Slave of the Demon King’s Castle 132

## Chapter 132 – Jane. Inspiration

A room where darkness hides, and likewise, a flame hidden within a well-crafted lamp dances. The shadow changes every moment according to the lamp’s movement, swaying like leaves in the wind blowing through the open window, capturing the forms of the various sculptures strewn about the room on one side of the wall.

Sometimes beautiful, sometimes ugly.

Like an abstract painting created by distorted darkness.

However, that room didn’t just contain a masterpiece created by light and darkness.

In a dark corner of the room, a woman sat on a chair that far exceeded her height, staring intently at a blank white canvas.

Without moving for a long time, only looking at the paper, she finally moved her hand. A graceful gesture reminiscent of dance, and the colorful paints blooming from the end of that gesture began to transform into vibrant paintings, each possessing its own life.

The painting blooming from her fingertips was a scene that seemed to capture reality as it was: towering towers, lively streets, and the joyful expressions of people vividly depicted.
Anyone who saw it would surely exclaim in admiration, but it seemed it didn’t satisfy her.
Her expression, which began to distort more and more, represented her anger.

Wrinkles deeply etched with anger, distorted eyes, and hair spreading in all directions in response to the increasingly heated air.

The time of rage, which seemed to freeze even the air, did not last long.

Bang!

Paint splatters.

The brush she was holding shattered, turning into powder and scattering to the floor.
Wood fragments that failed to fall to the floor and instead pierced the woman’s hand immediately bore red fruit. But she showed no sign of pain. What she felt was a mental pain far greater than physical pain.
Unfilled conflict, burning thirst. That was the essence of the torment she felt, a sense of skepticism about her own life.

The woman tore at her hair, letting out a scream close to madness.

“No, no!”

With that word, the woman tore the canvas she had been painting on to shreds in an instant.

The painting, which seemed near perfect to others, seemed to her only a stain that defiled her life.

“This is not the art I pursue!”

After shouting for a while, she looked at the ceiling and took a shuddering breath.

Only after fully receiving the light of the swaying lamp was her appearance properly revealed.
Her long, stretched limbs indicated that she was not of a small stature, but apart from that, her breasts, which could be called the symbol of a woman, were quite modest in size. They shyly revealed femininity with a gentle swell, but only to that extent. Rather, the most voluptuous part of her body was her full hips, which could not be fully contained even by the chair.

Moreover, perhaps because she was wearing tight-fitting clothes, her already large buttocks were further emphasized.

Of course, her beauty was not limited to her body.

Eyes like emeralds meticulously crafted, paired with white eyes that seemed to gaze at the other side of the world. The strange harmony of the two accelerated her mystery.

There were many names by which she was called in the world.

The one who embodies life
The owner of momentary ecstasy
The Peach Blossom Land blooming from her fingertips
The ruler of the five senses

Jane Roe, the Demon King of District 3.

After causing a commotion and barely getting off the chair, Jane began to sweep the objects on the workbench with her hands and throw them, as if that wasn’t the end of it.
Unlike her elegant titles, there was no room to argue that her personality was the most eccentric among the demon kings. Several sculptures on the workbench were shattered to pieces, but as if that wasn’t enough, she began to kick the easel where the canvas she had been painting on was fixed.

There was no way a weak canvas could withstand the kicks of a demon king like her.
The paper tore, and she trampled and broke the easel that had fallen to the floor.

“Shit!”

She spat out a thick curse that stuck to her mouth, then punched the window, shattering it.
Her hands, stained with blood in just five minutes, and the messy room vividly showed the pain of creation she felt.

Crack – with a sound like ice breaking, the glass that had soiled the room shattered into smaller pieces again.

What she was trampling on was her own reflection in the glass.
Ugly, too ugly to bear.

Jane looked at her reflection in the broken shards of glass and scratched her cheeks as if tearing them off.

Green hair reminiscent of seaweed grown in the deep sea, one eye dull and dead.
Who on earth would like someone like me? A byproduct of lust born from hatred and pleasure. That was how Jane saw herself.

There is no need for anything ugly in this world.

A world filled only with beauty was her only salvation.

The works blooming from her distorted fingertips unconsciously contained hatred. With this mindset, she could not create beauty.

Realizing that fact, life instantly became futile.
What filled her heart now was only one thought: I want to die.

Jane familiarly hung a rope from the ceiling, climbed back onto the chair she had climbed on earlier, straightened her back, and stood up straight.
She took on the same appearance as a prisoner being expertly hanged.
The fear of death could not cover the pain of reality.

At least for her, not being able to create beautiful paintings with her own hands was more frightening than death.
In other words, for her, death was one of her escape routes.

However, the death she desired could not be grasped with those hands.

She familiarly hung herself, dangling in the air for a long time, but felt no pain.
Her unnecessarily strong body did not easily allow even death.

She took out a cigarette from her pocket, stuck it in her mouth, and calmly blew out smoke while hanging in the air.

After finishing smoking in a posture that would shock anyone else, she cut the rope as always and fell to the floor.
Falling among the broken sculptures, easels, and shards of glass, she silently looked at the ceiling for a moment.
A day where tears seemed to spill out carelessly if she relaxed even a little, how long would this day continue?

“Demon King! Are you okay!?”

The sound of someone knocking on the door and shouting from outside could be heard, but she didn’t even glance at it.
Her gaze was only fixed on the wallpaper stained with paint and the fragmented easel adorning the floor.

“Oh, this is quite…”

Seeing the strange composition created by the broken pieces, Jane was able to escape from the powerlessness and futility that had been tormenting her until just now, and inspiration struck.

However, her artistic desire started from a flickering spark and was itself a weak spark that soon failed to reach its end and scattered into the air.
If she met good firewood that could satisfy her desire, it could turn into a huge wildfire, but until now, she had never met such an existence even once.
No, such a thing did not exist in this world. That was the conclusion she had reached after living for a long time.

The expectation was not far off.

Before long, she repeated the same actions as before, an infinite repetition of screaming and attempting suicide again.

The end of a day that started with art was, after all, putting a cigarette in her mouth, lighting it, and blaming herself.
Looking at the rising sun again today, the only thought she had was that one.

“Demon King?”

A voice that would not normally be heard during work was heard vividly.
But it was strange.
The servant who had always been by Jane’s side could not have been unaware of her sleeping hours. The fact that she was calling her even in this situation meant that something unusual had happened outside.
Jane clicked her tongue and cursed under her breath, but still moved her heavy steps to the door.

Turning the doorknob, a familiar face came into view.

And the other person standing behind her as well.

“A guest has arrived.”

A familiar face, someone she had become friendly with after exchanging greetings several times.
Aser, the king of District 7, stood before her.

But her gaze was directed at Aser only for a moment. She then cast her gaze at a man next to Aser, slightly below him.

A small man next to Aser. Clear eyes like a deer, fine skin, and black hair that could not be found in the vicinity, or would not be beautiful even if found, was emitting a beautiful light for the first time. And that wasn’t all.
The two horns above his head formed an elegant curve.
Her heart was beating faster than usual.

She was not in a state where she could breathe properly.
With this mindset, a guest? No way.

Jane closed the door right away without even exchanging greetings.

Confused voices could be heard from outside, but she couldn’t hear any of it now.
Right now, she just wanted to grab a brush and paint the emotions she was feeling now.

That’s right.

In her long and boring life, she had found the firewood that would accept her spark for the first time.