Year: 1945
The room reeked of blood.
A small boy, no older than eight or nine, stood in the center of it.
His body was drenched red, as if he had bathed in blood rather than water. Thick stains clung to his clothes, his face, even his hair. Drops slid from his fingers and fell onto the wooden floor beneath him.
In his right hand, he held a butcher knife.
The blade was chipped. Sticky. Heavy with what it had done.
In his left hand, oddly enough, he clutched several small medicine packets, crushed slightly by his grip.
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
Not from fear.
From something else.
Something broken.
In front of him lay two bodies.
A man.
And a woman.
Neither wore clothes. Their lifeless forms lay twisted unnaturally across the floor.
The man's body was mutilated beyond recognition. Anyone looking at him could tell he had been stabbed over and over again—eighty times, maybe more. Rage had carved itself into every wound.
But the woman…
She had no visible injuries.
No bruises. No cuts. No blood.
Her face looked almost peaceful.
As if death had arrived silently.
The boy stared at them, breathing heavily.
And in those breaths—
There was sadness.
Not horror.
Not guilt.
Just sadness.
As if something precious had ended.
The scene dissolved into darkness.
Year: 1956
Darkness slowly peeled away.
Teufel's consciousness returned in fragments — distant sounds, a faint smell of medicine, the soft weight beneath his body.
His eyelids fluttered open.
A ceiling.
White. Plain. Unfamiliar.
For several seconds, he simply stared, unable to understand where he was or how he had arrived there.
Then memory tried to surface.
Cold streets. Hunger. Weak legs. The park bench.
And—
That man.
Teufel suddenly tried to sit up.
Pain shot through his body, and nothing moved.
Not his legs. Not his arms.
Panic flickered through his chest.
He tried again.
Nothing.
It felt as if his body no longer belonged to him.
His heart began racing.
Paralyzed?
No…
Slowly, reason returned.
Eight days without food. Almost no sleep. Constant running.
His body hadn't failed him.
It had simply collapsed.
His muscles were exhausted beyond their limits.
He turned his eyes instead, scanning the room.
A small wooden table stood beside the bed. On it lay scattered medicine packets, bottles, folded cloth, and a glass of water.
The air smelled faintly of antiseptic.
Someone had been treating him.
But who?
And why?
His mind struggled to piece events together.
And then—
The last memory returned.
The park.
The flickering streetlight.
And the man standing before him.
The one with those impossible eyes.
The one he had called—
Lucifer.
Before he could think further—
Click.
The door opened.
Teufel's gaze snapped toward it.
But the figure entering wasn't the man he expected.
A young girl stepped inside.
She looked around eighteen or nineteen. Blonde hair fell gently around her shoulders, and her blue eyes held an easy warmth.
In her hands she carried a tray.
On it sat a bowl of soup, stew, rice, and bread. Steam still rose from the food.
Teufel's eyes widened slightly.
Unexpected.
The girl noticed he was awake.
Her face immediately brightened.
"Ahhh, so you're finally awake!"
Her voice was cheerful — soft, almost comforting.
She stepped closer, placing the tray on the bedside table.
"Oh, sorry," she added quickly, scratching her cheek awkwardly. "You must be super confused about what's going on."
Teufel watched her carefully.
No hostility.
No fear.
But his guard stayed up.
His voice came out dry and weak as sand.
"W-who… are you…?"
He paused, forcing the words out.
"And… that man…?"
The girl blinked.
Then laughed lightly at herself.
"Oh! Right, I forgot to introduce myself."
She gave a small, playful bow.
"My name is Marry. And I'm… well, a friend of the man you're asking about."
Teufel tried moving his arm again.
Nothing.
Not even his fingers responded.
Marry noticed the effort immediately.
Her expression softened.
"Well… looks like you're starving."
She tilted her head, thinking.
"You should eat while we wait for him… but…"
Her eyes drifted to his motionless body.
"…you can't even move."
A small smile appeared on her lips.
"Hmmm… how about I feed you?"
Teufel stared at her.
He had no strength to argue. No alternatives.
After a few seconds, he gave the slightest nod.
Marry's smile widened.
She pulled the chair closer and sat beside the bed.
Carefully, she scooped some soup and brought the spoon to his mouth.
Warmth spread through his body the moment he swallowed.
Real food.
For the first time in days.
She fed him slowly, patiently, like one would feed a sick child.
There was no disgust in her face.
No fear.
Only simple kindness.
And somehow…
That unsettled him more than cruelty ever could.
By the time the food was finished, warmth returned to his limbs. His fingers twitched slightly. His muscles felt less dead.
But hunger still gnawed at him.
Before he could speak—
Click.
The door opened again.
The air in the room changed instantly.
Teufel felt it before he even looked.
A chill crawled down his spine.
He turned his head.
The man stood at the doorway.
Tall. Calm. Expression unreadable.
The same man from the park.
Lucifer.
At least… that was the only word Teufel had for him.
And the moment their eyes met, one thought struck Teufel's mind with absolute certainty:
This man has killed someone.
Not suspicion.
Not imagination.
Certainty.
The man looked at the two of them calmly.
"Oh," he said in a normal tone, stepping inside, "looks like you two are getting along."
Marry smiled, relieved he had arrived.
She stood up, brushing her skirt lightly.
