Seoul was vibrant, modern, and completely overwhelming.
Adrian had been to many cities in his five years as a vampire, but Seoul was different—it pulsed with energy, with life, with a frenetic pace that made even Tokyo seem calm.
"Bael's empire is called Infernal Entertainment," Marcus briefed them via video call. He'd stayed in Shanghai to handle their other responsibilities. "He represents K-pop idols, actors, models. On the surface, it's a legitimate business. Underground, it's a front for demon activities—soul contracts, blood deals, the usual."
"How do we get access to his vault?" Adrian asked.
"You don't. Not directly. But he's hosting a charity gala next week—all the biggest names in Korean entertainment will be there. If you can get an invitation, you can scope out his building's security."
"How do we get an invitation?"
Marcus smiled slightly. "You're Lord Ashford and his bonded mate. Your names carry weight in supernatural circles. I'll arrange it."
The invitation arrived within two days—heavy cardstock with gold lettering, inviting "Lord Kieran Ashford and Consort" to an exclusive gala benefiting children's hospitals.
"Consort?" Adrian read, amused. "That's what I am?"
"In vampire hierarchy, yes. You're bonded to a lord, which makes you a consort." Kieran looked up from his laptop. "Is that a problem?"
"No, just... weird. I went from university student to vampire consort in five years."
"You've also become a skilled fighter, a talented diplomat, and devastatingly attractive." Kieran pulled him into his lap. "Don't sell yourself short."
Adrian kissed him, slow and deep, letting the bond between them hum with affection and desire. "Flatterer."
"I speak only truth."
They spent the next week preparing. Studying Bael's building layout, learning about his security systems, identifying potential entry points to the vault. The demon lord was paranoid—motion sensors, magical wards, guards both human and demonic.
"This would be easier if we could just fight our way in," Adrian observed.
"And start a war with the demon community? No thank you." Kieran traced their planned route on the blueprint. "We need to be subtle. Get in, get the mirror, get out. No violence unless absolutely necessary."
"You know violence is always necessary with demons."
"Which is why we're bringing backup."
Wei arrived in Seoul two days before the gala, bringing three of her best fighters. "I can't believe I'm helping you steal from a demon lord," she complained. "This is exactly the kind of chaos I try to avoid."
"You love chaos," Adrian pointed out.
"I love controlled chaos. This is uncontrolled chaos."
"Where's the fun in controlled?"
Wei growled, but her eyes were amused. "You've become insufferable since you turned. I blame Kieran."
"I'm a terrible influence," Kieran agreed cheerfully.
The night of the gala, Adrian dressed in a designer suit that probably cost more than his entire human wardrobe combined. Kieran wore complementary black, and together they looked like they'd stepped out of a fashion magazine.
"Ready?" Kieran asked, adjusting Adrian's collar with gentle fingers.
"To infiltrate a demon lord's gala and steal a magical artifact? Sure. Just another Tuesday."
"That's the spirit."
Bael's building was in Gangnam—all glass and steel, modern architecture that concealed ancient evil. The gala was held on the top floor, a massive ballroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Seoul's glittering skyline.
The guests were a mix of human celebrities—actors, singers, models who had no idea they were surrounded by supernatural beings—and demons in human form. Adrian could sense them now, could feel the wrongness that marked demon presence.
"Lord Ashford," a smooth voice greeted them. "What an honor."
Bael looked nothing like Asmodeus. Where Asmodeus was beautiful in an unsettling way, Bael was handsome in a conventional sense—tall, well-built, with the kind of face that would photograph perfectly. He wore an expensive suit and smiled like a businessman, not a demon lord.
"Lord Bael," Kieran responded with cold courtesy. "Thank you for the invitation."
"Any friend of the supernatural community is welcome. And this must be your bonded mate." Bael's gaze shifted to Adrian, assessing. "The famous reincarnation. I've heard stories. Ten lives, each one unique. Fascinating."
"I have my moments," Adrian said, keeping his voice light despite the instinctive revulsion he felt toward the demon.
"I'm sure you do." Bael's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Enjoy the evening. The champagne is excellent, and the view is unmatched."
He moved away to greet other guests, and Adrian exhaled slowly.
"He knows," Adrian said quietly.
"Probably," Kieran agreed. "Demons always know more than they let on. But knowing and proving are different. We proceed as planned."
They mingled, drank champagne they couldn't taste, and slowly worked their way toward the building's restricted areas. Wei and her wolves were positioned outside, ready to extract them if things went wrong.
At midnight—when the gala was in full swing and security was focused on the guests—Kieran and Adrian slipped away.
The vault was three floors down, accessible only by a private elevator that required biometric scanning. Fortunately, Adrian had learned to pick locks—both physical and magical—over the past five years.
"This ward is nasty," Adrian muttered, examining the elevator's magical protections. "It's keyed to demon energy. If a non-demon tries to pass through, it'll trigger an alarm."
"Can you bypass it?"
"Maybe. Give me a minute."
Adrian placed his palm against the ward, feeling its structure. He'd discovered early in his vampire life that his multiple past lives gave him an intuitive understanding of magic—like he'd learned it before, in lives he couldn't quite remember.
