Author's Note:
Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it. I wanted to drop a chapter today as a small thank you for the support this story has gotten so far. I really appreciate you all. Stay safe, enjoy the holidays, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.
A Marvelous Devil:
Chapter 7: A Demon's Evaluation.
Celestine Andromalius.
Saturday, June 9th, 2007.
There was less than an hour left before the carriage arrived. A birthday party for the daughter of the lord whose land we lived on. An opportunity Dante couldn't afford to squander.
I didn't know if he truly understood how important it was. Even if he assured me yesterday that he understood, he didn't show it. Not in the way I was used to.
I knew that because I'd checked the time ten times already, pacing around the room until I could recite every little thing we still had to fix. The fake sun was already falling, and the artificial moon made everything feel uncomfortably final.
And my foolish son still hadn't come out.
Dante had shut himself in his room the night before. He didn't slam the door like a brat or argue. He had simply excused himself after dinner, said he needed time, then closed the door behind him.
A whole day, twenty-four hours since I'd last seen him.
He hadn't come out for breakfast or lunch. I left food by the door twice, pretending everything was alright, telling myself he'd eat when he was ready.
The plates disappeared. Neither Hadrian nor I noticed a thing. And we'd been watching that door far too much for that to make sense.
Folding my hands over my lap, I forced myself to breathe slowly. He was probably fine. He had always been… strange when he really focused on something. Hadrian used to say he took after me, burying himself in work and forgetting the rest of the world.
But this was different.
This was a formal dinner at the Sitri estate. An opportunity we could not afford to waste. And my son was still locked in his room, silent as a corpse, far too unbothered for my liking.
"He said he knows what he's doing," Hadrian said, for what must have been the fifth time. Or tenth. I stopped paying attention after the first couple of times.
He stood near the wall with his arms crossed. His relaxed posture only irritated me further. He acted as if Dante knew what he was doing. As if, somehow, he'd learned to make clothes without us noticing even once.
I didn't know what was worse, that he'd done it in secret, or that he might be wasting this opportunity for some prideful reason. I really didn't know what I wanted to be true.
I stopped in front of him, hands on my hips. "That's what worries me."
Hadrian sighed. "Celestine…"
"We haven't seen him," I snapped, then immediately regretted the bitterness in my tone.
I pressed my hand to my temple. "He probably didn't sleep. He hadn't come out since last night. And he's about to enter the politics of the Underworld tonight, Hadrian."
"He's not a child," Hadrian said gently, his hand brushing mine.
I turned my head away, my chest tightening for reasons I didn't want to name.
"He will always be my child, Hadrian. It doesn't matter if it's eighteen years or three thousand. He will always be my baby boy. Despite all your efforts to force him to grow up before he has to."
Hadrian opened his mouth before closing it shut.
For a moment, something flickered across his face. Guilt, perhaps.
I felt bad for just a second. Then, I hardened my heart. I understood, I really did.
But I wasn't sure this was the best path forward. Pushing Dante into something he may not have wanted. No… I didn't know if I wanted to keep doing this. Not after seeing how different my son was acting now.
"He told us to trust him, Celes," Hadrian responded at last, softer this time.
That did nothing to calm me.
Trust him. As if trust was supposed to make up for the fact that I had no idea what was happening behind that door. As if trust could fix the growing discomfort in my chest, the sense that something was slipping through my fingers, no matter how tightly I held on.
Like I was losing one of the things I loved so dearly.
"He doesn't know what he's doing," I muttered, mostly to myself. "I shouldn't have allowed this. I should've bought something I liked, instead of giving him the chance. Now, he might walk dressed like he's going to train. Or worse, refuse to come out at all. He wasn't enthused about your actions, Hadrian."
"He wouldn't do that," Hadrian snorted. Then his expression turned into worry, "Do you think he's capable of that?"
"I don't know anymore!" I shot back, lifting my hands. "You're the one who pushed this. You're the one who told people about his clan trait. You're the one who dragged us into this mess."
