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The Demon Lord’s Bride (BL)

Getting transmigrated inside a novel is not really a bad thing—you know the story, you have the power of the future in your hand, you know all the hidden keys. You might as well end up as the most powerful and omniscient being in that world. That is, if you don’t wake up during the epilogue. And yet I find myself in the body of a fallen priest at the end of the novel, a tragic hero who had his mana circuit broken in the last war, being shunned, drown in debt, and destined to die not long after. Fortunately, I know just the cure. Unfortunately, the cure was in the hand of one of the Demon Lords—you know, the race that my kingdom just wage war with. Would he give me the cure if I asked him politely? There’s no harm in trying, right? I’d die if I didn’t get the cure, anyway. “Sure, but you have to be my bride as the price,” the Demon Lord said. ...huh? Sir, you know I’m (technically) a priest, right?

Aerlev · LGBT+
Not enough ratings
498 Chs

they said your husband is your other child

"Oh, Gods..." Arta clasped her hands, almost as if she was in worship, and took a deep breath. "You look so beautiful!"

Uhh...thank you, but...

"Aah...it's a masterpiece!"

"I think I can die peacefully now, leaving such a legacy..."

"D-don't exaggerate!" I hissed in a fluster at Arta and her crew, feeling embarrassed at how they were gushing out after I put on the banquet outfit and the crown for the first time.

They raised their brows, looked at each other, and laughed. Arta grabbed my shoulder carefully--more so she wouldn't damage the outfit, I felt--and turned me around to face the full-length mirror on the side.

I looked at the reflection--not at how I looked, but at the crown. It was thin and delicate and so light I could barely feel the weight on my head. The crown circled the back of my head and the two edges of the branch ended in a leaf-shaped pointing up, resting on my forehead.