Demon Lord: Erotic Adventure in Another World - Chapter 534

Chapter 534: The Man Wearing His Face!
Baltimore had changed. The city she remembered was gone. The roads remained, the colour of the stone stayed the same, the faint sour scent still lingered near the river docks. And yet, as Vinea rode through the northern gates with Paul, Simon, and her ten knights in formation, everything felt off.

It was too clean.

The slums she’d once passed with Asmodeus faded, the old traders’ square walled off and silent. The narrow alley where she’d once kissed him in secret—gone. Turned into a checkpoint lined with guards. They wore the crest of Grigor. The spirit, however, wasn’t there.

No children chased dogs through the gutters. No gamblers called from crates outside the taverns. No street performers played their stringed songs on corners. She didn’t feel life or vibrance here, only order.

“Feels wrong,” Simon muttered beside her, adjusting the wide-brimmed hat over his eyes. “Too polished. Like a freshly made corpse.”

Paul didn’t speak. His eyes were on the rooftops.

The inner gates opened slowly, and a young steward in blue robes stepped forward. Clean-cut, trembling. He bowed low before even looking up.

“Princess Vinea… Lord Simon, Sir Paul… the Duke of Grigor sends his regrets,” the steward said. “He is currently meeting with high nobles from the mainland and cannot be disturbed.”

Vinea dismounted, her boots crunching on clean stone. “I’ll wait.”

“O-of course. His Grace insisted you be given the noble quarter’s east wing for comfort. There are refreshments waiting. Your knights will be housed in the barracks.”

Vinea raised an eyebrow. “Separate us?”

“Just for protocol. Of course, you may visit them anytime,” the man added quickly.

Paul watched him closely. “You nervous, boy?”

The steward blinked. “No, sir.”

Simon smiled faintly. “Then stop sweating.”

Vinea turned back toward the main road and stared up at the central tower, just visible over the red-tiled roofs.

Alan was there.

She could feel it.

But the Baltimore she remembered. The city where she danced barefoot in the rain and enjoyed hot steaming bread from the bakery with Asmodeus during a market rush was gone.

This city felt empty, sterilised, and repainted.

And the heart inside it no longer beat the same.

“… Let’s go.”

They followed the steward toward the guest wing, shadows growing longer behind them, and even the beautiful sky felt wrong.

‘This city was supposed to be neutral… so where did all the beastkin go?’

Vinea’s boots echoed softly across the polished floors of the guest wing.

Too soft.

The walls here were smooth plaster and gold-trimmed wood, the kind only mainland coin could buy. But it didn’t feel like the Baltimore she remembered. Now, a mere stage dressed up for nobles to pretend it wasn’t a place once stained with blood and poverty.

The poverty had carried a certain charm… as the culture of several races and kingdoms fused into a beautiful city of life and acceptance.

She entered the suite.

The rooms were large and clean. Fruit on the table. Wine chilled. Windows opened to view the inner courtyard; everything was perfect and prepared. Even a fresh set of folded robes in her demon size lay by the bath.

How did they prepare this without notice?

But no servants.

No guards.

Too convenient.

“We should be careful, John, Simon and Ygrenne please keep your guard up.”

Paul entered a moment later, removing his coat with a sigh. “You feel it too?”

“Yes.”

Simon leaned against the doorway, peering down the hall. “The guards looked away when we passed. Like we smell bad or somethin’ damn mainlanders.”

Vinea sat at the edge of the bed, fingers laced. Her sharp eyes flicked toward the window again. The courtyards were still empty. No beastkin. No elves. Not even half-bloods. All she’d seen since entering were humans.

‘They were everywhere last year…’

Merchants, messengers, even the flower seller with only one eye. Gone.

Simon finally said it. “This city was cleaned out.”

Paul nodded. “And they didn’t do it with words.”

Ygrenne entered last, closing the door behind her. “Scouts reported more border activity. Camps being built along the eastern hills. Likely the enemy.”

Vinea’s nails pressed into her palm. “So the war’s already started.”

Paul and Simon turned away; they didn’t have the ability or talent to judge the situation properly and instead wanted to run to their rooms and enjoy a drink.

“…”

“W-well… it’s beyond our thinking, Your Highness.”

Vinea stood. Her long coat fell around her like a curtain, and her dark brown hair swayed against her back. “Then we’ll watch quietly too.”

Simon blinked. “What?”

“I’ll go to the meeting.”

“They didn’t invite you.”

“Then I’ll arrive anyway.”

Ygrenne tilted her head. “Do you believe he’ll see you?”

Vinea stared at her for a moment. Then turned to the window again, watching the red tower glint in the setting sun. Her voice dropped.

“… He’s still my uncle.”

