I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 238: Responsability returns

It had been two weeks.

Two full, surreal, beautiful weeks.

Malvoria, the feared Demon Queen, had spent every single moment of them ignoring her kingdom.

Entire provinces could have caught fire and she wouldn’t have known. She’d have raised an eyebrow, maybe. Possibly muttered something about bad timing. But she wouldn’t have left Elysia’s side.

She’d helped with Kaelith. Helped. A word that felt too small for what she had done. She’d been at her daughter’s side for every cry, every wail, every suspiciously wet moment.

She’d learned to swaddle, bottle-feed, and even whisper in the exact tone that made Kaelith blink and blink, and then sleep like a stone with fire breath.

For fourteen days, she had been nothing but a wife and a mother.

And she had never loved anything more.

The documents had piled up like ambitious mountains in her study. Reports from the border watch. Petitions from high nobles.

Insults from the Celestial Ambassador—she was ninety-nine percent sure he’d called her a "velvet-cloaked tyrant with a crown made of teeth" in a very floral poem.

But Malvoria hadn’t opened a single scroll. She’d barely looked at the door to her office.

She’d been too busy watching Kaelith hiccup sparks and fall asleep on Elysia’s chest. Too busy memorizing the way Elysia’s eyes fluttered shut after feeding, or the curve of her exhausted smile in the moonlight.

Even now, walking toward her office at last, Malvoria could still hear the echo of that memory—the first time Kaelith had been bathed.

---

It had been early evening. Candlelight bloomed against the stone walls, soft and golden. The bath chamber had been warmed in advance, steam rising from the water like a lazy ghost.

Elysia had been seated on a cushioned stool, wrapped in a robe, hair damp from her own bath, cheeks flushed with the heat of the room and the nerves of new motherhood.

"Are you sure we shouldn’t call for Faelira?" Elysia asked, biting her lip.

"I’m sure," Malvoria said, holding their daughter like she was made of glass and starlight. "I studied twelve scrolls. I’ve practiced with illusions. I am fully prepared."

Elysia raised an eyebrow. "You practiced baby-handling spells on illusions?"

"Yes. I named one of them ’Flarbie.’ It exploded after five seconds."

Elysia blinked.

"I’ve improved," Malvoria added quickly.

She stepped to the edge of the bath, where the water glimmered with faint runes of protection and herbs floated like petals in moonlight. Slowly, carefully, she lowered Kaelith into the water.

There was a moment of silence.

Then Kaelith kicked her tiny legs, splashed water in Malvoria’s face, and screamed in delight.

"She loves it," Malvoria whispered, stunned.

"She’s a demon," Elysia said, grinning. "Of course she loves chaos."

Malvoria reached for the soft cloth and began to bathe her. Every movement was deliberate. Sacred.

The warm water curled around Kaelith’s skin, and her crimson curls floated like sparks on the surface. Her tiny hands batted the water like she was wrestling destiny.

"I thought I’d be afraid," Malvoria murmured. "That I’d drop her. That I’d ruin this."

Elysia moved closer, wrapping her arms around Malvoria’s waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. "You didn’t."

"She’s so small."

"She’s perfect."

Kaelith made a loud gurgling noise, followed by an even louder—and somehow dramatic—fart.

Malvoria froze. "Was that...?"

"A gift," Elysia whispered, deadpan.

Malvoria laughed, leaning back into her wife’s warmth. "I’ve fought wars. Tamed monsters. And this child has conquered me with bubbles."

"Get used to it," Elysia said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "You’re doomed."

---

She was still smiling as she reached her study.

That was her first mistake.

Because the moment she opened the door, the illusion shattered.

The desk was gone.

Not literally it was still there but it was entirely, completely, catastrophically buried. Scrolls towered like crooked trees.

Enchanted wax seals pulsed ominously. A letter hovered in midair and screamed the word "URGENT" at her before exploding into a puff of glitter and spite.

"...No," Malvoria muttered.

She turned on her heel with the grace of a general executing retreat.

She nearly made it out.

"Going somewhere?" came Veylira’s voice.

Malvoria froze. Slowly turned. Her mother was leaning against the doorway, one hand already covered in ink, a quill tucked behind her ear, and the sharp glint of doom in her eyes.

"I was just—checking," Malvoria said, vaguely gesturing toward the hall. "That no one had... poisoned... the stair railings."

"Ah," Veylira said. "And did they?"

"No."

"Then you can stay." She stepped aside, motioning toward the mountain range of bureaucracy behind her.

"I’m technically on leave."

"You’re a monarch, Malvoria. There’s no such thing."

Malvoria narrowed her eyes. "I’m also a mother. A tired one."

"You think the High Council cares? Do you know what they sent me this morning? A fruit basket. Do you know what was inside it?"

"...Fruit?"

"A complaint," Veylira said, voice rising, "carved into a pomegranate."

Malvoria groaned and walked back in, sitting at the edge of the desk like it might bite her. "This can’t all be important."

"It’s not," Veylira said. "But it’s yours. And if you ignore it too long, someone else makes the decisions. Is that what you want?"

"No. But I want time."

"You had two weeks."

Malvoria rubbed her temples. "I don’t regret them."

"Good. You shouldn’t." Veylira stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"But now we move. We protect our family not just with fire, but with paper and law. That child deserves a future that doesn’t collapse because her mother refused to read a budget report."

Malvoria glanced at the scroll in front of her. It said CABBAGE WAR PROPOSAL: EASTERN TERRITORIES.

She blinked. "Is this... literal?"

Veylira sighed. "Yes. Apparently a noble accused another of sabotaging their cabbage crops with cursed rain."

"I don’t know if I want to live in this kingdom."

"You’re running this kingdom."

Malvoria leaned back in the chair. It creaked ominously. "Fine. Give me an hour."

"Make it three."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

Malvoria reached for a scroll, holding it like a cursed artifact. "Only Kaelith gets to drool on me today."

"Then start reading."

Malvoria scowled, but there was a warmth behind her irritation. She wasn’t just doing this for the kingdom.

She was doing it for her wife, her daughter, and the ridiculous family that now included dramatic elves, sarcastic demon nobles, and a human king who made terrible tea but tried very hard.

She could handle a few pomegranates.

Probably.