I Swear I'm Not a Demon Masquerading as a Human

Doubt spread like creeping vines into every corner of the art classroom, instantly silencing the space that had previously been filled with the murmur of voices. Every eye turned toward a single person: Lance.

They were desperate to find an explanation written on his guileless, innocent face. Yet, his expression was more inscrutable than the artwork held by the instructor, impossible for anyone to decipher.

Four consecutive, instantaneous answers from him had been correct. Such odds were simply too difficult to dismiss as mere coincidence. No demon had any doubt anymore that Lance was relying on something other than luck. Of course, none of them could fathom what bizarre magic this Radiant Demon was using to analyze and identify the answers with such speed and accuracy...

The hawk-eyed demon sat there, deeply conflicted by the hint. His eyes held a mix of irritation and conflict. He knew it was only natural for Lance to seek revenge. Perhaps Lance had deliberately given the correct answer a few times, only to feed him a wrong one now. It could be a ploy to mislead him!

But then again, it was also possible that Lance had anticipated that he had spotted the trap, so he had given the correct answer anyway, baiting him into intentionally choosing the opposite. The hawk-eyed demon's mind spiraled deeper and deeper. He couldn't figure out what kind of mind game Lance was playing. Eventually, he just suspected that the Radiant Demon was simply messing with his head.

Finally, after much deliberation, his lips curled into a slow smile, as if he had stumbled upon a crucial clue. It was as though he had figured out exactly what to do.

"You're clever, but you overlooked one thing..." The hawk-eyed demon stared fixedly at Lance, looking like a detective who had just uncovered a vital lead. As a specialist in mental magic, he could clearly discern the fluctuations in other demons' minds. When Lance had given him the answer moments ago, there had been almost no complex underlying intent. His tone had been too calm and his eyes too pure.

In the Demon Kingdom, no demon could possibly pull that off, to reveal the correct answer to a hostile rival with such sincerity and a mind completely free of ulterior motives! This was the single flaw in the trap the Radiant Demon had tried to set! Driven by the innate malice within demons, he had undoubtedly given the wrong answer.

He ultimately rejected Lance's answer. His voice rang out with absolute conviction, echoing through the cavernous classroom. "A student drew it."

He then cast a sneering glance at Lance. It was as if he were mocking Lance's futile scheme, a plan that had not only failed to harm him, but had also actually played right into his hands!

The instructor remained silent for a moment before shaking his head. "Wrong. I drew it."

There was a hint of irritation in Mogut's voice. Lance looked at the hawk-eyed demon as if he were an utter fool, his expression filled with pity. I already gave you the right answer. Why won't you believe me?

He appeared completely free of ill intent, genuinely wanting to help a classmate however he could.

Standing nearby, Hyperion studied Lance's face. She knew he was telling the truth. It was a pity the other demon refused to believe it. After a moment's reflection, she realized that the demon had once again been casually toyed with by Lance.

Regardless of whether the hawk-eyed demon believed him or not, the very act of revealing the answer had thrown the demon's state of mind into disarray. The demon hadn't even realized that he had shifted his entire focus away from the artwork and onto Lance.

Lance sensed Hyperion staring at him. He turned and smiled at her, his voice as clear as a spring as he asked, "What is it?"

"...It's nothing." Hyperion didn't say much else to him. She knew that if she asked, Lance would simply put on an innocent face and say something like, "I had no idea," "That guy is just judging a noble person by his own petty standards," or "How could I possibly harm a classmate?"

His air of guileless innocence and his mischievous cunning had blended so seamlessly that she couldn't tell if he was doing good or wreaking havoc. He was clearly quite two-faced now...

***

A profound, bone-deep silence descended upon the entire right side of the classroom. Terror washed over the hawk-eyed demon. His eyes reflected the interplay of light and shadow behind Lance, whose silhouette mirrored a demonic, twisted visage cast against the encroaching darkness.

His features contorted, twisted by a mixture of resentment and helplessness. As the teacher drew closer, the once-sharp hawk-like eyes soon held nothing but bottomless despair. Even now, he could not fathom how this Radiant Demon was capable of manifesting "benevolence," which was something completely alien to their kind, with such flawless purity.

Mogut's stride was steady and powerful. Each step rang out like a funeral knell against the hawk-eyed demon's heart, stirring the final throes of his terror. Moments later, the teacher placed his hand upon the demon's head. The touch caused the demon's skin to wither, his blood to evaporate, and his muscles to waste away, until nothing remained but a shriveled, hollowed-out corpse. The light in his eyes slowly faded into nothingness.

An expression of terror and despair was frozen forever upon the hawk-eyed demon's face. Before producing the next piece of art, Mogut held up the corpse and cast a long, searching look at Lance. "Let me just put his corpse away. Next up is the open-floor buzzer round."

He sensed that the very nature of the class might have shifted. For the other students, this classroom might represent a difficulty level of 3. But for this Radiant Demon, the difficulty was more like negative 3.

***

Over an hour later, the melodious tolling of a bell rang out once more. The sound pierced through the walls, permeating every corner of the classroom. Senior Instructor Mogut stood at one end of the round table with a frown on his face. His eyes were filled with a look of profound disbelief.

He had swapped out the artworks one by one, attempting to ramp up the difficulty and challenge Lance's abilities. Yet, not a single instance had given Lance even the slightest difficulty.

Mogut even found himself reflecting on the situation: how had the dynamic shifted so that he was the one being challenged by the student? He was certain that as Lance identified the paintings, the young man's meager reserves of magic power hadn't fluctuated in the slightest. He had relied entirely on his keen eye to scrutinize every minute detail.

It was unfathomable. How could the school harbor a student with such terrifying mastery of art appreciation? It was as if he were possessed by the God of Art himself! Just who, or what, are you?

Mogut stared at Lance, deeply shaken by what he had witnessed. In his eyes, Lance now appeared to be nothing less than a grandmaster of art. He couldn't help but wonder: if a paintbrush were placed in the hands of this Radiant Demon, allowing him to create art himself, just what level of masterpiece might he produce?

Lance simply leaned back in his chair, resting his cheek against the back of his hand, and asked with a calm, composed smile, "Sir, could you first tell me what the reward is for scoring 263 points?"

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