I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 100: Nice conversation

The tension that had coiled tightly around Elysia's chest since Malvoria left began to ease as the maids exchanged knowing smiles before taking their seats.

The room, which had felt too stifling only minutes ago, now seemed a little lighter, a little warmer.

It wasn't the first time Elysia had eaten with them. Ever since she had started interacting more with the castle staff, she had noticed how their demeanor toward her had gradually shifted from stiff formality to something softer, something that resembled quiet affection.

She had learned their names, their stories, their small grievances about the castle's ever-chilly halls, and in return, they had started treating her less like a distant queen and more like... one of them.

Not just Malvoria's wife. Not just the human princess-turned-demon queen.

But Elysia.

One of the younger maids, Lilia, placed a small pastry on Elysia's plate before grinning. "We can't have you eating just bread, Your Majesty."

Elysia rolled her eyes at the title. "If I told you to just call me Elysia, would you?"

The other maid, Yvaine, smirked as she took a bite of fruit. "Absolutely not. Queen Malvoria would have our heads."

Elysia sighed dramatically, though there was a hint of laughter in her voice. "Of course she would."

The third maid, Mirelle, who was slightly older and always carried herself with quiet elegance, gave her a knowing look. "Speaking of Her Majesty... we heard the, ah, commotion earlier."

Elysia froze for half a second, the memory of Malvoria's anger flashing through her mind—the shattered plate, the heat of her words, the way she had invaded Elysia's space so completely.

Lilia, who had been eagerly chewing on a pastry, paused mid-bite. "Wait, did she actually break a plate?"

Yvaine nodded, grinning. "Oh, she did. And from what I saw, it wasn't exactly an accident."

Elysia groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Great. Just what I needed—gossip spreading through the castle."

Mirelle chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. It won't spread far. Just among us."

"That's not exactly reassuring," Elysia muttered, but there was no real frustration in her voice.

Lilia leaned forward, eyes shining with curiosity. "So... what did happen?"

Elysia hesitated, debating how much to say.

It wasn't as if she could just explain the complicated web of emotions that had unraveled in that room—the possessiveness in Malvoria's voice, the way her presence had felt suffocating yet strangely unshakable.

Instead, she settled for a vague answer. "She was angry. Thought I was—" She stopped, suddenly realizing that explaining why Malvoria had lost her temper would lead to an even bigger mess. "—She thought something that wasn't true."

Yvaine raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like she was jealous."

Elysia opened her mouth to protest but found that she had no immediate response.

Because... wasn't that exactly what had happened?

Malvoria had been jealous.

Possessive.

Like she had something to prove.

Elysia sighed, rubbing her temples. "She's impossible."

Mirelle gave a wise nod. "That's why she's the queen."

Lilia giggled. "You're not wrong."

For a while, they simply ate, the conversation shifting to lighter topics.

The food was warm and comforting—soft bread with butter and honey, fresh fruit, and some kind of seasoned meat that Yvaine insisted was the best thing in the castle when paired with eggs.

Elysia found herself relaxing, the tension from earlier slowly melting away as the maids filled the air with chatter—small anecdotes about castle life, funny moments they had witnessed, and the latest gossip about which soldier had been caught sneaking extra desserts from the kitchen.

It was... nice.

A reminder that not everything had to be a battle. That there were still moments like this—moments where she could laugh, eat, and feel like she belonged somewhere.

At one point, Lilia looked at her, smiling softly. "You know... you're nothing like how we thought you'd be."

Elysia tilted her head. "Oh?"

"When you first came here, everyone assumed you'd be cold," Mirelle admitted. "Like Malvoria. Or... worse."

Elysia blinked. "Worse?"

Yvaine smirked. "We thought you might be scared of everything. Silent and fragile. But instead..." She gestured vaguely.

"You eat with us. You talk with us. You care about things that most people of your status wouldn't."

Elysia didn't quite know how to respond to that.

She had never thought of it as anything special—treating the people around her like people. But she supposed that in a place like this, in a castle ruled by Malvoria's iron grip, kindness was something rare.

A small smile touched her lips. "Well... someone has to balance out Malvoria, right?"

Lilia snorted. "That's a full-time job."

Elysia laughed, and for the first time that morning, she felt... lighter.

As the meal wound to an end, Elysia found herself lingering at the table, listening to the soft hum of conversation between the maids.

The atmosphere had shifted into something warm and familiar, a stark contrast to the tense, suffocating morning she had endured before their arrival.

She didn't realize how much she had needed this—needed them.

It was easy to forget, in the midst of all the chaos, that there were people in this castle who didn't see her as a pawn in a political game or an enemy in a war.

Here, in this small moment, she wasn't just Queen Elysia—she was Elysia, a person, a presence, someone they had come to care for beyond her title.

When the last of the food had been eaten and the dishes cleared away, Elysia stretched her arms over her head and exhaled.

"I think I'll go for a walk," she said, mostly to herself, but the maids exchanged glances.

"Will you be alright, Your Majesty?" Mirelle asked, a flicker of concern in her gaze.

"I'll be fine," Elysia reassured with a small smile. "I just need some air."

Lilia grinned. "If you're trying to avoid Her Majesty, the training yard is not the direction to go."

Elysia blinked. "Malvoria's training?"

Yvaine chuckled. "Oh yes. And from what I heard, she's in one of those moods."

That piqued Elysia's curiosity. She had never actually seen Malvoria train—not properly, at least.

She had sparred before, had shown flashes of her strength in small moments, but a true demonstration of her power?

That, she had never witnessed.

And despite herself, she was curious.

So, with a nod to the maids, she left the warmth of the room and stepped into the cool corridors of the castle. The walk through the halls was quiet, her footsteps echoing slightly as she made her way outside.

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The moment she stepped onto the training grounds, she knew she had made a mistake.

Malvoria wasn't training.

She was brutalizing her soldiers.

Elysia stopped in her tracks, watching as one unfortunate soldier was sent flying across the yard, his body hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

The man groaned in pain, struggling to sit up, but Malvoria didn't even pause—she was already moving toward the next opponent, her sword flashing through the air with terrifying speed.

The soldiers around her weren't fighting—they were surviving.

Elysia had seen many skilled fighters in her time. She had trained with knights, had sparred against seasoned warriors, but Malvoria was something else entirely.

She moved like a force of nature, her blade an extension of herself, her movements precise, lethal, and utterly ruthless. There was no hesitation, no mercy—only raw power and terrifying efficiency.

A soldier lunged at her, aiming for her blind spot, but Malvoria anticipated it without even turning her head. She sidestepped the strike with ease, catching the man's wrist before twisting it with enough force to send him crashing into the dirt.

"Pathetic," she muttered, stepping over him. "Is this the level of warriors I'm expected to command?"

The soldiers flinched but didn't stop. They regrouped, gripping their weapons tighter, their faces set in grim determination.

Elysia should have felt bad for them.

She didn't.

Because she knew—she understood—that this was Malvoria's way. This was how she ruled, how she commanded respect.

It was through fear, through dominance, through the sheer, undeniable reality that no one could ever stand against her and win.

And yet...

Elysia found that she couldn't look away.