Corvan woke up only to find himself in a foreign room he never saw before. He would have thought that being defeated by a demon was a dream if it weren't for Keelan soundly sleeping on top of him. The eleventh had drooled on his top that he pushed him away instinctively in horror and repugnance.

Keelan slid off him limply before the first-ranker realized that he was lying just on the corner of the bed. The poor eleventh-ranker had been accidentally pushed off of the furniture. Corvan winced as a huge thump assaulted his ears.

He stood up, hurriedly patting his hair in place before anyone saw him looking as though a bird made his head its nest. His pride would not allow himself to hurt it any further. Being knocked out was enough to make him feel aggravated enough as he was.

He straightened the wrinkles on his clothes and stood erect, fixing his posture and appearance to the best of his ability.

"No . . ." Keelan groaned as he rolled over on the floor. "T-that's mine. Lord Lienhard . . . the meatballs you stole . . . gonna pay for it." He then rubbed his stomach, salivating while he did so.

Corvan felt a frown crossing his features. "Did he even forget?"

So Keelan dreamed of food even when he was asleep. No wonder he drooled so much. The first-ranker just found out that he would bear a grudge for life if someone did something to his meal. How laughable.

Still, where were the others? The girls, to be specific. Looking around, he only saw Brindon and Keelan—Valeriana, Tamara, and the others weren't anywhere to be seen.

He clenched his jaw.

The doors clicked and opened wide, revealing the demon he confronted before. His hackles rose and he broke into a defensive stance, his hand flying up to his waist only to find it empty and devoid of any weapon.

"I am no fool like you are to leave you with any weapon." He smiled a smile that grated his nerves. "It's such a timing, though. It is nice for you to be awake. Quite a surprise to see how you held against my demonic power. Nothing less I expected of the Celestial Twelve."

Corvan narrowed his eyes as realization dawned on him.

"Where are the others?" He asked, forcing the words through his teeth. He didn't care about how he was put to sleep at the moment, he had to know where the rest of his comrades were.

"They're safe, if you must know." He said. "I just realized I haven't properly introduced myself, which is very rude. You can call me Faolan."

"Or is that even your real name, demon?"

"I told you, it's Faolan." He then stepped aside, brushing an imaginary dirty off his shoulder. "Now, if you would please come with me."

"Why—"

"Don't make me think twice about the 'status' of your friends. I can assure you that I can change that this very second." He said with a firm, unyielding tone.

Corvan wasn't about to back down. "You dare threaten me and I will make sure to relieve your shoulders of the responsibility of carrying your head." He spat, the anger flaring in his eyes.

"Not before I do that to your friends." Faolan retorted. "You're free to resist, but if you don't comply, I cannot guarantee their safety."

It took all of Corvan's willpower not to simply pounce on the guy and claw his eyes out. He curled both of his hands into a fist so tight that his nails were digging into his palms. He was shooting daggers at the aggravating demon that he would've already died if looks could kill.

Nevertheless, it wasn't as though Faolan could not feel the intensity of his anger. If he had a choice, he would have not chosen to challenge the lord. Corvan's eyes were a pair of piercing ones—their sharpness rivaled that of a blade. The emerald green orbs were smoldered in the purest quintessence of both fury and vehemence. It took a great deal of effort out of him not to shudder as he met his gaze with his.

He doubted using the same trick he did before would work on him—or any of his comrades for the matter. Lord Corvan was the very best example of an enemy no one would ever want to have. Neither of the rankers was foolish enough to commit the same mistake they did before. Faolan would have to be careful.

Corvan mustered every last bit of his grace and dignity he had in him before he walked towards the door. Before he went past Faolan though, he stopped and spoke without sparing him a glance.

"If I ever find a way out of this, or should you show even one millisecond of weakness, I'll take your head." He emphasized the words as threatening as he could. "Don't ever let your guard down."

Faolan steeled himself as Corvan walked past him, his words cutting right through his brain. His obsidian black eyes widened and he stiffened, his hackles rising to the point that he became paranoid merely seeing the lord brink. The lightest brush of his hair and even the littlest twitch his fingers made him feel wary.

"Don't ever expect I will." He said, glad he didn't stutter in his reply.

Even so, he composed himself and followed the lord out. Faolan locked the door behind him, making sure it was shut tight and secured before they left.

"Do turn to your right." He instructed, and Corvan almost 'forced' himself to do as he said.

Being told what to do was something he didn't put up with very easily. Now, he was being instructed like some dog and it didn't please him one bit. That demon could consider himself dead that very moment, but he didn't want to underestimate him once more. Corvan gave the abomination a chance to fight fairly with him, but he wasted all of that.

Such dishonorable, underhanded tactic. He could prostrate himself before him all day and Corvan would never accept a single word apology.

As gruesome images of murdering the demon began flashing inside his head, Faolan called out to him and told him to stop as they came to face the entrance to a certain room. Faolan stiffly walked before Corvan and opened the doors for him to enter, letting him bask in the sight of its grandeur—though it was not even remotely close to the one within the Ember Palace, which was his home.

The dining room.

He scoffed.

It was fairly decorated with wooden furnishings. There was a decent chandelier and the floor was covered by a Persian carpet. The dining table was shaped oval, with about thirty chairs in place. It had a considerably big size.

As though there would be a grand gathering, a hefty feast was laid out on the surface—varying from meat, vegetables, and a wide array of other dishes that he doubted the two of them would be able to eat alone.

It didn't please him to see so many foods being wasted so easily. There were a lot of other people in Valemnia who were starving to death, and these dishes were carelessly prepared. One way so that the so-called Lady of Loquin could flaunt her wealth and power?