She didn’t add more.

But the air in the room shifted. Because whatever Alan had become, whatever shadow now wore his name, Vinea had come to see it with her own eyes.

Even if that meant facing him alone.

“…He always used to.”

***

The meeting would take place in a few nights, so Vinea couldn’t rush to meet with Alan exactly, and so Vinea didn’t sleep that night.

Not properly.

She stayed seated in the high-backed chair beside the window, one leg crossed over the other, staring out toward the central tower of Baltimore.

The steward had offered tea, but she hadn’t touched it.

She was immune to most poisons as a demon. Asmodeus warned her, so she obeyed

When the first silver light of dawn broke over the city walls, she was already lacing her boots. Ygrenne stood nearby, fully armed.

“Should we bring the knights?”

“No. Just us.”

The city lord’s castle was strangely quiet as they stepped through the hallways, even though morning should’ve meant the movement of servants, guards, and merchants. But there were only a few figures scattered about, moving with silent, rehearsed steps.

Baltimore looked like a city under siege, even without soldiers on the streets.

As they neared the council tower, Vinea’s eyes caught a pair of beastkin children sweeping stone steps. Their tails were tucked low. One flinched when a noblewoman passed.

That was all she needed to see.

“This place has changed,” Ygrenne muttered under her breath.

Vinea didn’t answer.

She just increased her pace.

At the top of the stairs, there were two knights in dull silver standing in front of the doors.

“No visitors allowed.”

“I’m not a visitor.” Vinea’s voice was flat. “I’m family.”

The knight didn’t move, but he hesitated.

Another voice came from behind him.

“Let her in.”

The door opened, and a familiar face stepped through.

Alan.

His cloak was clean, and he looked more resolute than before, with blonde hair combed back. But a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The uncle who fought for their kingdom and taught her the blade stood opposite her. Yet, he wasn’t the same.

“Vinea,” he said, like the name tasted unfamiliar. “What a surprise.” His eyes were like a snake observing its prey. “You’ve grown into such a charming lady.”

She stepped forward, studying him closely. Her pupils dilated, a deep, tight ache in her abdomen… something wasn’t right. This man didn’t feel human or… like Alan.

“I came to see you,” she said. “The others are worried.”

“Are they?”

He turned, gesturing inside. “Come. We’ll talk.”

She didn’t move right away.

Because as Alan stepped into the shadows of the room, the light caught the edge of his eyes.

And for just a moment, green flickered in the dark. Vinea followed him in, though she didn’t relax because this was enemy territory.

The doors closed behind her with a soft click, sealing the room. Alan gestured for her to sit at the long table at the centre, covered in a hot steaming series of plates and meals. Vinea found the room carried a faint scent of damp, like it hadn’t been aired out in days.

“I had the staff prepare breakfast,” Alan said casually, motioning toward a tray of untouched fruit and hot tea.

Vinea didn’t sit.

“Why didn’t you respond to the last three letters?” she asked.

Alan smiled faintly. “I’ve been… busy.”

“Too busy for a single word to your king? To your family?”

His smile didn’t change. “You sound angry.”

“I’m curious,” she said. “Because the Alan I remember didn’t hide behind things like a coward.”

Alan’s brows furrowed, his eyes shrinking up in an aggressive shape at Vinea’s attempt to push his buttons and make him angry.

That was when she caught it—the twitch in his eye. Barely a blink, but it was there. The calm mask slipped for a heartbeat before returning like stone.

Alan turned to the window, hands behind his back.

“Do you think Asmodeus sent you to spy on me?”

“Not at all, my dear husband only cares about his best friend being safe. Why? Do you doubt the man who did so much for you?”

A pause.

Then Alan’s voice, quieter than before: “You should leave soon.”

“Why?”

He turned again.

And this time, the light hit his face directly.

“Go…!”

His irises shimmered, changing colours as if ink staining a white cloth… but Alan covered his face, visibly struggling with a low groan. “Anne… please… you cannot be here right now!”

A voice filled with concern…

Alan’s body staggered before falling onto the table, with both hands slamming down.

“Princess Vinea!”

‘Alan!?’

His eyes changed, cold and lacking any human emotions… they were deep green.

Vinea’s voice became caught in her throat. But she didn’t step back, and her fingers twitched near the hilt at her waist. Alan tilted his head from side to side, almost studying her. Then he smiled, but there was no warmth.

“You always were the sharp one.”

The door behind her opened.

Ygrenne’s voice rang in, clear and urgent. “Your Highness, something’s wrong—”

But Vinea didn’t look back.

Her eyes stayed on Alan as she whispered, “You’re not my uncle.”

And the thing in Alan’s skin gave the softest chuckle.

“No. I’m something better.”