I walked down the hallway of the mansion next to Grayfia, involuntarily looking around at the luxurious surroundings. The golden candelabra, the dark wood inlaid with patterns, everything screamed of wealth that would make earthly magnates turn green with envy. I chuckled to myself:
It seems that devils do not know what poverty is.
The servants we met along the way bowed with perfect posture, their faces were as if carved by a sculptor - flawless, without a single flaw. In my world, not even top models could compare to their beauty, and I involuntarily shook my head, amazed by this perfection.
Grayfia pressed herself lightly against me, her hand softly touching mine, as if she was afraid that I would disappear. On the outside, she was cold and unperturbed, her face a mask of a stern queen, but I caught her gaze full of warmth. When she noticed my smile, her cheeks turned slightly pink and she turned away, causing me to chuckle quietly.
Even a queen can be embarrassed.
We continued walking when I noticed two more maids and a small figure with red hair ahead. My gaze froze, and Sirzechs' memories prompted:
Millicas Gremory. My son.
I couldn't help but shudder. I, an ordinary guy from a world of routine, am now a father?
How can I even get used to this? What should I say?
But there was no time to think - we had already arrived.
The maids bowed in greeting, and I, following my instinct, nodded in response, thanking them for their work. My words seemed to catch them off guard, as their eyes flashed with joy, but they immediately flinched and looked away as if they had sensed something. I followed their gaze and saw Grayfia glaring at them with a cold, piercing gaze. A chill ran down my spine, and I knew it was best not to interfere. She began scolding the maids for the minor flaws in their uniforms, her voice stern but calm. The maids began adjusting their clothes in a panic, trying to avoid her wrath.
At that moment, I felt something poking my stomach. Looking down, I saw Millix hugging me, burying his face in my waist. I couldn't help but smile as I touched his head, ruffling his red hair, as bright as Sirzechs'. Grayfia noticed this and immediately intervened, her tone becoming even stricter:
"It's not right for Millicas Gremory to act like that in front of others."
I shrugged, continuing to stroke my son's hair.
"Come on, Grayfia, what's wrong with that? It's okay to soften up a bit, right?" I said, trying to sound like Sirzechs.
Millicas, as if in support, exclaimed:
"Daddy is the best! And Mommy is always unhappy with everything!"
I couldn't help but smile, and Grayfia sighed, her lips trembling slightly, revealing a hidden smile. She looked at Millicas with feigned sternness:
"We'll discuss your comment in private."
Millicas shrank, seeking protection in my arms, and I laughed, playing along:
"Grayfia, you're always so strict, aren't you, Millicas?"
He nodded vigorously, and I noticed the maids standing nearby were smiling furtively as they watched the scene. Grayfia, however, was not going to tolerate this "mess." Her gaze became even more piercing, and she gave the servants a look that made them gulp, turn away, and go about their business. I decided to ease the tension by taking Millix's hand.
"Let's go grab a bite, son?" I suggested.
His eyes lit up, and he exclaimed happily:
"That's where I was heading!"
We headed to the dining room, chatting and chuckling. Millix was talking about his training, about how he tried to conjure a fireball, but instead set the curtains on fire. I listened, smiling, and felt my heart warm up. This role of a father, so alien, was starting to feel... pleasant. But somewhere deep inside, bitterness still gnawed:
I'm not his father. I'm not Sirzechs.
I brushed those thoughts aside, deciding to enjoy the moment.
Everything was ready in the dining room. Grayfia, as always, took charge, giving short commands to the servants. I glanced at her and couldn't help but smile:
When does she manage to organize everything?
We sat at a long table, me in the center, Millikas on the left, Grayfia on the right, so close that I could feel the warmth of her body. The dishes were varied: aromatic meat in sauce, airy pudding, exquisite salads. I tried everything with pleasure, especially enjoying the meat that melted in my mouth.
Dinner passed in a light atmosphere. We chatted about trifles, Millikas talked about his studies, and I joked about him. But Grayfia, as always, brought the conversation back to serious matters. Her voice became stern:
"It's time for Millikas to study hard. He needs to be present in class, not run around the yard."
Millikas shrank, casting a pleading look at me. I, deciding to play the role of a "good father," shrugged:
"Come on, Grayfia, what's the big deal? Let him relax a little, skip a couple of classes."
