The familiar scent of chalk and old books filled the school hallways.
Iruma, now a lanky fourteen-year-old, navigated the crowded corridors with an easy confidence.
He was popular, a natural leader with a kind heart, and Delkira, invisible to the human eye, watched every step.
His son's newfound knowledge of the Netherworld hadn't diminished his father's protective instincts in the slightest; if anything, it had only intensified them.
At the very same moment, in a chaotic intersection several cities away, a flamboyant demon in a top hat appeared with a flash of light.
Sullivan, Delkira's loyal secretary, had been pulled into the human world by a desperate summoning. He was ready to answer the summoner's call, only to find the human already dead. With his immediate purpose gone, he decided to do what he did best: observe.
The human world was a strange and fascinating place. Sullivan strolled through the streets, his eyes wide with curiosity, comparing the small, furry street cats to the grotesque, six-eyed felines of the Netherworld. He found the human cats surprisingly adorable.
As he wandered, a faint, familiar shimmer of magic caught his attention. It was Delkira's, faint but unmistakable, emanating from a small house by the sea.
Curiosity overpowering his caution, Sullivan phased through the wall. The interior was simple and homey, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the Demon King's castle.
His eyes fell on a framed picture on a small table: a smiling Delkira beside a beautiful human woman he didn't recognize.
Then, another picture, this time of Delkira holding a swaddled infant. More photos followed, a silent chronicle of a life he never knew his king had lived, culminating in a picture of a smiling teenager.
Sullivan's heart ached with a profound mix of relief and confusion.
Who is she? And is that… a child? he wondered.
Just then, the front door opened.
Delkira entered, his presence a comforting hum of power that filled the small space.
Sullivan quickly cloaked himself, hiding in a shadowy corner, unsure of why he felt the need to conceal himself from his king.
Delkira went straight to the kitchen, a place of simple, human domesticity.
He tied a ridiculously bright pink apron around his waist and began to cook.
Sullivan's jaw dropped.
The fearsome Demon King, the ruler of an entire realm, was making a human dinner.
The front door opened again.
"Tadaima!" a young voice called out.
Sullivan's eyes widened. Standing in the doorway was a younger, slightly shorter version of Delkira. He had his king's dark hair and soft features, but his eyes were a startling, bright blue—the same color as the human woman in the photographs.
Delkira's face softened, a genuine, joyful smile lighting up his features.
"Welcome home," he said, his voice brimming with a tenderness that Sullivan had never, in all his centuries of service, heard before.
Sullivan watched as the father and son interacted, the love between them so pure it was almost painful.
This was a side of his king he had never known. He decided to leave, a plan forming in his mind. He would not disturb their peace, not yet. He would observe, and understand, before he revealed himself.
The next day, he rented the small house right next door, ready to witness the quiet, human life of the greatest demon to ever live.