Chapter 441 - 441: Substitute Bride of the Demon King (45)

Leila was the only one who stayed by his side, caring for him tirelessly without sleep.

Silas could almost feel the coolness of the damp cloth she had pressed to his forehead and hear her soothing voice as she murmured words of comfort, her eyes filled with concern.

The night stretched on in that relentless cycle of pain and care, and Silas survived the entire night alone like this. When morning finally arrived, the lingering pain still made him feel a little hazy, and the world seemed to swirl around him in a disconcerting dance.

A maid approached cautiously, her steps hesitant and her hands trembling with trepidation as she prepared to serve him. The fear in her eyes was palpable.

The Demon King rubbed his slightly furrowed brows and asked in a hoarse voice, "What is she doing?"

The startled maid hurriedly reported honestly, "The lady did nothing and stayed in the bedroom all the time. She was just in a bad mood, and she… she wanted to meet Your Majesty."

The Demon King, who was in a state of confusion, narrowed his eyes and stated impatiently, "I am not asking about her."

The maid: Not her?

The maid stood frozen, her mind racing with confusion as she struggled to comprehend his inquiry. If His Majesty, the Demon King, was not inquiring about Lady Ellie, then who else could he be asking about?

Previously, she had been the maid assigned to monitor Leila. But Leila had been sent away from the Demon King's fortress. So could it be…

The maid couldn't shake the unsettling thought.

Could it be that the Demon King harbored thoughts for Lady Leila?

But how could that be possible?

The idea itself seemed absurd; how could such an all-consuming emotion linger in the heart of the powerful ruler? Uncertainty ate at her mind, leaving her with more questions than answers.

After realizing this, the maid became even more nervous. She feared that she would be silenced for prying into the Demon King's inner thoughts. Thus, she could only reply cautiously and anxiously, "My lord, have you... forgotten? The madam… I mean, Lady Leila… has been sent away. She is no longer in the castle, and we do not know how she is now."

As Silas absorbed her words, a sudden clarity swept through his mind, clearing the fog of confusion that had clouded his thoughts. A tremor rippled through his chest, compelling him to place a shaking hand over his heart as if to still its restless beating.

Yes, Leila was no longer in his castle. It was he who had personally sent her away and pushed her to Andre with his own two hands. So what was he thinking right now? Why did her figure keep haunting his mind at inappropriate moments like these?

No, he can't think about her anymore.

Silas pressed his lips into a thin line. Desperately, he willed his thoughts to shift elsewhere, trying to drive away all the memories of Leila from his mind. Each time he strove to cast her aside, the vivid images only grew sharper: the sound of her soft sobs echoing in his ears, the heart-wrenching look of desperation in her eyes as she pleaded with him, and the way she meticulously mimicked Ellie, all in a futile attempt to win his approval. Every memory in his head was her; every fragment was her; and everything was her— intertwined with the very fabric of his psyche.

She pervaded every corner of his consciousness, leaving no space untouched by her presence. It was as if she had become a shadow, a constant reminder of what was lost, and the more he fought against it, the more inescapable she became.

She was everywhere.

The more he thought about her, the more agitated Silas became. His fingers pressed against his chest, each bit of pressure becoming more intense, as though he was trying to hold back an overwhelming tide.

At last, the mounting tension became unbearable. With an instinctive flick of his finger, he unleashed his fury upon the pavilion just beyond his bedroom window. Like a fragile illusion collapsing, the glass of the pavilion splintered and shattered into a million glimmering shards, cascading down like raindrops in a storm.

The structure itself groaned and crumpled, surrendering to the chaos he had unleashed. In an instant, the once-stately building collapsed in a cacophony of sound— a deafening bang followed by a chaotic crash— as debris rained down, transforming the neatly manicured lawn into a chaotic scene of destruction and ruin.

"Get out! Get out!" Silas shouted angrily, his temper rising with each ticking second.

The maid was so frightened that she trembled all over. With a great instinct to survive, she knelt on the ground and begged for mercy. She then heard the heavenly word "scram." As if she had been pardoned, she hurriedly stumbled out of the double doors.

Silas lay motionless on the bed, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. His chest felt tight as he wrestled with a torrent of dull, painful feelings that surged within him, threatening to spill over.

It was evident that his heart longed for Ellie, the woman he had fought to reclaim and bring back into his life. Yet, despite having successfully brought her into his territory, his mind drifted, restless and burdened by thoughts of someone else— Leila.

He obviously wanted Ellie, the woman he had fought to reclaim and bring back into his life. Yet, despite having successfully brought her into his territory, his mind drifted, restless and burdened by thoughts of someone else— Leila.

Why was he always absent-minded, and always… thinking about that fake? Leila had obviously deceived him, weaving a web of deceit that had ensnared him in its grasp, hadn't she? She was clearly a substitute, a fleeting echo of what he truly desired, wasn't she? She was obviously not important at all, unlike Ellie, was she?