The morning sun crept through the tall windows, bleeding crimson light through the velvet curtains. Dust motes swirled lazily in the shafts of glow, painting the prince's chamber in hues of fire and blood.
Asura sat at the edge of his sprawling bed, legs dangling, hair messy from sleep. His golden eyes were half-lidded as he rubbed them with the back of his small hands, stifling a yawn.
It was strange. Despite sneaking out, flying across the Demon Realm, fighting a Hellhound, and slipping back before dawn, he actually felt… rested. His body, strengthened by absurd stats, had shrugged off fatigue as if it had never existed.
Still, his mind drifted back to the night before—his first taste of freedom. His grin twitched at the memory of Keith snoring in his chair, oblivious to everything.
Then came the knock.
Knock, knock.
His golden eyes blinked. His body tensed slightly.
"My lord," came a soft voice beyond the door, feminine, calm yet warm, "may I enter?"
Asura tilted his head, lips parting slightly. "Huh? Who…?"
The door creaked open.
In stepped a girl.
Her uniform was crisp, black fabric trimmed with white lace, the classic attire of a maid of the Demon King's castle. Her long black hair shimmered faintly in the morning light, tied back neatly in a ribbon that did little to hide its silky sheen. Her movements were practiced, graceful, but her eyes—calm, dark, and soft—betrayed a subtle kindness as they glanced toward the boy she had been ordered to serve.
She was young. Sixteen, maybe seventeen at most. Yet she carried herself with a quiet elegance, her bow precise but not mechanical.
"I am Selene, my lord," she said, her voice steady and respectful. "I have been newly assigned as your personal attendant."
Asura blinked once. Twice. Then rubbed his eyes again, just to be sure he wasn't still dreaming.
Wait, wait, wait. A personal maid? Like… an actual maid? This is straight out of a light novel.
He coughed, trying not to look too excited. His voice came out smaller than intended, the high pitch of a four-year-old betraying him. "…Assigned to me?"
"Yes, my lord," Selene replied, still bowing. "His Majesty deemed it proper that you have a personal servant, given your… special status."
Special status, huh? He could already hear his grandfather's booming laughter behind that decision.
Asura scratched his cheek nervously, eyes darting to Selene. She was beautiful, yes, but there was something more—an aura of quiet strength beneath her elegance.
"…I see," he said slowly, fighting the urge to grin. Alright. Play the child. Don't let her think you're plotting.
He forced himself to pout faintly, tilting his head in the most "innocent boy" manner he could muster. "Do I… really need a maid? I can dress myself."
Selene's lips curved into the faintest smile. "It is not about what you can or cannot do, my lord. It is about ensuring you are cared for properly. You are, after all, the grandson of the Demon King."
The words hung in the air, heavy and reverent.
Asura fought the grin again, but inside, his thoughts whirled. Grandfather didn't just assign me a maid. He assigned me her. Calm, poised, elegant… no way she's just here to fold laundry. She's watching me. Testing me.
He kicked his small legs idly, letting out a childish sigh. "Fine. But you'd better not boss me around, okay?"
Selene bowed again, her voice gentle. "Of course not, my lord. My duty is to serve you. Nothing more."
Her calm eyes lifted, meeting his golden gaze directly for the first time. For a split-second, Asura felt something stir—an odd sense that this girl, for all her polite formality, was not someone to underestimate.
✦ The Act
Asura's golden eyes widened the moment the maid introduced herself. A personal maid? And she's… beautiful?
Her black hair, tied neatly behind her back, shimmered faintly in the morning light. Her posture was perfect, her bow precise, her calm eyes holding just a flicker of warmth. She wasn't like the older servants who bustled through the castle halls—this one was different. Younger, graceful, composed.
Wait, wait, wait—focus!
He tore his thoughts away. This wasn't the time to get carried away.
Alright, Asura. Remember the plan. You can't show your intelligence. Not to her. Not to anyone—not yet.
