The spring fog rolled along the cobblestone roads outside the city, wrapping around grass and ancient trees that stood like they'd been asleep for centuries. The air was damp. The night smelled… wrong.
From within that fog, slow footsteps echoed.
Louis inhaled deeply, one hand tightly gripping the black katana sheathed at his waist.
"Noir… stay still," he muttered.
"There's something here."
The katana—alive in a way no weapon should be—trembled softly and chuckled low. "You feel it too, Louis? That pressure... it's like frozen air slicing through your bones. Hahaha… I know that scent… It's that old woman…"
A silhouette emerged from the fog.
Her steps were graceful, her long dress trailing across the earth, each footstep leaving frost on the grass.
Jet black hair. Eyes glowing red through the white mist.
Vespera.
Louis tensed.
"W-who are you?"
But before he could think further, Noir began to tremble violently.
"I know who she is," whispered the blade, and this time, its fear wasn't a joke.
"Louis... kneel. Now."
Vespera stepped forward, and the air instantly froze. The fog spiraled around her as if sucked into a void, and the ground beneath her feet cracked slightly—as if the world itself rejected her presence.
Noir bowed inside his sheath.
The voice of the old demon emerged, trembling.
"Mother of Hell… Keeper of the Third Gate. Lady Vespera. Forgive us for not welcoming you properly."
Louis staggered back, half-panicked. "D-demon? You… you're a demon?"
Vespera looked at him like he was nothing more than a bug.
"Your head is too high… human," she murmured.
She stepped closer—only inches away. Just one look from her made Louis's knees collapse. The pressure wasn't hot or cold—it was like the world had gone silent and dead.
"Do you know," she whispered, her hand touching Noir's sheath,
"that your demon sword bows to me? Which means… so do you."
Louis swallowed. His breath was ragged, but Noir remained silent—consumed by fear and submission.
Vespera turned away.
She stared up at the night sky.
"That human… Charles."
"He's starting to smile."
"I saved him to become a demon… not to play house with a little girl."
She looked back at them, as a queen might look at a worthless soldier.
"Kill the girl. Lily."
Louis gasped. "W-what…? She's just a child! What—"
"Silence." One word—and Louis felt his heart crushed by an invisible hand.
Noir whispered with a frozen voice,
"If you refuse, she'll make me devour you alive, Louis."
Vespera stepped closer. The night wind sliced across his cheek like a blade.
"Three days. When Charles is at his happiest…
Make sure the girl dies. Slowly. I want her blood to be the alarm that awakens the old devil within him."
Noir chuckled low. "With pleasure, my lady…"
Louis bowed… in surrender.
Not because he was evil.
But because even demons must kneel before something far worse.
Vespera turned and vanished into the mist—swallowed by the night itself.
---
That day, Charles decided to take Lily to the market. Something he could never have done before—not without a mask, not without the shadows of vengeance trailing behind him. But with Lily, the world didn't seem so terrifying.
"Come on, Charles, walk faster!" Lily laughed, gripping his hand tight.
Charles let out a soft chuckle. "Who taught you to drop the 'Mister'?"
"Vespera said you don't like it."
Charles glanced at Vespera walking lazily behind them.
"Is that so?" he muttered.
Vespera just shrugged and turned away. "Just reminding you… don't go too far."
Charles ignored her.
The market was alive—filled with laughter, string music, the smell of fresh bread, and colorful fruits arranged on carts. Lily giggled while teasing the old apple vendor with playful haggling, and Charles even bought her a ribbon for her hair.
They sat on a wooden bench, warm bread in hand, when Lily leaned her head against his arm.
"If I'm with you… I'm not scared anymore," she whispered.
Charles looked at her for a long moment. "I'll always be here, Lily. Always."
---
The sky darkened.
Crows circled above like omens of disaster. The air was colder than usual. Charles tightened his grip on Lily's hand. Something in his chest felt wrong.
"Charles…" Lily stopped walking. "Can I tell you something?"
"Hm?"
"I hope you never change. Stay like this… the Charles who's warm… the one who loves me."
Charles turned, ready to reply. But—
ZAAKH!
A sharp sound ripped through the air like lightning.
Blood splashed across the stone.
Lily's body… was sliced in half.
The warm bread hit the ground with shredded cloth and torn flesh. Charles stood frozen. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"Li… Lily…?"
The air froze. The world stopped. Time… refused to move.
"WHAT IS THIS?!"
Charles screamed. A roar that tore the sky, shaking the very marrow of his soul.
Lily's blood pooled at his knees. He collapsed, cradling what was left of the child who had brought him light.
Someone stood before them.
A dark cloak. A hood over the face. A noble crest marked clearly on the chest. A foreign blade hung at the waist.
"Who… are you?" Charles choked.
The figure lifted the hood slightly—a young man with a blank stare.
"Forgive me, sir. I… was only following orders."
Charles stood. His face pale. His blood boiling.
"WHOSE ORDERS?!"
The man gave no answer. He only bowed politely and turned to leave.
"VESPERA!! WHERE ARE YOU?! VESPERAAA!!!"
Vespera arrived, breathless.
She saw Lily's body. She saw Charles's bloody hands. And said nothing.
Her heart screamed. But her lips stayed shut. She knew this was her fault.
"I'm here, my lord."
Charles stepped closer. His face changed. His red eyes flared. His hands trembled.
"Why were you late?"
"I…"
"WHY WERE YOU LATE, VESPERA?!"
His voice echoed like a devil's howl. For the first time… Vespera felt fear. She reached for him—but he pulled away.
Charles's fingers shook. His eyes turned red. Tears slowly fell, one by one.
"Even now… I can't protect anyone."
"…Lily…"
His sobs were silent. But the world knew: a man had just lost all his light.
---
Night fell like a grey curtain.
The air was still. Raindrops touched the roofs of a grieving world. Charles's window was tightly shut, its curtain drawn like eyelids refusing to see.
Outside his room, someone stood.
Vespera.
Unlike usual, the old demon leaned against the hallway wall with her head bowed. Her right hand clutched the hem of her black cloak in silence.
No smirk. No sharp remarks. No mockery.
Only silence.
Through the crack in the door, a muffled sob could be heard. A chair scraped. Then… nothing.
"He… won't even look at me," Vespera whispered.
Her eyes drifted to the floor, now dark and cold. For some reason, every sound in the mansion echoed like sorrow—reflected even in the ears of a demon.
The plan had failed.
"I only wanted to awaken your old self, Charles…"
Vespera's voice barely rose above a whisper—like a ghost's breath in a storm that never came.
"I wanted you angry again, full of hatred, hungry for blood…"
She closed her eyes.
"But why… are you this broken?"
The image of Lily's blood flashed in her mind. That little girl—once a nuisance in her eyes, a distraction from their grand mission—had carried a light too bright even for a demon.
She remembered her laugh when Charles carried her through the market. Her small hands clutching his arm. Her innocent eyes filled with hope Charles no longer believed in.
"You really loved her, didn't you, Charles?"
She touched Charles's door. Her palm felt cold—as if touching a frost that would never melt.
"What have I done…"
In that silence, Vespera felt something… unfamiliar.
Pain—not of the body.
But emptiness.
Like the world she once ruled now rejected her.
Because of one light… she snuffed out with her own hands.
She turned and walked away from Charles's door. Slowly… one step at a time. But before the end of the hall, she stopped. Half-turned back.
"If you ever grow to hate me, Charles…"
"Then I will accept it."
"Because maybe… I deserve to be hated."
For the first time in her long, eternal life—full of fire, darkness, and damnation—Vespera realized she had made a mistake.
And for the first time—
…she didn't know what to do.
---