The room they put me in is yet another gilded cage.
Something I'm well used to.
It is large, lavish, and far too comfortable for a glorified holding cell. A grand four-poster bed dominates one side, sheets so soft that they feel almost unreal under my fingers. The walls are lined with shelves stacked with books - some old, some new, all likely chosen to keep my mind occupied from doing anything foolish.
All of them are also hot garbage.
I feel that Grafiya's hand lies behind the only genre available being teen vampire romance novels.
Notably, this luxurious room does not have a window, and the door locks from the outside.
Tell me how you really feel, Grafiya, sweetheart… I think, flipping through the pages of sickening vampire vs werewolf forbidden love.
At least the place comes with its own bar. 10/10 best holding cell so far. Well, 9/10, needs less cheap vampire smut.
I don't know how long I'll be stuck here, but if in the end I get what I came for, it will be worth it.
I assume Sirzechs is biding his time, verifying my claims, weighing my usefulness. I expected as much.
And honestly? I don't overly mind - except for the reading material - although after a few bottles of veeery expensive alcohol, they're not half bad.
For the first time in four centuries, I wake up without fear of what fresh horror might befall me. There is no summons from a master I despise, no leering peerage members watching my every move, no punishments lurking just beyond the door. I sleep deeply, almost without nightmares for once, my body slowly unwinding from centuries of tension.
It's the closest thing to peace I've ever known since becoming a devil.
My vacation is barely interrupted by anyone, for several days.
Well. Aside from her.
Grafiya Lucifuge visits me every few hours, like clockwork.
Not to bring me anything. Not to offer an update on if my information was correct or whether I'm about to be executed. No, she comes solely to watch, to study, to make sure I'm not scheming something in my supposed 'guest quarters'.
Or so I assume, because why else would she keep coming back?
… Ecchi world better not mean this is an NTR situation… She's hot, but she's also a bitch, and most importantly, one of the people who created this evil system. I'd rather saw off my dick.
Her presence is oppressive each time she stops by, her aura always simmering just below the surface, like a blade waiting to be unsheathed. She doesn't speak at first, only stands there, her silver eyes locked onto me as if waiting for an excuse to gut me.
So I give her one.
Why not?
Bitch can't touch me anyway. Either a deal is made and nothing happens, or no deal is made and she gets to kill me, or I get to kill me.
I can not influence either any further.
So why shy away from poking the bear?
Day One -
"Y'know, I thought you'd have better things to do than babysit me," I muse, stretching lazily as I lounge on the bed, my suit jacket shucked off, my tie loose. "Don't you have floors to scrub? A toilet that needs to be lovingly cleaned by the world's best maid?"
I glance at her, uncaring of the increased pressure now that I'm getting used to it. "You know, servant stuff?"
Her eyes narrow. "I have no patience for your nonsense."
I smirk, tilting my head. "That so? You sure seem pretty invested in standing there menacingly, which serves no purpose, seems like nonsense to me..."
Fear is not really something I give a hold to after all this time, and while Grafiya has an absolutely deadly aura, it's watered down by the fact I know she won't let me even stub my toe until Lucifer tells her to allow it.
She exhales sharply through her nose. "I am here to ensure you do not cause trouble."
I grin sharply, resting my chin on my palm. "What trouble? I can feel the wards, y'know? Scared I might redecorate, at worst?" I gesture vaguely to the bookshelves. "Maybe organize these by genre? All of one genre to mess up, right?"
I click my tongue as she just stares at me coldly, before deciding to push a little harder, "Or are you trying to catch me doing something… Naughty?" I suggest, even while hoping that is not the case.
Her lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing in sheer disgust.
Thank fucking Sheogorath! I think, having replaced the G-word with someone more suitable.
A flicker of amusement sparks in my chest.
At least Grafiya is good for something.Bantering beats out reading trash, even if it's with her of all people.
Day Two -
She's come by twice already today, now here for a third time, eyeing me suspiciously, even as she checks on the wards.
I haven't touched them, no need. I'll either get what I need or I won't. Escape isn't a possibility.
"I will not falter. When you attempt whatever foolishness you are truly here for, I will stop you." She tells me coldly out of the blue.
"You don't have to be so formal, y'know," I say, casually flipping through a book, just looking at a few of the drawn pictures, because the words aren't worth a damn. "We could be friends, why else do you think you keep coming to see me? Feeling lonely?" I mock lightly.
She scoffs, every fiber of her being filled with derision. "You and I? Friends? Know your place."
"Sure, why not?" I flash her an easy smile. I swear it's not even that mocking, maybe just a tenth. "We have so much in common. Like a deep passion for Maid outfits..."
Albeit I prefer the idea of said outfits quickly hitting the floor.
"I serve the Lucifer. That is the only reason you are not dead right now." Her voice is cold, clipped, as she glares at me.
I roll my eyes. "Uh-huh. Then why are you here? If he strikes the deal with me, you, the servant, is being antagonistic to a key asset of your master. Best Maid shouldn't do that, riiiiight?"
She doesn't dignify that with a response, but the slight twitch in her jaw is enough.
I tap my chin, pretending to think. "Maybe you're just not as into this whole obedient maid thing as you play at? Although I gotta say, I've never seen someone commit so hard to a fetish before, kudos for that. Hardcore pervert cred. Respect." I hold my fist out for a fistbump.
The air turns sharp, her killing intent flooding the room like a tsunami.
I grin wider. Pleased to have gotten under her skin.
"Careful," I taunt. "You wouldn't want your master to scold you for getting blood on the carpet."
She turns on her heel and storms out.
I cackle.
Maybe I'm a bit insane for wanting to mess with one of the strongest beings in the Underworld.
But after so many years of holding my tongue, I find it hard to care.
Sanity is overrated.
Sheogorath would agree.
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