Within the vast Illsid Sea laid a land. It was split in three, a large central island and two smaller ones. These lands were watched over by the gods of old.
Des Monae
Whoever lived in Des Monae knew of Khimera, the King of Demons. Ruler of the night denizens, they are better known as the Mad King. Their name struck fear in anything that wasn't a demon.
Their ambition was to subjugate or kill all things that didn't identify as a demon so they can build a land of their ideology.
Sword Logic
Where the strongest culled the weak to pave the way for evolution. Khimera had their circle, the Seven Pillars of Hell, and many subordinates.
The King and the Pillars of Hell launched a full-scale invasion against Unity Island and the Human realm. As the war raged on, one of their lesser subordinates was more recognized than their inner circle. A lesser lord who gained the moniker, Angel of Ruin.
Her front was located on the southern edge of the Demon Realm, where foreign goods made their landfall in a port city. It was a vital artery—one that fed armies, sustained cities, and kept the Demon Realm standing.
The Human Realm knew this. To seize the southern front was to starve the war, to choke the Demon King's reach at its source. And stationed there was the one demon they could not afford to ignore.
If the front fell, the war would end.
If she fell, so would the King.
Within months, the Human Realm struck the port city of Fontaine. Ships were seized, routes burned, and the import chain was severed in a single, deliberate blow. An embargo followed, slow and suffocating, calculated to draw one response—and only one.
It worked.
"Baal Yon Cernunnos!" The voice rang out across the harbor. "Your hold on this city ends today!"
Baal exhaled slowly.
The harbor burned below the ramparts—ships aflame, warehouses collapsing into the sea, the air thick with salt and smoke. Fontaine had always smelled of foreign spices and smoked foods.
Now it reeked of ash and blood.
This was their answer?
This wasn't chaos. It was pressure. An attack designed to force her hand, to make her defend what she guarded.
Heat rolled over her as she loomed above the city, a dry breeze brushing sweat from her face. Lesser demons waited behind her, silent, waiting for an order she had no desire to give.
Angel of Ruin, they called her. As if she'd ever wanted the title.
Burning the city was an insult enough, considering the heat....
Her gaze found the source of the voice—one human, standing far too confidently amid the chaos, blade raised as if his courage alone could bridge the gap between them.
"…Fine," she murmured.
She dropped.
The impact split stone and sent a shockwave through the harbor.
As she raised her head, a blade was already inches from her face.
Ah, so he's… somewhat trained.
She sidestepped just enough so the blade could just pass by her before she caught the blade with two fingers. The impact sent a ripple through her arm as she felt the consecration attempt to burn through her fingers.
Behind her, demons gasped.
Interesting…
She flicked her wrist. The hero skidded backward across the harbor stones. He stayed upright. Barely.
She then tilted her head, studying him now.
"You planned this well," she said, voice carrying easily over the chaos. "Cut the supply lines so I'm forced to answer."
Magic gathered in her raised hand.
"But if this is all you brought…"
She stepped forward once.
The ground buckled.
"…you miscalculated."
The human didn't answer.
Instead, she sensed multiple spells activating.
Spell circles flared up along the walls of the houses—spells she never noticed because she had ordered her followers to protect the houses from destruction.
These weren't the spells that belonged there...
Whistling could be heard along the wind, growing louder by the second.
A hail of arrows?
So he brought a party…
Baal did not turn.
"New order," she said calmly. "Return to the Demon King. Inform him the Angel of Ruin will handle Fontaine."
Light, arrows, and consecrated energy crashed into her position, swallowing the area in fire and smoke. The shockwave tore through the harbor wall and hurled demons from their feet.
"Lady Baal!"
Smoke rolled outward, thick and blinding.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing.
Then the smoke parted.
Baal rose from the crater, scorched and bleeding, her breath steaming in the heat. The ground shifted as she straightened, brushing dust and blood off her arms.
She turned her head slightly, not looking at the humans.
"All units," she said, voice sharp now, absolute. "Withdraw. Immediately."
"Lady Baal, wouldn't it be better if—"
She glared at the demon mid-sentence.
"Return to Ignis. Now."
The demons scattered, retreating down the crumbling streets, their ears listening for her next word to be 'attack'. Baal's gaze followed them briefly as they disappeared from sight.
The hero didn't hesitate. Neither did his party.
They moved as one, each member covering the other, forcing her to react not as a single target, but as a battlefield itself.
Baal watched, tilting her head, calculating.
Interesting. Very interesting.
Arrows pierced the air, grazing her armor. Spells slammed against her magic barrier, sparking off it. Her feet shifted to deflect sword blows; otherwise, she barely moved. Her antlers absorbed and deflected an enchanted blade beam, redirecting it into the empty harbor.
And then, when the party was fully committed, stepping forward as one, she smiled faintly.
A sudden chill ripped across the harbor. Waves froze mid-splash as the steam coming off her curled into jagged spears of ice. The wind stiffened, coating arrows mid-flight with frost, altering their flight. Magic radiated from her slowly, rooting the human party to the ground.
Baal stepped forward, the frozen ground cracking beneath her boots. "This is what happens when you push too far," she said softly, her breath misting in the sudden cold. "Do not think I will hold back again."
The harbor was a frozen wasteland, jagged spears of ice jutting from every surface, and the human party still pressed forward. Their attacks had slowed, staggered, and faltered but they hadn't stopped. Each spell, each swing of a sword, chipped away at her defenses, and for the first time, Baal felt the weight of numbers and strategy against her.
What is this…. nagging feeling?
