Magical City Bank.
At the teller window, a sudden, piercing shout broke the quiet.
"How much?!"
A pig-headed security guard in uniform glanced toward the counter. Seeing only an unremarkable human, he snorted and turned his face away.
At the counter, the goblin teller couldn't help but steal a shy glance at Royan, whose mouth was open wide enough to fit an egg.
"Two million Kaira… sir, are you sure you want to withdraw all of it?"
Looking more closely, the customer wasn't so bad-looking after all.
Humans didn't hold high status in Hell, but scarcity made them intriguing. Besides, she'd heard that humans were similar to goblins in everything except their noses and ears but everything else was proportionally longer.
If he invited her to a meal, she wouldn't be entirely above humoring him…
"No, just… one thousand for now," Royan said, collecting himself and shaking off the initial shock.
He had assumed there would only be a few thousand Kaira in his account, since his monthly expenses were usually around one or two thousand. He had never imagined the balance could reach seven digits!
Could Father Jeffrey have written down the wrong account number or sent him the wrong card… the one with secret savings?
He knew the odds were practically zero, but worry still gnawed at him.
Might as well take a detour through West District's Haunted Street to visit Father Jeffrey. If there had been a mistake, he would return the money.
The goblin teller counted the ten stacks of thousand-Kaira bills carefully before neatly placing them on a metal tray.
Made of fireproof materials, these bills were the largest denomination in Hell rumor said they could even be tossed into lava without burning.
Royan, who had lived in Hell for eighteen years, had never held such high-denomination bills. His palms tingled with heat as he held them.
"Sir, please double-check the amount," the goblin reminded him in a high-pitched voice, circling her long, hooked finger around her ear.
Royan realized, to his surprise, that goblins actually had expressive faces. He had always assumed they only cared about food, having only seen them at the West Tower cafeteria.
"Okay, thank you."
Without another word, he stuffed the money into his wallet and strode out of the bank, leaving the goblin staring in disbelief.
Outside, his green skin gradually flushed the color of raw liver, and eyes that had been full of admiration now glared like curses.
Ugly human! So rude! Showing off with no shame! Pathetic! Disgusting!
…
West District, Haunted Street, Magical City.
Demons of all shapes and sizes moved along the streets. Some towered like giants, some were small as dwarves, some had countless legs, others had eyes covering half their faces or didn't even resemble mammals at all, instead resembling massive lava-swimming insects, seemingly harmless but extremely dangerous carnivorous plants.
Unlike high-level demons with distinct forms, these lower-level demons were often hybrids with no fixed species, collectively called "malefactors."
The term distinguished them from high-ranking demons.
In today's Hell, the concept of "demon" had become broad. Only old-timers like Principal Evan, with a thousand years of life behind him, cared about strict classifications.
The younger generation of demons didn't bother.
Father Jeffrey's temple sat along this street. As Royan approached, he immediately felt the stares sharpen.
Humans stood out far too much in Hell, especially outside religious circles… so much that anyone might be tempted to take a bite.
This was one of the reasons Royan rarely "went home" after entering the Demon King Academy.
Father Jeffrey had just finished evening prayers.
Seeing Royan at the temple entrance, his wrinkled face broke into a warm smile, as if greeting a beloved grandson.
"I just got your letter. How come you came right away?"
"I missed you," Royan said with a smile, lifting a basket containing some Hellish fire-fruits and bread gifts he had picked up from street vendors before entering the district.
"You didn't need to. The temple in the Magical City never runs short of food. If you have extra money, better donate it to kids in remote areas."
Despite his words, Father Jeffrey took the basket with a smile and handed it to a passing nun to deliver to the kitchen. There was plenty enough for the temple's orphanage to have dinner.
Then he turned to Royan with a serious expression.
"You're here about your bank account, aren't you?"
"You always know," Royan admitted with a chuckle, no longer hiding.
Father Jeffrey's expression said he had expected this. He joked lightly:
"Were you scared by the amount?"
"Yes… I'm just wondering, when did you get so wealthy?"
Father Jeffrey glanced at Royan and then handed the basket to a nun, instructing her to take it to the kitchen.
"This money was left to you by your father," he said.
Royan paused, then nodded.
