Don't confiscate my identity as a human race

Chapter 605 - 568: Lanci Will Always Help Hyperion Overcome Difficulties

The Demon at the next table quickly caught their attention, except for Miss Tia, who was still looking down and weeping, while the other Demons all looked toward this white Demon who appeared quite gentle.

His movements were unhurried, standing on the wooden terrace with a calm composure.

"Loving an important other as you love yourself... is very good,"

he approached, his voice soft, still with that easygoing air, holding a glass of fresh grape juice in his hand,

"But when you’re ready to sacrifice yourself, you’ll also unconsciously become more likely to sacrifice the other party."

The white Demon tipped his glass as if toasting them.

"So what should I do?"

Miss Tia didn’t know why, but she found herself instinctively responding to the neighboring table’s stranger, a gentleman of the Demon Race.

Perhaps it was because she had momentarily met his gaze and found his understanding and accommodating smile to be very sincere—it was a rare smile, as if among the multitude, only you were granted his special respect.

This attitude manifested a complete understanding of you, without a shred of doubt, he seemed to view you exactly as you hoped to be seen by others.

He stood quietly, his eyes reflecting the silver stars of the heavens.

Only at this moment did they realize that what he held was not wine but a deep red fruit juice. Once agitated by the ice cubes, wisps of cold mist rose from the tall glass, and beads of water condensed on the surface, making him seem forever sober compared to them who had had a few drinks.

"Sometimes, why don’t we consider being a little selfish? Maybe that’s a better choice for both parties,"

he said as he naturally took a seat at their table on the couch, with only a polite man left in front of him, speaking courteously, his pose resembling that of a tutor specializing in teaching noble etiquette.

"..."

Miss Tia fell silent for a moment.

"I don’t dare..."

Her voice grew fainter as she tightened her grip.

"There are too many lonely creatures in the world, afraid to take the first step. Maybe your cousin, Lord Raeming, has been waiting for you all this time. He’s just as confused, just missing a word from you to tighten his heart,"

advised the white Demon.

Though young in appearance, his choice of words clearly portrayed him as an elder of the Demon Race, as if he had read countless tales of his kin.

The mild fragrance of the open-air dining area and the gentle light brought peace to the tearful Tia.

The white Demon smiled kindly, his eyes full of welcome and understanding, sitting upright yet leaning forward slightly, showing he was wholeheartedly listening to the grievances of the other Demons.

When he spoke, his speech was measured and crystal clear, each word as if weighed with great thought, his voice gentle and magnetic, and when explaining complex concepts, he used simple and specific analogies to aid their comprehension.

Besides Tia, other young Demons at the table began to question him as if he were a teacher, ranging from their personal worries to the dilemmas facing their families or the current state of the country, hoping he would resolve their doubts.

The white Demon’s gaze remained focused, often nodding to show he understood.

His face frequently took on reassuring and encouraging expressions, providing practical advice when the Demons were confused.

"In fact, you’re already great. Be bold, do what you must, and don’t let the restlessness and anxiety inside destroy the precious passion and determination in your heart,"

he counseled like a therapist, smoothing out the tumult in their unsettled hearts.

Soon, although they were strangers to him, they gradually became familiar with him, as if reuniting with old classmates.

Miss Tia, too, seemed to unravel her worries, unwittingly captivated by the gentleman’s words.

"Don’t worry. If you encounter any difficulties in your communication with Lord Raeming, you can find me anytime, and I’ll offer you advice,"

"I am McCarthy."

The Radiant Demon smiled helplessly and said.

"What?!"

Lisandra exclaimed in shock, covering her mouth.

"I’m sorry! I can’t believe I’ve been talking to you for so long without recognizing you."

She quickly added.

Not just her, but the other demons at the table became as dumbfounded as statues.

The legendary and almost mythical demon, who had been chatting with them like a friend for so long, was actually among them.

"It’s okay, I thought you had seen me when you first moved over, it seems I have not been attentive enough as a restaurant host."

Lanci said with a smile, introducing himself to everyone formally.

After shaking hands with the stunned young demons one by one.

Not much conversation ensued.

Lanci’s butler hurried over to say that a minister wanted to have a word with him alone.

"Excuse me, then I must take my leave, Miss Lisandra, till tomorrow."

He stood up to say goodbye, bowed slightly to Lisandra and the other demons, and scooped up the tiny dozing figure from the lead sofa.

It wasn’t until he was far away.

"He is... Rocky McCarthy?"

Miss Tia on the sofa muttered to herself as if waking from a dream.

Throughout their conversation along the way, they had imagined and guessed many images of McCarthy, but none had imagined him to be such an affable demon.

In the materialistic Demon World, he seemed to maintain an inner sanctum, nothing like a high-ranking demon one might expect to climb to a high position.

Yet recalling their conversation, it all seemed to make sense; he truly possessed an extraordinary charm.

"Ah, it’s a pity he’s not from the Great Demon Clan; I feel that if he were to marry the princess, maybe even that unfortunate princess could find happiness."

Tia lamented with resignation.

Mr. McCarthy had promised to help her realize her romance, but she knew it was a jest from him to comfort her.

"I would like to think the same, I hope more than anyone that the princess can find happiness; McCarthy seems like the type of demon who would be perfect for her."

Lisandra looked up at the starry sky, speaking to herself.

However, it was clear that McCarthy was not the type of demon proficient in fighting, something they all could sense.

No matter what, she would have something new to share with the princess tomorrow.

Because of the Blood Clan investigation, the princess had been suffering from a headache all afternoon, likely unable to sleep that night.

But to Lisandra, it was odd to hear the princess’s prayers, which were "not to deduct her meritorious deeds," "to let her handle it peacefully," "she can do it," and other such strange utterances.

The princess must be under a lot of mental pressure.

Lisandra could only pray that tomorrow the Blood Clan detective wouldn’t actually catch a demon murderer in the Demon King’s Castle.