He pushed his energy against the ward, not trying to break it but to mimic it. To convince the magic he was supposed to be here.
The ward shimmered, hesitated, then accepted him.
"Show-off," Kieran murmured.
"You love it when I show off."
They took the elevator down, both tense and ready for a fight. But the vault level was eerily quiet—just a long hallway with a single door at the end.
Too easy.
"It's a trap," Kieran said flatly.
"Definitely a trap." Adrian approached the door anyway. "But we're already here. Might as well spring it."
The vault door was reinforced steel covered in warding symbols. Adrian worked on it methodically, dismantling each protection layer by layer. It took fifteen minutes—fifteen minutes where they were completely vulnerable, where any security patrol would find them.
But no one came.
The door finally clicked open, and they entered the vault.
It was smaller than expected—just a room with glass cases displaying various artifacts. Most were mundane—jewelry, weapons, old books. But in the center, on a pedestal all its own, stood the Mirror of Souls.
It was beautiful in a terrible way. The frame was black metal, twisted and carved with faces frozen in expressions of agony. The mirror's surface didn't reflect—it swirled, showing images that changed too fast to process.
"Don't look into it," Kieran warned, repeating Asmodeus's advice.
"I won't." Adrian approached carefully, reaching for the mirror.
The moment his fingers touched the frame, the vault's lights went out.
When they came back on, Bael stood between them and the exit.
"I was wondering when you'd make your move," the demon lord said pleasantly. "Asmodeus sent you, I presume? To retrieve his stolen property?"
"It's not stolen if it's yours," Adrian countered.
"Ah, but that's the question, isn't it? Who does it really belong to?" Bael stepped closer. "That mirror was created by the first demons, before heaven and hell were separated. It doesn't belong to Asmodeus any more than it belongs to me. We're just... custodians."
"Then you won't mind if we take custody," Kieran said, his hand moving to his concealed weapon.
"Oh, but I do mind. Because I know what Asmodeus wants with it." Bael's pleasant expression dropped, revealing something ancient and cruel beneath. "He wants to use it to find someone. Someone who's been hiding for millennia. Someone whose discovery would upset the balance of the supernatural world."
"That's not our problem," Adrian said.
"It will be. When Asmodeus finds this person, when he drags them back into the light, the consequences will ripple through every community—vampire, werewolf, witch, demon, all of us. You're helping him start a war."
Adrian hesitated. Was that true? Or was Bael manipulating them, trying to keep the mirror for his own purposes?
"You're lying," Kieran said flatly.
"Am I? Look into the mirror, young vampire. See the truth of what you're doing. See the futures that await you if you return it to Asmodeus."
"He told us not to look—" Adrian started.
"Of course he did. Because he doesn't want you to know what he's really planning." Bael gestured to the mirror. "One look. What's the harm? You're immortal—you can handle a little truth."
Adrian looked at Kieran, uncertain.
"It's a trick," Kieran said. "Demons lie. It's what they do."
"But what if he's telling the truth? What if we're about to help start a war?" Adrian turned back to Bael. "Show me. Show me proof that Asmodeus is planning something catastrophic."
Bael smiled. "As you wish."
He turned the mirror toward Adrian.
The surface swirled, then cleared, showing an image that made Adrian's breath catch.
He saw himself—older, harder, covered in blood. Standing over bodies, dozens of them, vampire and human alike. His eyes were empty, dead despite being undead, and he held Kieran's decapitated head in his hands.
"No," Adrian whispered.
The image shifted, showing another future. Kieran killing Adrian, tears streaming down his face as he drove a stake through Adrian's heart. "I'm sorry," future-Kieran sobbed. "I'm so sorry, but you left me no choice."
Another shift. Adrian alone, kneeling in ruins, screaming at a sky that didn't care. Everyone he loved was dead—Kieran, Wei, Marcus, all of them ash and memory.
"Stop," Adrian gasped, trying to look away. But the mirror held him, forcing him to watch future after future, each more terrible than the last.
In one, he became a monster worse than anything Viktor had imagined. In another, he watched Kieran slowly lose his humanity, becoming the creature he'd been in those first violent centuries. In a third, they both survived but at the cost of everything they believed in, ruling over humans like the old lords had wanted.
Every future was tragedy. Every possibility ended in blood and loss and regret.
"That's enough," Kieran's voice cut through the visions. His hand covered the mirror, blocking Adrian's view. "Whatever you're showing him, stop. Now."
Adrian stumbled back, his mind reeling. The images burned in his memory—Kieran's dead eyes, his own blood-soaked hands, the ruins of everything they'd built.
"Now you know," Bael said quietly. "Return the mirror to Asmodeus, and one of those futures becomes reality. Keep it from him, and maybe—just maybe—you can avoid that fate."
"You're manipulating him," Kieran snarled. "Those were lies, illusions—"
"Were they? The Mirror of Souls shows only truth. Possible truths, true, but truth nonetheless." Bael looked at Adrian. "What will you choose, young vampire? Your demon bargain, or your future?"
Adrian's hand still burned with the demon mark, Asmodeus's claim on him demanding fulfillment. But his mind was full of terrible visions, futures that terrified him more than any bargain.
"I..." Adrian started, then stopped. "I don't know."