In Bambam's first life, ridicule had shadowed him since childhood—a constant companion that whispered of his unworthiness to be the next Snake Lord. His powers paled in comparison to Jackson's might, a fact the clan never allowed him to forget. Few knew the truth: Jackson's father had named Bambam as Snake Lord only to conceal the true identity of the next Demon Lord.
Such was the fate of one destined to bear the title of Demon Lord—to be scorned and mocked, to forge a heart of iron that would not falter when faced with a world-ending calamity. A Demon Lord could not afford weakness; he must remain untouched by sentiment, prepared to make the most merciless decisions when the time came.
The only warmth in Bambam's cold existence had come from Jackson's mother. She had treated him as her own son, her eyes soft with pity for the boy's cruel circumstances. But fate did not suffer such defiance lightly. To show affection to a Demon Lord, to coax warmth from a heart meant to be frozen—this transgression could not stand. She died of mysterious causes, followed by Jackson's father two years later.
At seven years old, Bambam stood alone amidst a wilderness of accusations. "A nobody," they called him, "unworthy of such a position." Only Jackson remained at his side, bound by duty to protect the Demon Lord. Jackson walked a precarious line—neither spoiling nor neglecting the boy, offering measured guidance without true companionship.
Bambam existed on the edge of a cliff, with nothing below but emptiness. Years of cold treatment hardened his heart to stone, impervious to hurt or hope.
Then, he met Yetao.
They were both a hundred years old, equal in age but galaxies apart in spirit. Where Bambam was shadow, Yetao was blinding light—so free and vibrant he could make even sworn enemies fall in love with him. Gradually, Yetao transformed Bambam's stone heart into a castle perpetually bathed in spring sunshine.
For nine hundred years they lived together. Their fights and misunderstandings, moments of embarrassment or happiness, flashes of anger—even the emotions others labeled as negative brought Bambam joy when Yetao was their source. Yetao had healed him, changed him, recreated Bambam from inside out.
When Bambam awakened to his true demonic powers and learned the cruel truth: to prevent world-ending calamity, he must kill Yetao. Finally, he understood why fate had permitted Yetao to live and bring him happiness—only to make the ultimate sacrifice more devastating.
But Bambam refused to bend. If someone had to die, it would be himself—not Yetao, who had shown him rainbows by his sunshine when he'd known only storm clouds.
Yet what wounded him most deeply were not the game of fate, but Yetao's final words in that first life: "I could rather die than live by your side."
These words haunted Bambam like a curse. He recognized them as fate's punishment for forgetting his role and daring to feel happiness. When the world reset, Bambam could not die as intended. Instead, he clung desperately to every memory of Yetao, fighting the turning of time at nearly fatal cost. His soul nearly fractured from defying fate, yet somehow he retained his essence and memories.
In his second life, Yetao remained bedridden for five hundred years, since his soul was damaged by the previous cycle. During this time, Bambam cultivated his power in secret before returning to Snake Clan territory. He honed his skills with single-minded purpose: to protect Yetao at any cost.
But cruel fate brought Yetao back to him—a Yetao stripped of past memories. Bambam's possessive heart wanted to lock him away, to keep him solely for himself, safe from the world and its dangers. Eventually, he concluded that his own death would be preferable to living alone with his tormenting memories.
Yet fate denied him even this solace. In his second life too, he watched Yetao die—but this time, Yetao's final words were tender, full of affection. To fulfill Yetao's dying wish, Bambam tore apart his very soul to save their son, Thio.
Now, in his current life, Bambam had reached nine hundred years, but his memories remained fragmented. He alone seemed to sense the unnatural flow of time and events. When he discovered that the mystical "Parallel Eye" had been stolen, only a name remained in its place: "Yuchen."
His discreet search to fill the gaps in his memory led him to a small fox—a creature that could transform into a beautiful man named Yetao. From the moment their eyes met, Bambam felt overwhelmed by emotions long forgotten. He wanted to protect this stranger, claim him, keep him for himself alone. These sudden feelings made no sense for someone he had supposedly never met, yet Bambam clung to them as if his very existence depended on it.
After experiencing the memories of his past two lives, Bambam became certain he should let Yetao go. And when Yetao avoided him after escaping the illusion and learning the truth, Bambam interpreted this as the proper course of events, despite the pain it caused him. It seemed a blessing in disguise—a chance to keep Yetao safe by maintaining distance between them.
Until Yetao shattered that fragile barrier.
When Yetao's lips met his own that night, what flooded Bambam's heart wasn't desire, but hope—desperate, fragile hope that his sinful self might be granted another chance at happiness. That a warmth no one else had ever offered him might still be his to cherish. As their bodies joined, the weight of painful memories lifted, and Bambam clung to the slender thread of possibility that Yetao didn't hate him after all.
That thread of hope became his surrender as their bodies and souls entwined in an irreplaceable union of joy and redemption.
Morning sunlight filtered through silk curtains, casting golden patterns across the bed where Yetao slept peacefully. Bambam laid awake beside him, marveling at the sight—Yetao's bare skin marked with evidence of their night together, his scent mingled with Bambam's own.
In that moment, Bambam reached absolute clarity: it was Yetao or nothing. His existence held no purpose, no future worth contemplating if Yetao wasn't by his side. It's not like he did not experience this with Yetao before. They were always tangled like newlyweds in their first life that even the newlyweds were jealous of them. But this time, knowing the tragedy of two lifetimes, Bambam was over the moon, like a small child who could finally touch a star, which can only be a dream for so many.
With gentle reverence, he pressed his lips to Yetao's closed eyelids. Exhausted from their nightly activities, Yetao didn't stir, his breathing deep and steady. Bambam nibbled playfully at his ear, but still Yetao slumbered on, curled against him like a contented cat.
Bambam settled back onto the pillow, simply watching Yetao's sleeping face. He dared not look away, fearing that like so many treasures in his long, painful life, this moment might prove to be nothing but a cruel illusion, vanishing the instant he averted his gaze.
After lifetimes of memories Yetao has given him, the feared Demon Lord had finally found the one thing capable of both healing and destroying him—a heart that belonged not to himself, but to the sleeping figure beside him. With a longing and loving eyes, he whispered, "Is letting you go the right choice?", Bambam was conflicted whether he should take the chance and be with him or make a bold decision and let him go to his world.