And so, the next day, we were in England.
Of all places, right?
I'll admit, it wasn't the worst change of pace — at least compared to the chaos of our usual days.
The air here felt cleaner, the skyline strangely dignified, and the people had that rushed but polite look that made you wonder if they were stressed or just pretending not to be.
Still… London, huh?
It's funny — the Phenex family or I actually owns some property here.
A few hotels, one estate near Kensington… but no way was I telling him that.
Not because I was being disloyal or rebellious, of course.
It's just… he didn't ask, so I didn't tell.
Simple logic.
After all, who would tell a jerk like him?
Our first day's outing started soon after, and if anyone saw us from afar, they'd probably assume it was a date.
A date!
If only I weren't wearing a maid uniform — yes, an actual maid uniform — even here.
In public.
I could feel the stares drilling into me as we walked the streets.
Tourists whispering, locals pretending not to look.
My wings might as well have sprouted in broad daylight from sheer embarrassment; it couldn't have been any more embarrassing.
But I didn't flinch.
I held my chin up.
A Phenex never bows from shame — no matter how ridiculous the situation.
It wasn't that bad, I guess.
He didn't make fun of me (much) and didn't say anything infuriating for the first hour.
But he still hadn't apologized for yesterday.
And judging by that smug, relaxed look on his face, he had absolutely no intention of doing so.
The next day came the award ceremony.
Apparently, he'd won some prestigious international creative award.
Sure, it was technically his project, his idea, and his story.
But let's be honest — most of the actual work these days is done by us.
Editing, proofreading, designing, coding, even his homework — you name it, we've done it.
Still, watching him stand on that stage, masked like some mysterious celebrity, accepting that award with quiet confidence... I
won't lie, it didn't feel too bad.
Maybe a little pride slipped in.
Just a little.
Although, seriously — if you're going to hide your face and wear a mask, maybe write something less unorthodox than a story about "magical girls being tortured for power."
What's wrong with him, really?
The following days were spent sightseeing.
Our so-called "London tour."
And if I could describe it in one word, it would be: annoying.
He wandered from shop to shop like an excited child, pointing at things, making sarcastic comments, and stopping to look at every street performer.
He bought the weirdest snacks, fed pigeons, and tried on ridiculous hats.
And for some reason… I couldn't look away.
Maybe that's just how normal humans are — free, unrestrained, doing what they want without worrying about appearances or expectations.
For a devil born into nobility, that kind of freedom was almost unimaginable.
Not trying to be perfect.
Not trying to uphold the family name.
Not constantly worrying about how others saw you.
I didn't realize how heavy that pressure had been until I wasn't feeling it.
It's not that my family had been unkind to me.
They are great people, but still...
I guess… if I'm thankful to him for anything, it's that I finally know what it's like to breathe.
He doesn't expect me to be flawless.
He doesn't care if I make mistakes.
He doesn't treat me like an asset or a status symbol.
Around him, I'm not "Ravel Phenex, daughter of the Phenex Clan."
I'm just… Ravel.
Although that doesn't make him any less infuriating.
Then came our final day — the art exhibition.
And that's when everything changed.
I'd seen him angry.
I'd seen him cold, smug, arrogant, dismissive.
But never — not once — had I seen him look… human.
The moment we entered the last section of the exhibition, he froze in front of a painting.
His expression, usually careless and idiotic, softened as if vulnerable for once.
He didn't speak.
He didn't even blink.
It was as if the world had stopped for him.
I didn't need to ask why.
I could feel it too.
The painting was alive — it drew you in, layer by layer, until you forgot the line between art and reality.
The sound of waves, the scent of the sea, the gentle pull of something bigger than yourself…
For a moment, even I forgot to breathe.
And seeing him — the same man who had once crushed us so mercilessly — look completely lost in wonder...
I couldn't help but think — maybe I was wrong about him.
Everyone calls him insane.
A monster.
The devil of devils who humiliated nobles and destroyed the old order.
The lunatic who defied everything the Underworld stood for.
But maybe that madness was the only path left for him.
If the one you loved was about to be forced into marriage with someone else — if you knew the entire world would look down on your love — what would you do?
Devils like us…
We're few.
Every pureblood family guards its lineage like treasure.
