My Wives are Beautiful Demons Chapter 542: She doesn't even know what a milf is

Chapter 542: She doesn’t even know what a milf is

Vergil sighed, a heavy sigh that seed to carry more sarcasm than weariness. He returned slowly, pulling out his chair with a tallic scrape that echoed around the small island.

He sat across from her again, leaning back with the lazy elegance of soone in control of the ga.

“So?” he said, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “You want to prolong the mont. Great. But tell … what exactly do you want to talk about?”

Qliphoth remained still for a few seconds, as if she hadn’t expected him to give in so easily. Her smile faded a bit, becoming more real, almost human.

“I don’t know.” The answer ca dry, simple.

Vergil arched an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

She looked away from the empty cup and ran her finger along the rim as if searching for so answer there. “I don’t talk.” Her golden eyes returned to him, filled with sothing strange, a barely concealed vulnerability. “Not often.” Bad with… people.

Vergil let out a low, muffled laugh, shaking his head. “Hah. So that’s it. You waste my ti, you throw around pretty words, you put on that mask of divinity… but in the end, you just wanted to talk.”

Qliphoth watched him silently, and for a mont his expression wasn’t one of anger or arrogance, but of soone cornered.

“Conversation is… difficult.” She swirled the cup, though there was no more liquid inside. “Those who approach want power. Or they want to destroy . They never just want… words.”

Vergil leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. His blue eyes glinted like blades reflecting fire.

“So you brought here for months… just for tea and small talk?”

She hesitated. Then, with a half-smile, almost shy, she replied:

“Maybe.”

Vergil laughed out loud this ti, a sound full of irony that echoed through the roots and made even the lake tremble. “Hah! You really are a very annoying tree.”

He leaned back again, crossing his legs, and faced her with that lopsided smile that seed more like a challenge.

“So, tell , Tree…” his voice dropped, deep, drawled, “what do you really want to talk to about?”

Qliphoth twirled the empty cup between his fingers, as if there was still sothing to savor beyond the silence. His golden eyes, partially hidden by the wide brim of his hat, sparkled as he stared at Vergil.

“How old are you?” The question erged like an unexpected root, sprouting out of nowhere.

Vergil arched an eyebrow. The question had caught him off guard. He wasn’t the type to be easily surprised, but this… wasn’t sothing he expected from a cosmic entity, a World Tree.

“Hm.” He tilted his head to the side, studying her for a mont, as if considering if the question held so hidden trick. “Twenty-one… maybe twenty-two.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Or twenty-three.”

Qliphoth blinked slowly. “You’re not sure?”

Vergil shrugged, resting his arm on the back of his chair. “I stopped counting when I beca a demon. Or… maybe I should say when I beca one again.” A wry smile curved his lips. “It’s complicated.”

She studied him for a few monts, as if searching for the truth hidden between the lines. The confusion in his golden gaze was rare, almost strange for soone who claid to be connected to the planet itself.

“You’re a child.” Her voice was soft, but filled with judgnt. “Still stumbling over your own shadow.”

Vergil stared at her in silence for a few seconds. And then, slowly, his smile widened.

“Child, eh?” His voice ca low, almost a sarcastic purr. He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on hers. “I’d call you sothing else.”

“Oh, eh?” She raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Milf.” Vergil let the word slip out like a sharp blade, laden with irony and provocation.

The impact was imdiate. Qliphoth didn’t move, but the tension in the air shifted. The roots around him trembled, as if the whole world had heard. The lake bubbled louder, spitting out blood bubbles that burst like stifled laughter.

She blinked slowly, almost in disbelief. “Milf?” She repeated the word as if it were a foreign language in her mouth.

“Yeah.” Vergil leaned back, crossing his arms and flashing that arrogant smile that irritated her so much. “An old, powerful woman, with a face as if she’s seen it all… but still too beautiful for anyone to ignore.”

Qliphoth let out a sound sowhere between a laugh and a sigh. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his lips curved in sothing between amusent and threat.

