To Each Their Own

As she stood in front of the body-length mirror in a wedding dress, Shamsiya felt like she was making a deal with the devil. She doubted this was what the orphanage matron meant when she said good women would be treasured by good men.

Her hands were stained with blood. Yes, the blood of vile creatures who reveled in the act of rape, but blood nonetheless. As a murderer, she was no longer a good woman, so it wasn't surprising that she was marrying the demon.

But whether it was a good man or a demon, Shamsiya realized she no longer cared.

After escaping the hands of death and spending a week inside a decadent cell, her perception of good and evil had already morphed. In that cell, she watched women get raped repeatedly without moving a muscle to help them. Her entire focus had been on herself and her safety.

She used her ability to protect herself, while ignoring the cries of plea. She poisoned and killed with a ruthless edge she never thought she had it in herself.

But most of all, she strived to survive and was ready to take her life to escape the shame of defilement. On the edge of darkness and light, she realized everyone had a choice to live a life of dignity.

It was only a question of whether they had the courage to make that choice.

As such, she felt no sympathy for the women begging for help. Because they had already made their choice. Between life and dignity, they chose life by not committing suicide, as she had done to escape Iblis Jabril's whoring claws.

And now she was going to become his wife, his Second Queen.

This was a far better outcome than what she had envisioned for herself.

When Nick Jackson sold her to this man, she became nothing more than a property. She expected to be stripped and bound to his bed, to be used and trampled upon like a common whore. And when he threw her in the dungeon, she saw an even grimmer and darker future for herself, where three to four blistered men took turns playing with her body. Where they treated her not like a whore, but an even lower commodity.

A sex slave.

Because she was afraid of being devalued and degraded, of living without self-respect and dignity, she fought tooth and nail to keep her purity.

As a result, just when she was on the verge of collapse, the Demon Lord found her and proposed to marry her. As she thought of the man, her mind flashed back to their conversation.

"Woman, I admire your virtue and strong will. In my life, I came across many women. For a comfortable and glamorous lifestyle, some sold their bodies, while others sold their soul. But all in all, not one dared to fight or attempt to take their life for honor and dignity. You have the pride of a queen, so I want to marry you and make you my second wife and queen. I'll give you the respect and honor befitting of the wife and Queen of the Demon Lord. In return, I want you to devote yourself to me."

"Devote? But I don't love you. How can I devote myself to you?"

"Between husband and wife, there's a stronger bond than love. That's the bond of respect and trust. If you respect me and I respect you...if you trust me and I trust you...then other feelings will naturally follow. Devotion in a simple term is trust, respect. As long as we have these two in our relationship, our bond can withstand the test of time. So what do you say, little hybrid? Will you be my wife?"

Hearing such words from the mouth of the Demon Lord wasn't only astonishing, but as unbelievable as the moon embracing the sun. Of course, Shamsiya didn't believe he was sincere. Only a fool would believe in the words of the Demon Lord.

But at that time, she was weak from days of starvation. The spikes of her cocoon were brittle, extremely weak, to the point where they would've shattered from a single tap of a finger. Their seemingly sharp and deadly tips had been only for show to keep the Lawless at bay.

So to save herself and regain her strength, she accepted the offer of the demon and followed him out of the cell, bringing her to this moment.

"Are you ready? The hall is already filled with guests."

The Demon Queen, first wife of the Demon Lord, sauntered into the guest room in a tight beige dress that swept the floor. She stopped behind her and placed her hands on her shoulders with a kind smile on her face. "You look beautiful, dear."

"Thank...you." Shamsiya smiled awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

Logically speaking, she was being a shameless woman who was getting into a relationship with a married man. As the rightful wife, Queen Nymrit should curse and slap her, then pull her hair in front of a crowd. But in the supernatural world, especially in the world of Iblis Jabril, nothing was logical anymore.

The man housed over a hundred women in the side wings of his palace, and dumped more than that amount in the dark dungeon.

So his second marriage not only didn't receive any criticism from the public, but many businessmen and small government officers took this chance to enter the country and tried to form a connection with him through this occasion.

And as the soon-to-be wife, Shamsiya faced the enthusiastic reception of the wives of those opportunists, the mistresses of her soon-to-be husband, and his wife, the Demon Queen.

"Iblis will be floored by your beauty tonight. You're a little on the skinny side, but after a few days of feeding, you should be able to gain some weight. Dear, where are your parents? I'll have a word with them for starving you so long. If Iblis becomes dissatisfied with you because of your figure, what should we do?"

Her words were filled with concern, and her expression conveyed the worry one would feel for a close family member. But as Shamsiya gazed at the Queen's face in the mirror, she couldn't shake off the feeling of discomfort and disgust she felt from her touch.

Slightly moving away, she grabbed the Demon Queen's hands, before the woman placed them on her arms or shoulders again.

"Queen Nymrit, you don't need to worry about that. The Demon Lord decided to marry me even after seeing how skinny I am. I'm sure. He doesn't have any problems with my figure." And even if he did, she didn't care.

"Oh, then that's wonderful. It won't be good if your wedding night is ruined because of it."

"Is the bride ready yet? The groom is waiting for her in front of the Ballroom!"

A shout sounded outside the room, before a demon servant in yellow dress burst into the room. Shamsiya released the Demon Queen's hand. Giving her a slight nod, she picked up the cascading folds of her heavy silver dress, and proceeded to the door.

Whether it was a sham for a few years, like her first marriage, or a bound for life, she only needed to protect her heart and not hold any expectations.

Then everything else would be easy to face.

"I'll see how long you'll last!" Queen Nymrit clenched her fists and watched the back of the shameless woman fade from her view with a disdainful scowl. She had been married to Iblis for far longer than any of his mistresses ever lasted. To become his wife and rule by his side as his Queen, she had even stolen her family's precious treasure, the Everlasting Elixir, to keep her youth and increase her lifespan.

Many women garbed in splendid dresses, dripping with blinding jewels, and doused in heady perfumes, came to the palace. But they all either returned as corpses or lived as lifeless dolls behind the palace walls. There were seductive, charming, innocent, and cold beauties, among many others, that entered her husband's life.

But of all of them, none had ever received more than the label of a mistress. This little slut didn't even qualify to identify with a single one of them. And yet, she was the first to give her a sense of threat.

Iblis was marrying her as his wife, and giving her the status of his Second Queen.

However, she was Queen Nymrit, the daughter of the Werewolf King, and Queen of Norma. The Princess of the Norwegian Werewolf Family, and the Queen of the Demon Lord.

No woman had ever shaken her status, and a purchased good with a deadline did not even deserve her attention, let alone her concern.

Scoffing disgustedly, Nymrit pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her palms. She couldn't carry traces of the potion on her body for too long, as it would affect her as well. Once she was certain her hands were clean enough, she threw the fabric in the trashcan and walked out of the room.