A human partner?
Unthinkable.
Political suicide.
So maybe he decided to become the monster the world feared — to make sure no one could touch what mattered to him.
Maybe he played the villain so he could win the right to love freely.
...Tch.
What am I even thinking?
Even if I understand him a little — even if there's this tiny, microscopic part of me that respects him — that doesn't mean I forgive him!
He's still infuriating!
And I'm still his maid!
One day, I'll get my freedom back. I'll stand on my own feet again.
And when that day comes, I'll find someone I actually like — someone who doesn't make my blood boil every five minutes!
...Probably.
Maybe.
After we left the art exhibition and started making our way back, the streets of London had grown quiet — the kind of calm that always follows an evening of too much thinking.
I glanced at him walking beside me, hands in his pockets, looking unusually… thoughtful.
It felt strange, seeing him like that after everything.
"I guess humans aren't so bad," I said suddenly.
"You've got strong ones, artistic ones… and maybe a few hidden gems."
He blinked, confused — as if I'd just started speaking in an alien language.
Of course, he didn't get it.
He's so obvious sometimes.
Like an open book with missing pages — easy to read but impossible to understand completely.
Not that I'm going to explain that I meant it as a compliment for him.
He'd get all smug about it and start teasing me for weeks.
No thank you.
…Though, I suppose humans really do have more hidden gems than I thought — because soon after, we stumbled across one.
A girl.
She sat alone on a bench near the art exhibition entrance, wearing a white coat and a scarf that fluttered in the evening breeze.
Pale skin, soft blonde hair that reached her waist, and eyes the color of rubies.
She was beautiful — almost unreal, like she'd stepped out of a painting rather than created one.
From her aura, I could tell she was human… but her presence felt strange.
Empty, yet full.
Like looking into calm water that hides an ocean beneath.
Apparently, her name was Mashiro Shiina.
And, as it turned out, she was the painter behind that breathtaking piece we saw earlier — the one that managed to make even him look human for a few seconds.
…Yeah.
I meant that earlier compliment for him, but now I think I have to extend it to humans in general.
They really do hide their brilliance well.
So young, yet capable of creating something that beautiful.
For a brief moment, I found myself admiring her — and that's when everything fell apart.
Literally.
The ground beneath us rippled, shadows stretching unnaturally long, and before I could even react, the world collapsed.
We were falling — no, dragged — into a churning void of darkness.
"W-Wha—?! Aaaaaah!"
I screamed, arms flailing as gravity decided to make a joke out of me.
Meanwhile, those two idiots — Zevion and the girl — were falling calmly as if this was their usual evening routine.
…Am I the weird one out here?!
Before I could form another thought, the fall ended as abruptly as it began.
The world around us shimmered and twisted, and when I opened my eyes, the scenery had changed completely.
The sky was warped — swirling with streaks of pale blue and violet.
Buildings stood frozen in place, literally coated in frost.
Even the air itself felt heavy and cold, like we'd stepped into a painting of winter that someone forgot to finish.
It was a pocket dimension.
That much I could tell.
But the real shock hit when I recognized the place.
"…Kuoh Academy?"
I breathed.
It was unmistakable — the courtyard, the building layout — everything matched, except for the eerie stillness.
The entire academy was frozen solid.
And then, from the center of the school grounds, a brilliant pillar of bluish-white light erupted skyward, distorting the clouds with its sheer force.
The air crackled, howling winds whipping around us as a deafening scream tore through the silence.
Before I could even process it, Zevion took off toward the light without hesitation.
"Wait—! You idiot, don't just run into—!"
But he was already gone.
Mashiro and I followed close behind, fighting against the intensifying blizzard.
Oddly, none of the snow or wind touched us — probably Giratina's doing, shielding us in that eerie calm bubble.
And then we reached the center.
My breath caught.
Lady Serafall Leviathan — the Maou herself — was on her knees, tears streaming down her face as she clutched the limp body of her younger sister, Sona Sitri.
A sword pierced through Sona's chest, its glow fading slowly into the frozen air.
The wind stilled.
For once, even Zevion said nothing.
The only sound left in that frozen world was Serafall's broken sobs echoing across the empty courtyard.
'What's really going on?!
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