The Second Son of the Marquis Wants to Laze Around-Chapter 109: Seraphina Wulfhart (2)

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A vein popped on Seraphina’s temple.

"And turning their backs on you is exactly the same as cheating," Eren continued, pressing on without a hint of delicacy. "So yeah, they cheated you. Then threw you in here."

More veins appeared as Seraphina’s fury boiled over. She couldn’t take much more.

"I am not a monster," she hissed, cheeks puffed with indignation, her pride cracking under the pressure of his relentless words. "And that’s not what ’cheating’ means, you annoying little lesser race! Stop twisting my words! You know what I meant!"

She writhed against the magical chains restraining her, her glare fierce and burning with the intensity of a death wish. If looks could kill, Eren would’ve been ashes. Unfortunately for her, her mana was still sealed, and magic was out of the question.

"And for your information," she snapped, "monsters smell better than you right now." Her nose scrunched in disgust. "...And I have bathed! Occasionally! In lava. It counts!"

Eren raised a brow.

"What about now?"

She blinked.

"...What?"

He asked again, calmly, "When was the last time you took a bath?"

Seraphina froze. Her lips parted, but no words came. Silence fell. Her face slowly turned crimson as she realized... it had been centuries. She’d been sealed in this dungeon for hundreds of years, unmoving and untouched.

Maybe more than hundreds.

Eren stared at her for a few seconds, waiting for some kind of answer. When none came, he sighed.

"Oh yeah," he said with a thoughtful expression, "I skipped one line from your profile earlier."

Seraphina raised her head, eyes narrowing warily.

"It says you have a habit of scratching your butt in your sleep."

Her face went completely red. Her eyes widened in disbelief, mortified.

"And sometimes," Eren continued with perfect deadpan delivery, "you even scratch your—"

"STOP!!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she screamed in pure humiliation. "Please, stop talking!"

Eren ignored her breakdown entirely.

"We’re getting off track," he said flatly. "So I’ll ask again. Is it true?"

She shook her head violently, face still burning, refusing to make eye contact. "T-that’s not true! I-I only scratch when I get itchy—!"

"I wasn’t talking about your weird bed night habits," Eren interrupted her flatly. "I meant your current situation. Did your people really betray you? Were you tricked before being sealed here?"

"..." Seraphina blinked.

She’d completely misunderstood the question earlier. Now that he clarified, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into the shadows and disappear. Her embarrassment compounded. Head lowering, she let her hair fall over her face to hide the shameful blush that just wouldn’t fade.

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Seraphina was born as an unwanted child. A forbidden one. The product of a taboo union between two powerful but incompatible clans—one, the fierce and prideful Wulfhart wolf clan, and the other, the elusive and cunning Foxen clan of the Nine Tails.

Though both clans shared ancient blood from the same Canidae ancestry, the Wulfhart wolves had strict laws. Unforgiving laws. One of the most sacred being: "A Wulfhart must never mate with another clan" unless the one they mated with was proven to be stronger than them.

But her father, the proud Wolf Chief of the Wulfhart and a formidable general of the demon army, broke that rule. Why? Because he fell in love. With a rogue Foxen. A Foxen who wasn’t even part of her own clan anymore.

Their love, though genuine, was a violation of the highest order in the eyes of the Wulfhart. And so, Seraphina’s very existence was deemed a sin. A living, breathing stain on the clan’s so-called "honor."

The rest of the demon realm, however, didn’t care as much. Hybrids like her weren’t exactly rare in demon lands. Demons were a diverse bunch. But unfortunately for her, the Wulfhart were... fanatics. Strict traditionalists who wore their pride like armor—and used it like a weapon.

And it wasn’t just Seraphina’s parents who broke the rules, to be honest. Plenty of other Wulfhart had dabbled in "forbidden" affairs, despite pretending to uphold their sacred laws. Hypocrites, all of them. But that didn’t stop the traitors and rebels from using Seraphina’s parentage as an excuse to drag her name through the mud.

They shamed her. Framed her. Turned her into a symbol of dishonor before the entire demon race.

Her childhood was even worse. Her mother died when she was young, and her father tried to protect her by hiding her true identity as a half-Wolfen hybrid. But secrets never stay buried for long. Some in his inner circle already knew.

After her father’s death, everything collapsed. His other wives and her many half-siblings wasted no time. They threw her out.

(Yes. Her father had a harem. Very normal for the Wulfhart clan. And some other clans too. It’s not that weird. Really.)

Exiled from her home, Seraphina was left to fend for herself in the wild and streets, surviving on scraps and sheer will. Sometimes, she had to run from bounty hunters—henchmen sent by her jealous half-siblings who wanted her gone just for existing or because of stupid reason.

Yeah. Her childhood was hell. A brutal tale of hardship, survival, betrayal... and rage.

But none of it broke her.