If word spread, it would spiral beyond his control. Nobles would pry into his every move. Scholars would demand tests. His grandfather might shove him into the spotlight before he was ready.
No—until he understood his system better, it was safer to act like any other four-year-old. Harmless. Innocent. Forgettable.
So he smiled.
"Uh… hi," he said softly, tilting his head just enough to let his messy silver hair flop over one eye.
Selene's lips curved into the faintest smile, polite but genuine. "Good morning, young master. Did you sleep well?"
Asura hugged the nearest pillow, clutching it to his chest like a lifeline. He gave a vigorous nod, cheeks puffing slightly in what he hoped looked like childish enthusiasm.
"Mm-hm! Slept good."
Inside, his thoughts were already spiraling.
Okay, okay, that sounded normal. Don't slip up. Don't say something like, "Actually, I was analyzing the economic potential of mana-rich forests last night." Normal kids don't talk like that. Just keep it simple.
He leaned forward on the bed, kicking his legs idly, trying to project as much "adorable clueless child" energy as possible.
"Yawn," he said out loud—then instantly winced. Crap! Too obvious. Kids don't say "yawn," they just do it.
Selene tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her calm eyes.
"Did you dream of anything nice, young master?" she asked.
Asura froze. His brain fired off possibilities. Dreams? What do kids dream about? Candy? Ponies? No—wrong world. Dragons? No—too suspicious. Um…
He squeezed the pillow tighter, cheeks heating. "Uh… food. Yeah. Dreamed about cake!"
Selene's smile deepened, soft laughter barely escaping her lips.
"I see," she said gently. "Then perhaps breakfast will make that dream come true."
Asura's grin faltered inside, though he kept his outside expression bright and innocent. She's sharp. Too sharp. That wasn't just idle chatter—she's testing me. Watching for how I answer.
Her eyes lingered on him, calm but assessing, as if peeling back layers he hadn't meant to show.
Yeah… definitely not just a maid.
Quickly, he forced a higher-pitched voice, tilting his head again. "Here! Food here, please. I don't wanna go to the big hall. Too scary."
Selene bowed smoothly. "As you wish, young master."
But she paused for just a second too long before leaving, her eyes flicking toward his horns, his golden eyes, the sharpness that had slipped through before he'd hidden it.
When the door closed behind her, Asura collapsed backward onto the bed, groaning into the pillow.
"…This acting gig is going to kill me before any monster does."
✦ Selene's Care
The morning light crept through the tall windows, burning red as it filtered past the crimson curtains. The air smelled faintly of incense—spiced wood and iron, lingering from the night before.
Selene moved without hesitation, her posture as straight as a blade. Her skirts whispered against the polished floor as she drew open the heavy curtains, allowing the full light of the Demon Realm morning to pour in. Crimson sunlight spilled over the chamber, gilding the furniture and scattering off the polished marble like liquid fire.
The room was transformed. Where moments ago it had been a cocoon of shadows, now it was alive with warmth.
The light touched Asura where he sat on the edge of his grand bed. His silver hair caught the glow, strands gleaming like threads of frost. His horns, faintly curved and sharp, cast tiny shadows across his cheeks.
Selene turned, her movements fluid and precise, not a wasted step. Her eyes—calm, dark, but softened by a quiet warmth—settled on him. Her voice followed, low and melodic, carrying neither haste nor hesitation.
"I'll be taking care of you from now on, young master. Cleaning your chambers, bringing meals, and helping you dress when needed."
The words rang with simplicity, but beneath them was something steady, certain, almost grounding.
Asura clutched the pillow tighter against his chest, his golden eyes narrowing as he put on his best pout. His small legs kicked against the bedframe, the sound sharp in the quiet chamber.
"Don't need help dressing!" he insisted, his voice pitched higher, the picture of childish stubbornness. "I can do it myself!"
For a moment, the room was silent. Then Selene chuckled softly.
