The maid squad is too strong, what use is there for me, the Demon King?

Don't say it, really don't say it.

Because it's true...

The Demon King's inherited knowledge is vast and boundless, and it does indeed record several high-level secret techniques that do not require strong mental strength but rely on special magical power operation methods to change one's own form, appearance, and even simulate the aura of others.

Although these kinds of skills have harsh conditions for cultivation and most of them have time limits or costs, it is not impossible for him to master and use one or two of them with the Demon King status and power he has now inherited.

He opened his mouth, but found that he couldn't find a strong reason to refute it.

How should he explain to Philippa that he has not learned and used this type of magic?

Seeing Gray's sudden silence and slightly embarrassed expression, Philippa became even more certain of her judgment. The slight doubt that had just risen in her eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a deeper coldness and a mocking "I knew it" attitude.

"Speechless now, Demon King." She closed her eyes, seemingly disgusted even by his disguise as a friend. "Stop with your ridiculous tricks... If you're going to kill me... then kill me quickly..."

Gray stood there, looking at Philippa, who had closed her eyes again and refused to communicate, and felt an unprecedented sense of unease and headache.

He originally thought that revealing his identity would be a key step in expressing sincerity and breaking the deadlock, but unexpectedly, the other party's overly "reasonable" suspicions made the situation more complicated and difficult to explain.

He is now facing an awkward dilemma: how to prove to someone who doesn't believe in his identity that he is really himself?

This is practically a philosophical problem.

Could he directly reveal some details of the past that only he and Philippa knew?

If Philippa were to say something like, "What kind of mental magic did you use to search 'Grey' or her own soul and learn these memories?" wouldn't he explode?

Gray rubbed his temples, realizing for the first time that this opponent was too clever and too vigilant, which was not a good thing at all.

Seeing Philippa's complete refusal to believe, even closing her eyes, Gray knew that conventional explanations were ineffective.

He took a deep breath and decided to try a different approach—using specific past events known only to the two of them to open her tightly closed heart.

He maintained Grey Brandt's appearance and voice, his voice slowed and carrying a sense of reminiscence as he spoke:

“Philippa, I know you don’t believe me now. But think about it, the first time we met wasn’t on any formal occasion, but at a court banquet that we both found incredibly boring.”

He noticed that Philippa's tightly closed eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly.

“That day, you were wearing a pale gold gown, but you sneaked over to the long table where the desserts were laid out. At that time, Lucas Valestried, the son of the Prime Minister who was always so pretentious and affected but whom you found utterly annoying, was trying to invite you to be his dance partner.” Gray deliberately mentioned this name and scene that had left a deep impression on Philippa.

"You used me, who happened to be right next to you, as a shield to get rid of him, didn't you?"

Gray recounted the events slowly and clearly, as if it were yesterday.

“After that, we would occasionally meet at different banquets. Each time, you seemed to prefer to stay with me, the ‘adopted son of a border nobleman,’ away from those insincere pleasantries. We talked… but actually, I did most of the talking, about the customs and culture of the border, the legends in the forest, and my experiences on my journey. You always listened very attentively, your eyes shining, as if you were full of curiosity about the outside world.”

He paused, his tone becoming lower and more complex: "You've always thought we had a good relationship, right? At least, that's what I thought. It's quite incredible that a princess and an adopted son of a border noble could talk like this, isn't it?"

Gray looked at Philippa, whose eyes had opened at some point and were staring intently at him. Some of the sarcasm and coldness in her eyes had faded, replaced by immense shock and deeper confusion.

"As for why I'm the Brant family's adopted son..." Gray gave a bitter smile. This involved his biggest secret, but he had to be more sincere at this moment. "It's because, at the time, I was just a few-year-old child wandering the streets. The Brant family, completely unaware of what was dormant within me, adopted me out of kindness. And during that time..."

He recalled the years when he had to pretend to be an ordinary child, his tone tinged with genuine weariness: "...In order not to be exposed, I had to pretend to be innocent, pretend to be ignorant, and even control my strength so as not to accidentally break the toys...To be honest, it was more tiring than facing a thousand troops."

He gazed at Philippa, his violet eyes filled with frankness and gravity: "These memories, these details, especially our first meeting and those trivial conversations that weren't earth-shattering but belonged only to the two of us... could they also be easily discovered with magic, or fabricated out of thin air, Philippa?"

Gray didn't press her further, but simply watched her quietly, waiting for her reaction.

He knew that he had already revealed enough of the "Grey Brandt" past.

If even this can't sway her in the slightest, then he's truly at his wit's end.

Philippa's lips trembled slightly, and her eyes were almost overflowing with shock and confusion.

These things... these so private, so subtle memories, especially her true feelings for Lucas and her secret longing for the stories Grey told her about the outside world... who but Grey Brandt himself could know so clearly?

Could the Demon King really see into people's hearts with such exquisite detail?

Her beliefs began to waver violently.

Philippa did not refute this further.

She did not suggest "soul searching" or other more extreme possibilities to continue deceiving herself.

The stories Grey recounted were too specific, too private, filled with details and subtle emotions that only the parties involved would notice. In particular, her unspoken loathing for Lucas, and the secret joy and longing she felt as she listened to Grey's stories from the outside world while hiding in a corner of the banquet... These deep-seated feelings could never be so accurately captured and reproduced by an outsider.

Illusion? Transformation? Neither can explain this absolute control over memories and emotions.

The truth, like icy seawater, slowly but resolutely overflowed the dam she had tried to build. No matter how unwilling she was to believe it, the heavy, earth-shattering facts were undeniably laid out before her.

Grey Brant, that is the demon king she is tasked with defeating.