The cheers celebrating the return of the royal bloodline continued long after the coronation ceremony had ended.

As the sun slowly disappeared behind the black mountains surrounding the Devil Kingdom, countless crimson lanterns lit up the capital city one after another. The streets that had remained gloomy throughout Aamon’s reign were now overflowing with people. Soldiers, merchants, laborers, and children all poured into the city square, unwilling to let the day end.

For the first time in years, the capital no longer echoed with the sounds of marching armies or emergency alarms.

Tonight, there was laughter.

Tonight, there was hope.

Yet beneath the celebration, the scars of war remained visible everywhere.

Half-collapsed houses lined the outer districts. Broken towers still stood like silent reminders of the civil war that had divided the kingdom. Entire streets bore the marks of battles fought by devils against their own people.

Victory had come, but the price had been enormous.

Near the western gate, an old devil soldier slowly made his way through the crowded streets.

His armor was scratched beyond repair, and the dark cape draped over his shoulders had long since lost its original color. Deep scars covered his arms, and exhaustion weighed heavily on every step he took.

After years of fighting under Aamon’s banner, after witnessing countless friends disappear on distant battlefields, he had finally returned home.

He stopped in front of a small wooden house.

The roof had partially collapsed, and one of the windows had been replaced with old planks, but it was still standing.

For several moments, the veteran simply stared.

The front door creaked open.

A little girl with small black horns peeked outside.

She could not have been older than six.

The old soldier froze.

His lips trembled.

"Lina..."

The girl instinctively hid behind the door.

From inside the house, a woman hurried out, only to stop in complete disbelief.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The veteran forced a smile.

"I... I’m home."

Tears immediately filled the woman’s eyes.

"You idiot."

She ran forward and threw her arms around him.

The old soldier staggered backward in surprise before awkwardly hugging her back.

The little girl continued hiding behind the doorway, staring at the stranger embracing her mother.

The veteran slowly crouched down.

"Lina, it’s me."

The little girl tilted her head.

"Who are you?"

The words struck him harder than any blade ever had.

The smile on his face froze.

"You... don’t remember me?"

The girl shook her head.

"I’ve never seen you before."

The soldier lowered his gaze.

The last time he had seen his daughter, she had barely been able to walk.

Years of war had stolen moments he would never get back.

The woman placed a hand on his shoulder.

"She was too young."

The soldier nodded quietly, trying to hide the pain in his eyes.

After a long silence, the little girl slowly walked closer.

"Mom says my dad is a hero."

The veteran laughed bitterly.

"A hero, huh?"

The little girl nodded enthusiastically.

"He’ll come home and bring me presents."

The soldier reached into his bag and pulled out a small wooden bird he had carved during his travels.

The girl’s eyes widened.

"Is that for me?"

The veteran smiled.

"It is."

The girl accepted it carefully before looking at him once more.

"Are you really my dad?"

The soldier looked toward the night sky.

"...I’m trying to be."

The little girl stared at him for several seconds before wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

The veteran closed his eyes as tears silently rolled down his cheeks.

Around them, the celebration continued.

But inside that small house, another battle had just begun—the battle to reclaim the years stolen by war.

******************************************************8

Not far away, the marketplace was slowly coming back to life.

Shops that had remained closed during the civil war finally reopened their doors.

Merchants shouted from their stalls.

Fresh food filled the streets with unfamiliar aromas.

A blacksmith hammered away at broken armor while complaining loudly.

"I spent three years making swords, and now everyone suddenly wants farming tools."

The merchant beside him laughed.

"Maybe that’s a good thing."

The blacksmith snorted.

"Peace doesn’t pay as well as war."

An old woman arranging fruits rolled her eyes.

"That’s because all you know how to make are weapons."

"Someone has to protect the kingdom."

The old woman smiled.

"Maybe the young queen wants a kingdom that doesn’t need protecting."

The blacksmith opened his mouth to argue but stopped.

He had no answer.

For years, war had been all they had known.

The idea of peace felt almost foreign.

Across the street, children ran through the crowd, carrying wooden sticks.

"I’m Princess Lilith!" one girl shouted proudly.

"No, you’re too short!" another child yelled.

"I’m the Devil King!"

"You can’t be the Devil King! The Devil King lost!"

The children immediately began arguing.

A young boy climbed onto a fountain and raised his stick toward the sky.

"Then I’ll be the old king!"

"Who?"

"The one before Aamon!"

The other children paused.

Most of them had never met Lilith’s father.

They only knew the stories their parents whispered at night.

"He was strong!"

"No, he was kind!"

"My father says he was too soft!"

"My grandmother says he protected everyone!"

The children continued arguing before eventually abandoning the discussion entirely and chasing one another through the square.

Nearby, several adults watched with faint smiles.

"They don’t even know what they’re arguing about."

"Children never do."

"Maybe that’s for the best."

The group fell silent.

One merchant quietly spoke.

"I hope they grow up never knowing war."

No one laughed.

Because every person there secretly wished for the same thing.

**************************************************

On the outskirts of the devils capital, far away from the celebrations, an old devil sat outside his ruined home.

The house had lost half its roof during the civil war.

A wooden chair creaked beneath his weight as he stared at the royal banner fluttering atop the distant palace walls.

His grandson sat beside him, munching on a piece of bread.

The boy looked up at his grandfather.

"Grandpa."

"Hmm?"

"Do you think Queen Lilith can really change things?"

The old devil remained silent.

The wind blew gently across the empty road.

After several moments, he finally spoke.

"I don’t know."

The boy looked disappointed.

"You don’t believe in her?"

The old devil laughed softly.

"When you’ve lived as long as I have, you stop believing in promises."

He looked toward the palace.

"I’ve seen kings rise."

"I’ve seen kings fall."

"I’ve seen heroes become villains."

"And villains become heroes."

The boy lowered his gaze.

"Then why is everyone celebrating?"

The old devil leaned back in his chair.

"Because people are tired."

"Tired?"

The old devil nodded.

"Tired of funerals."

"Tired of war."

"Tired of watching their children leave home and never return."

The boy quietly listened.

The old devil smiled bitterly.

"We’re celebrating because we want to believe things can change."

He stared at the royal banner dancing in the wind.

"Do I know if the young queen can truly change the kingdom?"

The old devil shook his head.

"No."

"But for the first time in years..."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"...I want to believe."

The boy looked toward the palace as well.

Above the city, fireworks suddenly exploded into the night sky.

Red light illuminated the kingdom.

For a brief moment, the ruined houses, broken streets, and scars of war disappeared beneath the celebration.

Children laughed.

Merchants smiled.

Families reunited.

Soldiers returned home.

And throughout the Devil Kingdom, countless people looked toward the palace with the same thought in their hearts.

Tomorrow would not magically erase their pain.

The dead would not return.

The wounds of war would not vanish overnight.

But perhaps—

Just perhaps—

Tomorrow could be different.

And for a kingdom that had known nothing but conflict for generations, that tiny hope was worth celebrating.

Far above the capital, standing alone on the palace balcony, Lilith silently watched the city below.

The cheers of the people drifted upward, carried by the cold night wind.

She should have felt happy.

She should have felt relieved.

Instead, she felt only pressure.

An entire kingdom had placed its hopes upon her shoulders.

And she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to carry them.

Looking at the countless lights scattered throughout the capital, she unconsciously remembered a certain silver-haired boy lying unconscious beneath the ruins of the palace.

"If you were here..." she whispered softly.

The wind swallowed her words.

Below her, the kingdom celebrated the beginning of a new era.

Above them all, the young queen stood alone, wondering whether peace was truly possible.

Only time would answer that question.