Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

Emmalise locked eyes with those crimson irises, and a shiver ran down her spine.

She had read about them before—in history books, in legends of the Lord of Calamity.

Dark hair. Red eyes. A presence that made the air feel heavy.

Everything about this man matched the descriptions perfectly.

But she refused to let fear show.

She was the Queen of Cortinvar. She would not scream or shrink back like a frightened girl. That would only tarnish her name.

With a scoff, she crossed her arms and sneered, "Hah! My kingdom doesn't need help, least of all from some nameless fool with no power!"

The man's smirk deepened. "Oh? I like your feisty attitude. Just like a little cat."

His gaze traveled slowly from her head to toe, lingering shamelessly.

She wasnt his type with her petite body, cute face, but full breast, but oh well it didn't matter if he could have strong children with her.

Emmalise's blood boiled.

His bold stare, his amused tone, for her, he was mocking her.

She clenched her jaw and took a step back, glaring. "How dare you insult me? I am the Queen of Cortinvar! I should have your filthy tongue cut out for your insolence!"

Without hesitation, she turned toward the door and shouted, "Guards!"

Silence.Her stomach dropped.

She tried again, louder, "Guards! There's an intruder!"

Still, no one came. Sweat started beaded at her temple.

Claude chuckled, stepping closer. "See? Your feisty little act is adorable—but foolish."

Her breath hitched.

She then just realize of how did he get inside without being noticed?

Panic rose in her throat, and she muttered a something under her breath—

But in an instant, his hand was over her mouth, cutting her off.

He leaned in, voice a low whisper against her ear. "Shhh… You don't want everyone knowing your secret, do you?"

Emmalise's eyes widened as her heart pounded violently.

How? How could he know? She had sworn to carry that secret to her grave.

And more importantly he dared to touch her without her consent?! Her fury surged, and she sank her teeth into his hand.

Claude flinched, pulling back with a frown. Then, to her horror, he chuckled. "Oh? You bite too? That's cute."

Emmalise pushed against his broad chest, her voice sharp. "You insolent bastard! You dare touch a queen?"

Claude grinned, unbothered. "And yet, I am a king. Wouldn't that make us a match?"

Her breath caught. This shameless man!

"N-No!" she snapped. "If you were truly a king, you would have come here with an official envoy, not skulked in like a thief!"

Claude tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Hmmm. Fair point."

Then he leaned in slightly, voice dropping, "But tell me, my Queen… how do you think I knew your secret?"

Emmalise stiffened.

"It's a whisper from inside the church." His smirk returned. "Their eyes are on you."

Her blood ran cold. 'The church? This is bad, they would give that reason to burn her! Or worse, telling this to the court!'

Being a witch wasn't illegal in Cortinvar, but their reputation was ruined.

The previous king had protected witches, leading to a decade-long war that left the kingdom starving and broken.

Even after victory, famine and suffering followed, and the people blamed witches and chruch for it all.

Since then, witches had hidden in the shadows, avoiding the public eye.

Funny enough, the king do that to protect his beloved queen, 'Then he still cheat.'

And Emmalise carried that same blood—a secret that could destroy her.

Meanwhile, Claude was bluffing. He had actually heard the rumor in Cortinvar's capital, not from the clergy—but he didn't need her to know that.

He only needed to see how she reacted.

Emmalise's panic was evident in her wide, gray eyes as her voice trembled. "What do you want from me? What do you mean by helping me?"

Claude exhaled as if he had been waiting for this question. "Ah, so we're finally getting to the point."

He settled onto the sofa near the fireplace, his posture relaxed. "Let's discuss this in a more comfortable manner, shall we?"

She swallowed hard but cautiously took a seat across from him, keeping as much distance as possible.

Yet, his crimson gaze remained fixed on her, making her grip the fabric of her dress with unease.

"Well?" she pressed.

Claude smirked. "Ah, my apologies. I got distracted by how adorable you are."

Her irritation flared instantly, though a faint blush spreading. "I am not cute! I am elegant and beautiful! Stop spouting nonsense and just say what's on your mind!"

Instead of taking offense, his smirk only deepened. "Oh? You want me to say exactly what's on my mind?"

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Then, Emmalise, why don't you marry me?"

Emmalise's breath hitched as she gaped at him, her face turning even redder. "Wh-what?! H-how could you be so shameless?!"

Claude arched a brow. "Why? Wouldn't marrying me solve your problems?"

"That's not the point!" she snapped, trying to regain her composure.

"We just met! I don't even know your name, your origin, or how this so-called marriage would benefit me politically!"

"Ah, right. Introductions." He leaned back, looking completely at ease. "I'm Claude Vlad Calego, King of Elysium." His lips curled into a smirk.

"And soon enough, the man who will conquer the world. With me, you'll gain immense political power."

His voice turned almost playful as he added, "Besides, we share a common enemy. Wouldn't it be wise to work together?"

Emmalise's breath caught in her throat. That name—she knew it all too well. It had been spoken countless times in court meetings and whispered among the clergy. The very name that had plagued her thoughts and troubled her reign…

And now, the man himself was sitting right in front of her.

"You…" Her voice dropped to a whisper, wary of anyone overhearing. "You're that person? The descendant of the King of Calamity?"

Claude leaned forward slightly, his confidence unwavering. "Ah, so you have heard of me. Have you been keeping tabs? Do you like me that much?"

Emmalise's brows furrowed, her irritation quickly overtaking her initial fear.

"You're… unbelievably narcissistic, aren't you?"

At first, he had seemed terrifying—an ominous presence that sent chills down her spine. But the more he spoke, the more that intimidation faded, replaced by sheer exasperation.

He was still dangerous, no doubt. But right now, he was just irritating and also strangely charming and funny...