Chapter 13: You seem to crave closer contact with them?

Restel’s casual yet probing question landed like a stone tossed into a still lake, sending powerful ripples surging through Rose’s heart.

Anger, humiliation, and unwillingness surged up in an instant. But she bit down hard on the inside of her lower lip, forcibly swallowing the storm of emotions and forcing herself to maintain an icy surface calm.

Out of long habit, she crossed her arms—the same gesture the priest Perth had once used when contemplating complex injuries or devising treatment strategies.

Now, performed by slender arms covered in fine scales, the motion carried a bitter irony. She let out a faint, almost inaudible sigh. Her silver eyes held a depth and gravity far beyond what a juvenile dragon should possess.

The right to speak? In her eyes, this was pure sadistic amusement on Restel’s part.

A war that had raged for nearly a century—how could its course possibly depend on a prisoner who had just been forcibly transformed into a juvenile dragon, who couldn’t even control her own body? The question itself was absurd to the point of ridiculousness!

She had no intention of offering any opinion on so-called “strategy.” Doing so would only make the Demon King more smug.

Rose suddenly lifted her head. Her silver hair lifted lightly with the motion. Her silver eyes shot toward the still-frozen demon guard with piercing sharpness. Her tone was firm and declarative, carrying clear intent to set the record straight:

“I don’t know. And I am Rose—but I am not this guy’s fiancée.”

She enunciated each word distinctly, then finished with a disgusted “hmph,” as though flicking away something filthy.

Not his fiancée. Not his lover. Certainly not his friend.

It was both a declaration to the world and a reminder to herself: as long as there was even the slightest chance, she would take his head.

She would find a way to kill him!

Only then could she break free from this hellish prison and possibly return to where she belonged.

The moment Rose’s resolute words fell, Restel acted as though he hadn’t heard them at all. He turned casually back to the guard, rubbing his chin in thought:

“Tell Grimm that I’m holding a wedding next week. Have the front lines keep watch for now.” He paused, seeming to feel the timing was a bit rushed. “Tch… next week might be cutting it too close. A few of those guys are still gnawing on sand in godforsaken corners of nowhere—they probably won’t make it back in seven days…”

This shameless deflection—even bringing up wedding planning—finally ignited the fury Rose had been suppressing.

“Don’t think just because you dragged me here! Turned me into this freakish thing! That suddenly makes me one of you! And you still want me to marry you?!”

Rose trembled with rage. Her small chest heaved dramatically. Her silver eyes seemed ready to spit fire as she shouted furiously at Restel:

“I’m telling you—don’t—even—dream—of—it!”

Before her words even finished echoing, Rose leaped down from the luxurious, ice-cold bed. Her small bare feet landed with a light “pat” on the smooth obsidian floor. Without pausing, she spun around and marched quickly toward the massive closed doors of the bedchamber.

She only wanted to escape this suffocating space that reeked of Restel’s presence.

“Eh? Where are you going?”

Restel remained lounging casually by the bed, asking the obvious with deliberate innocence. His tone carried the playful amusement of a cat toying with a mouse.

“Back where I came from, obviously.”

Rose didn’t even turn her head, muttering angrily under her breath.

Her goal was clear: return to that initial prison—the dark, damp underground chamber. She remembered the massive spiral staircase winding downward. Deep within those stairs must lie a teleportation array. With the faint residual mana fluctuations still lingering in this dragon body, she might be able to activate it and send herself back to the place where she was first abducted.

“Oh? Really?”

Restel’s voice remained unhurried, carrying the calm certainty of someone who saw through everything. He watched Rose’s indignant little figure draw closer and closer to the heavy doors.

“You sure about that?”

His tone suddenly dropped, laced with a dangerous playfulness.

“The core area where that teleportation array is located… happens to be my carefully curated playground for my little pets.”

He paused deliberately, watching Rose freeze mid-step, before adding slowly:

“It seems… compared to staying with me, you’d much rather have some ‘intimate contact’ with them?”

His dark crimson eyes gleamed with an eerie light in the dimness. An unabashedly wicked grin spread across Restel’s face as he savored the sight of Rose’s slender, trembling back at the doorway. Her fists clenched so tightly her nails nearly pierced her palms. Her shoulders shook faintly from the extreme mix of rage and fear.

“You’re dismissed for now.”

Restel waved a hand at the guard.

“Yes, my lord!”

The guard—sensing the tense atmosphere and not wanting to interrupt what he assumed was a lovers’ spat—quickly bowed, retreated silently, and considerately closed the heavy doors behind him.

Once again, only invisible gunpowder smoke hung thick in the bedchamber.

Rose remained stubbornly facing away from Restel, rooted to the spot like a cold silver statue—neither advancing nor turning back in compromise.

Restel rose to his feet. His tall figure cast a long shadow in the fireplace light as he slowly walked over and stopped a short distance behind her.

“If… what you’re really worried about is those Heroes—if you’re hoping I’ll spare the army camped in the hills…” His low voice carried a strange, seductive quality. He deliberately slowed his speech, observing the tense line of Rose’s nape. “I can grant that. Halt the offensive. Even let them retreat farther.”

Impossible, Rose sneered inwardly. This was just another trick to make her turn around, to make her feel grateful. She wouldn’t fall for it.

Restel’s tone abruptly turned icy, carrying the signature cruelty of a Demon King:

“Alternatively… I could issue the order right now. Have Grimm’s vanguard launch a full-scale assault. Crush that hill completely.”

His words cut like frozen blades.

“Until you can’t stand it anymore. Until you kneel before me, tears streaming down your face, begging me to spare them…”

Restel leaned down, bringing his breath hot against Rose’s trembling ear.

“Tell me, Rose—for the sake of those ‘comrades’—what are you willing to pay? Are you willing to do anything?”

That was even more impossible.

A priest named Perth’s life had never been worth that much.

One kneel would only invite endless encroachment. Her dignity would be utterly trampled; even her soul would be extinguished.

At that point, she would no longer be Perth—nor even Rose. She would simply become a tail-wagging, pleading pet dragon at the feet of Demon King Restel.

Neither of the two choices Restel offered—both disguised as mercy, both in truth deadly traps—managed to shake Rose’s icy silence.

He keenly noticed that the violent trembling in the small shoulders before him gradually subsided.

It was as though, after a raging storm, only a dead-silent ice field remained. This quality—this ability to return to utter calm under crushing pressure, this astonishing resilience and unyielding principle hidden beneath such a fragile exterior—only deepened the twisted affection in Restel’s heart.