Belzebub stood quietly in the small garden behind the castle, surrounded by pale flowers that danced gently in the breeze. For once, there was peace in his expression. His shoulders relaxed, his breath steady. Here, he could pretend he was not a prince. He could pretend he was just a child.
Then a voice shattered the calm.
"Belzebub!"
He looked up sharply. A demon girl sprinted toward him, her boots pounding against the stone path. She wore a maid's uniform that hugged her frame a little too closely, sinful by design, with two curved horns rising from her head. Her skin held a soft violet hue, her hair dark as night, and her eyes carried the kind of warmth a demon rarely showed.
Mercilene. She was around his age, maybe a little younger, and when he saw her, the child's calm expression brightened instantly. It was the purest smile he had shown in the memory so far.
"Mercilene," he called out.
But she was not smiling. Panic twisted her features.