Something has been sapping my magic ever since the fight started.
Her breathing came in shallow bursts. Spells collided with her faltering magic barrier. Her boots dug into the frozen ground, trying to hold balance as the shockwaves rattled her bones.
Baal's breath steamed in the cold air. She raised her head, antlers catching the dim sunlight, and realized—the humans weren't just fighting.
They were winning.
"…Enough," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
She had fought like a lord protecting her lands, like an angel of ruin driven by vengeance.
Now, she might lose.
The next strike hit her square in the chest.
The barrier shattered.
Baal staggered, her boots carving deep grooves into the ice as she caught herself on one knee. Her vision swam. A sword was embedded in her chest, frost slowly creeping up the blade.
So, this is where it ends…
She drew in a breath—and let it out.
That's when she noticed the hero jump back.
"What is this mana signature?" he asked aloud. His party frantically searched for the caster.
Baal looked down.
A spell circle formed beneath her feet.
I knew it…
THEY had planned this all along.
I wouldn't be surprised if they even had a hand in bringing the Hero here…
"This is what you want… KHIMERA?!" She screamed out as the circle activated.
A black gate had formed behind her and started to pull her in.
The harbor vanished in a violent snap—the last thing she saw was the hero's face, frozen in shock.
When she awoke, she felt something cold on her face.
Not the burning, punishing heat of Fontaine. Or the numbing smell of salt on the breeze.
Just… cold.
The ground beneath her was solid, and soft in a way stone was not.
Where am I…?
She opened her eyes and saw white stretching in every direction. Countless pale flecks drifted slowly from the sky.
It had settled against her arms, and her hair, vanishing as they touched her skin.
For a long moment, Baal didn't move.
Then the pain caught up.
She looked down.
The sword was still there.
She wrapped her fingers around the hilt and pulled.
Agony flared instantly.
She hissed and released it, clutching her hand as the pain faded to a dull throb.
Can't… touch it. Need to find… a cleric.
She pushed herself upright unsteadily, boots crunching softly into the snow.
The world around her felt wrong.
There was no magic she could sense, nor any hostility.
Just… an eerie calm.
"…This isn't Des Monae."
The words escaped her before she realized what she was saying.
Only then did the silence register.
Baal lifted her head, as her breath misted shakily.
She attempted to take a deep breath and listen to her new environment.
Somewhere far off, something hummed.
She turned toward it, orienting herself by instinct alone.
She took a step.
The ground gave way more than she expected. Her balance faltered, pain lancing through her chest as her weight shifted.
She tried to correct it, but she was too slow.
Her foot slid deeper into the white terrain.
Baal went down hard; the breath knocked from her lungs as snow swallowed her hands and knees.
The cold seeped through her clothes instantly. She stayed there for a moment; forehead pressed to the white ground.
This… white stuff. It's really soothing.
Nice and cold, fluffy, inviting…
Maybe a quick nap won't hurt.
Her eyelids grew heavy as the cold seeped into her bones, the ache in her chest refusing to fade.
Her breaths became shallow puffs of mist, slower with each exhale.
Just for a moment…
Her body surrendered before her mind could argue.
Somewhere far off, faint crunching sounds drew closer.
"Is that a person?"
"Oh my God, she has a sword in her chest!"
"Quick, someone call 119!"
As Baal woke up, she heard a steady, quiet beep.
She fluttered her eyes to see a white ceiling.
A strange smell burned her nose worse than any smoke she had inhaled. Her chest throbbed as she slowly woke more.
She looked toward her chest.
The sword was gone.
"Where… am I?" she rasped.
The sheets beneath her were soft, but too hot for her.
Another small beep drew her gaze to a foreign thing at her side. Stuff flashed erratically as she trailed tubelike things embedded in her arm.
What is this thing?
A trap?
Some new human contraption to bind me?
A human, pale and trembling, appeared at the foot of her bed. They noticed that the patient had woken up.
"Oh, you're up! —uh, you strangely did not have frostbite, but you did have a severe chest wound! W-we removed the sword and stabilized you. You're safe now."
Baal blinked.
She recognized the words as language… but what did it mean?
Huh? What did she say? Who is this… human?
She attempted to sit up, but pain lanced through her chest. The nurse moved quickly to her side, hand hovering over her shoulder.
"Miss, you shouldn't move right now. You'll open your wound back up."
Baal managed to swat the nurse's hand away.
"Safe?" she growled. "Explain yourself! Who dared touch me—without permission?"
Her yelling only spooked the nurse, "I-I'm just a nurse! I don't know what you are saying!"
Baal's gaze swept over the room, taking in the weird white walls, the strange contraptions, the soft bed.
Everything here was alien.
She looked toward the human and slowly extended her finger.
"Tell me… what is this place? Where am I? And what did you do to me?" Baal murmured.
The nurse's eyes went blank as her lips moved.
"You… are on the world called Earth. Located on the northernmost island of the nation Japan."
As the nurse rattled on, Baal listened and absorbed every detail. She noted that things like magic, mana, demons, and monsters were all imaginary.
Mere fantasy that could never exist.
Magic was something everyone in her world was able to harness. Here, it did not exist, meaning she had no way to replenish her mana if she expended it.
Controlling the nurse's mind, Baal ordered them to complete their tasks and leave immediately.
As the nurse closed the room door, Baal slowly propped herself up and let the room fall silent.
Now… she needed a plan.
Her mind raced through contingencies, spells, and options, the ways she had escaped or destroyed enemies countless times in Des Monae.
A gate.
