THE DEMON LORD'S ACCIDENTAL TENTH WIFE

The kitchen buzzed with activity, but Evelyn stood frozen as the head maid loomed over her, arms crossed.

"What? Are you rejecting to serve Lady Selena?" The woman's voice was sharp, impatient.

Evelyn swallowed hard and shook her head. "No… I—"

The head maid scoffed. "Then take the tray and go. You're lucky to be given a chance to serve her directly."

Lucky? That was a stretch. Serving Lady Selena meant stepping straight into the lion's den. After the brutal flogging, her body still ached. If she made the slightest mistake, she wouldn't just be punished—she might not survive the night.

But there was no choice.

Evelyn took the tray, her hands trembling as she steadied the glass of wine. Don't spill it. The words repeated in her head like a prayer. Just get in, serve her, and leave.

Her heart pounded as she walked down the grand hallway, the heavy doors to Lady Selena's chamber growing closer. Each step felt heavier, the weight of the tray pressing into her sore arms.

Taking a shaky breath, she knocked once.

"Enter."

The door creaked open. The room smelled of sweet perfume, warm and suffocating. Lady Selena lounged on a silk-covered chair, draped in an elegant red gown. A few of her maids stood nearby, watching with cold amusement.

Evelyn lowered her gaze and stepped forward carefully.

"My lady, your wine."

She approached the table, trying to keep her steps steady, her grip firm.

Don't spill it. Don't spill it.

Lady Selena's eyes flickered to her, a slow smirk forming on her lips. "Well, look at this. The little slave is still alive."

The maids chuckled. Evelyn forced herself to stay silent, placing the tray down with both hands.

Just as she was about to straighten, Lady Selena reached forward—swift and deliberate—and pushed the tray.

The glass tipped over.

A sharp gasp filled the room as the deep red liquid spilled across the pristine white tablecloth, dripping onto the floor.

Evelyn's breath caught.

No.

Silence.

Lady Selena's smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with cruelty. "Oh dear, what a mess."

The maids snickered behind her.

Evelyn opened her mouth to speak—to explain—but before she could, Lady Selena grabbed the half-empty glass and tipped it over her head.

Cold wine ran down Evelyn's face, soaking her hair and dress. The scent of it filled her nose, burning her already humiliated senses.

Laughter erupted around her.

Lady Selena leaned back, watching Evelyn with feigned pity. "Clumsy little thing. You should be punished for being so careless."

Evelyn's hands curled into fists, her body trembling. Not from fear, not even from the cold liquid soaking through her clothes—but from the injustice of it all.

She dropped to her knees, hands trembling as she reached for a cloth to wipe up the spilled wine. Her heart pounded, her soaked hair clinging to her face. The scent of the alcohol burned her nose, but she forced herself to focus.

Clean it. Just clean it and leave.

She barely got the chance.

A sharp kick landed against her side.

She gasped, falling onto her hands, the cloth slipping from her fingers. Laughter erupted behind her.

"Pathetic."

Another kick, harder this time.

Evelyn tried to scramble up, but a hand grabbed her hair and yanked her back. Pain burned along her scalp.

Slap!

Her head snapped to the side.

"Who do you think you are?" One of the maids sneered, gripping her hair tighter. "You think you're above us because you almost became the Lord's wife?"

Evelyn clenched her jaw. She wasn't above anyone. She never thought she was. She just wanted to survive.

A second slap struck her cheek, this one from another maid. Her ears rang.

Lady Selena's laughter rang out, smooth and cruel. "Enough."

The maids stepped back. Evelyn barely had time to catch her breath before a hand wrapped around her throat—Lady Selena's hand.

Selena's nails dug into her skin as she leaned in, eyes gleaming. "Did I say you could fight back?"

Evelyn hadn't even realized she had been resisting—her hands had instinctively moved to defend herself.

Another slap.

Then a sharp rip.

Evelyn froze as fabric tore at her shoulder.

The maids giggled, stepping forward again, grabbing at her sleeves, at the hem of her dress. Another rip.

She gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around herself, but they were relentless. More tearing. More laughter.

By the time they stepped back, she was left in nothing but the thin, almost transparent undergarment that all servants wore beneath their uniforms.

Her body burned with shame.

Lady Selena smirked in satisfaction, eyes sweeping over Evelyn like she was nothing more than garbage.

