Became Pregnant With the Demon King’s Child

As soon as Lowell came to and opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Felix’s face, filled with worry. There was something almost mournful in his seriousness that made Lowell let out a weak laugh. Maybe it was because he had just seen the young jaguar in his dream, but the image of the two overlapped in his mind.

Adorable, really.
Lowell looked at Felix in silence for a while. The despair in his dark eyes was slowly fading, and something like a flicker of hope had begun to take its place. Even though Felix wasn’t crying or praying, Lowell could tell he’d been making a desperate, silent wish.
It was Felix who called me back.

Lowell slowly sat up and looked around. The room was unfamiliar—lavish, but with no signs of being lived in. The expensive furnishings were neatly arranged, but lacked any trace of use. That made sense; this was likely one of the guest rooms used only when nobles like Felix came in from distant territories for the Blessing Month.
"How long was I out?"
Lowell felt oddly self-conscious asking such a cliché line that sounded like it belonged in a novel.

“Two days.”
Two days, not half a day. Lowell fell silent, stunned by Felix’s response. No wonder he looked so worried.
“I thought you were going to die. Again. Because of me.”

Felix seemed unable to shake his guilt, repeating it like a broken record. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was still wearing the same clothes from the banquet. Lowell remembered asking him not to leave, and it seemed Felix had stayed at his side without budging. He hadn’t even let go of Lowell’s hand, clutching it like a lifeline. Lowell stared at their tightly entwined fingers, then finally spoke.
“I got hurt because of the guy who attacked me. Why would you blame yourself?”
“I broke our contract. I said I’d protect you.”

Lowell glanced at Felix’s other hand. He had clenched his fist so tightly that blood had dried and crusted over. When Lowell shifted slightly, he saw the floor stained with blood as well.
Why did the priest leave Felix in that state?
A strange tightness welled in his chest. Ordinary people wouldn’t feel guilty about breaking a contract they’d been forced into days ago. But Felix was clinging to a bit of warmth he’d only just experienced—and he didn’t even realize it. Or maybe he did realize, dimly, but pretended not to, out of fear that expecting anything would only lead to being abandoned.

So he used the contract as an excuse. He told himself this turmoil was because he failed to uphold a promise, rationalizing his pain. Lowell followed the logic easily. Rather than forcing Felix to confront that truth, he decided to start by easing the guilt.
“If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been stabbed in the stomach. That would’ve been fatal.”
The wound had vanished completely, but the injury itself had been real. His breath caught just from recalling it. Lowell steadied himself and gently stroked Felix’s hand.

“Thank you. You saved my life, Your Grace.”
His clear blue eyes met Felix’s black ones. He’d received plenty of blame and hatred before—but genuine gratitude was rare. Felix looked away, at a loss for words. Then he suddenly changed the subject.
“The man who attacked you is going to be executed. Apparently he had private soldiers with him, and since he didn’t report it, he can’t avoid punishment.”
Lowell gave a faint, bitter smile. It felt like everything had unfolded exactly as expected.

Did they discover signs of treason first, or was it the stabbing that came first?
Even as he asked himself that question, he already knew the answer.
They probably promised to spare his wife or child if he followed orders. Not that the vile Emperor would actually keep such a promise. Must’ve been like clutching at straws.

Lowell thought back to the Emperor’s usual tactics in the novel. Hurting others in desperation—even when forced—was revolting. So was the Emperor, who exploited such weakness.
“A dangerous man, indeed.”
Whether or not Felix understood the Emperor’s intentions, Lowell didn’t elaborate. He didn’t want to burden him with unnecessary stress—or reveal just how much he already knew.

“You don’t seem surprised. Or pleased. The man who tried to kill you is being executed.”
“From the sound of it, it wasn’t entirely his decision to stab me.”
Lowell wasn’t interested in things that were already out of his hands.

“Is that so?”
The bed creaked softly as Felix sat down beside him. Their bodies drew closer, and a gentle warmth hung between them. The smoky apple scent of Felix’s unrestrained pheromones laced the air. Lowell instinctively shifted back, but the bed’s headboard blocked his retreat.
“Still… the Blessing Month’s events must’ve been ruined because of me.”

To escape the sticky heat lingering between them, Lowell changed the subject. He felt compassion for Felix, but that didn’t mean he was ready to respond to his affections.
“The banquet went on like nothing happened. Vomit-worthy nobles don’t let anything disrupt their routine.”
Despite being a noble himself, Felix sounded utterly disgusted. The slight easing of his pheromones helped Lowell relax, and he responded gently.

“No, I mean Your Grace’s Blessing Month was ruined because you stayed to look after me. Even if it wasn’t fun, I wish it hadn’t been unpleasant.”
He didn’t care how anyone else felt. Maybe there were decent people at the banquet, but when Lowell was attacked, Felix # Nоvеlight # had been the only one to act. It was human nature to prioritize those close to you. Lowell couldn’t blame anyone for that—and he had no reason to concern himself with the others.
“It’s all for show. Nobody truly enjoys those banquets.”

It was a clumsy attempt at comfort, but a sincere one.
“Better to be holed up in here than mingling with those smiling, backstabbing nobles.”
Apparently that hadn’t felt sufficient, because Felix added another line. In that awkward addition, Lowell saw his kindness. It wasn’t hidden very deeply—just carefully overlooked by everyone until now, which was both infuriating and sad.

“Still, it only happens once a year. I wish there could’ve been at least one happy memory.”
“Wait—were you looking forward to it?”
Felix seemed to reconsider things from Lowell’s perspective. The thoughtfulness in that shift made Lowell want to applaud, but the mood was too serious. He sent silent praise instead.

“Not exactly looking forward to it, but… it was our first banquet together.”
They’d barely gotten through their practiced dance, and the evening had ended in trauma. Lowell hadn’t expected much, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed.
“Then… what about a village festival?”

Felix spoke without thinking and immediately frowned. His eyes darted as if unsure where to look. He didn’t take the offer back, but the slight twitch of his lips betrayed his nervousness at his own words.
“We’re heading to my estate next week anyway… I thought maybe… you’d be disappointed.”
He offered the explanation like wringing water from a stone, and even that felt unlike him. When Lowell had been unconscious, Felix hadn’t had the capacity to notice his own odd behavior. But now, something told him he wasn’t quite himself.

Negative thinking had its own inertia. People clung to it because change might be worse. Felix, too, was trying to return to his “original self.” But Lowell’s pull on him was far too strong.
“Alright.”
That simple answer threw Felix’s world out of order. The thought that things might get worse didn’t even register. His heart surged before he could stop it. It wasn’t pheromones—it was just Lowell.

“I hope our last memory in the capital is a happy one.”
In that moment, Felix truly wanted to make Lowell happy. His thoughts, his heart—everything burst past the limits of his control.
“…Yeah. I hope so too.”

Being with Lowell made the world feel upside down. The rules he’d known no longer applied. Lowell didn’t push him away—he approached. He didn’t hate—he embraced. He didn’t demand anything—he simply accepted him. And for things one had no immunity against, there was no defense.
Still, even if Lowell’s world was strange and overwhelming, Felix didn’t find it unpleasant.