DHATP 08

Episode 8

The Duke’s eyes glowed red, even darker and stronger than the demon’s Kyria had seen earlier that day.

‘Those aren’t just demon eyes…! But the Duke is human. Why does he look more demonic than a demon?’

The bloody red color made her skin crawl.

The Duke tilted his head slightly.
“Didn’t anyone tell you there’s a back door on the first floor?”

Hic!

Kyria hiccupped in surprise—it was a habit of hers.
Embarrassed, she pressed herself tightly against the wall and raised her fists in a clumsy little boxing pose.

‘If he attacks me, I’ll punch first no matter what!’

She looked like a frightened kitten trying to puff up and act tough.

The Duke silently watched her for a moment…
Then—he reached out.

Tap.
His large, cold hand rested briefly on her head.
Not a pat. Not a threat. Just resting there before pulling away.

“…?”

It wasn’t scary at all. In fact, it made her feel a little calmer.

The Duke spoke flatly.
“Next time, don’t tense your shoulders. If you relax them, your punches will be faster and stronger.”

“W-wait… you’re speaking politely to me?”

Oops. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
She quickly bowed. “S-sorry!”

The Duke raised a brow.
“Is it surprising that I use polite speech?”

“…Yes.”

Kyria realized then—his voice was calm, deep, and unexpectedly gentle despite his cold tone.
She finally found the courage to study his face properly.

Cool blue hair.
Sharp, serious eyes, shadowed by deep dark circles.
Handsome features that looked both tired and strangely elegant.
A faint tattoo or rune peeked from his chest, but he quickly pulled his robe closed when he caught her staring.

‘No, no, it’s not what you think! I wasn’t ogling!’

Then she noticed his right sleeve. It was far too long, covering his entire hand.

‘That must be where his body turned into a monster’s…’

Yes. He was Zenon von Lanperce, the tragic hero of the war—once a knight, now tainted by a monster’s curse.
That was why demons followed him, why people called him the Monster Duke.

In the original story, Zenon endured endless pain and people’s fear.
He protected his land silently—until he finally broke down.

“The war ended… but why hasn’t mine?”

He had planned to abandon the North.
But the heroine, Lily, stopped him.
She used her holy magic to ease his suffering, allowing him to hold on a little longer.

…But in the end, he still lost.
Later, he fully transformed into a dragon and was killed by the crown prince.
His last will passed the North’s rich resources to Lily.

That was his role: to highlight Lily and the prince.
Nothing more.

Remembering that ending left Kyria unsettled.
She had liked his character, even as a tragic side role.

But now…
‘Not this time. I won’t let him die like that.’

She had proof already—herbal poisons worked well on demons.
If they could work as medicine too… then maybe she could help him.

And maybe—
‘He might even give me the North’s resources instead of Lily!’

(Not that she cared about that… of course not… totally not!)

It could be win-win: she saved his life, and she got a reward.

Calmer now, Kyria reached for the recruitment notice.
First, she had to get hired.

“Duke, I’m actually—”

“Can you walk?”

“…Huh? Yes, I can, but—”

“That’s enough.”

Without listening further, he glanced at her wound and turned away.
“Follow me.”

“Eh? Duke—”

He didn’t answer, just walked into his chambers.

‘Seriously? Why do you always cut me off? Just because you’re a Duke?! Ugh…’

But she had no choice. She followed quickly.

And then—
She thought she saw him stumble for a second.
But when she looked again, he was walking straight, tall, and strong.

‘Did I imagine it?’

She glanced around his room.
The space was large but sparsely furnished—old but elegant.
One thing stood out: shelves and shelves of books.

‘Wow, that’s a lot of books… Wait. Is that… a magazine?’

Among the old tomes was a modern-looking magazine called From Cradle to Grave.
But that wasn’t even distributed in the North.

It didn’t suit the Duke at all.

She was about to step closer when—
Click.

The Duke pulled one book, and the entire shelf rotated, revealing a secret passage.

“This way.”

He entered first.
Kyria followed hesitantly.

The passage was narrow and dark like a cave.
She touched the wall as she hurried to keep up with his tall strides.

For every one of his long steps, she had to take two quick ones.

‘…This man has definitely never been on a date before. A hundred percent.’

Her silly thought was interrupted by his flat voice.
“We’ll soon reach outside. I cannot bless you, but I’ll lend you a wyvern instead. However…”

He stopped and looked back at her.

“You must promise me one thing.”

“…?”

“Tell everyone the castle and forest are terrifying and dangerous.”

“…What? Why?”

“So people won’t come near the forest.”

Kyria realized—the kidnappings always happened to people who entered the forest.
If no one entered, no one would be taken.

“And… was that why you told the priest to cast only a weak blessing? To protect people?”

“…You misunderstand.”

The Duke’s steps faltered. His breathing grew uneven.

“I am not that kind of kind person.”

“But you were protecting them—”

“It was a warning. Nothing more.”

His face twisted in pain.
He suddenly growled:
“Enough. Just get out of here.”

“…!”

He was suffering again.
Not from walking—but from something deeper.

Thud!

He slammed against the wall.

“Duke?! Are you okay?”

Kyria quickly lit her travel lamp.

But the moment light filled the tunnel—

“Don’t! Don’t look—damn it.”

The Duke staggered back, clutching his right arm through the sleeve.
Sweat poured down his face as he fought to control it.

“Gh—ugh…”

The sleeve tore. His arm was revealed.

Kyria’s breath caught.

A dragon.

His right arm wasn’t human anymore.
Black scales covered it from shoulder to clawed fingertips, longer and sharper than any normal arm.

The monstrous limb twitched violently, scraping the stone walls as if trying to break free from his control.

The Duke wrestled it down, trembling in pain.

Kyria stepped closer carefully.
“Duke, let me—”

Whoosh!

A sudden gust of wind knocked the lamp from her hand.
It crashed to the floor. Darkness swallowed them again.

In the pitch black, a pair of glowing red eyes glared at her.

The air itself turned sharp with killing intent.

Kyria’s skin prickled. She realized—
‘The wind that saved me from falling… That was him! The Duke!’

But this wind was nothing like before.
It sliced the back of her hand.

His low growl rumbled through the dark.
“Do not come closer. I let it go when you spied on my room, and when you lit that lamp. But there will not be a third time.”

No trace of politeness remained.
This was the voice of a ruler, commanding absolute fear.