Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 114: Touched by the Devil

(Leif’s POV—ThorenVald Estate—The Next Morning)

That morning will forever be known as The Day The Mansion Ascended To Chaos.

The mont Alvar and I told our parents that we’d like to marry here—quietly, modestly, peacefully— Both mothers instantly shot out of their seats.

"We need florists!"

"Call the tailors!"

"Summon the priest!"

"Find the phoenix-embroidered veil—NOW!"

They vanished in a blur of lace, perfu, and deathly determination. Father, anwhile, turned slowly toward Alvar with the expression of a man who had just spotted a tax fraud.

"...Alvar. A word. Privately."

Translation:

’Hurt my son and you will evaporate.’

Which ans right now, Alvar was probably upstairs being lectured on how to be a devoted, loyal, soft-handed husband by my father.

I prayed for his survival. anwhile, in my office...

"WHAT!!! I AM AGAINST THIS MARRIAGE, MASTER!!"

Luminael’s voice detonated through my skull like divine thunder.

My vision went white. My ears went numb. My soul, briefly, left the building. And before I could scream:

THUD!

Zephyy pounced on the sword like a furry missile.

"You idiotic divine butter-knife!" he screeched. "I almost lost my ears and eyes! Do you want us BLIND?!"

He smacked the blade repeatedly with his tiny paws.

Luminael shrilled, "UNHAND , YOU OVERGROWN LIZARD--AKA--CAT! YOU ARE HEAVY! YOU ARE—"

Zephyy hissed like a boiling kettle. "You deserve every slap, you jealous piece of furniture!"

They devolved into hissing, screeching, glowing, tail-whipping chaos.

And ?

I sat there, slowly losing every brain cell I once respected. Because I was the only person who could hear BOTH of these cosmic idiots.

anwhile, Alina peeked into the office, eyes wide.

"Brother," she whispered, "why is Zephyy hissing at your sword?"

My left eye twitched. "He’s a cat, Alina. Cats hiss at everything: Walls. Shoes. Futures. It’s nature."

She nodded sagely. "Hmm. That makes sense."

Her gaze shifted to the blade. "But brother... why is there a crack on your sword? Did soone drop it?"

My soul left its body. "...Because it’s an old and rusty sword, Alina."(I lied like a champion.)

She nodded, satisfied, and wandered off humming. Luminael imdiately wailed in my head:

"MASTER! STOP INSULTING ! I AM NOT RUSTY! I AM THE HEART OF EONS! I HAVE DIGNITY! I HAVE—"

I pressed both hands over my face.

"Do you," I whispered to no one, "do you know how to turn off your brain’s ears?"

Zephyy paused mid-fight, panting.

"If you figure it out," he muttered, "teach first."

Luminael screeched, offended glitter radiating: "I DEMAND THIS MARRIAGE BE CANCELLED!"

"No one asked you!" Zephyy yelled, smacking him again.

"I WILL NOT SHARE THE MASTER’S HEART—"

"He’s not sharing anything with a sword—" Zephyy hissed.

And I?

I stared hollowly at my ceiling.

Whoever said fantasy worlds were peaceful clearly never had a telepathic divine sword and a shapeshifting dragon-cat arguing about my love life.

In hindsight, I should’ve just stayed dead in the trash bin. I would’ve known peace. I never realized my divine sword would be... annoying.

The door creaked open. Nick entered, balancing a tray piled with cookies and pastries.

"Miss Alina, I brought your favorites!"

Both Alina and Zephyy’s eyes ignited like twin suns. Zephyy practically launched himself onto her shoulder. "I WANT TOO!"

Alina fed the cookie into his tiny maw with the care of a surgeon. anwhile, Luminael went suspiciously quiet.

"...Dragon," he asked delicately, "does mortal food... taste that pleasant?"

Zephyy snorted mid-cookie chew.

"Of course it does. But it’s useless for a sword like you. You don’t even have taste buds. So hush and let us enjoy the good things in life."

Luminael tched in my skull like a sulking toaster and dimd down to silent mode.

Blessed silence. Nick turned back to . "My lord, my mother said she will arrive by afternoon to speak with you."

I nodded. "Good. Tell her I look forward to it."

Once he turned, I leaned forward slightly. My tone sharpened. "Now... tell what the imperials are doing. Have they left for the wild beast hunt?"

Nick’s brows pinched. He shook his head.

"No, my lord. That’s the strangest thing I’ve witnessed in two days. Not a single imperial has gone beast-hunting."

I blinked.

A week-long imperial visit with no beast hunts was like nobles choosing to pour wine into cups instead of onto carpets.

Completely unnatural.

"No one?" I pressed.

"No, my lord. Well—except Princess Sirella. She visited the greenhouse and spoke to so villagers."

Alina perked up. "Princess Sirella! She gave candy!"

Zephyy narrowed his eyes. "Suspicious candy."

I ignored them both.

"Well... since the imperials are partners in the greenhouse project, Sirella’s inspection isn’t surprising."

