Became Pregnant With the Demon King’s Child

“Would it be alright if I read alone for a while? I’ll call right away if anything happens.”

“Yes. We’ll be standing right outside the door. His Grace placed a spell on the study windows so they can’t be opened—they’ll remain sealed.”
Tia’s tone carried a subtle warning, as if worried Lowell might try to sneak out again—quietly telling him not to even think about leaving through the window.
Really… just because I snuck out once, he went and placed magic on the windows? Felix, you really do worry too much.

Lowell didn’t open the note until the two knights had fully exited. Only then, with a reluctant expression, did he finally unfold it. Frankly, the content was predictable.
He probably wrote something about how he thinks I’ve been taken against my will and how he wants to help.
That guess wasn’t wrong. But what was written went even further.

[His Majesty the Emperor has also said that if Young Master Lowell is truly being threatened, he guarantees he can offer assistance. If you disguise yourself and accompany me to the capital, then…]
Lowell stopped reading there, dizziness overtaking him, and lost all desire to continue. Even when he forced himself to read on, it only got worse. The note even included doubts about whether Felix was truly the father of Lowell’s child. That was enough for Lowell to be absolutely certain this was the Emperor’s handiwork.
So the Emperor decided to stir the pot… If not him directly, then someone from his inner circle.

It had seemed odd from the start—no matter the rumors, for a foreign prince to doubt the relationship between Felix and himself was unnatural. Clearly, someone had been working behind the scenes. It was so transparent it was laughable.
Judging by the tone, they’re trying to say that if I go to the capital, they’ll give me some kind of position or money under the guise of “protection.” If I abandon Felix, they’ll use that. If I don’t, they’ll take the chance to probe my heart.
Lowell sighed from deep within. Just picturing Zephyros innocently tucking that note away, clueless about the political implications, made his chest tighten. He may have been spoiled all his life, but a prince should at least have some political sense—yet this one was thoroughly a creature of muscle.

Looks like he only knows how to swing a sword.
Staring blankly at the note, Lowell debated whether to destroy it or show it to Felix and discuss it. His first instinct was to tear it to pieces or burn it to ash—but he knew keeping the evidence might be more useful.
For now, I’ll hold onto it until Felix gets back.

Having made up his mind, he began looking for a place to store it—when a loud crash sounded from below. For the noise to reach all the way up to the study on the upper floor, something had clearly gone wrong. In haste, Lowell slipped the note back into the book and stood up.
“Young Master, are you planning to go downstairs?”
Charis, stationed outside the study door, looked troubled as Lowell stepped out.

“It seems something’s happened among the servants.”
Tia also gently expressed that she hoped Lowell wouldn’t get involved—her way of asking him not to go.
“Still, I think I should check what’s going on.”
They didn’t stop him any further. After all, Felix had given strict orders: let Lowell do as he pleases unless absolutely necessary. As he descended the stairs to the lower floor, a few servants spotted him and bowed cautiously.

Something’s definitely up.
One servant even rushed down ahead to deliver the news that Lowell and the knights were coming.
“So now you’re saying we just have to endure it?”

“And you really think this kind of behavior is acceptable?”
As those words rang out, silence suddenly fell.
Word must’ve reached them that we were coming down. That last voice—it sounded like the butler, Hamilton.

When Lowell opened the door and stepped inside, the room was bustling like nothing had happened. But with just a little attention, he could spot the awkward tension.
Servants who normally kept their distance are standing together.
In the absence of a Grand Duchess or official attendants, duties in the Grand Duke’s manor were sharply divided: those who handled household affairs and directly attended Felix were servants who had been here since the previous Grand Duke—or even longer, carrying on family tradition. Meanwhile, the ones who did menial chores were newcomers brought in under Felix’s command. The long-time servants were close with the butler, Hamilton. The newer ones aligned themselves with the head housekeeper and the steward.

Put simply, it’s a split between Hamilton’s side and the steward’s.
The steward and head housekeeper had once been figureheads under the previous Grand Duke, but with Felix away at war for long periods, their influence had grown. They had seized power and voices that hadn’t originally belonged to them.
I’d already sensed bad blood between them—looks like it finally exploded. Normally, the new servants wouldn’t even have the standing to raise a fuss, but it must’ve gotten out of hand.