It wasn't the polished laugh of a courtier or the mocking laugh of a noble. It was light, genuine, slipping past her carefully composed exterior. It filled the chamber like the soft tinkling of bells, catching Asura off-guard.
"Of course, my lord," she replied, bowing her head faintly. "But I'll still be nearby if you call."
The laugh—it slipped beneath his guard, warm and disarming. Something fluttered in his chest, alien and unexpected.
His golden eyes widened, then darted away as quickly as possible. He turned his head toward the curtains, pretending the sudden blaze of light had caught his attention. His fingers gripped the pillow harder, burying his face into it as though hiding a blush.
Stay in character, Asura. Don't get caught. She's just laughing. It doesn't mean anything. Focus.
He peeked at her from the corner of his eye, watching as she crossed the room again. Every movement was deliberate: the way she adjusted the covers at the foot of his bed, the smooth way she straightened a chair, the quick flick of her wrist as she dusted a shelf with a cloth that seemed to appear from nowhere. There was no hesitation, no fumbling. She wasn't just working—she was anchoring the room, setting it into order as though she'd done it a hundred times before.
And yet… she was too young to have served for decades. Sixteen, maybe seventeen, at most.
This isn't normal, he thought, his pout fading into a thoughtful frown before he quickly caught himself. Grandfather wouldn't assign just anyone to me. She's not here to fold laundry—she's here to watch me.
But outwardly, he hugged the pillow tighter, puffing his cheeks in a show of childish stubbornness.
"…Fine," he muttered in the smallest voice he could manage. "But only sometimes. And no picking my clothes. I want cool ones!"
Selene paused, then turned, her eyes meeting his golden gaze. That faint smile curved her lips again—not mocking, not dismissive, but as though she found him… amusing.
"Understood, young master," she said softly.
Her eyes lingered just a second too long. Calm. Steady. Assessing.
Asura quickly turned his head, pretending to pout at the floor, his silver hair falling forward to shield his face. Ugh. She's already onto me. There's no way someone like her doesn't notice I'm acting.
His chest tightened faintly with the pressure of her presence. And yet, beneath it, another feeling lingered—a strange comfort, as though the room itself felt different with her inside it.
He groaned into the pillow, muffling his voice. "…This acting gig is going to kill me before any monster does."
✦ The Slip
Selene's steps were quiet as she moved to his desk. The surface gleamed faintly in the morning light, scattered with parchment and quills left behind from the night before. She began stacking the papers neatly, fingers precise and practiced—until her hand froze on one particular sheet.
Her brows furrowed slightly.
The parchment was covered edge to edge in marks—not the wild scribbles one expected from a child, but deliberate, organized lines. Numbers clustered into equations. Strange geometric shapes overlapped with notations. Even crude sketches of odd devices filled the margins—circles that looked suspiciously like gears, boxes with lines running out of them like circuits, and something that could almost be mistaken for a crossbow… if crossbows had strange tubes and vents attached.
Selene tilted her head, her calm expression shifting into the faintest frown. "Young master… did you draw this?"
The words hit Asura like a blade to the chest.
His entire body stiffened, golden eyes going wide. Crap. Crap, crap, crap!
His heart jumped into his throat. He had been so focused on sneaking out last night, so caught up in the thrill of flying and fighting, that he'd forgotten to stash the parchment away. The notes he'd jotted down, trying to bring fragments of his old-world knowledge into this one—sitting right there on the desk in plain sight.
Idiot! Amateur mistake! Now she's going to—
He scrambled, forcing his face into an exaggerated mask of innocence. "Uh—no!" he squeaked, his voice cracking higher than he intended. He lunged toward the bedpost, flailing his arms dramatically like a toddler caught with cookie crumbs. "Just scribbles! See? Circles! Lines! Haha!"
He made big, wild gestures, pointing at imaginary "nonsense doodles" in the air, even sticking his tongue out as if to emphasize his childishness.