His jaw tightened. "And you'd rather we stayed invisible forever?"
"No," I said. "I would rather we didn't gamble our son."
A tense silence fell over the room. I could see how hurt Hadrian was, but I wasn't backing down. Not anymore.
Before either of us could say more, a calm voice spoke from behind us.
"You're worrying too much, mother."
I froze.
Hadrian dropped his glass of wine. The silver cup clanking against the floor in the now silent house.
Neither of us heard the door open. Neither of us felt a presence near us. Not a single shift in the air, not a single tell of demonic power.
Dante was chewing on something. A skewer from the market district, if I had to guess. We didn't have food like that in the house. For some reason, I couldn't even smell it.
For half a heartbeat, my relief was overwhelming. He was here, fine and whole. He was standing there, looking at us with that new calm expression he seemed to enjoy lately.
Then I really looked at him.
The first thing that struck me was the silence. Not the absence of sound, but the way the world seemed to settle around him, as if it had only just noticed he was there. My whole body shivered, memories of the war I'd buried clawing their way up.
The second thing was his clothes.
They weren't flashy. There was no embroidery, or even jewels. Nothing unnecessary. The cut was clean, almost minimalistic, and the fabric was dark enough to bring out his best features.
Everything worked to make him look perfect.
It fit him perfectly.
Not in the way expensive clothes often did, drowning the wearer in padding and forced wealth. No, this one worked in the way armor did. A precise, intentional look. Everything was where it needed to be.
It reminded me of the paintings that circulated during the Civil War. Of our creator, Lucifer himself, in the early days of the Underworld. A leader. A king who didn't need to show off, because he already was the greatest, and everyone knew it.
I swallowed hard.
"Dante," I mumbled softly at first, then my voice took a manic turn. "How did you manage this? What did you do? Where did you get those skewers?!"
Hadrian just stared at him, open-mouthed.
Dante smiled faintly, the expression softening his features just enough to remind me that he was, in fact, my son.
"I finished in the morning," he shrugged. "Then I went to train for a bit and took the opportunity to sneak around the city. I don't like going blind."
My heart swelled with pride, at least at first.
Then the fear kicked in. What did he just say?! What in the world was happening to my son?
Since when did he know about clothes like this? Since when did he understand the kind of message this sent? I had watched him grow. I knew every stage, every awkward phase, every embarrassing moment.
And yet, standing there, wearing something that looked like it belonged in a gallery of relics rather than a tailor's shop, he felt… unfamiliar.
"Did you truly make this?" I asked him quietly.
"Of course I did," Dante said, looking almost offended. "I don't have enough money to buy something like this, and you know that."
Hadrian let out a low whistle. "You planning on opening a store next?" he joked, though his eyes never stopped analyzing our son. "I'd invest."
Dante's gaze locked with Hadrian's, his calm smile fading.
"This is beyond what you were doing with your trait," Hadrian said, his tone turning serious and doing his best to act unaffected at our son's change in mood. "Last time I saw you train, you could barely hide yourself. Now you managed to hide even the smell of that snack."
"I improved," Dante said simply.
"That's not an improvement," I shook my head. "That's… this is leagues beyond anything you were capable of, baby."
"I told you I knew what I was doing."
I reached for him again, unable to help myself, my fingers brushing his untamed hair.
Surprisingly, I liked the way it looked. It was different from what I was used to, but it fit him.
The distant sound of a carriage horn echoed through the street.
Time was up.
Dante straightened, turning toward the door. "It's time for me to go."
Before he moved, he paused, glancing back at Hadrian.
"Father."
Hadrian raised a confused eyebrow.
"Don't," Dante said simply. The single word was quiet, but it carried a pressure I hadn't felt from my son. Ever.
"Don't what?" Hadrian asked, though something in his posture had already shifted.
"Don't talk," Dante replied. "Not about what you saw. Not about what I can do now. This invitation is enough. You already did enough. Do not push your luck, please."
The room felt suddenly smaller.
