THE DEMON LORD'S ACCIDENTAL TENTH WIFE

The Maids had been ordered to leave after enduring a series of floggings and brutal punishments—a lesson meant to be remembered. No one spoke of what had happened; they only whispered of what was to come.

Rumors spread like wildfire. The King had commanded the two queens to leave for the South Palace.

Evelyn sat on the cold stone floor, staring at the angry red welts striping her bare arms. When she moved, pain lanced through her body, forcing a sharp breath past her lips. Ah. She clenched her jaw, swallowing the sound. Weakness was not allowed here.

"Hold still," Marianne whispered, gently dabbing a cloth over the wounds. The sting made Evelyn's muscles tense, but she didn't flinch.

Then, the voice of the Chef Maid came, sharp and unforgiving .

"Evelyn! You and Marianne are to report to the front yard immediately. The King's new bride arrives soon. Be ready to receive her."

"Alright, Ma. We will do that," Evelyn said, standing with the help of Marianne.

The two made their way to the front yard, their nerves stretched thin. Who would be the King's tenth wife? The thought lingered in the air like an unspoken curse.

A royal carriage rolled through the palace gates, its polished wood gleaming under the morning sun. The emblem of the Demon Lord was etched in silver on the doors—a chilling reminder of who awaited inside.

Evelyn and Marianne stepped forward, their heads bowed in greeting.

"Good morning, Milady," they murmured as they helped the veiled woman step down.

Her face was completely covered. Not a glimpse of her skin could be seen. Silent, she allowed them to guide her toward the carriage that would take her to her quarters.

---

The moment the door shut, the noblewoman tore off her veil. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she clutched her chest.

Her maid rushed to her side. "Milady, are you alright?"

The bride's wide eyes darted around the opulent chamber—ornate, suffocating. "I can't… I can't do this."

"It's natural to be nervous before—"

"No." Her voice was sharp, trembling. "I love someone else. My heart belongs to another!"

The maid paled. "Milady… If you refuse, your family—"

"I know," she whispered. "They'll be killed. My house will be ruined."

Silence.

Then, through the window, she saw him.

A familiar figure stood in the courtyard—tall, broad-shouldered. Her breath hitched.

Him.

The man she loved. The one she had given her heart to.

And yet, here he was, escorting her to marry a monster.

Had it all been a lie?

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment before he quickly looked away.

Her hands clenched. No. I won't let this happen.

She spun toward her maid, voice low and urgent. "We have to run. Tonight."

"Run?" The maid's voice wavered. "Milady, your wedding—"

"I don't care. I won't marry a monster."

"The palace is heavily guarded. If we're caught—"

"I'll find a way."

Her gaze landed on the door. A maid was passing by.

"Psst," she called softly.

Evelyn turned, startled. "Yes, Milady?"

The noblewoman's grip on the door tightened. This is it.

"Come inside."

Evelyn hesitated, then obeyed. The door closed behind her.

She stood before the noblewoman, hands folded neatly. The bride gestured to the chair across from her.

"Sit."

Evelyn obeyed.

"How long have you worked here?" the noblewoman asked, lifting her cup.

"All my life, Milady."

A faint smile. "And do you like it?"

Evelyn chose her words carefully. "It is… my duty."

The noblewoman sighed, tracing the rim of her cup. "Such loyalty." She lifted her drink. "Come, have some tea."

Evelyn stiffened. "I am only a maid, Milady. I cannot share your cup."

"You're right." The noblewoman nodded to her maid. "Pour her a fresh one."

A steaming cup slid toward Evelyn. She hesitated. Something felt… off.

The noblewoman took a sip from her own cup. "See? Perfectly fine."

Refusing would be an insult. Slowly, Evelyn lifted the cup to her lips.

Warm. Sweet. A hint of bitterness.

The noblewoman's voice blurred. The room tilted.

Evelyn's fingers trembled. Her breath hitched.

Something was wrong.

Her limbs turned heavy. Her vision swam.

The noblewoman's voice cut through the haze. "Yes, dear?"

Evelyn tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come.

The floor swayed.

Darkness.

The noblewoman's heart pounded as she tightened the sash around Evelyn's waist. The maid worked quickly, applying rouge to the girl's lips and brushing her hair into an elegant style.

Evelyn, still dazed, barely moved. Her head lolled slightly, eyes half-lidded, lost in the drug's haze.

"That should do," the noblewoman's maid whispered, stepping back to inspect their work. "She looks just like you, Milady."

The noblewoman turned to her lover—the tall, broad-shouldered guard who had once held her heart in stolen moments. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes flickering between her and the unconscious Evelyn.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked in a low voice.

"Would you rather I stay?" she shot back. "Marry that monster?"

His hands curled into fists before he exhaled sharply. "No." He reached for her hand. "Let's go."

The noblewoman cast one last glance at Evelyn.

She would wake up in a world she didn't belong to, dressed in silks, expected to wed a man she had never met. But there was no other way.

