Morning's sunlight pierced through the crooked window, casting golden lines over the dusty wooden floor. Rachel groaned, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she sat up, wrapped in her old blanket like a caterpillar in denial.
"Ugh… what a freaky dream," she muttered. "Summoning circles, blood, glowing eyes..."
She blinked.
Then blinked again.
Standing across the room, silently, like a regal statue waiting for applause, was a man—a demon. Tall. Dark-skinned. Sharp jawline. But this time, she really saw him. Not the blur from last night, not the panic-fueled flashes.
His eyes locked with hers—those eyes. A mystical swirl of yin and yang spun in each iris, as if the balance of light and darkness resided there. Hypnotic. Eternal.
Her gaze drifted upward—long, raven-black hair cascaded down his back in dozens of meticulously tied braids. The back of his head was thick with them, tightly locked, and they shimmered faintly as if threaded with starlight. Smaller braids framed both sides of his head, each detailed with tiny, rune-like charms tied with black cords. But what caught her most were the two front strands—long, singular braids that hung like curtains at the edges of his eyes, just enough to tease his expression but never hide it. Like ceremonial threads of fate.
And then there was the suit.
He wore a pristine black butler outfit, adorned with silver cuffs, a royal violet cravat, and white gloves.
Rachel's mouth fell open.
Diablo, finally noticing her stunned expression, slowly lifted his chipped teacup with absolute poise. "Good morning, my Lady."
She screamed and threw a slipper at him.
He caught it mid-air, bowed, and gently placed it beside her. "I believe this belongs to you."
Rachel scrambled back, heart hammering. "Y-You're real?! Still?! I thought that was a delusion!"
He tilted his head with mock offense. "My Lady wounds me. I slaved away this morning boiling leaves in water. A noble tea ritual."
"Why are you in a suit?!"
"I found it in your attic. I resized it using… improvisation." He gave her a grin with just enough teeth to remind her of his demonic heritage.
Her eyes narrowed. "You're a butler now?"
"I'm your servant, aren't I? And butlers are the highest-ranking mortal servants. It felt appropriate. Plus…" He leaned in slightly, whispering, "I wanted you to take me seriously today. Seeing as last night you fainted while staring at my ankle."
Rachel turned red instantly. "D-Don't say that out loud!"
He leaned back, sipping tea. "As you wish, my lady. But it was quite the ankle."
Rachel covered her face. "Oh gods, I summoned a sarcastic supermodel demon with fashion sense. I'm doomed."
Diablo chuckled, soft and low, almost kind.
"If it brings you comfort, my Lady… yes, you are."
Rachel's smile twitched in quiet amusement.
Then...
Silence—not the awkward kind, but the comforting sort that settles between those who understand each other. Diablo moved without a word toward the table where a kettle of boiled tea awaited. Upon reaching it, he began preparing a cup.
Once finished, he returned to Rachel's bedside with measured steps and offered her the tea with both hands.
For about ten seconds, Rachel hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Then, cautiously, she accepted the cup.
Cradling it with both hands, she gently blew across the surface—soft, but with intention—before taking a careful sip.
A full minute passed before she finally broke the silence.
"So… what now?"
Diablo gave a low hum, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. One of his previously closed eyes cracked open, gleaming with amusement as it settled on her.
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
A faint, imaginary tick mark pulsed on Rachel's forehead.
"You really do love irritating me, don't you?"
Diablo simply kept grinning, his mischief practically radiating off him. He held that expression a moment longer before his features finally softened—and then, without warning, he let out a long, weighty sigh. So heavy, in fact, that it was visible.
The sigh drifted into the air as a swirling cloud of dark neon-purple, laced with tiny white specks like dying stars. It shimmered faintly, unnatural in every sense. Rachel blinked, speechless, staring at her newly contracted butler in bewildered silence.
But before she could question the bizarre display, Diablo's voice called her attention back.
"Now that the pleasantries and introductions are behind us, Lady Rachel, I believe it's time we discuss the matters you're truly interested in, no?"
Rachel had been watching him intently the moment he opened his mouth. The second he got to the part she needed to hear most, she nodded with urgency.
"Yes. That's exactly what I wanted to ask. So—once again—what now?"
"Understandable," Diablo replied with a calm, knowing smile. "Let's begin with a full explanation of the contract you signed with me last night."
Rachel nodded again, more composed this time.
"The demon contract you bound yourself to is called 'Eternal Following.' It links me—Diablo, once known as Noir—to you, Rachel Forge, through a promise of eternal servitude. As your butler. Your protector. And your teacher. This contract lasts until the day you die of natural causes… or until you release me of your own free will. That fulfills the fourth clause."
He raised a finger.
"The first clause ensures I will never harm you—mind, body, or soul—no matter what occurs, now or in the far future. The only exception is if such harm is required to fulfill the fifth clause: aiding you in defying your fate."
He raised another.
"The second clause binds me to help you realize your greatest wish—that is, to gain the strength you desire."
Then a third.
"And the third clause... is my personal vow. I will show you the truths of this world—and beyond. Truths not meant for mortal understanding. Truths few even dare to speak of."
Silence.
A heavy, full silence fell over the room after Diablo's explanation. Rachel stared at him, mind racing to process it all.
Finally, she spoke.
"So let me get this straight. The contract means… you'll protect me, train me, teach me, nurture me, and reveal hidden truths—just like that?"
"Essentially, yes," Diablo answered nonchalantly, looking rather pleased with himself.
Rachel narrowed her eyes.
"And why would you agree to such a contract where I get everything… and you get nothing? No claim on my soul, my mind, or even my body? Are you really sure you're a demon?"
Diablo chuckled. A sharp, amused sound.
"Heh. Lady Rachel, I believe you're mistaken."
"Huh?" she blinked, confused by the sudden shift.
"I may not look it now in this... base form," he said with a lazy gesture to himself, "but I am indeed a demon—an ancient one. I've existed for so long that even time itself bores me. And recently, it's the smaller, more unpredictable things that have caught my attention."
His eyes gleamed, something ancient flickering behind them.
"There are many like me. Timeless beings. And do you know what plagues us most?"
Rachel hesitated, then shook her head.
"Boredom. Pure, maddening boredom. It's driven countless immortals to madness—or even suicide. So don't think I'm getting nothing out of this contract. My reward is simple—to stay by your side and watch how things unfold."
His lips pulled into a wide, devilish grin.
"And, well... the rest of the clauses? They just make the journey far more entertaining."
_____________________________________
To be continued....
(By: "Rising-Corruption!")
[Total of words: 1,242]