If anything, it fueled her. She swore to rise, to prove them all wrong. And when the time came, to crush them.

She hunted monsters, devoured magic tomes, trained under some wandering demons who took some interest or saw potential in her. She became sharper, colder, cleverer. A trickster with teeth.

With her parents’ blood—cunning from her Foxen mother, and strength from her Wulfhart father—she manipulated, outwitted, and dominated those who underestimated her.

Eventually, she founded her own organization. A new faction born from nothing. She helped the desperate, the discarded, the misfits—only to make them hers. Loyal to her cause, her climb.

And climb she did. All the way to becoming a candidate for the Demon Lord’s successor trial. A huge deal. One that gave her power, status, and the chance for revenge.

She struck down her half-siblings, one by one. She outwitted rivals who plotted her assassination, exposed corruption, and dismantled the factions that saw her as a threat.

And at the end of the blood-soaked path, she stood victorious.

She became the Seventh Demon Lord.

Even after ascending to the throne, the power games didn’t stop. Some high-ranking demons still tried to bring her down—but failed.

She reigned for years, building alliances, crushing rebellions, rewriting old laws, and reshaping the demon land. She helped the weak, offered strength to the hopeless, and gave everyone—no matter their status—a chance to rise and get strong.

She ended age-old clan wars and succession conflicts, forging peace where blood once flowed. So she can Unite everyone as one.

But of course, not everyone liked change.

Some of the old high ranks—those crusty high-rank demons who thrived under the old rules—started whispering. Plotting. Rebelling. Again.

Why? Because Seraphina favored the weak. The lowborn. The ones like her. Just like her half-brother, Galaser.

Ah yes, Galaser.

Her quiet, beaten-down half-brother. A fellow candidate during the Demon Lord trials. Bullied and hated by the Wulfhart clan just like her. She saw herself in him. So she reached out, offered him something no one else ever had—trust.

And he accepted.

Galaser joined her side, and then end up becoming her subordinate, and rose to become the new head of the Wulfhart clan. He became her most loyal ally. Her right hand. Her shield.

Or so she thought.

She never imagined that in her final days as Demon Lord, he would be the one to betray her.

It happened during the Sixth Rebellion.

(Yes. She had already crushed five rebellions before. Civil wars were basically her Tuesday.)

Her castle was attacked by multiple factions. Some of her own trusted generals—people she’d raised up, promoted, rewarded, and those who have followed her before her ascension—turned on her. Ambushed her.

Enraged beyond reason, Seraphina unleashed her full power and blew up the entire castle. Over ten thousand dead. No regrets.

But she was exhausted.

Broken.

Weakened.

And that’s when it happened.

Galaser appeared behind her. Her brother. Her most loyal. Her one light in the dark.

And he stabbed her.

Literally stabbed her in the back with a special dagger that sealed away her powers. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

"I’m sorry, sister. But this is for the good of the demon race," he murmured with a face full of fake regret. His voice, though, carried no sorrow—just cold, calculated mockery.

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Back in the present—deep inside the dungeon—Seraphina sat chained in silence.

Her hands clenched into fists, trembling. Her teeth grinding.

She remembered it all. Every betrayal. Every sneer. Every subordinate she had trusted and followed her as she climbed to the top, only to be spat in the face as they dragged her down the throne stairs like trash.

"I was stupid... to let my guard down. Even at the very end," she muttered, a low laugh escaping her lips.

A pitiful laugh. Mocking herself.

After being captured by the very half-rotten brother she once trusted and the traitorous forces that led the rebellion, Seraphina was dragged before the public and put on trial. There, her enemies framed her with false accusations, using forged evidence and even some painful truths to condemn her. She had sacrificed everything for her people, yet in the end, they turned against her without hesitation.

In the end, the trial concluded with her being sentenced to death by the Fulcier Church. The ruling was final. She was to be executed for crimes she didn’t commit—or, at least, not the ones they claimed. But instead of having her head cut off as she expected, she woke up here... locked deep within the coldest, darkest dungeon, chained and powerless.

All Alone.

Forgotten.

"I thought everything was under my control once I became Demon Lord," Seraphina murmured, her head lowered in bitter reflection. "But even with all that power... I still lost in the end."

It was cruelly ironic. Even when she stood at the top of the demon hierarchy, there were still those who plotted in the shadows—just like she had once done, back when she clawed her way to the top. Back then, she had believed that taking the throne would free her from suffering. But all it had done was invite more of it.

"Still..." her voice trembled with rage. "This won’t make me forget what they’ve done to me."

Her eyes flared with a fierce yellow glow as pure killing intent radiated from her body. The chains that bound her began to tremble under the pressure of her rising Aura. "I’ll get my revenge. I’ll make them—"

"Skip," a calm voice interrupted her mid-sentence, cutting through her seething anger like a blade through silk.

"Wha—?" she blinked, startled.

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