That was the simplest solution. A portal large enough to carry her back home.
But… the mana here.
She exhaled slowly. Earth offered none of it. No ambient magic, no latent energy, nothing for her to draw on. Any attempt at a gate would collapse almost instantly. She could try… but the risk of being stranded—or worse.
Then what? Wait here? Adapt?
"Adapt?" she muttered aloud.
Her gaze swept the room, lingering on the strange tubes, the strange implements. All of it could be useful… if she could figure it out.
For the first time in a long while, Baal considered patience… a concept she had long since abandoned in Des Monae.
Two months passed in what felt like a blink and an eternity at once.
Baal was able to move around in her new environment, Hokkaidō. The language, once a jumble of incomprehensible sounds to her, was beginning to grasp it.
She could speak, read, and write Japanese well enough to hold a simple conversation. What was more impressive is that she had a family register in her name.
Fujisaki, Yuǎn.
Recognized as a documented citizen, she could now be accounted for if any incident occurred in this world.
Unfortunately, she did not have a home. Since that needed one thing.
Money.
She also noticed something strange. Her body retained a human form, but the antlers she once bore were gone—vanished.
Hmmm, no wonder no one questioned me about them.
Yuǎn stepped out into the biting wind, the snow crunching beneath her boots. The slopes stretched wide and empty, a forgotten stretch of the Sapporomoiwayama Ski Resort.
Here, there were no humans to complicate matters. Just the snow, the wind, and space enough to move as she pleased.
She shrugged off her jacket, letting it sail away on the breeze. There was something inviting about the wind.
Ahhh, this is life. No stifling clothes, no demons to order around, no rules—just loose wear, the snow and the wind.
She let her body fall into the snow, eyes tracing the stars above.
Even as a Demon Lord far from home, the cold and quiet felt like a home away from home.
…If she could really call Ignis that.
"Hey—!"
A voice cut through the quiet.
Yuǎn didn't move at first. She continued to watch the snow fall as the wind whispered across the slope.
A moment later, footsteps crunched closer.
"Oi! This area's closed!" the voice called again, closer now.
"You can't just lie there—this isn't a public area!"
She exhaled slowly and turned her head, eyes still on the stars.
…So much for peace.
Footsteps crunched closer, then stopped abruptly.
"…You know it's below freezing, right?"
She finally turned her head.
A man stood a short distance away, bundled in layers, breath fogging thickly in the air. His eyes weren't on her face—but on her. Her arms and legs half-buried in the snow.
"You're… not even shivering," he said with disbelief.
"Did you fall? Are you hurt?"
Yuǎn blinked once.
Cold?
Hurt?
She sat up slowly, snow sliding from her shoulders.
"Is that… a problem?"
The man stared.
"…Yes. Do you… live around here?" the man asked, voice softer now.
"I mean—someone's probably worried about you. Family, maybe?"
Yuǎn hesitated.
Family.
Her gaze drifted back to the stars for a heartbeat before she pushed herself upright. Snow slid from her clothes as she stood, steady on her feet.
"I am unharmed," she said calmly. "And no one is waiting for me."
The man's relief lasted exactly half a second.
He stared at her bare legs, her thin clothes, the way the wind cut across the slope—and how she didn't even flinch.
"That's—no," he said, shaking his head. "That makes this worse. You're dressed like it's spring and it's the middle of winter."
She tilted her head. "The cold is… comfortable."
He exhaled sharply, "That's not how humans work."
Yuǎn frowned slightly.
Right… I'm human now.
The man hesitated, then sighed, already unzipping his jacket.
"Here. Just—take it," he said, holding it out toward her. "I don't care if you say you're fine. You're not dressed for this."
Yuǎn stared at the jacket as if it were a strange artifact.
"I do not require—"
"Yeah, you do," he cut in. "At least until you find somewhere warm."
The fabric was thick, it held the warmth from his body.
After a moment, she took it.
He exhaled, relieved. "Look… my place isn't far. Just for tonight. You can figure things out in the morning."
She looked at him then. Really looked.
"…Why?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Because it's cold, and you're clearly not okay. That's enough."
Yuǎn pulled the jacket around herself, the warmth settling in slowly.
"…Very well," she said at last. "For now."
The house was small, warm, and smelled faintly of dinner.
As soon as the door slid shut behind them, the man called out, "I'm home."
Something small and fast slammed into his legs.
"Dad!"
He stumbled, laughing as a young girl wrapped her arms around him, nearly knocking him over. "Whoa—easy, easy!"
Yuǎn froze just inside the doorway.
The girl looked up—and then noticed her.
She stared, eyes wide, taking in the unfamiliar woman, the borrowed jacket, the snow clinging to her face.
"…Who's that?"
The man steadied himself and glanced back. "Ah. I found her up on the slopes. She needed a place to stay for the night."
Yuǎn inclined her head slightly, unsure what the correct response was here.
"…Hello."
The girl blinked, then smiled. "She's pretty."
Yuǎn did not know how to respond to that.
Pretty?
Before she could decide how to respond, footsteps approached from the kitchen.
"Yulisha, I told you not to run when—"
The woman stopped short.
Her eyes went first to Yuǎn's bare legs, then to the oversized jacket hanging off her shoulders. Then to her husband.
"…Why is there a half-frozen woman in your coat standing in our entryway?"
"Mika, I can explain," he said quickly.
Yuǎn straightened on instinct, as if being inspected by a superior officer—only to realize, a second too late, that standing only made things worse. The jacket shifted, revealing just how little she was wearing beneath it.
Mika's expression changed immediately.