Selene stood silently, the parchment still in her hands. Her dark eyes lifted, studying him closely. For a long moment, she didn't speak, her gaze steady, unreadable.
Asura's pulse pounded in his ears. Too much? Did I overdo it? No—wait, maybe I didn't do enough. Should I drool? Kids drool, right? Oh no, she knows, she definitely knows—
Then, at last, Selene's lips curved into the faintest smile.
"…I see," she said softly, folding the parchment neatly and setting it aside without tearing or discarding it. "Scribbles, of course. Forgive me."
Her tone was calm. Her expression gentle. But her eyes lingered just a second longer than they needed to.
Asura exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging as relief rushed through him.
"That was close," he muttered under his breath, clutching the pillow tighter against his chest. His golden eyes flicked toward Selene, who was already continuing her work as though nothing had happened. "Way too close."
But even as relief dulled the edge of panic, one thought gnawed at him.
Did she really believe me… or did she just let it go?
✦ The Connection
The silver tray clicked gently as Selene set it down, the sound soft and deliberate, as though she feared disturbing the morning calm. Steam rose from the teapot, swirling in the crimson light filtering through the curtains. Bread, fruit, jam, and tea—it was nothing extravagant by the castle's standards, yet the care with which she arranged each item lent it a quiet dignity.
"Eat well, young master," she said, her voice like a whisper of silk.
Asura tilted his head, blinking. He grabbed a piece of bread with exaggerated enthusiasm, tearing into it like a hungry child. Jam smeared across his cheek, and he made a noisy "mmm!" sound that echoed far too loud in the still chamber.
Selene's lips curved, her shoulders loosening slightly as a soft chuckle slipped out. It was a rare sound—unpolished, natural, warmer than any bow or formality.
Outwardly, Asura grinned through jam-stained cheeks, puffing his chest as if proud of his messy eating. Inwardly, his thoughts churned.
She's watching. Always watching. Not with suspicion exactly, but with… care. Still, I can't drop my guard. Play the child. Just play the child.
He reached for the fruit, fingers sticky, only for Selene to move with quiet grace. She picked up a napkin and knelt slightly, dabbing gently at the corner of his mouth.
Asura froze.
The touch was light, tender, utterly ordinary—and yet it rooted him to the spot. His golden eyes widened faintly as the warmth of her hand lingered near his cheek.
"There," Selene murmured, her voice soft but steady. "It would be a shame for the young master of this castle to have jam all over his face."
For a heartbeat, Asura forgot to breathe.
This… feels…
A flicker of memory surfaced—warmth, a heartbeat, the faint comfort of a mother's presence that had been stolen from him before it ever truly began. He shoved it down quickly, biting into the fruit with a noisy crunch to cover the tightness in his chest.
"Selene!" he chirped, grinning too wide, his voice pitched high. "You're the best maid ever!"
Her eyes softened, and this time the smile that curved her lips wasn't just faint courtesy—it was genuine, tender.
"And you," she replied, bowing her head slightly, though her gaze never wavered from his, "are quite the charming master."
The words struck deeper than he expected. His grin faltered, replaced by a heat crawling into his cheeks. He turned quickly, pretending to examine the tray, but the warmth in his chest refused to fade.
Damn it. This wasn't the plan.
He had meant to play the fool, to stay unreadable, to keep her close only as a mask. But her care—the softness of her laugh, the way she wiped the jam from his cheek—it pierced through walls he hadn't realized were still standing.
For the first time, his act and his true self blurred. He wasn't just pretending anymore.
"…Thanks," he muttered, so quietly he doubted she even heard it.
Selene didn't reply. She only straightened, her calm eyes lingering on him for a moment longer, as if she had indeed heard—and chosen to let the words sit unchallenged.
Asura took another bite of bread, forcing a grin, but his chest ached with something new. A connection.
One that felt frightening.
And comforting.
Like a bond he hadn't known he'd been longing for.