"Call the guards."

One of the maids ran to obey, and within moments, two palace guards entered.

Lady Selena took her time sipping her fresh glass of wine before finally giving her next order.

"Flog her."

Evelyn barely had time to react before pain lashed across her back.

Her body arched from the impact, her breath catching in her throat.

Another strike.

Then another.

The sharp crack of the whip echoed through the chamber, followed by the sickening tear of skin splitting open.

Evelyn bit down on her lip, refusing to scream, but the pain was unbearable. She could taste blood.

"Enough," Lady Selena finally said, flicking a hand dismissively.

Evelyn collapsed forward, barely catching herself on her trembling arms. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps.

"Take her outside," Lady Selena said smoothly. "She will kneel there until I decide otherwise."

The guards didn't hesitate. They grabbed her arms and dragged her through the halls.

No one looked at her.

No one spoke.

By the time they threw her onto the hard stone ground outside, the sun was at its peak.

Then they left her there.

The Day Passed Slowly

At first, Evelyn forced herself to stay upright, knees digging into the unforgiving stone. Her arms trembled at her sides, her back burned, and blood from her nose trickled onto her lips.

Her head pounded from the heat.

The sun was merciless.

She licked her cracked lips, but there was nothing but the dry taste of blood and dust.

Her stomach twisted in hunger.

She heard footsteps pass by throughout the day, but no one stopped. No one dared.

Lady Selena's order had been absolute.

Evelyn's vision swam, her body swaying. Don't fall. If you fall, you won't get back up.

The hours dragged on.

Afternoon faded into evening.

And then—rain.

At first, it was just a drizzle. Then, all at once, the sky opened up.

Water pelted down in cold, heavy sheets, drenching her instantly.

Her body shook violently from the sudden chill, but she couldn't even find the strength to move.

She let her head drop forward, eyes barely staying open as she let the rain soak her skin, washing away the blood, the sweat, the filth.

Maybe she should just close her eyes.

Just for a moment.

Just to rest.

Evelyn's knees buckled, her body crumbling to the rain-drenched ground. The force of her fall sent a dull shock through her limbs, but she was too weak to react. The cold seeped into her bones, her thin, torn garment clinging to her trembling frame. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her cracked lips barely parting as she fought against the darkness threatening to consume her.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The rain poured relentlessly, each drop a cruel reminder of her suffering.

A few feet away, a grand black carriage rolled through the palace courtyard, its wheels slicing through the mud. Inside, the King sat in silence, his gaze lazily roaming the storm outside—until something caught his attention.

A broken figure on the ground.

His brows furrowed.

"Stop."

At his command, the carriage came to an abrupt halt. The guards immediately reacted, rushing forward to shield him from the downpour with their black umbrellas.

The King stepped out, his boots sinking slightly into the wet earth. His sharp eyes narrowed as he approached the frail girl kneeling in the rain, soaked and shaking, her head bowed so low that her forehead nearly touched the ground. Blood smeared her skin, mixing with the rainwater.

His expression darkened.

"Who is this?" His voice was calm, yet dangerously cold.

None of the servants dared to answer.

The King tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes glinting under the stormy sky.

"Lift her head."

A guard hesitated before gripping Evelyn's chin and forcing her to look up.

The King stared at her. Disheveled. Drenched. Worthless.

"An eyesore."

The cold voice cut through the downpour, laced with disinterest. Evelyn barely had the strength to lift her head, but she felt his presence—the King.

He crouched before her, gloved fingers gripping her chin with little care for the mud smeared across her skin. He tilted her face up, forcing her to meet his golden gaze.

"You're still alive?" he mused, as if the fact amused him. "Tell me, what do you want? To be saved?"

Evelyn's lips parted, but no words came out. Her throat was too dry, her mind too fogged with exhaustion. She knew better than to beg—begging wouldn't save her.

She stayed silent.

The King's smirk deepened. He released her chin with a flick of his wrist, straightening to his full height.

"Interesting." He turned slightly, speaking as if it was a passing thought. "Very well, you'll serve me directly from now on. Let's see how long you last."

Evelyn barely had the strength to process his words before the guards hauled her up.

The King didn't glance back as he stepped toward his carriage, but his decision was final.

She wasn't sure if she had been saved—or simply thrown into another kind of hell.