My Dad, the Demon King, Is a Big Problem

Cyrillote, dead.

The image of his lifeless body flashed through Crescent’s mind.

And for some reason—

Her breath caught in her throat.

Why?

Wasn’t this exactly what she had wanted?

He was a demon. He had to die.

Yet, the moment she imagined him without life, a sharp tightness gripped her chest.

That ridiculous thought lasted only a fraction of a second—but it was enough.

She had hesitated.

And just like that, her perfect opportunity slipped away.

She could have killed him.

But she hadn’t.

Anger flared inside her as she landed on the ground.

A mere heartbeat later, Cyrillote touched down as well, looking completely unbothered.

"Oh dear. What happened, Crescent? Are you getting sentimental?"

He tilted his head, eyes glinting with mock amusement.

A faint smirk curled his lips.

It was pure mockery.

"Tch. You’re going to die here, Cyrill. Even if it’s not me, my comrades will kill you eventually."

And this time—I won’t hesitate.

Crescent couldn’t deny it—she had hesitated.

And that made her even angrier.

Right now, she wasn’t just furious at Cyrillote.

She was furious at herself.

"That’s a bit disappointing." Cyrillote sighed dramatically. "If I have to die, I’d rather it be by your hand, Crescent."

"...You’re kidding me."

Crescent exhaled sharply, half in disbelief, half in frustration.

Then, her gaze sharpened.

"If that’s your dying wish, I’ll make sure to grant it."

She launched herself forward before she had even finished speaking.

And this time, she vowed—

I will kill him.