Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 129: Spreading Lies & Plague

Even at night, Cortinvar was still alive with people.

After the miners finished their shifts and the craftsmen laid down their tools at the furnaces, they poured into the pubs, walking side by side, laughing, drinking, and singing like madmen. Tomorrow was the weekend, after all.

The smoke rising from the furnaces never stopped—not only for the crafts but also to warm the common folk through the cold nights.

But Claude wasn't here for merriment.

Hidden under a black robe, he moved silently through a narrow alley.

Beside him walked a woman, similarly cloaked, her identity concealed under the heavy fabric.

Claude reached into his robe and produced a small glass container, no larger than his index finger. He handed over five of them to the woman.

"Pour these into their wells," he ordered, his voice relaxed, disturbingly casual—as if he wasn't planning to wipe out half the population of the kingdom. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Aubree took the vials with trembling hands. Claude chuckled at the sight.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he teased lightly. "Why not just stay safe in the harem palace with the others?"

Aubree shook her head fiercely. "No. I need to do this... or you won't let me stay by my daughter's side, will you?" she snarled.

Claude smiled faintly beneath his hood. "Don't look at me with those beautiful eyes that were supposed to love me," he said with a dry chuckle.

"And Aurelia... she's old enough to decide her own path."

He turned, his robe trailing behind him as he disappeared into the shadows.

"I have somewhere else to be," he said, his voice lingering briefly before vanishing into the night.

Left alone, Aubree clutched the vials tightly and turned down another street, heading toward the public wells and any other water sources used by the common folk.

'I need to do this, at least my hand is the one that gets dirty and not my daughter,' she thought as she stopped in front of the well and poured the liquid without hesitation.

***

Emmalise sat in her office, pretending to work through a stack of documents, though in truth she could barely concentrate.

Claude had promised to meet her personally today, and the mere thought of his face and voice was enough to send a flush rising to her cheeks.

Shaking her head furiously, she muttered,

"No, I need to focus. This is an important matter for the future of my kingdom."

Just as she tried to pull herself together, a sudden knock startled her.

She turned toward the window—and there he was, Claude, cloaked in black, waving at her with a playful smile.

Letting out a deep sigh, Emmalise opened the window to let him in.

"Can't you enter through a normal door for once?" she grumbled.

Claude chuckled as he swung himself inside with ease.

"What did you expect? For me to waltz through the palace gates and get arrested for suspicious behavior?"

Emmalise rolled her eyes but said nothing as they both settled onto the sofa, an awkward silence hanging in the air—at least until Claude broke it with a teasing grin.

"So... when are you going to marry me?"

The sudden question made Emmalise want to throw a brick at him. Instead, she pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose, willing herself not to react.

"Is that what you've been thinking about all this time?" she muttered, before steering the conversation back on track.

"Are you sure you want to go through with it tomorrow?"

Claude tilted his head lazily. "Straight to the point, are we? Yes, tomorrow I'll be your knight in shining armor. We'll meet your brother and the High Priest."

"But... what if they find out you're a daemon? That High Priest is sharp," Emmalise said, a rare flicker of genuine worry in her voice.

Claude's smirk deepened. "Oh? Are you worried about me?"

"Ugh! Stop teasing me and answer the damn question!" she snapped, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

He laughed softly. "I've already developed a potion that should mask my nature. Tomorrow will be the first real test of its strength."

Emmalise exhaled slowly, forcing herself to relax.

"Alright. I believe in you... But what about your background? Your noble origins, your lineage—how are we going to explain all that?"

Her tone grew serious. As a queen, she couldn't simply marry a stranger with no name or history—and worse, a hidden daemon.

Claude shrugged lightly. "You're the queen. Fabricate my lineage however you like. And as for any factions that oppose us..."

His smirk turned dangerous. "We can always convince them... or simply wipe them out with the plague."

Emmalise sighed, rubbing her temple.

"I may be called the Ice Queen, but I'm not that heartless... And since you won't reveal your true identity, that means you'll become my King Consort, not King in your own right."

