Became Pregnant With the Demon King’s Child

Looks like everyone eager to flatter the Emperor decided to wear orange tonight.
The orange hue—close to imperial gold—was a symbol of loyalty. Lowell recalled the original novel’s detail: nobles loyal to or wishing to appear loyal to the Emperor often dressed in orange tones.
Many wore such blindingly vivid orange that it hurt the eyes, desperate to catch the Emperor’s attention even for a moment. Among them were those whose ashen faces floated oddly, the color clashing with their features.

“Grand Duke, we seem to be meeting quite frequently these days.”
One of those orange-clad nobles approached them with a sly grin.
He’s implying that Felix is neglecting his duties in the territory. The fact that he’s nitpicking during an official imperial stay means he must be ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ desperate to stir something up.

Lowell barely resisted the urge to scowl at the noble, who looked like a roasted sweet potato in neon. His leering smile only made him more unpleasant to look at.
Showing off his loyalty to the Emperor so blatantly… he’s just here to provoke Felix.
Lowell glanced at Felix. The Grand Duke showed no reaction to such a petty provocation. Instead, perhaps more concerned with Lowell’s gaze than the noble’s jab, he subtly tightened the hand on his waist.

“I don’t recall. Have we met?”
Felix responded in a natural, dismissive tone. There was a marked difference between being subtly disregarded and being openly looked down upon. Only fools or those with serious backing dared to provoke Felix outright.
So this guy’s a fool, then.

Lowell watched the noble’s already crimson face flush an even deeper red and had to stifle a laugh. There was something deeply satisfying about how effortlessly Felix had put him in his place—without even trying.
“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Sage, heir to the Baron of Arendelle.”
Hearing that he was merely an heir—and to a barony, no less—Lowell scoffed inwardly. Perhaps the man thought the Emperor would look favorably on anyone who antagonized Felix. Unfortunately, he didn’t realize that the Emperor hated incompetents as much as he did the cursed Grand Duke.

He looks old enough… and still just an heir? Must be pretty useless.
Felix glanced at Sage like one might glance at a particularly dull object, then turned away entirely.
“I doubt we’ll be seeing each other again. I’ll be sure to forget your name.”

There was no malice in the statement—just truth.
Felix probably doesn’t plan to return to the capital until the next Month of Blessings, so he meant it.
Lowell felt vicarious satisfaction on his behalf.
“His Majesty the Emperor is entering. Please show your respect.”

The once-rowdy ballroom quieted instantly. Everyone waited for the Emperor to ascend the highest platform. Seated beside the Empress on a golden throne, the Emperor radiated a lion’s oppressive majesty.
“It’s a fine day. Let us raise our glasses.”
He lifted his filled goblet with a smile that pretended to be affable. But no one in the hall believed for a second that it was sincere.

“I hope to see all of you alive next year for the Month of Blessings.”
After each Month of Blessings, nobles with suspicious behavior were often purged. His words were not taken as a joke. Felix, who had nothing to be ashamed of, simply ignored the comment—though he kept glancing nervously at Lowell’s goblet.
“To the Emperor.”

After the Emperor’s brief speech, the nobles lifted their glasses in unison. Lowell, with no intention of drinking, only brought his glass to his lips for show. But Felix, who had been watching intently, grabbed his wrist in disbelief.
“Someone who’s pregnant shouldn’t drink.”
Felix’s tone was dead serious, as if he thought Lowell genuinely didn’t know such a basic fact.

“I wasn’t actually going to drink it. Just pretending.”
Still unconvinced, Felix took the goblet and placed it firmly on the table. The movement, during such a synchronized toast, drew attention. Even the Emperor twisted his lips in amusement as he looked their way. His eyes glinted with amused malice.
“Ah, yes. I hear there’s good news?”

Everyone could tell who he was referring to.
“The temple announced the Grand Duke has found a mate. A rather striking couple, aren’t you?”
It was a calculated insult. Lowell’s status made him unfit to be the Grand Duchess, and Felix, the cursed sorcerer, was constantly ridiculed. Saying they made a good pair was meant to sting. But it had no such effect. In fact, Felix’s ears turned visibly pink—he looked almost pleased.

