My Dad, the Demon King, Is a Big Problem

Cyrillote’s vision was completely filled with Crescent’s face.

That was the only thing that mattered to him at that moment.

Because it was the last thing he wanted to see before he died.

Crescent, you probably don’t even realize how precious your childhood was.

Maybe not as much as to your parents, but to Cyrillote, too, she had become a precious existence.

At first, he had rejected the very idea of Crescent’s birth.

It was already unsettling that the Demon King had lost his memories and fallen in love with a human, but to even have a child with one?

The shock was immense.

He felt betrayed by the Demon King.

The entire Demon Realm had longed for his return, had waited for him with bated breath, and yet the Demon King had spent that time indulging in love with a mere human?

It was sorrowful.

His Majesty was supposed to be the highest, most exalted being by their side, and yet he had created a worthless human child…

What kind of creature had he brought into this world?

A human child? Then it was bound to be an ugly, misshapen thing, like a lump of carelessly kneaded dough.

It was sure to be hideous.

Convinced of this, Cyrillote finally laid eyes on the newborn Crescent.

And he was struck by a shock greater than any he had ever known.

Even greater than the moment he had first learned of the Demon King’s destruction five hundred years ago.

Was there really something more beautiful than His Majesty the Demon King…?

It was an event so catastrophic that it shook the very foundation of what he had believed for over a thousand years.

There could be nothing more awe-inspiring than the Demon King.

It should not be.