Morning arrived quietly, almost timidly, as if the sun itself hesitated to disturb the strange household it illuminated.
Thin strands of golden light slipped through the small windows of Diable's House, stretching across the marble floors like cautious fingers. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, glowing for brief moments before vanishing again. Somewhere deep within the house, silence ruled—until a door creaked open.
Diable stirred from his sleep, his mind still heavy, his body slow to respond. He sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair as if trying to collect his thoughts. Something felt… off. Too quiet. Too late.
He glanced toward the window.
Morning already?
That alone was enough to unsettle him.
Diable rose quickly, throwing on his coat with hurried movements. It never happened before,he never slept this much His mind wasn't working properly So some Unusual thoughts starts covering his head He started to Think about Teufel . If the boy was awake before him, something was wrong—or worse, something had changed.
With long strides, Diable made his way toward the main hall.
And the moment he stepped inside, his breath caught in his throat.
There, beneath the high ceiling and ornate chandelier, sat Teufel.
Already awake.
Already dressed.
But that wasn't what shocked him.
Teufel's head wason Marry's lap.He was laying very comfortably.
Marry herself was sitting on one of the floor, a book open in her hands. Her posture was relaxed, almost maternal, as she read aloud softly. Teufel leaned against her without resistance, his usual sharp, unreadable expression replaced by something Diable had never seen before.
Peace.
For a moment, Diable simply stood there, frozen.
…What?
Teufel noticed him first. His eyes lifted, calm and observant as ever.
"Oh," Teufel said casually. "Good morning, Master."
The word Master struck Diable harder than it should have.
"E—eh?" Diable stammered. "O-oh… y-yes. G-good morning."
Marry looked up from her book, blinking once before smiling.
"Oh, finally awake," she said lightly. "I got here a while ago. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to disturb you."
She closed the book gently.
"When I arrived, Teufel was already awake. He seemed bored, so I decided to spend some time with him."
Diable's eyes slowly shifted back to Teufel.
Already awake… bored…?
That alone was unsettling.
"I see," Diable replied stiffly. "Well… I suppose then it's time for breakfast."
"No," Teufel said immediately.
Diable stiffened. "No?"
"I already ate," Teufel continued. "Marry cooked for me."
The words echoed in Diable's mind.
She cooked… for Teufel?
"W—what?" Diable blurted out before he could stop himself.
Marry laughed softly, clearly amused.
"Oh, come on, Diable. Don't get so worked up," she said. "You still have to cook for yourself. I didn't make anything for you."
Something sharp twisted inside Diable's chest.
Jealousy.
An emotion he hadn't felt ever before. It was new to him.
He forced a dry laugh, turning away. "R-right… of course."
Teufel tilted his head slightly, observing Diable with silent curiosity. His eyes missed nothing—not the hesitation, not the tension in his voice, not the faint tightening of his jaw.
Interesting, the boy thought.
The day moved on.
By afternoon, the boy had fully awakened. Sunlight now poured through the windows unapologetically, filling the halls with warmth that clashed sharply with the cold intentions hidden within its walls.
Diable and Teufel sat across from one another in the study room.
Tall shelves lined the walls, packed tightly with books on philosophy, psychology, history, and politics. The air smelled faintly of old paper and ink. It was a room designed not for comfort, but for shaping minds.
Diable leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.
"So," he began, his tone shifting into something firmer, sharper. "This is our first lesson."
Teufel straightened immediately.
"Yes, Master."
Diable's eyes narrowed slightly at the obedient response.
"The topic," Diable continued, "is lying."
Teufel's gaze didn't waver.
"So," Diable said, tapping the table once. "What is lying?"
Teufel paused.
"Lying," he said slowly, "is when we give false information about something to someone."
Diable nodded. "Correct."
He stood, walking toward the bookshelf, his voice growing more deliberate.
"But in the modern world, lying is not rare. It is common. Everyone lies."
He turned back to Teufel.
"People lie because sometimes lies are better than the truth. Lies protect reputations. They preserve respect. They keep people out of trouble. They allow control."
Teufel listened intently, absorbing every word.
"But," Diable continued, "some people go beyond ordinary lies. They become what we call pathological liars."
Teufel's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Pathological liars?"
"Yes," Diable said. "People who lie so frequently, so skillfully, that truth becomes irrelevant to them. Their lies are seamless. Natural. Almost impossible to catch."
A faint smile crossed Diable's face.
"They are powerful."
Teufel's fingers curled slightly against the armrest.
"But," Teufel asked, "they have a weakness?"
Diable stopped pacing.
"Yes," he said quietly.
He looked directly at Teufel.
"Most pathological liars are fools."
Teufel blinked.
"They rely only on lies," Diable continued. "They don't understand strategy. They don't understand knowledge. If you remove their lies, they have nothing left."
Diable leaned closer.
"That is how you catch them. Not by challenging their lies—but by outthinking them."
Silence filled the room.
Teufel didn't speak. He didn't nod. But something deep inside him shifted, locked into place like a blade sliding into its sheath.
Diable straightened.
"That's enough for today," he said. "You can go now."
Teufel stood.
"You may spend the rest of the day with Marry."
For the first time since the lesson began, Teufel smiled.
"Yes, Master."
He left the room with light steps, far lighter than Diable expected.
Diable remained behind, staring at the closed door.
"Huh," he muttered to himself. "This kid…"
He exhaled slowly.
"I can see improvements already,I never thought I will ever see him smiling."
His gaze softened slightly.
"He's become cheerful because of Marry."
A small, genuine smile appeared on Diable's face—one he rarely allowed himself.
But deep down, beneath that smile, a quiet realization formed.
Teufel wasn't just learning.
He was adapting.
And that, more than anything, unsettled him.
After That Diable Simply Takes a book and goes to his room.
Chapter Ends
To be continued