The quiet rhythm of Iruma's life was disrupted a few days later.
He was on his way to school when he spotted an older man, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and a flamboyant top hat, struggling to open a stubborn lock on his front gate.
The man's frustrated grumbling was strangely melodic, like a series of musical notes. It was Sullivan, trying to make his presence known in the most "coincidental" way he knew how.
Iruma, ever the kind-hearted one, approached him.
"Need a hand, sir?" he asked, a polite smile on his face.
Sullivan, who had been expecting this, turned with a theatrical flourish.
"Ah, my boy, what a stroke of luck! I've just moved into the neighborhood, but my new home seems to be locked in a silent war with its own gate."
"I'm Iruma," he said, and with a simple twist of his wrist and a small amount of magic he had been practicing, the lock clicked open with ease.
"The lock was just a little stiff."
Sullivan's eyes, hidden behind his dark glasses, widened in surprise. A simple non-verbal command… he's already mastering it.
"A truly remarkable young man," he boomed, a hearty laugh escaping him.
"The name's Sullivan. I'm a... well, let's just say I'm an entrepreneur from a very, very far-off country."
The two of them walked the rest of the way to the school together.
Sullivan, with his charming wit and outlandish stories, was an instant hit with Iruma.
They talked about everything from the strange customs of his "homeland" to the merits of different types of candies.
Iruma found himself completely at ease, talking with a stranger in a way he never would have with his father's constant, overprotective presence. He felt a sense of freedom he hadn't realized he was missing.
That evening, over a simple dinner of curry and rice, Iruma enthusiastically recounted his day. He told Delkira about his new neighbor, Mr. Sullivan.
"He's really nice, Dad!" Iruma chirped,
"He says he's an entrepreneur from a far-off country. He has the strangest clothes and he's super funny!"
Delkira's spoon clattered onto his plate, a small splash of curry disrupting the peaceful silence. A cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach. A familiar sense of unease settled over him.
"What... what did you say his name was?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Sullivan," Iruma replied, oblivious to the shift in his father's demeanor.
"He wears a top hat and a bow tie. He even talked about... oh, what was it... the world's finest cuisine!"
Delkira pushed his plate away, his appetite completely gone.
The name, the description, the uncanny "coincidence" of it all—it was too familiar.
He had spent years ensuring no one from his world could find them, yet now, the very demon he trusted most had somehow found his way to them.
Sullivan, the one demon who could and would find him, was now in their quiet, peaceful human life.
The thought brought Delkira a profound sense of foreboding. He had a feeling that the clock was ticking, and their time of peace was drawing to a close.