"I know. I just… I was surprised by the amount. Even if I wanted to thank him, I don't even know his name."
The man, who had never appeared in Royan's eighteen-year life, suddenly left a fortune.
Father Jeffrey was silent for a moment, gazing at the chapel behind him.
"Your father… cannot acknowledge you for certain reasons. He asked me to provide you some help. I don't like the man, but I can see he loves you, and what he did was for your own good."
Royan nodded.
"Alright, let's assume that's the case."
Father Jeffrey raised an eyebrow.
"I thought you'd ask his name?"
"What's the point of asking the same question again? You've never told me all these years. And I'm not the type to cling to someone cold. If he thinks this is better, then fine," Royan replied with a wry, carefree smile. "To me, you're my father anyway."
Father Jeffrey's lips curved into a faint smile before he cleared his throat, returning to a serious expression.
"I'm glad you say that. By age, you'd better just call me grandfather."
"Sure thing, if it makes you happy," Royan laughed.
Father Jeffrey nodded and placed his large hand on Royan's shoulder, his eyes glimmering with nostalgia.
After a long pause, he spoke softly:
"Your eyes… they are like your mother's, obsidian black. She worried me endlessly at your age, always causing trouble. And your father… indecisive as he was, I worried I couldn't raise you properly. But your performance has exceeded my expectations."
"Sometimes, I even feel you're not a child. You are more mature than your mother, more decisive than your father, even as a child. Every time I think of it, I feel both proud and ashamed "
"Please don't say that," Royan interrupted with a cough. "You've already raised me this far. I'm grateful enough."
Father Jeffrey smiled warmly.
"Really? Thank you. I may not have been the best godfather, but I've always treated you as my own. I've done all I can; the rest is up to you."
Royan returned a reassuring smile.
"Please, you've already helped me a lot. As for the road ahead, I'll handle it myself. Besides, I've already decided where to go next."
"Then go, and do what you wish," Father Jeffrey said, patting his shoulder, pride and approval shining in his eyes.
"If you ever get tired, come back here."
"I'm always here," Royan said.
…
The light streaming through the crystal dome melted into the edge of night.
Magical City slumbered like a yawning giant, with only streetlamps and the occasional lava flicker lighting the streets.
At Father Jeffrey's invitation, Royan enjoyed dinner with the temple's orphanage residents for the first time in a long while, and stayed overnight in the dormitory where he had lived for sixteen years.
The dormitory, converted from an old chapel, held over thirty beds. Its residents included orphans of all sorts: one-eyed monsters, touch-sensitive demons, centaurs, cat-people, even slimes.
As bedtime approached, the wingless "little demons" gathered around him, their countless eyes wide with curiosity, chattering endlessly.
Royan felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if he had experienced something similar not long ago.
"Royan! I heard you're going to be Demon King?!"
"Yay! I'm going to be Demon King too!"
"I'll be your minion!"
"I'll be your bride!"
"No, Demon Kings don't have brides!"
"I'll play a villager then!"
"Ah caught you."
"Grr! Lock them up! Discipline!"
"Alright, alright! Stop! Careful or you'll wake Father Jeffrey!"
Royan quickly intervened, shooing them off his bed.
Something about their upbringing seemed… problematic.
Wait this is Hell. Maybe, by Hell standards, it wasn't so bad.
Watching the little demons finally fall asleep, Royan lay down. He had planned to meditate and check the forum before bed, but fatigue overtook him, and he fell asleep immediately.
Meanwhile, beyond the reach of the violet dome, in another world, closed beta players vented all their pent-up energy on the forum.
Pig-Head Knight: "What?! Why is my face covered?!"
Can't-Play Player: "The developers deserve a beating!"
Minotaur Warrior: "Succubus!!! Succubus!!! NPC change!!!"
Candied-Hawthorn: "Damn it! I could see but not touch, now I can't even see!"
Skewer Player: "It itches! Feels like ten thousand ants crawling on me!"
Yiye Qiuqiu: "Are you guys okay… (sweat)"
In a small bedroom, Zhao Jinyan sat frozen in front of his computer, half a popsicle forgotten in his hand.
Whoa. Withdrawal symptoms already?
"This game…"
Could it really be okay?