Royal Bastard’s Bloodstained Regression
Chapter 122: Curtain Call and Celestial Glares

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the Grand Lyric Theatre.

Vivian peeked through the window and smiled. "Wow... look over there. It's beautiful."

Gabriel leaned closer, nodding. "It's one of the oldest theatres in the capital. Mother used to bring me here."

The theatre was a majestic structure—its towering arches and intricate carvings made it feel more like a cathedral than a stage. The grandeur reflected Varyndor's rich cultural legacy, its glowing lanterns casting warm light over the cobbled entrance.

Their carriage came to a gentle stop. The rider climbed down and opened the door with a bow. "We've arrived, Your Highness."

"Thank you," Gabriel said, stepping out first.

He reached for Vivian's hand and helped her down with practiced grace.

Then came Daemon, who hopped out and caught Gabriel trying to offer him a hand.

"Quit teasing. I'm not a lady."

Gabriel laughed. "Just thought you might need help for once."

Daemon scoffed and straightened his collar as they walked forward.

The buzz of excitement grew louder as nobles and commoners alike whispered.

"Is that Crown Prince Gabriel?"

"Lady Vivian looks stunning!"

"And that young man—he must be Prince Daemon..."

"So the rumors were true. He's really back."

The crowd parted as they made their way toward the grand entrance. All eyes lingered on Vivian, her silver hair and golden gown catching the light like moonlit silk.

"Now that I think about it," Daemon said, glancing around. "Will Zaria know this place?"

"She will. She can trace divine energy," Gabriel replied. "Besides, this is the biggest theatre in Varyndor. If she's coming, someone will definitely escort her."

Escort her? Daemon raised an eyebrow. Interesting.

Just then, the murmurs died down as a new carriage approached—unlike any other. Pure white with gilded edges, it seemed to shine with a light of its own.

From it descended Zaria.

Clad in celestial robes that shimmered like starlight, wings folded with effortless grace behind her, she was every bit the divine being people whispered of in fairy tales. Her mere presence seemed to still the air.

Beside her stood a holy knight, armored head to toe in radiant gold. His eyes locked immediately on Daemon—hard and unblinking. The look wasn't curiosity. It was judgment.

"An angel... it's really her!"

"She's walking among us!"

"She's breathtaking..."

The crowd instinctively parted, bowing their heads as she passed, her expression calm—until her gaze met Daemon's.

Daemon stepped forward with a smooth grin. "Wow, you look beautiful, Zaria."

She didn't miss a beat. "Save your compliments. I don't need pity from a demon."

Daemon paused. Figures. Complimenting her only seemed to bruise his pride—and hers. She wouldn't react to niceties. That much was clear.

But Daemon had known women like her before. Not romantically, of course. But he'd seen this type during his past life—warriors with walls so high they forgot how to look down.

He smirked. "Oh. My mistake. I'll be honest then—you look ugly."

Her eyes widened, lips curling into fury. "You fool!"

Beside her stood a towering holy guard—Sir Luke—his gleaming armor reflecting the theatre lights. His gaze was fixed squarely on Daemon, sharp with both recognition and warning.

"You shouldn't joke about her holiness like that," Luke said coldly.

Daemon didn't flinch. He simply offered a faint, unreadable smile. He could already tell getting alone time with Zaria today would be difficult.

Zaria, meanwhile, had rushed ahead excitedly—eager to see Gabriel's outfit. But the moment her eyes landed on him smiling warmly at Vivian, something inside her paused.

She didn't understand what the feeling was, but her fist clenched instinctively.

Daemon, standing a step behind her, caught the whole thing. He followed her gaze, watched her face tighten, and nearly chuckled out loud. Nothing delighted him more than watching a proud woman's mask crack.

Let's make today your worst day yet, he thought, smirking.

"Let's go inside," Daemon said casually.

Gabriel, noticing Zaria finally, smiled. "You look beautiful in that dress."

"Oh... Lilac gave it to me," she replied quickly. "But thank you. I'm glad you like it."

Gabriel nodded warmly, then gestured beside him. "Ah, right—this is my fiancée, Vivian Stirling."

Vivian gave a polite smile. "Nice to meet you."

Zaria didn't answer. She only glanced away, her posture stiff.

Gabriel, picking up on the tension, gently squeezed Vivian's hand and whispered, "She's just shy, don't worry."

Vivian offered a small, understanding smile.

Meanwhile, Daemon was clearly entertained, barely hiding his amusement.

Inside, the theatre was breathtaking. Massive chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting golden light across the audience. The scent of polished wood and old parchment gave the space a warm, nostalgic charm.

