My Dad, the Demon King, Is a Big Problem

A sudden weight crushed Crescent’s chest.

She felt suffocated.

Like she was about to throw up.

Cyrillote—

The lunatic who had spent five hundred years obsessively brewing potions to resurrect the Demon King.

And yet, this deranged fanatic had just told her that something mattered more to him than the Demon King.

That something was her.

That wasn’t something she wanted to hear.

But if it was true…

Then maybe, just maybe—

She could use it against him.

Her eyes narrowed sharply as she lowered her sword.

"Then go kill the Demon King."

Her voice was cold.

"If I matter more than the Demon King, then obey my orders."

If he truly meant what he said, then this was the natural conclusion.

And after that—he could die, too.

Cyrillote let out a bitter chuckle.

"That’s impossible. No matter how precious you are to me, killing the Demon King is a line I cannot cross."

"Then why even say it?"

Liar.

A liar and a coward.

Crescent’s killing intent surged up again, stronger than before.

She should’ve known.

She shouldn’t have reacted to his meaningless words.

Her grip tightened around her sword.

And then—

BOOM!

She slammed the blade down with all her strength.

"You just said I’m more important than your precious Demon King! Then you shouldn’t be trying to kill me!"

How was she supposed to interpret this insanity?

He claimed she was more valuable than the Demon King—

And yet, here he was, trying to end her life.

Demons were incomprehensible to the human mind.

As the dust settled—