Chapter 7: The Compromising Young Dragon.

“I…”

Perth jerked her head up. Her silver eyes widened in shock, a sharp “No” nearly bursting through her clenched teeth.

But her current situation left her no room to resist.

She was no longer the priest who could wield a staff of holy light. She was merely a creature forcibly transformed into the form of a juvenile dragon.

She glanced around. The cold, thick walls of Demon King City loomed like the fangs of a giant beast, trapping her completely.

Escape? In this body, she probably couldn’t even reach the gates of the city.

Even if she screamed her refusal—what would it change?

From the moment she had been transported here, twisted into this pitiful state, to the way Restel had just demonstrated absolute power capable of crushing any thought of resistance…

Perth’s heart slowly sank to the depths. She knew every moment unfolding before her was a bloody proclamation: this Demon King was not asking for her consent. He was issuing a command.

Resistance would only invite more cruel humiliation or punishment. The bitter realization corroded her dignity like venom—she had no choice. For now, she could only submit to the man who had destroyed everything she once was.

She bit down hard on her lower lip until she tasted the faint metallic tang of blood, barely managing to hold back the wail threatening to spill from her eyes.

The small fist covered in fine, soft silver scales clenched quietly at her side. Her nails dug deep into the tender palm; the tiny sting of pain was the only anchor she could grasp right now to prove she still existed.

Crystal-clear tears stubbornly welled in her silver eyes. She forced them to hover at the edges, refusing to let them fall.

All her life—through harsh training, facing the brutality of demonic beasts—she had never shed a single tear from fear or grievance.

But now, because of this utterly absurd “proposal,” because of this imprisonment that had stripped her of her very self, tears of humiliation filled her eyes uncontrollably.

For the first time in her life, she wept for such a wretched fate.

At that moment, a large, well-defined hand—carrying undeniable strength—reached over and precisely enveloped her soft, tiny paw.

Perth’s entire body stiffened. Every nerve snapped taut. Instinctively she tried to pull away, but he held her firmly, leaving her no room to move.

What did this damned man want now? To snap her fragile hand? Or to humiliate her in some even more vicious way?

Fear and fury clashed violently inside her small chest.

Restel seemed extremely pleased with her panicked, tense state. He let out a low chuckle and gently lifted the little claw he had imprisoned.

Lowering his gaze, he looked at the back of her trembling paw as though admiring a delicate trinket. Then, with near-reverent slowness, he bent his head and pressed his cool, thin lips lightly against the fine silver scales covering her hand.

“Don’t cry, little one.”

His voice was low and magnetic, sliding across Perth’s eardrums.

He lifted his eyes. In those dark crimson pupils shimmered a twisted, utterly satisfied light.

“I will make you the happiest person in this world.”

He pronounced “happiest” with special clarity—but to Perth, the word felt like a honey-coated dagger stabbing straight into her chest.

The cool touch of his lips sent a violent shiver of revulsion through her. Nausea surged in her stomach once again.

What she wanted had never been some bullshit “happiness.” She only wanted to break free of these cursed bonds. She wanted to use every means possible—even if it meant biting through the throat of the demon before her—then escape this place deeper and more suffocating than any nightmare!

Intense killing intent boiled inside her tiny body, yet found no outlet. In the end it could only transform into deeper helplessness, making her tremble faintly.

Restel seemed completely oblivious to the hatred burning in her eyes and the rigidity of her body. He released her small hand but did not fully let go; his fingertips still rested lightly, almost teasingly, on her wrist.

As though suddenly remembering something amusing, that wickedly enthusiastic smile returned to his face.

“By the way, I’ve been so busy with important matters that I haven’t properly introduced myself yet, cute little one.”

He leaned forward slightly. That devastatingly handsome, almost demonic face drew even closer. His dark crimson pupils focused intently on every minute shift in expression on the silver-haired juvenile dragon’s face, as though trying to capture some interesting flicker of fear or confusion in her eyes.

“Listen carefully.”

The corner of his mouth hooked upward in a tone of proud solemnity.

“I am Restel—the sole sovereign standing at the pinnacle of this Demon King City.”

He paused, seemingly savoring whatever reaction the silver-haired juvenile dragon might show.

Then, slowly, as though dropping a massive bomb, he uttered the name that could shake the entire continent.

“My true form is—Bahamut.”

After saying this, Restel’s gaze—filled with undisguised curiosity—fell to the luxurious, thick dark-red carpet at his feet.

He saw the silver-haired juvenile dragon huddled inside the blanket, her small body almost rigid from overwhelming shock and rage.

He raised an eyebrow. Having finished his self-introduction, he now wanted to know the name of his future wife.

“So, what about you? My fiancée.”

He deliberately emphasized the word “fiancée.”

“You can’t expect me to keep calling you ‘little one’ so vaguely forever, can you? Or perhaps…”

He deliberately drew out the words, dark crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“…you’d prefer I exercise my rights early and just call you ‘wife’ right now?”

Either of those terms made her shudder violently, uncontrollably.

Instinctively she resisted. Deep inside, a voice screamed: No. She could not tell him her name.

She could not let that filthy mouth utter the name “Perth”!

Perth…

That name—and everything it represented: faith in the holy light, the duty of a priest, the dignity and freedom she once possessed—had all been destroyed.

Just moments ago, right here in this cold Demon King City, everything she was had been mercilessly, thoroughly crushed and obliterated by the man before her—along with her very physical form!

The priest of light named Perth had already turned to ash and smoke in the face of his absolute power.

Now she was merely a pitiful juvenile… something imprisoned, toyed with, forced into an absurd marriage pact—a wretched existence that couldn’t even keep its own name.

Overwhelming sorrow and the collapse of her sense of identity swept over her.

In her silver eyes, the crystal tears she had held back for so long finally could no longer be contained. Like pearls slipping from a broken string, they slid silently down her cheeks covered in fine silver scales.

She pressed her pale, childish lips tightly together, trying to stop the sobs threatening to break free.

The juvenile dragon’s vocal cords produced a faint, trembling sound thick with childish crying. As though using every last ounce of strength, she struggled, painfully forcing two syllables through clenched teeth:

“I am…”

…

“Rose.”