As she walked past him, she leaned closer and whispered:
"Don't scare the kid too much."
The man replied in the same calm tone:
"Actually… he's the one scaring me."
Marry gave Teufel one last reassuring smile before leaving the room.
The door closed.
Silence filled the space.
Now only two figures remained.
One sitting on the bed.
One standing beside it.
The Devil…
and Lucifer.
Lucifer stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The faint corridor light disappeared, leaving only the dim lamp near the bed casting long shadows across the walls.
For a few seconds, he simply stood there.
Watching.
Measuring.
Then he began walking toward the bed, each step slow, unhurried, confident — like a man who never feared being attacked.
Teufel's body still felt weak, but his mind sharpened instantly. Every instinct told him to stay alert.
Lucifer pulled the chair closer and sat down beside the bed.
The wooden legs scraped faintly against the floor.
Up close, his presence felt heavier.
Not violent.
Not threatening.
Just… dangerous.
He leaned back slightly and crossed his arms.
"Don't worry," he said casually, almost amused. "I don't bite."
Teufel stared at him without blinking.
His throat still burned, but he forced the words out.
"I don't think… I have to tell you what I want to know."
For a moment, silence hung between them.
Then Lucifer chuckled softly.
"Heh… you're very straightforward, boy."
He tilted his head slightly, studying Teufel.
"Well… Teufel, is it?"
A faint smirk appeared on his lips.
"That's quite the scary name. Teufel. The Devil."
He tapped his own chest lightly.
"Just like me. You can call me Diable."
Teufel frowned slightly, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
"Diable…? That means Devil… in French."
Lucifer grinned.
"Haha, exactly. You're smarter than you look."
He stretched his shoulders lazily before continuing.
"My name is Diable. I'm nineteen. And before you judge — I know I look scary, but trust me… I'm not a bad guy."
He paused.
Then leaned forward slightly.
"Well… let's get to the main point."
His tone shifted — calmer, heavier.
"I want to adopt you."
The words struck like lightning.
Teufel's eyes widened.
For a moment, he wondered if his exhausted mind had misunderstood.
Adopt?
Of all possibilities… this was the last thing he expected.
His voice shook, confusion overtaking caution.
"A-adopt? W-what the hell do you mean?"
Diable didn't react to the tone. Instead, his expression grew serious.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"Let's be clear first."
The warmth in his voice vanished.
"You're not an innocent kid."
Teufel's entire body stiffened.
Every instinct screamed danger.
Diable continued calmly.
"You killed your mother."
A pause.
"And probably others."
The air in the room grew heavier.
Teufel's expression hardened. The weakness vanished from his eyes. His guard shot up completely.
He said nothing.
Only listened.
Diable spoke as if reading from a file stored in memory.
"You were imprisoned in Tegel Prison in Berlin for two years. The youngest person ever sentenced to life imprisonment."
His gaze didn't waver.
"And the judge who gave that sentence… killed himself a year later."
Silence.
The words echoed in Teufel's head.
Diable shrugged slightly.
"The media loved you. Gave you the perfect title."
He smiled faintly.
"'The Devil.'"
He leaned back again, crossing his arms.
"Well… I'm not really in a position to judge."
His tone turned almost casual.
"After all… I've done far worse."
Teufel's pupils widened slightly.
Diable spoke plainly.
"I killed both of my parents. With my own hands."
No pride.
No shame.
Just fact.
Teufel stared at him, searching for deception.
There was none.
Only honesty.
A strange calm settled over him. His expression returned to emptiness.
Diable sighed quietly.
"I know exactly how it feels."
His voice softened.
"Better than anyone else."
He looked toward the closed door briefly, then back at Teufel.
"To the world, you're a monster."
A pause.
"But to me… you're just a kid who never had anyone to show him another way."
His tone lost all sharpness now.
"I want to save you from becoming something you can't come back from."
Another pause.
"Nobody is born completely evil."
Teufel listened silently.
His mind raced.
This man knew everything.
His past.
His crimes.
His identity.
And still…
He was offering help.
Not chains.
Not punishment.
Help.
Teufel understood something important at that moment.
He couldn't defeat this man.
Not now.
And making him an enemy served no purpose.
The smartest choice… was to listen.
Diable continued, his voice calm but firm.
"I'll teach you about this world. About power. Systems. People."
He gestured lightly.
"In a way you'll understand."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"So you don't become a demon."
Then his voice softened again.
"You'll learn what love is. Care. Kindness."
A faint smile appeared.
"Marry and I will take care of you."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Diable asked quietly:
"So… will you let us adopt you?"
He smiled warmly now.
An expression completely at odds with the conversation.
Teufel's mind felt like a storm.
Thoughts crashed into each other.
Trust?
Trap?
Opportunity?
Safety?
Control?
He couldn't sort them out.
But deep down…
He already knew his answer.
Slowly, a strange smile appeared on his face.
A smile impossible to read.
Not happiness.
Not relief.
Something else.
Something hidden.
And intentional.
Diable noticed it — but said nothing.
Teufel met his eyes and spoke calmly.
"Why not."
The room fell silent.
Outside, distant thunder rumbled.
As if the storm that had been waiting all day… had finally begun to move.
And somewhere deep within that quiet room, a decision was made — one that would shape the future of both Devil and Lucifer.
Chapter ends
To be continued