“It is an honor, Your Majesty.”
Seeing Felix now blushing down to his neck, Lowell replied in his place, playing the role of an oblivious young man with a bright smile. The Emperor looked at him with thinly veiled disgust.
“Yes. And when will the wedding be?”

“After the child is born. We’ll hold the ceremony in the territory.”
Felix subtly shifted to shield Lowell behind him—an instinctual move to protect his mate.
“May it go well. I worry, you see. Felix, born by draining the life from my dear sister…”

The Emperor’s voice was cutting. The word sister carried a strange note of affection and loathing—only Lowell seemed to catch it. The other nobles burst into sycophantic laughter, praising the Emperor’s compassion. Felix, stung by the barely veiled violence, said nothing. His earlier smile was already gone, replaced with a familiar gloom.
That bastard. So he brought up his sister on purpose.
Lowell’s blood boiled at the sight of Felix shrinking into himself. Of course, only he saw it that way—others would think Felix’s mere glare at the Emperor was outrageously arrogant.

“Thank you for Your Majesty’s wise concern. I’ll be careful with my health. The Grand Duke is incredibly kind and supportive.”
Lowell’s calm, assertive reply made the Emperor sit upright. The boy he’d assumed to be an idiot was more defiant than expected. The Emperor narrowed his eyes, unsure whether Lowell’s boldness came from stupidity or steel. Lowell forced a brighter smile to mask the anger roiling in his gut.
Who cares what a so-called emperor thinks.

To someone raised in a liberal democracy, Lowell—Eunoh—felt only contempt for tyrants. The Emperor’s attempt to crush someone with authority was pathetic to him.
Just another decrepit old man using power to abuse the weak.
Deliberately, Lowell rested his head on Felix’s shoulder. Felix flinched but didn’t push him away, and even seemed pleased. Around them, nobles struggled to hide their disbelief. That black devil? The youngest son of House Clarke must be insane, their faces clearly said.

“Yes. Grand Duke Felix has found a truly excellent match. Congratulations to you both.”
The Emperor lost interest and turned away. Lowell, still leaning against Felix, exhaled quietly. The tension had made him lightheaded again.
We can’t leave until the Emperor exits.

He would only leave after the first round of dancing between partners. Lowell wanted to get it over with and crawl into bed.
***
The orchestra swelled, signaling the official start of the banquet. After the Emperor and Empress danced, it was time for the high nobles. Felix and Lowell prepared to join the floor.

“Grand Duke, I’ll be in your care.”
Thankfully, with many couples dancing at once, the attention was somewhat dispersed.
But we’ll still have the most eyes on us, I’m sure.

Lowell fully entrusted his body to Felix, who led even more smoothly than before. During turns, Lowell practically floated, leaving no chance to misstep.
From the outside, they’ll just think Felix is strong—not that I can’t dance.
It was a satisfying outcome. But as the music neared its end, something unexpected happened.

Dizzy…
It wasn’t just the heat or the dancing. Now that the banquet had begun, Alpha pheromones filled the air—subtle, but unmistakable. In normal circumstances, such uncontrolled pheromone release would be frowned upon, but in this setting, it was considered a display of power.
To Lowell, it was nauseating.

I feel sick.
It was like standing in a perfume store—overwhelming and cloying. Pregnant, Lowell’s body rejected any pheromone that wasn’t Felix’s. As the dance ended, he nearly collapsed into Felix’s arms.
“Are you unwell?”

Felix had noticed Lowell’s flagging steps midway and now looked at him with deep concern. He quickly guided Lowell to a seat, fussing as he touched his forehead and rubbed his arms. Lowell, too tired to speak, simply shook his head.
“I’ll bring you water.”
The tables nearby held only alcohol. Lowell nodded—cool water sounded like salvation. Felix, unthinking, rushed off to fetch it himself. He didn’t even consider commanding a servant—it was faster this way.

“Are you all right?”
While Felix was gone, a man with an orange scarf draped over his arm approached. Lowell curled in on himself and shook his head.
“I have some medical knowledge. Would you let me take a look?”

Lowell moved to wave him off—but the man stepped in faster. Even through Lowell’s blurry vision, something gleamed.
That’s—!
The man pulled a dagger from his thigh and aimed it at Lowell’s stomach.

No one saw.
But seated at the highest throne, the Emperor was smiling.