Claude nodded without hesitation. "One of the greatest missions of a daemon is to spread their blood wherever they go. As long as my blood sits on the throne, that's enough."

His answer made something in her chest tighten painfully.

'So that's all this is to him… he doesn't love me. He only wants my heir.'

But she swallowed her disappointment and said nothing, simply folding her hands in her lap.

Without a word, Claude reached into his robe and pulled out a small glass vial, handing it to her.

Emmalise peered at the clear liquid inside with suspicion.

"Is this poison?" she asked, voice rising sharply.

"Of course not. It's a pathogen," Claude said calmly. "The Red Slumber."

"Are you insane?!" Emmalise shot to her feet, clutching the vial as if it might bite her. "Are you trying to kill me and take my kingdom?!"

Claude only shook his head, amused.

"No. But you'll need it. And you'll know when to use it—I'll give you the signal."

Before she could step farther away, Claude moved quickly, closing the distance between them.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered something only for her to hear.

Emmalise's eyes widened in shock as she stared down at the vial in her hand, realizing how brilliant his idea was.

***

Because of the eternal winter surrounding Cortinvar, the nobility had long abandoned the custom of afternoon tea, replacing it with wine instead.

However, knowing how much the High Priest, Orson, missed his homeland—a place where the sun always shone warmly—Emmalise decided to make an exception today.

"Your Majesty, thank you for inviting me," Orson said warmly, sipping the steaming tea with comfort.

"And thank you as well for inviting my subordinate," he added, glancing toward the man seated at a separate table nearby.

Emmalise offered a slight smile. "Of course. It's only proper."

"Ah, and you even used tea from the Holy Land. How thoughtful," Orson continued, clearly pleased.

"It is one of my duties, High Priest," Emmalise replied smoothly, taking a sip from her own cup.

"I hope it eases your longing for home, if only a little."

In truth, she didn't understand the appeal. To her, the tea tasted like watered-down floral water—nothing compared to the rich warmth of wine.

"Thank you, sister, for inviting me as well. Your kindness moves me," said Prince Elias, flashing a smile so overemotional it made Emmalise want to gag.

"Of course, brother," she answered with forced politeness. "It has been far too long since we spent time together."

Orson's smile never wavered as he leaned forward slightly.

"Then... might this gathering mean good news for the Church?"

"I have been considering your words, High Priest," she said, watching as a flicker of excitement lit in his eyes.

"However... given the Church's poor reputation among both the common folk and the nobility, I believe you must work harder to regain their trust."

Orson's face briefly tightened, but he quickly masked it with another radiant smile.

"Naturally. We shall do everything necessary," he said.

"I will help you as well," Emmalise added. "Just let me know when you require my assistance."

Orson beamed with satisfaction, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I, and my subordinates, shall give it our all."

Meanwhile, Elias couldn't fully conceal his reaction; his hand tightened around his teacup, his mask slipping into a brief frown.

Emmalise caught it and smirked faintly. "What's wrong, brother? Are you not enjoying the tea?"

Elias flinched, then quickly forced his smile back into place.

"Of course not, sister. I enjoy trying new things. This floral tea... pairs perfectly with the dessert."

The conversation continued, light on the surface but filled with unspoken tensions beneath.

All the while, Claude watched from the sidelines, his arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

'Not bad. Seems no one notices my presence at all.'

He scanned the holy men one by one, his magic subtly weaving around them.

[Since they have a light affinity, my appraisal won't be 100% accurate!]

[Name: Orson Cohen]

[Age: 65 years old]

[Race: Human with Light Affinity]

[Possible Class: Cleric]

[Mana Pool: 35,700 (Accuracy: 50%)]

[Star Evolution: 2-Star Evolution]

[Attribute: Can't be identified properly due to lack of data.]

Claude's smirk deepened.

'Weak. Is every High Priest from the Promised Land this pathetic? If so, I just need to focus on defeating the Six Saints...'

His musings were abruptly interrupted when Orson's eyes narrowed and locked onto him.

"I don't believe I've seen that man before," the priest said casually, his smile tightening.

"Would you come closer, please?"