They were escorted to the VIP balcony, offering a perfect view of the stage below.

"I reserved this spot," Gabriel said, cheeks slightly red as he glanced at Vivian.

"Your Highness, that's so sweet of you," Vivian said with a smile, clearly flattered as she leaned closer to Gabriel. The two of them were lost in their own little world.

Daemon, seated across from them, resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The lovey-dovey atmosphere was suffocating—until a familiar voice broke through.

"Ugh, this is disgusting," Zaria muttered.

Daemon turned his head, mildly surprised, but the holy knight beside her was quicker.

"Mind your language, Your Holiness," Sir Luke said stiffly.

Zaria shot him a glare. "Are you trying to control how I speak now?"

"I'm here to protect and guide you... especially from evil," Luke replied, his eyes locking onto Daemon with visible contempt.

Daemon's smile was calm but sharp. "Ah, I see. One look, and I'm evil. Seems my reputation arrived before me. Doesn't the holy temple teach not to judge others so quickly?"

Luke scoffed. "And what would a demon know about the teachings of the temple?"

Daemon's eyes narrowed. The arrogance of the holy order—so deeply ingrained it even reached lapdogs like this one. He was starting to lose patience.

Zaria stepped between them with a scowl. "Enough! Both of you—stop it!"

Daemon leaned back in his seat, dismissing the conversation entirely. "I'm not wasting my time on zealots. I'd rather spend it talking to Zaria."

She glared at him. "And I'd rather jump off this balcony."

"That's enough, both of you," Gabriel cut in, voice firm. Then he turned to Zaria. "And you—watch your tone. Today is supposed to be peaceful. Don't ruin it."

Zaria froze. The sting of Gabriel's disapproval hit her harder than she expected.

Daemon noticed the shift. She looked hurt... and then he saw it—a small, white feather drifted from her wings and landed near his feet. He glanced up. Her feathers were trembling slightly... and then it stopped. Interesting, he thought. So her emotions do affect her purity.

Before more could be said, a woman stepped onto the stage and bowed deeply toward the royal balcony.

"Esteemed guests, welcome," she said. "We are honored to perform for you today."

The lights dimmed, and the performance began.

An opera singer's voice echoed through the hall, followed by actors stepping onto the stage. The music swelled.

Before anyone could speak further, a woman stepped onto the stage and bowed deeply toward the royal balcony.

"Esteemed guests, welcome," she announced with grace. "We are honored to perform for you tonight."

She then turned to the balcony and gave a deeper bow. "To the royal family, it is my greatest joy to see you here among us."

Gabriel smiled politely and gave a small nod.

The lights dimmed, the murmurs faded, and the performance began.

A soft note echoed through the grand hall as an opera singer took the stage. Her voice was clear, powerful, and full of emotion. Behind her, actors began to move, setting the scene for the story that was about to unfold.

"She has a beautiful voice," Gabriel muttered.

"Indeed," Vivian agreed, eyes shining with admiration.

Daemon, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, bored. The dramatic singing, the drawn-out acting—it would go on for hours. Still, he endured it, if only for the sake of appearances.

His gaze shifted to Zaria. She was focused, seemingly captivated by the performance. Even Gabriel and Vivian were drawn in.

Is this what heaven's like? he thought. If this is entertainment to her, I'd rather stay in hell.

Then, suddenly—

"Oh no..." Vivian's tone shifted. She glanced nervously at Daemon.

Gabriel frowned, and even Zaria looked uneasy.

Across from them, Luke smiled faintly, arms crossed, clearly expecting a reaction.

Daemon narrowed his eyes, confused. What was the big deal?

Then he started paying closer attention.

And he recognized it.

Of course. The story being told was the tale of the Demon King Seraphiel and the Hero Michael. It was a glorified rendition—one designed to paint Seraphiel as a savage monster and Michael as a divine savior. The crowd, unaware of Daemon's identity, watched with awe.

Gabriel leaned toward Daemon, whispering sharply. "This is unacceptable."

Vivian touched Gabriel's arm gently, trying to calm him. "Let it go," she whispered.

Zaria's expression was unreadable, her eyes fixed on the stage.

Gabriel began to rise from his seat, fists clenched—but Daemon placed a hand on his arm and gently shook his head.

"But brother—"

"It's fine," Daemon said, feigning a pained smile. "It's a story they tell children. It's not like I remember anything from that life."

He looked down, pretending to be hurt.

Zaria glanced at him, her brows slightly furrowed.

Gabriel hesitated, then sat back down, still tense. His knuckles were white from clenching his fists.

Daemon, meanwhile, relaxed in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

I don't mind, he thought. If anything, the Demon King looked pretty cool.