But this place was no palace, so he wasn't too impressed.

He knew someone who would be, however.

Corvan could already see how her eyes would sparkle as she looked around. It was funny how she was easily impressed with this sort of things—probably because she was raised in a simple life with nothing too ostentatious.

A high-pitched voice squealed behind the furthest chair within the room, followed by an excited greeting that grated his ears. "Oh, Lord Corvan! How wonderful! I greet you a pleasant evening!"

His previous amusement was suddenly replaced by irritation.

Corvan coldly gazed to the direction of the voice and saw a girl restlessly squirming on her seat. She was particularly petite, with delicate features, but nothing too special. Her looks were average—at least, for him. If it weren't for the way how she dressed, he would pass her off as plain.

"You are Asthore?" He asked demandingly, not bothering to hide the domineering and dignified aura around him.

Now it's time for his 'noble' mode.

When around nobilities and formal events, everyone expected him to change. This was particularly a very cold side to him, as everyone had observed—he was sure that Valeriana saw him like this before, but never said anything. Being young as he was, he was always on guard around people he did not like.

He felt a wave of anger radiate from the demon behind him, particularly because he was sure he was glaring holes to his head as he continued smugly making his way into the room.

The lord forced back a smirk, choosing to keep his indifferent, cold expression instead.

Asthore seemed startled and suddenly uncomfortable. "Y-yes . . ." She stammered. "D-do sit!" She exclaimed, forcing a smile.

Meaning to insult her, he chose a seat which was about ten chairs away from where she currently sat and made himself comfortable. He ignored the uncertain look on Asthore's face along with a hint of embarrassment.

Seeing the look on his lady's face, Faolan cleared his throat. "Surely you would like to sit somewhere near milady so as to make your conversations more . . . efficient?"

"If I was called here for something so trivial such as a conversation, then I would rather eat in the room I came from or not eat at all. Starvation is not something foreign to me." He said, showing her that he was not so easily pleased and that he was not at all going to easily succumb to her wills just because of food. Perhaps Keelan might've, but he would never. "As you can see, I do not prefer associating myself with those who are involved with demons."

Asthore gave him a look of hurt. "I-I see . . . then, Faolan, leave us please."

Corvan fought back another grin. He did not expect that at all, but he could take advantage of it.

Faolan seemed suddenly mortified. "But, milady! I cannot—"

The lady's face turned hostile. "I said leave us!"

He backed down, his jaws tensing as he swallowed heavily. "Of course . . . milady." He hesitantly obliged. "I will leave you to your guest for a few minutes while I try to get the others to wake and join you here."

Corvan gazed at the demon from the corner of his eyes tauntingly, allowing a smirk to grace his lips for a few seconds before it faded. Faolan could not feel any more frustrated than he was then, but did not allow his emotions to get the best of him. Instead, he sent daggers back at Corvan, warning him not to try anything fishy if he cared about the safety of his friends.

"I'm watching you."

Looking at the girl, he might've not been older than fourteen or fifteen. Although she was near Corvan's age, she was nowhere near as mature as he was.

But she had control over him.

"I'm sorry if he was a bit rude." She apologized politely that it made him deadpan—not that it affected his outward expression.

"He's a demon, so it's no wonder." He dismissively told her, causing her to sigh. "But your actions cannot be more different than his. He is your servant, is he not?"

Asthore nodded, at loss.

"Then, seeing as he is under your command, his actions are your responsibility."

"I-I apologize. But, Lord Corvan, you must know that I admire you and your friends so."

"Then, let them go." He bluntly stated. "It would also help us if you stop changing the seasons around the city and put everything back to normal."

Her face became dangerously dark. "I will not!" She yelled, banging her fists against the surface of the table and standing up. "It's always snow, winter, snow, winter! Why is Prelurésia so boring?"

"My country is all rain or no rain, you call that boring?" Corvan asked, feeling his brow briefly rise upwards before going back to their original position. "That's just how things are."

"I-I . . ." Her face went red with fury as her shoulders tensed and she clenched her fists on her side.

"You are very naïve." Corvan allowed the words to roll from his tongue with sharpness, although his face was uncaring. "Do you really think you're even worthy of being called the Lady of this city? How utterly laughable. To associate yourself with demons to get what you want, being so selfish . . . you are an improper ruler."

Asthore stared at him in anger.

He hoped this would set her off and make her do something that would somehow give her the reason for Corvan to 'stay away from her sight'. He then would be able to do something about their situation.

"You are saying that . . . I am not fit to become the leader of this city, then?" She huffed at him.

Corvan did not answer verbally, but stared straight into her eyes with his cold ones.

They had a staring contest for a few seconds until a smile suddenly made its way to Asthore's lips, followed by a small blush. She started giggling flirtatiously while fluttering her eyelashes at Corvan, which made the young lord fight back a shudder. He was glad he didn't eat anything yet or he would've actually vomited it all out.

What in the world was up with this girl?

Well, it wasn't as though it was anything new to Corvan—to have girls throwing themselves at his feet.

But this . . . this? This was just too much.

"If you're that enthusiastic about it, how can I refuse?" She waved her hand at him.

What exactly was she talking about now?

Corvan's brows furrowed without him realizing and he tried not to show the scowl that was tugging on the muscles of his face.

"Aw, how cute! Pretending to be innocent, I see?" Asthore giggled while Corvan looked away in disgust. "It's fine! Don't be shy! Why don't you just say you just want to be my husband?"

His head snapped to the direction of the girl, shock finally showing on his face. "What?"