Her gaze darted to me, and all her "anger" switched to me. She narrowed her eyes, her voice became icy:
"What kind of example are you setting? He needs to study, not shirk. And it looks like you're in for some education, too."
Before I could object, she grabbed both Millikas and me by the ears. We both winced in pain, exclaiming in unison:
"Okay, okay, we get it!"
Grayfia let us go, and Millicas and I looked at each other, rubbing our ears, barely holding back our laughter. I noticed her lips twitch into a smile, but she quickly hid it behind her usual mask. I pretended to be offended, crossing my arms and pouting. She looked at me, and her gaze softened. I took advantage of the moment, hugging her waist and whispering in her ear:
"You are as irresistible as always."
Her ears turned red and she turned away in embarrassment, which made me smile contentedly.
I am not going to give her the palm of primacy in our relationship.
Even though Grayfia "wears the pants", I will still fight for my place.
***
I was still getting used to my new body and its capabilities, but sitting within four walls, drowning in reports and problems, was unbearable. Deciding to test my strength, I headed to the training ground to check how well I could control Sirzechs' magic. Grayfia, as always, followed me, her steps were confident, but I felt her anxiety. Her concern warmed my soul, and I couldn't help but smile, glancing at her.
"How is Rias doing? Is everything alright?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.
Grayfia faltered for a moment, but immediately resumed her majestic gait, cold and unapproachable, as befits a queen. Only I noticed this slight hesitation and chuckled to myself.
"Rias-sama is fine," she replied, her voice even, with a note of formality. "She studies in the human world, watches over her territory, and sends reports."
I raised an eyebrow. Grayfia had clearly decided to play her role as a loyal servant of the Gremory house, and it seemed to bring her some pleasure.
Whatever amuses the child, I thought, shrugging. Her "fetish" was rather harmless.
"Does she train?" I continued, knowing that Rias was not the type to bother herself.
Grayfia looked at me, her eyebrow raised, and a silent question hung in the air: Are you serious? I couldn't help but chuckle, remembering who Rias Gremory was: a sleep-deprived, avid otaku, and a typical teenager. In the normal world, this would be fine, but in the supernatural, where every day was a struggle for survival, her carelessness could become a problem. Luckily, Sirzechs Lucifer's shadow loomed over her, making even the most desperate of enemies think twice before challenging her. But I knew that something had to be done about Rias. For now, I put the question aside, deciding to come back to it later.
"How is Sairaorg doing?" I asked, switching to another topic.
Grayfia frowned, her voice becoming quieter:
"He continues to train, but without progress. He is losing motivation, and if this continues, he will fall into despair.
My expression darkened. Sirzechs' memories told me that in this universe, Sairaorg, unlike in canon, was weak and in a pitiful state. Only Sirzechs's intervention saved him and his mother from a slow death. Sairaorg was grateful and tried his best to prove his usefulness, but to no avail. Even Sirzechs seemed to have lost interest in him. My hand involuntarily touched the bottle of pills given to me by the mysterious entity.
Sairaorg could have been a valuable ally.
In canon, he was strong, charismatic, and loyal. Getting him on my side would have been a smart move, but I decided to think about it later.
Grayfia and I walked to the training grounds in silence. I stretched my shoulders, trying to relieve the emotional tension. Grayfia looked at me, her eyebrows raised in question.
"Why are you here?" She asked, her voice calm but slightly ironic.
"You'll find out soon enough," I answered with a smile.
I concentrated, feeling the devilish magic flowing through my body, causing a tingling sensation. The energy was foreign, unfamiliar, but I managed. Pointing my hand at the target, I released a small fireball. It crashed into the target with a crack, smashing it into pieces. Grayfia clapped her hands ironically.
"An excellent shot, worthy of a Demon Lord," she said, her tone mocking.
My lips twitched in a smile. " A hidden troll, "I noted to myself.
"This is just a warm-up," I retorted. "I've been sitting inside for too long, numbers are already appearing. Isn't this where the path to becoming the strongest begins?"
Grayfia nodded, her gaze becoming more serious.
"That's right. In this world, no one is immune to training. Except maybe Ophis or Great Red, but they are... exceptions."
I did a few more experiments, trying out different spells, but decided not to overdo it, especially with Grayfia looking on. Suddenly, a loud crash was heard. Grayfia and I looked at each other and headed towards the source of the sound. Sairaorg was lying on the ground, breathing heavily. His face was distorted in pain, tears were flowing from his eyes, which he covered with his hands. This image squeezed my heart. Fate was clearly not kind to him.
