Vergil awoke slowly, as if consciousness were returning in layers. First he heard the silence of the mansion—a true, rare silence—then he felt the gentle weight on his chest, warm, familiar.
Sapphire.
She lay on top of him, completely naked, but this carried no sexual intent whatsoever. It was simply her way of sleeping when she finally let go. Her face was buried against his skin, breathing heavily and irregularly, like someone who, after months of tension, had finally passed out. Her red hair was spread over him, still messy from the previous night—a night not of desire, but of emotional despair, of tears, of silent reconciliation.
Vergil remained motionless for a few seconds, observing.
Sapphire, the First Demon Queen.
The primordial being who terrorized heaven and earth.
The creature that reduced armies to ashes.
Sleeping like an exhausted child.
