Became Pregnant With the Demon King’s Child

Lowell knew he needed to move—but his heavy body didn’t respond the way he wanted. Even as the dagger flashed before him, he couldn’t react.

If only I didn’t have a fever… I wouldn’t be like this.
Just then, a black barrier appeared in front of him, forming a shield. The man holding the dagger struck without hesitation. Light flared from the dagger’s tip as it collided with the shield, attempting to pierce through. Though hastily formed, the shield was sturdy enough to hold for a moment—long enough for Lowell to twist his body away.
“Lowell!”

Felix’s voice rang out from the far end of the ballroom as he rushed toward him. He closed the distance in an instant, but not fast enough to beat the assailant standing right before Lowell.
Thunk—
The sound of the dagger plunging into flesh echoed, and blood splattered across the ballroom floor. The once-thundering instruments fell silent. A heavy hush descended over the crowd.

“Ugh.”
Twisting his body had spared his abdomen, but the blade lodged itself in his shoulder. It was a stroke of luck that Felix’s intervention had made the wound shallow. But it didn’t lessen the shock: someone had been attacked in the heart of a royal banquet.
“How dare you…”

Felix’s voice came out in a low, cold murmur—and at that moment, the palace knights finally sprang into action. The man who stabbed Lowell did not resist as they seized him. Lowell, resisting the urge to clutch at the wound, scanned the room sharply.
This was all a performance.
The palace security couldn’t possibly be this lax. The Emperor—or someone close to him—had allowed this to happen on purpose.

They wanted to see how Felix would react if I got hurt.
Kneeling, Lowell looked up at the Emperor. His face now bore the expressionless mask of perfect composure. And yet Lowell could see it—beneath the calm was a glimmer of joy.
You’re so pleased you can’t even pretend to be shocked or angry.

Forcing his blurred vision to focus, Lowell looked toward Felix. Despite the shoulder wound not being life-threatening—thanks to magic keeping it under control—Felix stood paralyzed, face pale, hands trembling. He couldn’t move closer. Compared to this, his reaction in the rain felt like nothing.
This is dangerous.
Even with pain flaring through him, Lowell’s attention was fixed solely on Felix. It had to be—black magic surged around Felix’s feet. He had lost control.

For a mage of his caliber, that was serious. The stronger the magic, the worse the backlash when it slipped out of control.
Even if it wouldn’t escalate into a full rampage like it had with the drugged champagne, the erratic magic was still dangerous—and it gave the Emperor grounds to accuse him of misconduct.
“What have you done?”
The attacker, who had swung the dagger so brazenly, began to lose his smug smile as Felix’s black magic wrapped around him. Before becoming the Demon King, Felix had never flaunted his power. Since mastering control of his abilities, he rarely let emotions show—except on the battlefield. That meant few had ever seen this infamous magic firsthand.

“I asked you why you did this.”
A sword of pure magic formed in Felix’s hand. He looked seconds away from cutting the man down unless given a convincing answer. The blade slowly pressed against the orange-scarved man’s throat. Blood trickled down the edge and pooled on the floor. Felix even resented that this man's blood was mixing with Lowell’s.
“Grand Duke, incidents within the Imperial Palace are…”

A knight beside him tried to intervene, citing protocol: that such matters fell under the jurisdiction of the palace guard. But he trailed off, silenced by Felix’s presence.
“So you’re telling me to stand down?”
The knight backed off. He feared that saying more would cost him his life. Right now, Felix saw everyone in the ballroom as an enemy.

“Grand Duke Felix. I understand your Omega has been harmed, but put away your sword. This is the Imperial Palace.”
The Emperor finally spoke, rising from his throne. Only the most astute in the room could hear the quiet thrill hidden in his tone.
“Justice will be served. For now, obey. That’s an imperial order.”

Felix didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on Lowell, bleeding before him. Not raising his sword in that moment was already the limit of his self-restraint.
Lowell, struggling to stay conscious, realized he had to stop Felix from outright defying the Emperor.
“Ugh…”

Felix’s hand tensed. The blade pressed deeper into the ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) man’s neck. The Emperor began descending the stairs.
“Felix.”
Lowell called his name, but Felix didn’t react. Or perhaps he didn’t hear. Seeing the Emperor move closer, Lowell whispered in a more despairing tone.

“It hurts, Grand Duke Felix.”
Felix, who had seemed deaf to everything, flinched. Only after Lowell moaned again did he finally drop the sword and stumble toward him. He knelt at Lowell’s side, stretching his hand out—but pulling it back again and again, unsure what to do.
“Grand Duke…”

Lowell reached out with his uninjured arm, wordlessly asking to be held. It wasn’t out of a need for warmth—it was a calculated move to keep Felix from picking the sword back up.
“A-Are you okay?”
Felix gathered him into his arms. Though his presence radiated a bestial fury, like something protecting its wounded cub, he tried to speak as gently as he could. Seeing the black magic slowly settle, Lowell finally let out a sigh of relief.

“Please… call a priest.”
Lowell’s voice was fading. He still wanted to watch over Felix, but his body was reaching its limit.
“You must… stay beside me.”

Strangely, saying that made him feel certain Felix would.
Lowell sat alone in a white room. Eyes open, unmoving, he tried to process where he was—and why there was nothing, no one.
Even someone as used to solitude as he was began to feel a quiet ache of loneliness.

“Is anyone there?”
He hadn’t expected a response, but black magic began to rise softly from the floor. It should have been frightening, but Lowell smiled faintly. It reminded him of someone he’d grown used to.
“Is that you, Grand Duke?”

He reached out to touch the black magic. It moved with utmost care, as if to show it meant no harm.
“Still, it’s less lonely with you here.”
The magic slowly grew, taking shape. Lowell brushed his hand over it and muttered, “A black cat?” But the shape forming was larger, sturdier.

“A jaguar?”
Lowell picked up the small, young black jaguar that had formed. It nuzzled into him, its gentle blue eyes full of affection. It pressed its head repeatedly against his cheek.
“That tickles.”

He quickly realized it was a dream about the child in his womb.
“Kkomul… Why did you wait so long to show up? I thought you weren’t coming.”
Until now, he hadn’t felt especially attached. But now, holding it—even if only in a dream—he felt a strange tug at his chest. Tenderness. Affection.

“If I’d known you were this cute, I’d have treated you better.”
He’d barely gotten pregnant, caught a cold, and then been stabbed. It couldn’t have been an easy time for the child either.
“Ending up in the body of someone who never even imagined pregnancy… must be a lot to deal with, huh?”

His voice was soft with quiet regret. With everything else happening, he hadn’t taken time to truly think about the baby.
I chose to keep you… I should’ve cared more. Maybe, deep down, I was still resisting the idea.
The jaguar seemed displeased by his tone and rubbed its head against Lowell’s belly with a whine.

“Huh? Where are you going?”
After a long stretch of cuddling, the jaguar suddenly stood and nudged his leg with its body. It was urging him to leave.
“See you next time.”

Lowell held the image of the little jaguar in his eyes as he stepped forward. As he walked, the dizziness returned. The urge to turn back and check one last time gnawed at him.
He stood still, hesitant—until a voice called out from somewhere.
“Lowell.”

Someone was calling him. The voice was desperate, like a prayer.
“Open your eyes, Lowell.”
Without resistance, Lowell walked toward it.

Someone is waiting for me.
He wanted to end that painful, desperate wait—even one second sooner.