But—

"Why hasn’t the crown prince gone beast-hunting...?"

Nick swallowed. "Furthermore, my lord... the second prince hasn’t left his room since the day both the crown prince and princess arrived."

I froze. That was wrong. That boy clung to like static electricity. To suddenly go silent...?

"Since the arrival?" I repeated.

Nick nodded.

Sothing in my gut tightened. Sothing was off in that building. Far too quiet.

I exhaled slowly. "Nick... I want you to do one thing."

He straightened instantly. "Yes, my lord."

"You will go to the second building. Casually. As though you are verifying the maids’ service. But observe everything. Report back imdiately."

Nick’s face hardened with serious resolve. "I will go right away."

He vanished down the hall. And the mont the door clicked closed—

Luminael’s voice drifted into my mind, low and unsettlingly gentle.

"...Master."

My shoulders stiffened. "...What."

"You must prepare for sothing unpleasant."

My breath hitched. "...What?"

"That boy," Luminael whispered, "his thread quivers. Soon... his life will be on the line."

Cold spread down my spine.

Nick...?

Did I just—Send my friend into danger?

I surged to my feet. I should go. I should go instead of him. I had power. I had a sword. I had—

"Leif!"

The door opened again. Eryndor stepped in with a bright smile completely at odds with the storm now churning in my chest.

Behind him stood an elderly elf, robed in moon-white, with long silver braids brushing the floor and eyes shimring with geotric runes.

"I have brought Uncle Luthein," Eryndor announced proudly, "Master of geotry, enchantnt-flow, and aesthetic balance."

Luthein bowed deeply, sleeves cascading like waterfalls.

"Lord Leif," he intoned. "I humbly offer my craft to your floating village."

I blinked automatically.

"Oh—Co in, Uncle Luthein. Please." My voice sounded oddly far away. Because Nick’s footsteps were already gone.

Because Luminael’s warning still curled like cold smoke up my spine.

I forced a slow exhale and glanced sideways. Zephyy sat on the table beside Alina, crumb-covered face, happily gnawing on a cookie the size of his entire head.

"Zephyy."

He paused mid-bite. "What?"

"Follow Nick, Shadow him. Make sure he stays safe."

He stared at for one long second... then clicked his tongue. "Tch. I can’t even have a peaceful cookie break in this cursed household."

But he hopped down anyway, crumbs sprinkling behind him like a bakery cot.

Alina blinked up at . "Brother? Why did Zephyy run off?"

I took my seat, saying, "He’ll be back, Alina."

I turned toward Eryndor and Uncle Luthein, clapping my hands once to refocus my brain. "Let’s begin."

Eryndor smiled. "We shall start conceptual geotry mapping. Please show where you want the central hub—"

We leaned over the table. Blue lines, runic circles, structural notes, and weight-distribution enchantnts—Luthein’s quill danced like poetry on parchnt as I explained what we need.

I forced my mind to stay here. On floating platforms. On anchor runes. On support lattices.

Focus, Leif.

Nothing will happen.

. . .

... That’s what I thought.

Hours passed like slow syrup. Quills scratched. Blueprints unfurled. The estate humd in distant wedding chaos.

And then—ROOOOOOOOAAAARRRRRRR!!!

The entire office jerked. Papers flew. Uncle Luthein’s quill snapped mid-stroke.

My heart slamd itself against my ribs. I spun toward the window just as a blur of blue and crimson slamd into the fra—

"MASTERRRRR!!!" Zephyy’s voice cracked like thunder, breath shuddering.

He was in his true form—wings spread, scales flaring, aura burning the air gold-white.

In his claw Nick dangled. Unconscious. Barely breathing. Bruises blackened across his ribs. His shirt was torn. Purple veins crawled up his neck like ink searching for the heart.

For three whole seconds — My brain didn’t move.

Just static.

"Master..." Zephyy’s voice shook, pupils thin with panic. "S-Sothing happened to Nick."

My chair clattered as I surged to my feet. Eryndor was already moving, cloak snapping. "I’ll go and look imdiately!"

Uncle Luthein clutched his staff, face paling. "That aura—this is no mortal sickness!"

Alina gasped, hands over her mouth. "Brother—Is that a dragon? "

Father’s distant voice barked orders down the hall. The room swayed. And then—Luminael pulsed at my table, voice low and grim:

"...He brushed the Devil’s magic."

My blood turned to ice.

Zephyy snarled, teeth flashing. "It wasn’t a person. It was a room, Master. Sealed. Rotting. Whispering. When Nick touched the door—he collapsed like a string cut loose."

My fingers trembled. Grandma’s words echoed—The devil has already stepped inside your ho.

My eyes snapped to the imperial wing. To the second building. To the silent prince. Sothing crawled cold up my spine.

"...So it’s true," I breathed. "The Devil is here. Wearing imperial colors."

Zephyy lowered Nick carefully to the floor, wings shaking as our knights rushed to hold Nick.