C5 CHAPTER5

Devon was well aware of the impending confrontation and, frankly, he couldn't muster the energy to care. The stark realization that happiness with Olivia was unattainable loomed over him, and his own contentment was paramount.

"What are you trying to say, Devon? Help me understand," Christian demanded, his booming voice causing the room's doors to quiver on their hinges.

"Oh, shit," Liam whispered under his breath, inching closer to his brother, hoping their father wouldn't catch on.

"Father, while I honor your desire for me to solidify my status as the Third Prince, my feelings for Olivia are nonexistent. I'm convinced that any relationship between us would only lead to chaos, which benefits no one," Devon declared.

"You're intent on disgracing me, is that it? Do you not grasp that this marriage is essential to securing your domain?" Royal Father Christian challenged him.

Devon acknowledged with a nod; he was fully cognizant of his father's point. In the Devil Clan, it was customary for a prince nearing adulthood to undertake a war of expansion. Under the Devil God's tutelage, he would strive to restore the clan's honor.

But the logistics of the war remained a question.

The prince would receive a domain and spearhead the expansion. Every region would converge at the border, no exceptions, allowing the prince to taste true combat and bloodshed. The Devil Clan had no use for the weak; this war was a crucible for a prince's mettle.

Yet, Devon was the outlier. Stepping into battle in his current state was tantamount to courting death. To accept combat was to sign his own death warrant.

Christian was not blind to this truth. Despite his moniker as the Violent Devil King, he held his progeny dear, well aware of the difficulty in replacing any lost heir.

Disappointment in Devon gnawed at Christian as his son matured, but his hands were tied. The most merciful act he could bestow upon Devon was to shield him from a premature demise by granting an exception.

Therefore, lacking the martial prowess to wage war and claim his territory, Christian resolved to bolster Devon's political influence. The most effective strategy? Arrange a marriage for Devon.

Olivia Tara Miller was the intended bride, but Devon knew he wouldn't find joy in the marriage, no matter the consequences at stake.

"I'm truly sorry, Father, but my happiness comes before all else," Devon responded with a calm resolve.

"Devon, shut the hell up! Have you lost your damn mind?" Liam, his brother, scolded sharply.

Devon remained silent, fixing his gaze on his father.

"Why are you so unyielding, Devon? Why cling to your stubbornness? The alliance between demons and humans can't be postponed. The merciful tactics will only end up burying you! The wedding is crucial, and it will inevitably lead to the war for expansion. How can you remain so nonchalant in the face of what's looming?" Christian's voice thundered at Devon.

Christian was globally recognized as the Demon King, with a towering horn on his head and a stature as grand as a mountain.

"Father, it's quite possible my accident happened because this marriage isn't meant to be. I believe there's another solution, and we need to find it together. But as for the marriage, I'm simply not interested," Devon declared, his steady gaze never leaving his father's face, despite sensing his father's growing ire.

"The accident happened because you're weak! Get out of my sight before I do something I'll regret!" Christian's threat was palpable, and his sons knew he meant every word.

"You heard him, Devon! Go!" Liam urged.

After a moment's hesitation, Devon bolted from the throne room and onto his beast. Back in his quarters, he mulled over the confrontation with his father, relieved it hadn't gone worse and satisfied that he had spoken his truth.

An hour later, a knock came at his door. It was Sia, and he bid her enter.

"I suppose I should get used to your face popping up a trillion times a day," Devon quipped.

A sheepish chuckle escaped Sia.

"What's the matter now?" Devon inquired, only half attentive.

"Master, Princess Olivia Miller has arrived to see you. She just got here a few minutes ago," Sia informed him.

Devon's attention snapped into focus. "Wh...what?" he stuttered.

Why on earth was Olivia here? She must have come to check on him.

"Is everything okay, Master?" Sia inquired.

"Have her come in ten minutes," Devon directed, and Sia promptly departed.

Devon groaned with frustration; the last thing he wanted was her presence, yet it was unavoidable. His day was already fraught with enough issues.

Nine minutes later, Olivia entered the room, her smile beaming. Devon felt his skin prickle as he glanced up. Olivia's visage was predominantly beetle-like, save for her distinctly human eyes. Her smile required him to muster every ounce of willpower to resist the urge to bolt to the bathroom and retch.

"Devon, are you alright?" Olivia asked with a note of innocence, advancing towards him in an attempt to make contact. He sidestepped her, evading her touch as if it were the plague itself.

"Olivia, please, keep your distance. Don't touch me!" Devon blurted out, retreating even further.

Tears welled up in the Beetle's eyes, spilling down her cheeks.

In that moment, Devon realized... he had made a grave mistake.