C4 CHAPTER4

Devon lay in bed, ill, and tried to picture his father's next move. Truth be told, he had never been keen on marrying his intended. All he yearned for was a quiet life as the Third Prince, steering clear of the chaos. Perhaps the Devil God had peered into his heart and orchestrated an accident to spare him from wedding the Princess.

Just maybe.

Throughout his life, disdain from his father and the Second Prince, his older brother, was all too familiar. They never hesitated to label him a weakling, doubting he'd ever grasp the true power of high Devil Energy. But Devon remained indifferent to their scorn. After all, it wasn't his doing that his father had a tryst with a human waitress, conceiving him beneath the stars – or so his brother's tale went. His hybrid nature, weaker than his pureblood kin, wasn't his choice.

Yet, what if his mixed heritage was a greater curse than he'd imagined? What if pure devil blood would have shielded him from the accident's harm?

Devon sighed, pondering whether his timidity was more of a liability than he'd admitted.

Hmm.

His musings were shattered by a reverberating sound. A booming voice filled the room, announcing, "System Activated: Mission Activated, Gaming In Four Hours."

Confused, Devon scanned the room for the source of the voice. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded, though no answer came. What system? What mission? And what game was it referring to?

Feeling like a fool was Devon Beaumont's pet peeve, and right now, he was the epitome of one.

A gentle knock interrupted his frustration.

"Who is it?" he called out, annoyance lacing his words. He was in no mood for visitors or conversation.

"Master, it's me, Sia... may I come in?" Sia's voice wavered with hesitation.

"Come in," Devon replied, his eyes rolling involuntarily.

“I...I am so sorry to dist...” Sia’s voice faltered as Devon cut her off.

“What do you want?” Devon asked, his impatience evident.

“The Royal Father has requested your presence in the throne room,” Sia relayed.

“Really? He wants to see me now? In my current state?” Devon questioned, glancing down at himself.

Sia’s brow furrowed in puzzlement, her eyes searching Devon’s as if willing him to grasp an unspoken truth.

“What?” Devon inquired, locking eyes with her.

“You should be well, Master. The Soul Lock Bone you absorbed ought to have healed you,” Sia clarified.

In that moment, Devon realized the pain had indeed vanished. “Could you help me remove these?” he asked, motioning to the bandages encasing him.

“Of course, Master,” Sia responded, setting to work.

“That’s enough,” Devon interjected as she reached the bandages near his lower abdomen.

“My apologies, Master,” Sia murmured, turning her back to him. “Is there anything else you require?”

“Inform my father I’ll join him shortly,” Devon directed.

“As you wish, Master,” Sia echoed, exiting the room.

Once the door clicked shut, Devon swung his legs off the bed and made his way to the bathroom to freshen up. The warm water soothed him, yet his mind wandered, not to his father’s summons, but to his upcoming nuptials with Olivia Miller.

Drying off, he wrapped a towel around his waist and entered his closet. He selected a black shirt and trousers, then admired his reflection. Despite the tumult of emotions, he couldn’t deny his own attractiveness. Slipping into a red robe, he left the closet.

Pausing on the mat outside his room, the Bone came to mind. He swiftly secured it in his closet, confident no maid would dare touch it without his explicit consent.

With the Bone safely stowed, Devon strode down the hall. A colossal beast lay in his path, bowing its head in deference. Without hesitation, Devon mounted the creature and rode from the Mansion to the throne room entrance. Dismounting, he straightened his attire and stepped into the room.

The chamber was resplendent, dimly lit by the scant sunlight filtering through. Yet, it was sufficiently illuminated for Devon to discern the figures of his father and his eldest brother, Liam.

"Devon!" Liam hissed in a hushed shout, enveloping him in a tight embrace.

"Brother," Devon greeted, his smile evident even in the embrace.

"Liam!" boomed the Royal Father's voice. "Do try not to crush him, will you?"

At their father's command, the brothers stepped back from their embrace and approached the regal figure seated upon his grand throne.

"Devon, how are you feeling? It appears you've recovered," the Royal Father observed. Christian was known for his sternness, yet his concern for his children, particularly for Devon, the frailest among them, was unmistakable.

"I'm well, Father. Thank you for your concern. May I inquire as to the reason for this summons?" Devon inquired.

"I've brought you here to discuss your impending marriage to Olivia, which is set to take place in three days," Christian announced, his voice laden with such gravity that it seemed to weigh down the very air.

Caught off guard, Devon blurted out, "Actually, about that—I'm not going through with the marriage."

A tense silence ensued, pierced only by Liam's sharp intake of breath.

He knew all too well the trouble that was about to befall his younger brother.