My Dad, the Demon King, Is a Big Problem-Chapter 118

For a long time, my father searched for my mother.

He spent over a week trying to figure out who had left the letter at our doorstep.

But not a single soul in the village knew anything about it.

It was as if she had vanished into thin air.

What really happened?

I had often wondered why my mother and father hadn’t lived together.

The most logical reason I could come up with was that my mother had died.

Because if she were alive, my father wouldn’t have left her behind to raise me alone.

My father wasn’t the type of person who would abandon her.

And yet… she was gone, with nothing but a letter to explain her absence? No real explanation, just vague words about having no choice?

It made my chest tighten.

If I felt this frustrated, how much worse was it for my father?

If she was alive somewhere, the mystery of her departure must have tormented him. And if she was dead… the uncertainty must have eaten him alive.

He must have suffered far more than I ever could.

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Enough… I want to go back now.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Even if my mother had asked my father not to look for her, how could he not?

For days, he left me in the care of a village woman while he searched tirelessly, returning only after several nights away.

And every time… Cyrillote was there, watching over me.

Then, one day, I fell terribly ill.

A fever raged for two whole days. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop crying, my tiny body burning up.

That was when my father finally snapped out of it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Crescent. I should have been here for you… I’m so, so sorry.”

Holding me tightly in his arms, he buried his face against me.

Even without seeing his face, I knew—he was crying.

It took another month before he finally gave up searching for her.

He accepted what the letter said—that she had chosen to disappear.

And it was only then that I, too, finally accepted that my mother was gone.

Regret hit me belatedly.

If I had known… I should have looked at her more closely while I still had the chance.

I should have gone right up to her face, memorized every single eyelash.

But I hadn’t realized it was the last time. And now it had passed.

It was my first time seeing my birth mother, and the moment had felt so surreal that I hadn’t even truly looked at her.

Lost in thought, I drifted in that sinking feeling as time continued shifting forward.

My father eventually packed up our home and moved.

The place he brought me to was where I had spent my childhood—Neverland.

From there, the events were familiar.

My father begged for milk to feed me. He took on various jobs to make ends meet.

He taught music, mathematics, and ancient languages to the children of wealthy families. When the elderly villagers needed an extra hand, he was the first to step forward.

He raised me as if nothing had happened, laughing heartily, showing no cracks.

He never let me see even a glimpse of his sorrow.

The grief of losing my mother was something he carried alone.

Only now did I truly understand the weight he had been bearing.

How had he never once let it show?

It left me speechless.

And I finally understood why he had moved so far away.

Had we stayed in the same village, I would have eventually learned about my mother’s unexplained disappearance.

He must have wanted to shield me from that.

But there was still one thing that had happened in Neverland that I had never known about.

Cyrillote had been watching over me there, too—comforting me when my father wasn’t around.

“Hush, hush, my princess.”

I was too exhausted to even tell him to shut up this time.

It wasn’t like he could hear me anyway.

“Hush, hush. My princess mustn’t cry.”

Pat, pat. Rock, rock.

At some point, Cyrillote had become unnervingly skilled at handling babies.

His expression was soft, almost reverent, as if he were holding something irreplaceable.

It made me sick.

If he had wanted to, he could have found out where my mother was.

But he hadn’t.

Everything he did just rubbed me the wrong way.

Just as I turned my gaze away in frustration, time shifted once more.

The field stretched wide, with nothing but the sky and swaying grass filling the view.

A child's laughter rang through the air.

“Hahaha! Heeheehee!”

Golden hair bounced in the wind as a young girl ran across the grass, her chubby cheeks flushed with joy.

It was unmistakably me as a child.

I stared at the sight, momentarily transfixed.

How old was I back then? Maybe six?

I was that cute when I was six?

It was like watching a doll run around, too adorable to look away from.

Then something caught my eye. The little girl was holding a book under one arm.

Even from a distance, I recognized it instantly. A fairy tale about the Holy Knight who defeated the Demon King Baal.

Of course. I had loved that book when I was little.

And then—

Thud!

“Waaah.”

I tripped, letting out a short cry.

For a second, I instinctively flinched, almost moving to catch myself—but of course, I couldn’t. I couldn’t touch anything in these memories.

Come on, Crescent. Just get up like you always do.

You’re not the kind of kid who cries over a little fall.

Sure enough, my younger self sat up without much fuss.

“Ew, almost stepped on poop.”

There must have been some kind of animal droppings nearby. It seemed like I’d barely managed to avoid it.

Brushing off my skirt, I looked up—and my pink eyes widened.

A boy had suddenly appeared in front of me.

His tousled blue hair and pitch-black eyes shone as he gazed at me.

I knew who he was instantly.

Cyrillote.

That bastard had turned into a child and was standing right in front of me.

What the hell was he doing? What was he planning this time?

More importantly—had this even happened?

I didn’t remember this moment at all.

Without a word, child Cyrillote lifted his hand and tossed something into the distance. A wriggling shape flew through the air before vanishing into the grass.

“!”

I flinched in shock.

Was that a snake?!

“You okay? That was a close one.”

“…There was a snake?”

“Yeah.”

Nodding, Cyrillote extended his hand toward my younger self—the one not holding a snake just moments ago.

…When had he even caught it?

Did he stop time again?

My younger self blinked and said, “Thanks. But where did you even come from? I didn’t see anyone here.”

“I’ve been here the whole time. You just didn’t notice because the field is so big.”

“…Really? But I’ve never seen you before. Do you live in our village?”

“No. I just happened to be passing by.”

“Oh, okay? Well, thanks anyway. I almost got bitten. Phew! If that happened, my dad would have cried about it for a week.”

“No, actually,” Cyrillote corrected. “The snake was about to die under your foot, so I saved it.”

“….”

Little me stared at him.

Even as a child, I found that ridiculous.

And honestly, so did I.

Then, after a long pause, my younger self burst into laughter.

“Haha! You’re really funny.”

Cyrillote only smiled in return.

A soft breeze passed between them.

His gaze flickered toward the book in my hands.

“Is that Baal’s story?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! You know about it? It’s my favorite book. Hehe.”

“Why do you like it? It’s about the Demon King.”

“It’s about defeating the Demon King! The part where he dies is the best!”

Hehehe.

Little me giggled, grinning from ear to ear just thinking about it.

Cyrillote tilted his head slightly, humming in thought before finally saying:

“But, Princess, the Demon King will return to his rightful place.”

“...Huh?”

My eyes widened.

No. No, no, no.

What the hell was this demon saying to a child?

“The Demon King is coming back? Then he’s just gonna die again! He should stay dead forever! Hehe.”

“…”