“You’re too bold for your age, Vergil.”

“And you’re too beautiful for your millennia,” he countered without hesitation, his eyes sparkling with mischief and defiance. “Then we’re even.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was charged. The lake seed to hold its breath, the forest sloped toward the island, and even the surrounding roots writhed like curious serpents.

Qliphoth finally laughed. It was a low, husky laugh that made the air vibrate. “Insolent child.”

Vergil tilted his head back and closed his eyes for a mont, as if savoring the victory of eliciting that reaction from her.

“Yeah… maybe.” He opened his eyes again, locking with hers. “But you liked it.”

Her laughter faded, but the smile remained.

“Maybe.”

The silence stretched after that “maybe.” It was a strange silence, heavy, yet intimate. The kind of pause that didn’t demand an imdiate response, but carried expectations. Vergil let her stretch, taking in every detail of the woman before him—the way she rested her chin on her hand, the way her hat cast shadows over her eyes, and the way the roots around her pulsed in tune with what she was feeling.

He chuckled, breaking the stillness like soone cutting the air with a blade.

“You must be terrible at denying things, Tree.” He drumd his fingers on the table, his gaze sharp. “If this were a card ga, you’d have lost in the first round.”

Qliphoth narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t seem irritated. On the contrary, there was sothing curious there, as if she were discovering a new toy.

“And you… you’re good at forcing words into other people’s mouths.”

“Forcing?” Vergil arched an eyebrow and leaned forward, his voice low and full of malice. “I only say what’s already on your mind.”

She held his gaze, but her roots stirred again, revealing her discomfort.

Vergil seized the mont, as he always did.

“You called a child, but look at you…” He smiled, almost amused. “Millennials of life, an entity that should be untouchable, and yet you lose your balance because a twenty-sothing boy calls you ‘milf.'”

Qliphoth took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling slowly. She could crush him right there, drown him in the lake of blood, strangle him with her roots. But no. The gleam in her eyes betrayed sothing else: she was enjoying herself.

“You boast about provoking , but you don’t realize the risk.” His voice was low, slurred. “I could consu you whole.”

Vergil gave a short, dry laugh. “They’ve tried before.” He adjusted his cape on his shoulders and leaned back again, baring his neck defiantly. “I’m still here.” The cold sincerity in her voice seed to cut deeper than the provocation. Qliphoth was silent for a few seconds, assessing him again. The tension separating them was no longer just hostility: it was sothing denser, like two forces testing how close they could get without destroying each other.

Vergil was the first to break the heavy air.

“So…” he turned his hand, as if giving space in a conversation, “what else do you want to ask ?”

Qliphoth tilted her head slightly, and for the first ti since he’d t her, she seed… hesitant.

“I don’t know.” She spoke almost in a whisper. “I haven’t asked anyone a question in ages.”

“Centuries?” Vergil let out a wry laugh. “That explains a lot. You’re too old to play riddles, but too lonely to admit it.”

She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t respond. Vergil noticed—and that only made him bolder.

“Want so advice from an insolent child?” “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning in again, close enough that her hat almost brushed his forehead. “If you like to talk, don’t make it complicated. Ask anything. Even if it’s stupid.”

Qliphoth remained silent, but the roots stilled. There was a strange serenity on the island now, as if the world had stopped to listen.

Finally, she spoke.

“So tell , Vergil… if you could choose… would you live as a human or a demon?”

The question hung in the air like sweet poison.

Vergil smirked, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of nostalgia and contempt.

“That’s easy.” He leaned his arm on the table, staring straight at her. “I would choose to live as .”

The lake trembled. The roots vibrated. Qliphoth smiled slowly, as if finally receiving an answer he hadn’t known he was expecting.

“Insolent.” she murmured again, but this ti it almost sounded like a complint.

Vergil just shrugged. “Milf.”

“She doesn’t even know what a milf is, she must think I’m insulting her,” Vergil thought.