Having greeted all of the Demon Generals, I finally returned to my chambers.
Every step in the enormous hallways of black marble echoed, yet not a single sound of her followed me.
I flopped onto the edge of the bed, staring at the faint indentation where she used to sleep.
"Seriously?" I muttered. "Even if you hate me, at least show up for the morning meeting or something. Some… basic respect, maybe?"
The silence answered with… well, silence. Great, she hated me so much she even ghosted me. Classic.
Exhaustion won. I collapsed onto the bed, pulling the blanket over my head.
Then it hit me, the vision, or a dream, or some sort of accursed future preview DLC my life had apparently downloaded overnight.
I saw flashes of what might come: the empire in ruin, shadows moving in the corridors, fires in the distance, servants hiding in fear. And Serena… standing alone, her silver hair catching the faint glow of burning halls, her eyes full of pain and defiance. I could feel it even from the vision—how much she had suffered because of the life I had led, because of what I had done as the Demon Lord.
I shot upright in bed, my blanket halfway over my head.
"What the hell is this?! My life depends on this future and there's no system, no levels, no 'upgrade your skills' menu?! I'm the Demon Lord! I should have a freaking system! Something to track progress! I can't even figure out how to fix this!"
I threw my arms toward the ceiling. "ISEKAI GOD! IF YOU EXIST, I NEED A SYSTEM, NOW! OR A QUEST MARKER! OR A DAMN NOTIFICATION!"
I pounded my fists on the bed frame. The bed didn't break. My dignity did.
The door creaked open.
Serena stood, her arms crossed, glaring as a queen about to exile some small kingdom.
"You've gone mad already?" she asked, one eyebrow raised, eyes sharper than any sword I'd ever wielded.
I froze, mid-flail. "I-uh-I'm just. planning! Yes. Planning to survive. Totally sane. Not shouting at empty air. Nope."
Her gaze didn't falter. I suspected I'd just earned the title of "Official Lunatic of the Demon Realm."
She sighed.
I stared at her, wondering if blinking too much somehow would set her off.
The room suddenly felt ridiculously small, despite the massive obsidian pillars lining the corners. My chest constricted, not from the fear of what could happen, but from the absurdity of it all. I am the Demon Lord. And she hates me enough to melt these pillars just with a glare.
I rubbed my face. "Okay. Fine. No shouting. Maybe a quieter system request. Whisper it like… 'Dear Isekai God, please give me a HUD and stats menu.'"
Serena blinked, clearly unimpressed. I think she even rolled her eyes.
Then the weight of reality hit me again. The vision, the glimpses of what I had done, of what the world had become under my hand… the fear, the destruction, the distrust in everybody's eyes… and Serena's suffering. I felt it weighing on my chest, like a mountain.
"I… I am in possession of the power of the Demon Lord," I muttered to myself. "But what good is power if I can't fix what I broke? I could command armies, crush cities… but I couldn't fix her trust. I couldn't make her forgive me. Not without… something."
I buried my face in my hands. "A system, a guide, a tutorial… anything! I can't just wander around making mistakes. My life, her life, the world… it depends on me figuring this out!"
She crossed the room silently, an omen of terror and exhaustion.
"Have you gone mad?" she asked again, softer this time but still cutting through my dramatic meltdown like a blade.
I peeked through my fingers. "I… maybe? No, not mad. Just… visionary. Strategic. Like a tactician… yelling at the universe."
Her lips twitched. Maybe a smirk? No, probably a twitch of annoyance.
"Because you're yelling at the ceiling like a child who's demanding candy," she said.
I froze. True. But it was a battle of survival, damn it.
I looked at her, seeing the faintest flicker of… memory? Pain? Something beneath her usual icy armour. "Serena," I said quietly, "I… I know I've been cruel. I know the world fears me. But I… I want to change that. I want to fix things." Her expression didn't soften-not yet-but her eyes lingered on me a fraction longer than they normally would.
Finally, she looked down, her arms still crossed. Her voice lowered, almost to herself: "I thought… he would care. I gave everything: my heart, my trust, my loyalty… and I was ignored. Piece by piece.
Every promise was empty. Every kind word… a mask." She paused, breathing slowly. Memories flickered across her features-the nights she had cried alone in the castle's shadows, the moments she had pleaded with herself to hold on, the crushing weight of betrayal. "I tried to hold on," she whispered, and her crimson eyes shone. "I tried to believe that things could be different. But… it didn't matter. I gave up. I had no choice but to give up." And in that silence, I knew: the journey ahead wasn't about armies, magic, or even survival. It was about regaining her trust before it was too late.