"You're freezing," she said, already moving. "Why didn't you say something? Come in, come in—shoes off, you'll catch a cold."
"I am not cold," Yuǎn replied honestly.
Mika paused, gave her a look that suggested she did not believe a single word of that, and steered her gently anyway.
Yulisha peeked around her mother's legs. "See? I told you she's pretty."
Yuǎn glanced down at herself, then back at the woman.
"…Is that bad?"
The woman blinked—then sighed, rubbing her forehead.
"No," she said. "It's not bad. But we'll talk about it later."
Yuǎn was guided to the table before she could object.
A chair was pulled out for her. She hesitated—then sat, stiff-backed, hands resting on her thighs as if awaiting instruction.
Mika set a steaming bowl in front of her. The scent was unfamiliar but warm, rich in a way that made something in Yuǎn's chest tighten.
"Eat," she said, gentler now. "You'll feel better."
Yuǎn looked at the bowl. Then at the woman.
"…Is this an order?"
The man coughed into his hand. Yulisha giggled.
"No," Mika said, studying her. "It's an offer."
Yuǎn nodded once, then lifted the spoon carefully and tasted.
Her eyes widened—just slightly.
The man took that as his cue. "I'm Masaki Haruto," he said, offering a small bow from his seat. "This is my wife, Mika."
Mika nodded. "And you've already met our daughter. Yulisha."
Yulisha waved enthusiastically.
Yuǎn paused mid-spoonful.
"Fujisaki."
She swallowed.
"…Yuǎn," she said. Then, after a moment of thought, "Fujisaki, Yuǎn."
All three of them blinked.
Haruto laughed awkwardly. "Ah—well. That makes things simpler, I guess. I had you pegged as a foreigner, but you're Japanese."
Mika tilted her head. "You're Japanese?"
Yuǎn searched for the correct answer.
"…Yes," she said finally.
Mika watched Yuǎn eat for a few seconds longer than was polite.
Yuǎn noticed.
"…Is something wrong?" she asked, spoon hovering midair.
Mika blinked, then shook her head. "No. Just—" She gestured vaguely at Yuǎn's outfit. Or lack of one. "You can't stay dressed like that."
Yuǎn followed her gaze down to herself, then back up. "I am covered."
"Yes," Mika said carefully, "but not enough."
Haruto nodded from his seat, suddenly very interested in his tea. "It's… cold at night. Even inside."
Yuǎn thought about his remark.
The house was warm, almost stifling, but I can already feel the temperature sinking beyond the walls.
"…I see."
Mika stood. "I'll get you something to change into. Just for sleeping."
"For… sleeping?" Yuǎn repeated.
Mika returned a moment later with folded clothes. A long-sleeved shirt. Thick pants. Socks.
She placed them gently on the table, like an offering.
"You don't have to wear them forever," Mika said. "Just tonight."
Yuǎn stared at the clothes.
"…Is this required?" she asked.
Mika paused.
"No," she said. "But it helps keep you warm."
Yuǎn nodded once. "I will comply."
Haruto winced slightly at the phrasing but said nothing.
Mika gestured down the hallway. "Bathroom's there. I'll show you."
Yuǎn followed, observing everything—the light switches, the quiet hum in the walls, the way this place felt lived-in rather than defended.
The bathroom light flicked on with a soft click.
Yuǎn froze for half a breath.
A mirror stretched across the wall.
She stepped closer, studying the reflection with quiet focus.
Human.
Entirely.
White hair hung loose around her shoulders, going down to her tailbone. It was still damp from melting snow. Her skin was brown, unmarked save for the faint scar at the center of her chest—fresh, stitched closed.
Her eyes lingered on her face.
Sharp, but not cruel. Youthful, but not young.
I look… young.
Her crystal blue eyes were steady and aware.
Something that felt unchanged to her.
She lifted a hand, turning it slowly. Slender fingers.
No inhuman strength visible beneath the skin.
"…So this is what remains," she murmured.
The body obeyed human rules. It would bleed, tire, and starve.
Strangely, it would not freeze. She had tested it a while back.
She exhaled, long and slow.
Then she reached for the clothes.
When she returned, dressed, Mika's expression softened.
"There," she said. "Much better."
Yuǎn glanced down at herself. "…I feel… heavier. This is too warm."
"That's clothes," Haruto said. "You get used to it."
She twirled around, "Also, these clothes are also small."
There was a brief silence.
Then Haruto cleared his throat.
"So," he said gently, "where are you staying right now?"
Yuǎn answered without hesitation.
"I have no home."
The room was silent again.
Mika's hand froze halfway to the counter. Yulisha looked up from her seat, confused. Haruto's mouth opened—then closed again.
"You mean—" he started.
"I have no residence," Yuǎn clarified. "I sleep where conditions permit."
Mika exhaled slowly through her nose.
"That's… not safe," she said.
Yuǎn tilted her head. "It has been sufficient."
Haruto stood. "No. Not in winter."
He looked at Mika. They exchanged a glance that carried years of shared decisions in a fraction of a second.
"You can stay here," Mika said, already certain.
Stay? Why would humans want a stranger to stay??
Especially a Demon Lord?
"…Why?" Yuǎn asked.
Haruto shrugged, echoing himself from earlier. "Because you don't have a place to go."
Mika added, softer, "And because we do."
Yuǎn looked away from them.
Shelter freely given? No orders? No payment?
These humans… they may be dangerous. They asked nothing, yet gave freely.
Unthinkable.
"I'll stay…For now," she said at last.