I looked at Grayfia and said softly:
"Go, keep an eye on the servants. I want to talk to him like men."
She nodded in understanding and left, leaving us alone. I exhaled, feeling relieved. Grayfia was incredible - understanding, loyal, caring. The women of my world could learn from her. I looked at Sairaorg, whose figure seemed broken, and I knew I couldn't pass him by. If I wanted to be worthy of the name Sirzechs, I needed to not only protect my loved ones, but also help those in need. Sairaorg could be an opportunity for my plans, but more importantly, I saw him as someone who deserved a chance.
***
I walked up to Sairaorg, and my shadow fell on him, causing him to flinch. He removed his hands from his face, his eyes widening in shock and mild panic. He quickly stood up and began to tidy himself up, wiping the dust off his clothes and trying to hide the traces of tears. I watched in silence, not rushing him or pressuring him - pressure would be unnecessary right now. When he finally looked up, he bowed deeply, his voice trembling with respect and shame:
"Lord Sirzechs! I apologize for my unseemly appearance! You should not have seen my weakness!"
His sincerity was so genuine that I couldn't help but wince, feeling awkward. I was not used to such respect, and his words sounded almost painfully honest. Raising my hand, I gestured for him to straighten up.
"Sairaorg, don't apologize," I said, trying to sound calm, firm, but warm. "It's not your fault."
He opened his mouth, clearly about to object, but I placed my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly, and smiled. His face twitched in pain, but he fell silent, looking at me with surprise. I saw how he was ready to apologize until sunset, and decided to break this cycle.
"Sairaorg, listen," I began, my voice soft but firm. "You're fighting with all your might, but I can see that it's hard for you. Tell me, do you still want to get stronger?"
His eyes widened, a question flashing through them: Seriously? I couldn't help but grin - the wrong question, but it was too late to back out.
"Do you want to use all your will and strength?" I continued, looking into his eyes. — To become someone who doesn't just survive, but dominates?
Sairaorg froze, clearly not expecting this turn of events. His face showed a mixture of disbelief and hope. He clenched his fist, his voice trembling with determination:
"Yes, Lord Sirzechs! I will become stronger! Even if I die trying! I will not let you down!"
His eyes flashed with such determination that I couldn't help but shudder. This guy was like a hero from a shonen manga, ready to break through walls for his goal. I laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.
"What a spirit! You're right, Sairaorg. You deserve to be a hero."
I took out a bottle of pills from my pocket, a gift from a mysterious entity. His eyes widened in surprise. I handed him the bottle, my voice growing serious:
"This is an opportunity. But it all depends on you. If you accept it, your fate is in your hands. Can you hold it? "
Sairaorg stared at the bottle for a second, then nodded decisively. He took one pill and swallowed it. Instantly, a purple aura enveloped his body, sparks of electricity crackling around him. I recognized this energy as Touki, the power that made Sairaorg fearsome in canon. His eyes were blazing with fire, his breathing was heavy, but he looked alive, full of determination.
"Lord Sirzechs..." he breathed out, his voice shaking with emotion. "I... I want to try this! I need to catch up!"
I smiled, waving my hand.
"Go. But don't overdo it, got it?"
He nodded, his face shining with gratitude, and he ran off to the training grounds as if demons were chasing him. I watched him go, feeling warm inside. Helping someone, giving them hope, it was... nice. Even if I had spent one of my precious pills, I convinced myself that it was an investment. Sairaorg could become a valuable ally, and in this world, I needed someone I could trust.
I turned around and walked away, lost in thought. The situation with my transmigration was still a mystery. Who was that entity? Why did it choose me? Logically, I should have dissolved into Sirzechs' memories, becoming just a fragment of him. But instead, here I was, in his body, with his power, his family, his problems. Something didn't add up. Was this a game? An experiment? And what was the "grand goal" the letter spoke of? There were more questions than answers, and it was unnerving.
I sighed, looking up at the sky.
If this was a game, then I wasn't going to be a pawn.
Sairaorg reminded me that will and determination could change fate. Even if this world was full of chaos, I would find my way. And maybe one day I would meet that entity face to face, to ask it a few questions... or to extract answers.