With a final nod to her maid, the noblewoman pulled up her hood. "Let's move."

A dull, pounding ache filled Evelyn's head. She groaned, blinking against the dim candlelight. Her body felt strange—heavy, sluggish. The moment she moved, a wave of dizziness crashed over her.

"She's waking up."

The voice was too close. Panic flared in her chest. Evelyn forced her eyes open, trying to focus.

She was in an unfamiliar room. The air smelled of incense and perfume, and the weight of something silky clung to her skin. She looked down—her hands were decorated with intricate henna, golden bracelets stacked along her wrists.

Her breath caught.

This wasn't her dress.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. "What—" Her throat was dry. "What is this?!"

A maid knelt beside her, pressing a hand to her shoulder. "Stay calm—"

Evelyn shoved her away. "Calm?! What did you do to me?" She struggled to sit up, but the room tilted.

The second maid—one she barely recognized—looked guilty. "You're helping a soul today."

"Helping a—" She stopped, her brain sluggishly piecing things together. The dress. The jewelry. The perfume.

The bride.

Evelyn's stomach twisted. "No. No, no, no—"

She tried to rip the jewelry off, but the first maid grabbed her hands. "You have to go! There's no other choice!"

Evelyn thrashed. "Like hell there isn't! You drugged me!"

The door creaked open. Outside, a noblewoman with sharp eyes stepped inside, her expression unreadable.

"It's time."

The maids yanked Evelyn to her feet. She staggered, her legs weak beneath her. "Where are you taking me?!"

The noblewoman smiled. "To your wedding, of course."

Her wedding.

Evelyn's breath came fast and shallow. Her eyes darted to the doorway, but the guards were already there.

There was no way out.

The carriage rocked as it rolled forward, the steady clatter of hooves against stone making Evelyn's pulse pound harder.

Across from her, the maid sat stiffly, refusing to meet her eyes.

Evelyn dug her nails into her palms, her voice low and sharp. "Tell me the truth. Now."

The maid swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Evelyn let out a bitter laugh. "You drugged me, dressed me up like some noblewoman, and now you're taking me to marry the Demon Lord. 'Sorry' isn't going to fix that!"

The maid's hands trembled in her lap. "She had no choice. She had to escape. You were the only one who—"

Evelyn's body went rigid. Her stomach turned.

The bride ran.

And they put her in her place.

Evelyn grabbed the edge of the seat, her breathing erratic. "You don't understand. I work in the palace. The King—he'll know I'm not her!"

The maid shook her head. "It won't matter."

Evelyn stared at her, heart hammering. "What do you mean, it won't matter?"

The maid's voice was barely a whisper. "You'll be his wife by then."

"And I'm sure it won't be that hard to ask for forgiveness!"

"What!?"

The Imperial Hall loomed ahead, its towering walls lined with banners and torches. The moment the carriage stopped, the door swung open.

Evelyn didn't move.

A nobleman stepped forward, his expression warm but firm. "Come now, my daughter. Don't be nervous. Becoming the 10th wife of the Demon Lord is an honor."

Evelyn's stomach lurched.

She didn't dare speak. They would hear the difference in her voice. Instead, she forced herself to nod.

Evelyn's head throbbed as she was led through the towering doors of the Imperial Hall. The golden gown dragged heavily behind her, and the thick veil made it hard to breathe.

She didn't know how she got here. The last thing she remembered was drinking from that cup… then darkness. Now, she was standing in front of an altar, her hands ice-cold as they placed a ceremonial dagger in her palm.

The priest, cloaked in deep crimson robes, raised his staff. "The bond shall be sealed in blood."

A blade was pressed into her free hand. Evelyn stiffened.

Beside her, the Demon Lord extended his own hand over the altar. A silver bowl lay beneath it, waiting. Without hesitation, he sliced across his palm, and dark blood dripped into the basin.

The priest turned to Evelyn. "Bride of the King, offer your blood."

Her fingers trembled around the hilt. If she refused, she'd be exposed. But if she went through with this…

She swallowed hard.

Slowly, she brought the blade to her palm, pressing it against her skin. The sharp sting made her wince as warm blood welled up and dripped into the bowl.

The priest began chanting, dipping his fingers into the mixture and marking their foreheads with the sacred symbols. The thick scent of iron filled the air.

The hall was silent. Hundreds of nobles watched.

Evelyn's breathing was uneven beneath the veil. She could feel the Demon Lord's presence beside her—towering, powerful, terrifying.

The priest raised the bowl. "With blood, the gods bear witness. With blood, the fates are sealed. Let the unveiling commence."

Evelyn's stomach twisted.

She reached up, her fingers shaking, and pulled back the veil.

The moment her face was revealed, a piercing scream shattered the silence.

"WHO IS THIS?!"

A woman surged forward, her face twisted in horror. "THIS IS NOT MY DAUGHTER!"

The hall exploded into chaos.

And Evelyn realized—she was about to die.