Easily reading the room, Lowell put on the face of someone entirely unaware.
“What’s going on?”
“There was a loud noise while moving something heavy. I apologize for the commotion.”

The steward spoke with a deeply bowed posture, his tone dripping with the unspoken message: Don’t get involved. Hamilton’s brow furrowed deeply. He looked thoroughly displeased that the steward had spoken first.
“Oh? Was it not a dispute of some kind?”
Lowell asked knowingly, baiting them. He didn’t expect honesty, but he wanted to gauge their reactions.

Judging by the atmosphere, this isn’t a problem between just two people. There must be a longstanding rift. The recent mass dismissals of servants might’ve triggered it. Since most of them were new hires, the steward’s group likely felt threatened.
Keeping a soft smile, Lowell sharpened his awareness.
“Yes. We’ll be more careful from now on so that there’s nothing for you to worry about, Young Master.”

Hamilton’s response earned a passing mark. It was natural to hide such disputes, and he at least observed the minimum courtesy due to Felix’s partner.
“Indeed. There won’t be anything for the Young Master to concern himself with from now on.”
But the steward, echoing him, was different.

“Nothing you’ll need to concern yourself with,” huh? He means to imply I’m not the Grand Duchess or anything of importance, so I shouldn’t get involved—and won’t be in the future either. He probably thinks he hid the implication well, but no chance.
Lowell sneered inwardly at the steward’s hostility.
Nothing more I can do here. I’ll need to watch how the household runs for now.

With one more glance around the room, Lowell folded his hands with a pleasant smile.
“No, no—it happens when you’re working. I must’ve disrupted things by coming down here.”
With Felix away from the manor, Lowell thought to himself that it was time to start reshaping his relationship with the staff—and he smiled inwardly in satisfaction.

***
First thing to do is identify the power struggle between those two sides.
Lowell searched his mind for someone who might speak honestly with him.

The knights might be blunt, but it’s likely they don’t know anything. A few of them are sharp, sure, but they’ve probably spent most of their time around Felix.
Next, he thought of Hamilton—loyal to Felix.
But then, Lowell shook his head.

A man that responsible won’t reveal internal problems to someone he sees as a superior. If Felix asks, he might obey out of duty—but if I ask, he’ll just see it as stirring up trouble.
What he needed was someone with a little less responsibility—and maybe a bit of guilt toward him. With that thought, Lowell immediately called for Hamilton.
“Mr. Hamilton, could you send someone to my room? A girl with short brown hair and freckles, about this tall. She brought me a meal once—I want to ask her something about the food.”

“Of course. And please, feel free to call me Hamilton.”
Hamilton had softened considerably compared to when Lowell first arrived in Nyx. Now that he was convinced Lowell wasn’t here to betray Felix, he’d begun to let his guard down.
“Then I’ll call you Mr. Hamilton.”

Lowell didn’t miss a thing—and with that, he was confident his plan would go more smoothly from here on.
Not long after Hamilton stepped out, there was a timid knock on the study door.
“Y-You called for me, sir…?”

The girl was trembling, visibly terrified.
No wonder. She’s the only servant who wasn’t fired after the ladder incident—the one who happened to avoid being punished because she’d been sent out to fetch someone. She probably thinks I realized it later and called her to be dismissed.
Lowell had noticed all this back when she’d first brought him a meal—but chose not to mention it. He hadn’t thought it was a firing offense, and suspected she might be useful one day.

And here we are. It paid off.
Feeling somewhat pleased, Lowell spoke gently.
“Yes. I wanted to ask you something.”

At that, the maid turned pale, as if she might faint at any moment. Her fear—of having spent every day dreading the moment she’d be found out—was clear on her face.
“There’s no need to be so nervous.”
“...Pardon?”

Her startled voice cracked slightly.
“I don’t plan to tell His Grace what happened that ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ day. You were the first one to call for help because you were worried about me, weren’t you?”