a weapon. Into madness. Into devotion.
That was how demonic nobility functioned. The soft ones weren't saved. They were transformed. Hardened into something with claws.