Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1066: A Strong Hunch

Chapter 1066: A Strong Hunch

“Then I greet you, Black…”

“Or should I call you Devil?”

Quinlan instantly froze where he stood. The words struck harder than any blade could. For a long moment, he remained silent.

His mind was unraveling in real time, struggling to accept that he wasn’t dreaming.

Was this really real?

Then came warmth. Two hands. On his left, Vex’s gloved grip. On his right, Kitsara’s delicate touch. He turned, catching their eyes. Neither looked shocked. Neither wavered. They looked like a pair of women who already knew that the king might piece it together.

Quinlan exhaled softly. ’Of course. This world is not my exclusive playground; there are other competent players present… The king is a shrewd bastard, I gave too much away at the feast…’

Still. Just because Alexios asked didn’t mean he had proof. Maybe he was just playing around with the idea, or not being serious at all. Admitting it now, after being asked only a single question, would be the real rookie mistake.

As such, all Quinlan did was shrug his shoulders. “I wasn’t aware His Majesty worked as a part-time jester. Or was the alcohol too much?”

The jab bounced off the king like rain on steel. Alexios didn’t even flinch as he ignored Quinlan completely.

“What I would like to know,” he continued, “is what a criminal plans to do with my daughter.”

“Criminal? I did nothing illegal. Your wife attacked me without provocation.”

Silence. Then the king chuckled. The sound was low, humorless.

“Nothing illegal, you say? I’ve heard many tales of the Devil, but being an innocent, law-abiding citizen was never one of them.”

Quinlan’s tone was dry. “Devil, is it? Yes, I’ve heard of him, too. Rising superstar in the underworld, if the rumors are to be believed.”

Alexios didn’t miss a beat. “It’s not good to toot one’s own horn.”

“…” Veins began bulging on Quinlan’s forehead. This old man was usually so stoic that one could mistake him for a corpse, but now he showed that he could maneuver conversations he shouldn’t be used to having as well. Quinlan had to admit that the old man was good.

“Why are you so sure that I’m Devil?”

The king did not hesitate. His voice was steady, grounded in conviction rather than theatrics. “I have no ironclad proof, no written confession, no divine proclamation. Only a hunch. But I am a thousand years old, boy. When one lives this long, one learns which voices within to ignore, and which to heed. I believe in my hunches. They have carried me through countless conflicts and kept this kingdom standing.”

His tone carried neither accusation nor mockery… Only inevitability.

“From the beginning, I knew you were hiding something. A noble who insists on wearing a mask, even among his peers… that alone would not have troubled me. Eccentricity exists in every court. But then you were invited to my millennial celebration—an honor extended only to the highest nobility—and still you came cloaked, faceless. That narrowed the possibilities. You could not be a duke. You could not be a count. Every one of them was present, unmasked. At best, you are a baron.”

His voice sharpened. “And tell me, what baron would not seize such a chance? To stand in my hall, to bask in royal recognition, to boast his crest upon his clothes for all to see? It would raise his station a hundredfold. No baron would waste that opportunity. Unless anonymity was not a preference, but a necessity.”

Quinlan remained silent as the king continued his barrage. “And what necessity could warrant such a drastic desire to remain unknown other than you being something other than you claim?”

Alexios let the weight of those words hang before he loaded even more ammunition into his gun and fired.

“Then came the other signs. Your duel at the feast, where you wielded the elements in ways that did not match common spellcraft. Rumors speak of Devil bending the elements unnaturally, and you fought in that same fashion. You walk with women of rare beauty and rarer strength, some with unique features. Just as the Devil is said to do. You carry yourself with the body of a veteran combatant, tall, muscular, and cut from battle. The Devil is described the same.”

“But the final piece was the fox.”

“It is no secret that the Consortium sent Devil on a mission to the beastkin lands to secure their allegiance. His success was paraded across the world because the seal of the Beastkin Confederation, or at least some of its tribes, granted legitimacy to their cause, enough to wage open war against Greenvale.”

“And then, not long after Devil should’ve returned, you arrive. A masked noble of no name, no crest, no ties… and on your head rests the most ancient fox of all, who by all accounts should be asleep within the lands of the Confederation.”

He exhaled, sounding utterly certain of his truth. “One sign, I could dismiss. Two, perhaps. But all of them together? This is no longer a suspicion. It is the kind of truth one feels in the marrow. I need no parchment proof, no confession. My hunch is so strong this time that I would stake my life upon it being right.”

While the old man spoke, Quinlan stood utterly still, listening as the king’s voice drummed through the communication artifact.

Every word fit together like the final stones of a wall he had been trying to climb over since the banquet. Alexios had put it all together, piece by piece, and now the fortress stood seemingly unassailable.

It was game over. The king didn’t need to provide hard proof… his word was law.

For a long moment, Quinlan didn’t move. His lips stayed sealed, eyes locked forward, letting silence be his only shield.

But then he shut his eyes. Breathed in. Held it.

And when he opened them again, the hesitation was gone. His heartbeat slowed, his thoughts aligned, and calm—true calm—settled over him.

His voice was steady when he finally spoke.

“What do you want?”

A pause came from the other end. Then the king answered with a question of his own.

“Oh? Am I speaking to Devil at long last?”

Quinlan’s lips curved upwards, allowing himself to wield a big grin. “You always have been, you sneaky old bastard. I’m not a schizophrenic with two personas, just a man with different masks.”

For the first time since the call began, the king laughed. A deep, sudden chuckle that cut through his sternness. “Hah! Good. I have enough crazies around me already.”

Quinlan turned his head toward Vex and Kitsara. Both were watching him closely, reading his every word. He exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging.

“Same…”

The reaction was immediate.

Vex stomped her foot on his. “Injustice!!”

Kitsara puffed her cheeks, tail lashing furiously. “Excuse me?!”

The two of them spoke over each other, voices rising in indignant harmony. But neither of them managed to bring up any good point as to why they were normal and not crazy.

“… Moving on,” Alexios intervened. “What are your plans with my daughter?”

Quinlan tilted his head, sounding as calm as a frozen lake. “You’re very relaxed for a man who has his teenage daughter standing beside a wanted criminal. A wanted criminal you yourself posted the bounty on…”