Hadrian studied his son for a long moment, then inclined his head. "I'll trust you, son."
Dante's smile returned, a hint of warmth returning to his eyes.
As he walked past us toward the door, I turned, watching him go. Watching the way the light caught the lines of his coat, the way the smoke from the hearth seemed to bend around him. If I hadn't seen him, I wouldn't have realized he was there.
I wasn't sure when my son had learned to walk so quietly.
Or when he had started leaving us behind.
Sitri estate.
Dante Andromalius.
The carriage ride was quiet, and I preferred it that way.
The driver spoke only when courtesy demanded it, his words clipped and terse. The disdain he felt towards my family was subtle, but noticeable.
Even I, personally invited, was nothing more than an obligation to him. My parents, who had not been invited at all, were beneath his notice.
They had known this would happen. Still, neither Father nor Mother managed to hide the bitterness when a mere driver looked through them as if they were part of the furniture.
Amusing. If faintly embarrassing.
Not that I cared, because I knew my worth. I was Dante Andromalius, I was also Seere, the Fair One.
Time would correct this imbalance on its own, as it always did. Lesser beings eventually learned their place, whether they wished to or not.
I leaned back as the estate came into view.
The Sitri estate rose from the landscape like a sore thumb. Grander than anything inside the territory, it was simply impossible to miss. Its very presence meant to remind onlookers of who held power here.
It made sense. They needed the posturing.
They were not strong enough to rule without a show of force. Structures like this were necessary to maintain the illusion of untouchability. From the tall walls to the heavy gates and even the wards layered thick enough to be felt even from a distance.
They brushed against me as we passed through the perimeter. A minor adjustment was all it took to trick them. My clan trait folded around me, veiling my essence just enough to slip past the passive scrutiny. I allowed what needed to be seen and concealed what did not.
The wards were not meant for deep inspection; they were merely meant to detect hostile intent. I carried none.
The polite thing to do.
A guard's gaze swept over the carriage, sliding past without catching at first. Then it returned, his expression focused.
I adjusted my trait, and his eyes glazed over and moved on. The guards looked competent, at least. Capable of noticing discrepancies, even if they couldn't maintain focus once my trait took hold.
I supposed this was enough for devils.
The carriage slowed. A servant was already waiting, opening the door the moment we came to a stop. I stepped down first, offering the driver a polite nod he neither deserved nor acknowledged.
The interior was no better.
Everything was intentional to the point of excess. Everything was to show off how much they had. The kind of extravagance meant to impress rather than be felt. It lacked restraint. To me, it just showed how much confidence they lacked.
Gaudy, though I would have chosen kinder words if I spoke aloud.
I understood the impulse. The Sitri's relationship with the current Leviathan was strained. Displays like this were a way to compensate.
Guests had begun to gather near the ballroom entrance. Minor nobles draped in expensive clothing that wore them instead of the other way around. Younger devils posturing loudly, attempting to inflate their own importance.
But not all presences were dull.
As I entered the ballroom properly, I felt it. Something I had not believed could be found from these devils. A pressure that was tightly controlled but could be felt from a distance. A handful of auras sharper than the rest.
Interesting.
They occupied the central table, reserved for those whose names carried weight beyond this territory.
Serafall Leviathan. Sirzechs Lucifer. Ajuka Beelzebub.
Three Satans, and each radiated power on entirely different scales. Serafall was the weakest, though even she existed on a level far removed from the assembled nobles. The other two radiated something else entirely.
Sirzechs Lucifer was raw force, constrained but monstrous in scope. Power that belonged wholly to him, unassisted by domain or external amplification. From my experiences, he would have been respected even in my original universe.
But he was still, at his core, just firepower.
No, the one who caught my attention was the other one.
Ajuka Beelzebub.
The world around him bent in subtle ways, responding to his wants rather than force. Even in this body, even with my senses constrained, I could see it clearly.
That was far more interesting.
I allowed myself to smile.
Perhaps there was something worth my attention in this world after all.
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