Eren had already finished his second honeyed tart and was halfway through a lavender cake when he finally stopped chewing. His lips were stained with fruit, his fingers sticky.
But it wasn't the sugar that made him freeze.
It was the way Daemon was staring at him.
Not unkindly. Not angrily.
Just... watching.
Eren swallowed, wiped his hands on his tunic, and looked down.
"Why... are you doing this?"
Daemon blinked. "Doing what?"
"This." Eren motioned around. "The food. The money. Bringing me here. People like me don't belong in places like this. So what do you want?"
Daemon leaned back in his chair.
And laughed.
Not cruelly. Not loud. Just soft, and maybe even a little surprised.
"You think I want something from you?" he asked.
Eren frowned. "Don't you?"
Daemon shook his head slowly.
"No. I brought you here because..." He tapped the table once. "I saw myself in you."
Eren blinked. "What?"
Daemon's eyes sharpened.
"You're alone. Treated like you're not supposed to exist. Like your very presence offends people. You didn't do anything wrong—but they beat you, mock you, avoid you."
He leaned forward.
"I know what that feels like. To breathe and still feel like you're trespassing in your own skin."
Eren said nothing.
Daemon's voice dropped lower, quieter. "You hate them, don't you?"
Eren looked down again. His hands curled into fists.
Daemon nodded.
"I don't blame you. I hated them too. Still do, if I'm honest."
Then Eren glanced up. His eyes studied Daemon's cloak, his clean skin, the faint scent of expensive herbs that clung to his clothes.
"You talk like me," Eren said slowly. "But you don't live like me."
Daemon smiled faintly.
"You're a noble," Eren whispered. "Aren't you?"
Daemon didn't answer.
He didn't deny it either.
Eren hesitated. "Then... how can you know what it's like?"
Daemon's gaze darkened.
"Because even among nobles, monsters don't belong."
He stood from his chair, walking toward the window.
"They dressed me in silk and kept me in a golden cage. But the moment I stopped smiling, they showed their fangs. I was only welcome as long as I made them feel better about themselves."
He looked over his shoulder at Eren.
"And you? You're only welcome as long as you stay quiet."
Eren fidgeted with a fork, eyes darting between the plates and Daemon's silhouette near the window. The pastries sat half-eaten now, the sugar suddenly tasting heavy on his tongue.
"Why are you really doing this?" he asked again, softer this time. "It doesn't make sense. People don't help others like this. Not unless they want something."
Daemon didn't look back.
"I already told you. I see myself in you."
"But you don't know me," Eren said, trying to sound firm—but it cracked at the edges. "What if I'm lying? What if I'm not worth helping?"
"Then I'm just wasting gold," Daemon said casually. "But I don't think I am."
Eren pressed harder. "What if this is just a trick? What if you're like the Saintess?"
Daemon turned.
That hit.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, voice quiet.
Eren looked away.
"I've seen her," he said. "When she thinks no one's looking. She smiles with us, but I've heard her whisper things to the nuns. Bad things. About how I should be kept apart. How I'm... unstable."
Daemon's gaze sharpened.
"I don't think she wants me there," Eren added.
"Then leave."
Eren flinched. "I can't. I don't have anywhere else."
Daemon walked forward slowly, placing his hands on the table, leaning down to meet Eren's eyes.
"Then make somewhere."
Eren blinked. "What?"
"You asked why I'm doing this. Why I helped you. Why I brought you here."
Daemon's voice was razor-sharp now, low but intense.
"Because someone like you... someone who's been starved, ignored, hated—you don't stay weak forever. Eventually, the world teaches you how to fight back."
"I don't know how to fight anything."
Daemon hadn't moved. He stood calmly beside Eren's chair, one hand resting lightly on the boy's shoulder.
His voice was almost gentle.
"The world," he said, "is filthy."
Eren blinked. "Filthy...?"
Daemon nodded slowly. "Soaked in hatred. Drenched in cruelty. And it isn't getting better."
Eren shifted in his seat. "What do you mean...?"
Daemon leaned down, his breath cold against the side of Eren's face.
"Tell me something. If the gods truly love humanity... why is there still so much suffering?"
Eren opened his mouth—but nothing came out.
"Why do people still starve under church towers?" Daemon asked. "Why are orphanages filled with children like you—unwanted, unloved, thrown away?"
He grinned slightly.
"And yet the priests sing about peace. The Saintess preaches love. And everyone keeps dying anyway."
Eren stared at the floor.
Daemon's voice dropped lower.
"That's why this world doesn't need salvation," he whispered. "It needs a purge. A clean, brutal reset. Burn it all down."
Eren flinched, whipping his head up. "W-what?!"
Daemon didn't flinch. "Hatred isn't a disease, Eren. It's humanity's design."
Eren was shaking now. "I-I thought... I thought you were going to say something like... like we should fix things. Help people."
"Help them?" Daemon laughed. "They don't want help. They want a target."
Eren said nothing.
His fingers trembled in his lap.
Daemon watched him for a moment, then took a step back.
"But I'm not rushing you," he said calmly. "You've seen how they treat you. You've felt it. That loneliness. That fear. That hate. Let it sit inside you."
Eren didn't move.
"And when you're ready," Daemon added, "you can start helping me fix this broken world."
Eren looked up slowly, pale and wide-eyed.
Daemon smiled.
"Starting with the place that broke you first."
Eren's mouth parted in horror. "Y-you mean... the orphanage?"
Daemon said nothing.
But his eyes said everything.
"They're kids," Eren whispered, sweating. "They're not... they're not monsters."
Daemon tilted his head.
"If they were so innocent... why did they all beat you? Why did they spit on you? Why did they cheer when you cried?"
Eren froze.
Daemon knelt beside him again, his voice almost kind.
"You're not sending them to hell, Eren. You're sending them to peace. To a place without pain. Without this cruel, rotting world."
Eren stared at him.
Tears welled up—but didn't fall.
And Daemon stood.
"I'll give you a few days to think about it."
He turned toward the stairs.
"You know where to find me."
And just like that—he was gone again.
But his voice lingered in Eren's mind.