Mika smiled warmly.
"Good," she said. "I'll set up the futon."
Yuǎn watched her move, and felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest.
Someone that asked nothing of her—and expected nothing in return.
She didn't know yet that this act of kindness was going to change her viewpoint of humans forever.
Morning light seeped through the thin curtains. Yuǎn's eyes fluttered open, unused to the muted warmth of sunlight against her face.
She stretched carefully, aware of the small, borrowed clothes and the stifling warmth they held.
Footsteps padded softly across the floor.
"Yuǎn? Breakfast is ready," a familiar voice called.
She got up from the futon and walked to the living room.
Mika had already set the table ready with four trays of food. "You should eat before we go out. Winter isn't kind to empty stomachs."
Yuǎn inclined her head once before sitting down. She picked up the utensils, and started eating.
Mika moved back to the kitchen. A small notebook was open on the counter as she planned the day aloud.
"Groceries first. Then I need to stop by the clinic. And if we're already out, we can check on—"
The hallway erupted.
"Yuli, stop running!" Haruto's voice followed a second later.
A blur burst from the bathroom—Yulisha.
She was still in her pajamas. A toothbrush was clenched between her teeth while foam smeared the corner of her mouth.
"I'm late!" she declared, sprinting past the table.
"You are not late, it's Sunday!" Haruto chased after her. "Brush your teeth properly!"
Yulisha zigzagged, narrowly avoiding capture, laughter bubbling around the toothbrush.
Mika didn't even look up. "Yulisha. Sink. Now."
The girl skidded to a halt.
"…Okay," she mumbled, trotting off toward the bathroom.
Haruto straightened, breathing hard. "One day she's going to outrun me."
"You'll survive," Mika replied calmly.
Yuǎn watched all of it in silence.
So this is how humans raise their young…
Mika finished checking off the last item in her notebook and finally turned toward Yuǎn.
"So," she said casually, "what are you planning to do today?"
Yuǎn stilled.
In Des Monae, her days were decided by necessity—defend Fontaine, command her squad, and survive. Her purpose was never questioned.
Here, there was no front to hold. No orders to give.
No enemies to prepare for.
"I… do not have plans," Yuǎn said at last.
Mika nodded, accepting that answer without judgment. "That's okay."
"Well," Mika continued, "I have errands to run. You're welcome to come with me if you'd like. No pressure."
No pressure?
"…I will observe," Yuǎn said carefully. "If that is permitted."
Mika smiled. "Of course it is."
Yuǎn inclined her head once.
This world is strange, it offers purpose without demand.
The streets were alive in a way Yuǎn hadn't expected.
People on the street moved in layers— thick coats and padded scarves wrapped tight. Gloves were worn and warm hats were pulled low.
The roads were clear, apart from the snow on the sidewalk.
Everything here was built to endure winter, not challenge it.
Yuǎn glanced down at herself. Mika had insisted—long coat, thermal layers, boots that bit into the snow instead of slipping. The clothing felt excessive and too hot, but she understood the logic in order to fit in.
Humans in this world dress for survival, not display.
The crowd thickened as they approached the shops. Bodies passed close—too close. Yuǎn's shoulders tensed on instinct, her awareness flaring, counting distance and movement.
She exhaled slowly and forced herself not to step aside.
Mika noticed anyway.
"Too many people?" she asked quietly.
Yuǎn nodded once. "They stand too close."
Mika blinked—then smiled gently. "That's normal here. No one's trying to hurt you."
Yuǎn wasn't convinced, but she decided to not act on instinct.
Inside the store, the heat hit her immediately.
Even here?
The scent of food, plastic, and something faintly sweet mixed together hit her nose. She watched Mika move ahead, picking food items with ease.
At the counter, she placed a couple of small, colored rectangles down.
Yuǎn's gaze locked onto it.
She watched closely as the person behind the counter exchanged the rectangles for other ones and metal disks—each stamped and numbered.
These things must be an agreed-upon value system.
Yuǎn leaned closer to Mika. "Ma'am, what is this?"
Mika smiled at Yuǎn as she grabbed the money from the tray. "This is Yen. the currency of Japan," she said quietly. "These notes make it possible to buy goods like apples and bread."
Yuǎn studied the yen in Mika's hand.
The rectangles look fragile, flammable and easily destroyable.
In Des Monae, merit was proven by force.
She straightened slightly.
To live here… I must understand this system.
And perhaps—participate in it if I want to go back home.
They completed Mika's other task after leaving the store. The brown bags swinging lightly at both of the women's sides. The crowd thinned, replaced by quieter streets and the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots.
Mika slowed, then spoke carefully.
"So… Fuyu," she said after a moment, not looking at her. "I don't mean to pry, but—what's your plan right now?"
Yuǎn tilted her head. "Fuyu? Plan?"
Mika winced a little, "Sorry, I-I wanted to give you a nickname. Was that bad?"
Yuǎn looked at her puzzled, before she shook her head. "N-no, that's… okay."
Mika smiled, then continued. "Your plan for living. Food, clothes. A place to stay long-term."
Yuǎn pondered on Mika's question seriously.
"I… don't have a plan," she said.
Mika smiled lightly. "It's okay… Here, you usually work for someone who pays you."
"Pays me?" Yuǎn repeated.
Mika nodded. "With money."
Yuǎn looked down at her hands.
"That's okay," she said at last. "We'll figure it out."
Yuǎn looked up sharply. "You would provide resources without assurance of return?"
Mika smiled faintly. "People do that sometimes."
Yuǎn studied her face, searching for deception.
