Velra hesitated.
Her shackled hands twitched once before curling slowly into fists.
"Because," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper, "I don't want to die."
The Duke blinked.
"…That's your reason?"
She exhaled shakily.
"And because he is… interesting."
A beat of silence.
"Deeply, infuriatingly interesting."
That was the first moment the Duke's expression cracked—
a faint, fleeting shift of the brow, a ghost of curiosity—
And then it vanished, replaced once more by the cold, carved calm of a Draken.
He spoke bluntly:
"Still, ending your life remains far more acceptable than sparing it. At the end of the day, you are a demon."
Velra's reaction at those words was…
deliciously revealing.
A full-body flinch.
A slight rise in her mana—then immediate suppression.
Her eyes widening, throat tightening, breath stalling just a little too long.
The Duke took every detail in, analyzing her with the quiet cruelty of someone who had interrogated monsters for decades.
