How can a demon possess someone?
It's a simple question—but the answer isn't.
Demonic possession is rare. Extremely rare. Even when it happens, it requires strict conditions. The most common is a deeply rooted inclination toward evil within the host.
That's why I was skeptical when I first heard Carla might be cursed. For all her quirks—even as an otaku—Carla has a strong moral compass. She's kind, grounded, and honestly, the type of person who'd stop to help a stranger carry groceries.
But there's another, much rarer way for a demon to take hold of someone: the presence of a Devil.
Not a demon. A Devil.
Demons exist outside our world. They're interdimensional parasites with limited reach. They need cracks to slip through, cracks usually created by humans. But Devils? Devils are something else.
A Devil is a demon born and raised in this world—flesh and blood, but carrying a demonic essence deep inside. They walk among us unnoticed, blending in like shadows in sunlight. And worse, their presence acts like a beacon to demons—a passive aura that strengthens demonic influence nearby. Like a walking, talking AOE buff for everything demonic.
And right now, standing in front of me, was Luck.
Carla's son.
A Devil.
From the subtle pulse of his energy and the way the air bends faintly around him, I can tell—his powers are starting to awaken.
That explains everything. How Carla became vulnerable. Why the possession took root so quickly. The demon inside her is feeding on Luck's demonic energy.
In front of a demon, a Devil is like a glowing lamb in a field of darkness.
"M-Mr. Briar... please believe me... I-it was an accident. Mom was standing on my bed, and I—I thought she was someone else. I didn't mean to do this..."
Luck's voice trembled, thick with panic and guilt, his small frame shaking as he spoke. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his breaths came in quick bursts.
Then, something shifted.
A dark shadow began to bloom from his feet, rising slowly to engulf his entire body. It moved like liquid, alive and pulsing, wrapping around him with a will of its own.
'Oh no. This is bad.'
This had to be Luck's first time triggering his power. Demonic power responds to emotions. And without control, it was reacting wildly.
'This is… very troubling.'
I forced myself to stay calm. Panicking would only make things worse. For now, I turned my attention to Carla, who lay motionless on the ground.
Using a quiet whisper and a flick of my finger, I cast a telekinesis spell to gently lift and realign her head. My other hand glowed faintly as I sent a focused stream of healing mana through her body, closing the internal wound and steadying her breath.
'Done.'
Now that one problem was solved, it was time to deal with the real one—Luck.
At this point, talking to him directly would be difficult. Demonic power is intimately tied to a Devil's mental state. Looking at the way the darkness clung to him—it was clear: he felt isolated. Cornered. Traumatized after accidentally hurting Carla, and now terrified of how I might react. His stress was feeding the demonic power.
And if this kept going for even a few more minutes, it would draw attention. The Special Police would detect it and once they got involved, it would be over for Luck.
'Should I really do this…?'
I hesitated. There was one way to stabilize the situation, but it meant revealing my magic to Luck.
"M-Mr. B-Briar..." His voice reached me again, soft and trembling.
That's when I saw it.
Despite the swirling shadows choking the air around him, Luck was trying to hold it back.
'Ah...'
A quiet realization settled in me.
Even when he was scared, alone, confused—he was still trying to protect me.
'Who was I kidding? We were both anomalies anyway.'
I stepped slowly into the room.
"M-Mr. Briar—wait! Don't come any closer!" Luck's voice cracked with panic.
A shadow burst from his body like a spear, lashing out toward me. The impact ripped through the air with a violent gust.
"NO! Mr. Briar!!" he screamed, eyes wide with terror.
But then—nothing.
The shadow froze mid-air, unraveling harmlessly before it could touch me.
"Mr. Briar…?" Luck's voice dropped, full of disbelief.
I kept walking, unbothered, as if the wind itself had simply passed me by.
A soft blue aura began to glow around my body, shimmering gently in the darkened room. My form started to shift—hair growing long and turning pure white, my lean build reshaping into a more muscular frame. The face of a young adult faded into that of a weathered man, a scar running over my left eye. My everyday clothes morphed into a sleek, robe-like outfit, a modern take on the battle-worn attire of a classic hero.
This was an illusion. Or more precisely, a near-perfect one.
Luck was still a child, even if he was a Devil. The best way to pull him out of this spiral was to give him a mental shock powerful enough to distract him from his own inner chaos.
I knew what he liked. Luck was a diehard fighting game fan. This form I wore now—it wasn't random. It was the spitting image of the character I always picked when we played together.
Familiarity, after all, was comfort. And, well… it definitely wasn't because I'd forgotten what the other characters looked like.
As I drew closer, I felt the change immediately. The wild demonic energy that had been spiraling outward began to recede. The shadows curling around Luck's body pulled inward, shrinking, flickering uncertainly—like a storm losing its strength.
'Good,' I thought, quietly. 'It's working.'
Now, for the final grand play.
"So… you've awakened your power..."
My voice echoed through the room, deep and commanding, laced with an unnatural resonance. A subtle vibration pulsed in the air around me, and my bluish aura surged outward like a slow, rising tide.
From what I observed, Luck wasn't afraid of his power itself—he was afraid of it hurting someone else. He believed that once it broke loose, there was nothing that could stop it. But now, standing before a figure that blocked it effortlessly, radiating a presence far stronger than his own, he finally looked… safe.
I gently patted his head.
He didn't say a word—his eyes wide, full of awe and confusion.
Then, without breaking the illusion, I turned and walked a few steps away. Still facing him, I gracefully lowered myself to sit—and just before I made contact with the air, a majestic chair shimmered into existence beneath me, glistening with bluish light, carved in a style straight out of his favorite games.
I crossed one leg over the other, leaned slightly forward, and spoke:
"Have you calmed down, Luck?"
The question snapped him back to reality.
"R-right—Mom!" he gasped, twisting around in panic. But what he saw stopped him cold.
Carla was sleeping soundly on the floor, as if nothing had happened.
"A-ah… Mother…" Luck's voice trembled. His knees buckled slightly as quiet tears returned to his eyes, falling freely now.
He didn't rush to her mother's side.
He stayed back—instinctively keeping his distance, afraid he might hurt her again.
"You don't need to worry about her," I said, the tone of authority still present in my voice.
Luck turned back to me immediately, straightening his posture. Slowly, he rose to his feet and faced me head-on.
Though still a child, he looked me dead in the eyes. With me seated and him standing, our gazes met at equal height.
'There he is.'
The real Luck. Upright. Resilient. Always choosing to face the storm.
"Mr. Briar… thank you for saving my mom. I—I'll repay this favor someday," he said, voice steadying despite the tears. "I won't ask who—or 'what'—you really are, but… can you tell me what 'I' am?"
'This kid… this isn't how most children behave. Devil or not, he's something else.'
I let a soft smile curve the edge of my lips.
"Yes," I said gently. "Tomorrow's a holiday. We've got all night."