There was none.
"…This world," Yuǎn said quietly, "is inefficient."
Mika laughed. "Yeah. It is."
But Yuǎn didn't smile.
Because inefficiency, she was beginning to understand, was where humans hid their kindness.
The house came into view through the falling snow.
Mika unlocked the door and stepped aside. "You know," she said casually, slipping off her shoes, "once you're settled, we could see if there's any work for you."
Yuǎn paused just inside the doorway.
"Work? For me?" she questioned.
Mika nodded. "Something simple to start. Or—if you want to study—we have local colleges. You're clearly intelligent."
"To learn," she said slowly, "while being provided resources?" Yuǎn asked.
Mika smiled. "That's one way to put it."
Yuǎn's eyes sharpened with sudden clarity.
"Then I will offer protection."
Mika blinked. "Protection?"
"Yes," Yuǎn said calmly. "I will bind myself to your household. Any threat—social, physical, or otherwise—will be eliminated. In exchange, I require food, shelter, and instruction."
Silence.
Yulisha, who had been pretending not to listen from the living room, slowly peeked around the corner.
"…Is she a knight?" she whispered.
Mika stared at Yuǎn.
"…That's not how jobs work Fuyu," she said carefully.
Yuǎn frowned. "You just described a system where humans exchange labor for sustenance."
"Yes, but not—" Mika gestured vaguely, "—life-binding oaths."
Yuǎn tilted her head. "Is that inefficient?"
Mika nodded her head. "Very."
"…Then I will require clarification," Yuǎn said seriously. "On acceptable forms of labor that do not involve fealty."
Mika laughed despite herself.
"Okay," she said. "We'll start there."
Haruto emerged from the back room, drying his hands on a towel.
"I heard something about 'binding oaths' and figured I should intervene," he said mildly.
Mika sighed. "She offered to become our household's sworn protector."
Haruto looked at Yuǎn.
Yuǎn met his gaze, completely serious.
He nodded once. "That looks like something you'd say."
Then he reached into a drawer by the counter and pulled out a thin stack of papers.
He slid the top one across the table toward her.
"This is a job application," he said. "Convenience store. Night shift. "I was going to apply to it myself, but… I think this fits you better."
Yuǎn stared at it.
The paper was thin. Covered in boxes, lines and symbols she couldn't understand.
"…This is not a contract," she said.
"No," Haruto replied. "It's worse."
Mika shot him a look.
Haruto shrugged. "You fill it out. They decide if they want you. If they say yes, you get paid."
Yuǎn picked up the paper carefully.
"So my worth," she said slowly, "is evaluated before resources are provided."
"Pretty much," Haruto said. "But don't overthink it."
Yuǎn frowned. "That will be difficult."
Yulisha leaned over the table, peering at the form.
"Does she have to write her name there?"
Mika nodded once. "Yes, that's right, Yui."
Yuǎn stared at the empty line.
藤 崎 ,远 (Fujisaki, Yuǎn).
She then stared at the next line for a long time.
It was worse.
Date of Birth.
She lifted the pen, then froze.
If I recall, dates were measured differently. In Des Monae, we went either by the cycles of harvests or eras of reign. I'm… older than 2000 by their calendar calculations.
She put the pen down.
Mika noticed immediately.
"…That one's tricky?" she asked gently.
Yuǎn nodded. "I'm… not sure of my age."
Mika didn't laugh.
"…Okay," she said carefully. "What year were you born?"
"2008" Yuǎn softly replied.
"Born on September 20th."
Mika exhaled. "That makes you about eighteen."
Yuǎn wrote her age down, then stopped.
Prior Work Experience was the next line.
Her hand tightened around the pen.
I led armies, managed supply lines, and enforced law. Even negotiated treaties under threat of annihilation. I can't reveal that… That might end my alliance with this Mika person.
"I don't know what to write here," Yuǎn said quietly.
Mika studied her for a moment, then nodded as if reaching a decision. She pulled a chair closer and sat beside her.
"Okay," she said. "Then don't."
Yuǎn looked up. "What?"
"I'll do it," Mika said, already reaching for the pen.
"You just tell me if something sounds unacceptable."
Yuǎn hesitated. "…Very well."
Mika leaned over the paper.
"Let's see," she murmured. "You lived with family. You helped out. You're organized. You don't panic. And you clearly know how to follow procedures."
Yuǎn blinked. "Those are… generous assumptions."
Mika smiled faintly. "They're also safe ones."
She began to write.
Assisted with family responsibilities. Maintained schedules, inventory, and daily operations.
Yuǎn watched the words appear, unease curling in her chest.
"This implies subordination," she said.
Mika paused. "Is that a problem?"
"…No." Yuǎn replied quietly.
Mika continued.
"Any customer service?" she asked.
Yuǎn tilted her head. "I was able to live by myself for two months without being discovered."
Mika sighed. "That's…not what I was asking, but I can work with that."
She added another line.
Self-sufficient and provided preventative measures to problems.
"Okay, on to the next line," Mika said.
Yuǎn's eyes moved to the next line.
Current Address.
She didn't speak.
Mika noticed the pause and followed her gaze.
"That one's easy," she said. "You're staying with us, right?"
Yuǎn grabbed her arm.
"I am here temporarily," she said. "I do not wish to claim something that is not mine."
Mika softened. "It's not a claim. It's just… where you are."
Yuǎn looked away.
In Des Monae, territory was seized, defended, bled for. Territory belonged only to those who could hold it. I don't defend their place, so I have no right to call it mine.
Haruto leaned against the counter. "If it helps, think of it as borrowing. No oath required."
Yuǎn hesitated—then nodded once.
Mika wrote their address in as Yuǎn watched the ink dry.
"And the final one, which is 'Emergency Contact'."
She didn't wait.
Mika scribbled her name, then Haruto's.
Yuǎn froze slightly, she hadn't agreed to that.
But before she could say anything, Yulisha tilted her head, peering at Yuǎn. "Mom… can I call her my big sister?"
Yuǎn blinked, caught off guard again. She glanced at Mika, who was busy straightening papers. Yuǎn's mouth opened slightly, then closed again.
"…If you wish," she said cautiously, her voice softer than usual.
Yulisha didn't wait for permission beyond that.
She slid off her chair and padded over, tugging lightly at Yuǎn's sleeve as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Then you have to sit next to me," she said, already deciding the arrangement. "Big sisters sit next to me."
Yuǎn stiffened at the contact.
She looked down at the small hand gripping her sleeve.
"…Is that required?" Yuǎn asked, quietly.
Yulisha nodded with complete certainty. "Yes."
Haruto snorted softly into his tea.
Mika shot him a look, then glanced at Yuǎn, gauging her reaction with careful eyes.
Yuǎn hesitated.
Then stood and moved one seat over.
Yulisha beamed and climbed back into her chair, close enough now that their shoulders almost touched.
Mika resumed stacking the papers, as if nothing remarkable had happened, but her mouth curved just slightly at the edges.
"So," Yulisha said, swinging her legs, "do you like sweet things?"
Yuǎn looked at her confused. "Sweet… things?"
Yulisha gasped, scandalized. "You've never had sweets?"
Yuǎn shook her head no.
Yulisha leaned closer and lowered her voice. "I like strawberry mochi. Mom says I can only have it sometimes, but big sisters are different."
Yuǎn's gaze flicked instinctively to Mika.
Mika met her eyes, amused. "Big sisters don't overrule parents," she said lightly.
Yulisha pouted. "Not fair."
"…Strawberry," Yuǎn repeated quietly.
Yulisha's pout vanished instantly. "You'll remember?"
Yuǎn nodded once. "Yes."
Satisfied, Yulisha leaned back in her chair, humming to herself.
Yuǎn lowered her gaze to the table, fingers curling slightly against the wood.
…This world is dangerous
She stayed where she was, seated beside Yulisha, as if that had always been the place she was meant to occupy.
Yuǎn turned her head slightly toward Mika.
"…What labor does she perform?" she asked.
Mika blinked. "Labor?"
She glanced at Yulisha, who was busy swinging her legs again.
"She doesn't," Mika said simply. "She's five. She goes to school."
Yuǎn frowned. "School," she repeated. "Like what you mentioned earlier?"
"Yes," Mika said. "That's her job right now. Learning."
Yuǎn looked back at Yulisha.
Mika paused, then sighed softly. "Speaking of which… Yuli, did you finish your homework?"
Yulisha froze mid-swing.
Slowly, she looked up. "…I was going to."
Mika crossed her arms. "That wasn't an answer." She then looked at Haruto. "And daddy was supposed to make sure you did your homework, correct?"
Haruto lifted his hand. "I reminded her."
Yulisha nodded eagerly. "He did!"
Mika's temple twitched faintly. Yuǎn recognized the expression instantly. It was the face officials made when deciding whether discipline was worth the effort.
Mika closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.
"Okay," she said at last.
She turned to Haruto. "Homework. With Yulisha. Now."
Yulisha groaned dramatically. "But I—"
"Now," Mika repeated, without raising her voice.
Haruto raised both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Come on, Yui."
Yulisha slid off her chair, dragging her feet the whole way. "You're mean…"
"I'm making sure my Yuli becomes something grand," Mika replied, already turning away.
"And you," Mika continued, "you're coming with me."
Yuǎn straightened. "For what purpose?"
"To drop off your application," Mika said, reaching for her coat. "And maybe grab lunch on the way."
"…Understood," Yuǎn said.
The bell above the door chimed as they stepped inside.
Warm air rushed over Yuǎn all at once, heavy with the scent of unfamiliar foods, drinks, and something sweet she couldn't identify.
Yuǎn slowed her walk as she scanned the floor.
Mika didn't stop walking. She headed straight for the counter.
"Stay close," she said lightly. "It gets busy."
Yuǎn obeyed, standing just behind her shoulder.
She looked at the strange boxes coming out of the ceiling.
Hmmm, something about these boxes give me a sense of being watched…
Her gaze then shifts to the mirrors.
Mirrors? For what purpose?
Then she looked toward the clerk behind the counter.
Their clothing suggests a form of position in this establishment…
She then looked at their name tag.
Does this tag indicate their name?
They looked up from the counter and broke into a grin.
"Oh—hey, Dr. Masaki. Didn't expect to see you today."
Mika smiled back, already reaching into her bag. "Just dropping this off Nick."
Nick's eyes flicked to the paper, then back to her face. "Doc, you're coming here? Don't tell me you're starting a new project and need the funds?"
Mika smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Nick… don't forget. You owe me one."
Nick blinked.
"Sorry doc, won't happen again…" he quietly said as he pulled the papers close to him.
She's scary… Yuǎn thought.
Mika turned slightly. "This is Yuǎn."
Yuǎn twitched slightly before moving from behind her.
"Hello," she said as she lightly bowed.
Nick clears his throat, the grin returning—but smaller now.
"Right. Sorry about that," he said, straightening a little. "I'm Nick. I run the afternoon shifts here."
He glanced at Yuǎn more carefully this time.
Nick looked down at the paper, then back up at her.
"Night shift, huh?" He shrugged. "It's quiet. Cold. Mostly stocking shelves and dealing with the occasional drunk."
Yuǎn listened, then glanced around the store again—the warm air, the lights, the steady hum of machines.
"…Is it acceptable if I work lightly dressed?" she asked. "It is very hot in here."
Silence.
Nick looked at Mika. Mika looked back at him.
"Doc…" Nick said carefully, lowering his voice. "Is she okay?"
Mika didn't hesitate.
"If you're asking mentally, I don't know," she said flatly. "Physically? She's pristine."
Nick scratched the back of his neck, glancing once more at Yuǎn.
"So… does she, uh—have experience with people?"
Mika exhaled through her nose. "She's quiet. Observant. Doesn't panic under pressure."
"That's not a no," Nick said.
"It's a better yes than most applicants you get," Mika replied calmly.
Nick huffed a short laugh. "Fair."
He tapped the edge of the application. "Night shift's mostly muscle memory. Stocking, cleaning, watching the register. Cameras everywhere."
He glanced at Yuǎn. "No stealing. No fighting customers. If someone gets aggressive, you call for help. You don't engage."
Yuǎn nodded once. "Understood."
Nick blinked. "…Huh."
Mika's mouth curved slightly. "See? Follows rules."
"That she does," Nick admitted. "Honestly, half the people we get can't manage that."
Footsteps sounded from the back.
"Heads up," Nick muttered. "That'll be my manager."
The door at the back swung open, and a tall figure stepped out, clipboard in hand. His uniform was immaculate, pressed to a sharp line, and his expression was all efficiency.
"Nick," he called sharply. "What's going on here? Who's—" He froze, eyes flicking to Yuǎn. "And who is this?"
Yuǎn straightened, standing like a soldier at attention.
Mika stepped slightly forward, blocking the manager from stepping too close. "This is Yuǎn. She's applying for the night shift."
The manager's eyes narrowed. "Applying? Here?" His gaze flicked to the application on the counter. "I don't recall you submitting paperwork ahead of time."
"She's new," Mika said evenly. "I'm vouching for her. She's a capable one Hajime."
Yuǎn inclined her head slightly. "I am capable."
Hajime's lips twitched—half surprise, half irritation. "Since it's coming from the doc, I'll bite. Night shift. Quiet work. Can follow rules. Can handle customers. No stealing. No—" He paused, eyeing her again. "Do you even understand what I'm saying?"
Yuǎn's gaze met his directly, "Yes, but you'd be reiterating what Mr. Nick said, Mr. Hajime."
Nick stifled a chuckle behind the counter. Mika's eyes flicked to him briefly.
Hajime huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But I'm watching. One misstep, and you're gone. Understand?"
"…Understood," Yuǎn said softly, her tone absolute.
Mika gave a small nod. "That's all we ask."
"You start tomorrow," he muttered under his breath. Hajime then glanced at Nick, and stalked back toward the office.
Nick exhaled audibly. "Wow. That was… intense."
Yuǎn tilted her head, studying him. "Weak in resolve… he would falter under pressure in Mika's house."
Mika suppressed a laugh. "Let's get you situated first before you say things like that."
The bell chimed again as the door shut behind them.
Cold air rushed in immediately and brushed against them. Yuǎn exhaled, a faint plume of mist blooming in front of her face.
This is so much better than inside the store.
They walked side by side down the sidewalk. Mika set an easy pace, unhurried now that there was nowhere urgent to be.
"You start tomorrow night," she said casually, as if discussing grocery plans. "I'll walk you over the first time. Just so you know the route."
Yuǎn nodded once.
"Understood."
Snow crunched rhythmically beneath their boots as cars passed now and then. Store lights faded behind them, replaced by quiet houses and dark windows.
"…You handled that well," Mika added after a moment.
Yuǎn glanced at her. "Talking to people other than you is hard."
Mika smiled a little. "The good thing is that you spoke without any help."
Yuǎn's gaze drifted to her hands, gloved and unfamiliar. She took them off and reached toward the sky.
Tomorrow, I start my first job in this world. A job not born of command. Back at home, looking toward tomorrow was a luxury. This feels… unreal.
"Mika," Yuǎn said quietly.
"Yes?"
"…If I fail," she asked, choosing the words with care, "will I be expelled from the house?"
Mika slowed, then stopped walking altogether.
She turned to face Yuǎn. "Failing is a part of life, Fuyu," she said. Then, after a beat, "how would you learn if you don't fail? Yuli LOVES you, and that kid has a crazy sense of character. She trusts you, so we have no reason to not trust you. You'll always have a place to sleep."
Yuǎn stared at her.
That answer made no sense.
"…That is inefficient," Yuǎn said.
Mika laughed softly, breath fogging the air. "You keep saying that."
They resumed walking.
Yuǎn looked at the looming landscape. The clouds were thin tonight, distant houses twinkling like stars.
Tomorrow, I work.
Not as a lord.
Not as a Lesser Demon Lord.
Not as the Angel of Ruin.
Just… the human named Fujisaki Yuǎn.
The house came into view soon after—warm light spilling through the windows, the promise of extreme heat and a small human who would undoubtedly ask a lot of questions.
Yuǎn did not yet have the words for what she felt.
But as she stepped inside, snow staying on her boots, she realized something simple and terrifying:
I don't want to leave Hokkaidō.