Sleep? What’s That?

Check out my website for more stories and posts: kiarawrites.blog. Main Masterlist || BlackStar Blog Please don’t repost my work on other websites. ~💙

[lancermylove]

The Final Post

After six years of sharing my stories here, I’ve decided it’s time to step away.

For a long time, I have been a one-woman army behind this screen. Every page you’ve navigated on my website, every graphic you’ve seen, and the 36 individual master lists I meticulously alphabetized and maintained were built by hand. I had no background in web design; I taught myself everything because I lacked the resources to hire help. I was the writer, the designer, the coder, and the editor. I’ve reached a point where I can no longer justify this level of unpaid labor.

Writing is a labor of love, but it is still labor. Over the last few months, I poured everything I had into producing nearly 50,000 words across three fandoms. I wanted to see if the community was ready to bridge the gap between passive consumption and active support. The result was clear: the support isn't there to make this sustainable. I cannot keep giving at the expense of my own well-being and my family’s needs.

My life currently requires my full presence. Between my career, my YouTube channel, and the intensive, full-time responsibility of caring for my mother through a terminal illness, while simultaneously fighting her health insurance company and the healthcare system, and my own health issues, my energy is a finite currency.

My website will officially shut down in December before the hosting subscription renews. I will be posting new content sparsely between now and then, as my focus will remain on the priorities that need my strength.

To the very few who stood by me: thank you for seeing the person behind the posts.

Signing off,

Lancer

[lancermylove]

Kid of the Seven Rulers of Hell 5

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland, Obey Me

Pairing: Sebek x gn!Reader, featuring demon brothers

A/N: This request is the last one in my inbox from ages ago.

———————————————

Sebek

At first, he is absolutely insulted. He assumes you are playing a trick on him or that these Rulers of Hell, like you called them, are just arrogant and delusional humans. How could anyone have a title greater than his dearest Lord Malleus?

The moment Sebek realizes they are actual high-ranking demons with overwhelming auras, he is torn. On one hand, he respects power and hierarchy; on the other, he is outraged that anyone outranks Malleus.

Sebek doesn’t cower, though. Instead, he stands at full attention, shouting his introductions so loudly that the chandeliers rattle. He sees meeting your family as a formal diplomatic mission…one where he must prove that his discipline is unmatched, and he is worthy of you.

He sees Lucifer with a strange mix of respect and intense rivalry. He recognizes Lucifer’s authority and tries to out-discipline him, standing perfectly still for hours just to show he won't buckle under the Avatar of Pride’s gaze.

Sebek finds Mammon disgraceful. A Ruler of Hell who gambles and whines? Sebek constantly lectures him on proper conduct, which leads to endless bickering. He thinks Mammon is a bad influence on you.

He is confused by Levi. He doesn't understand the otaku talk and views Levi’s shut-in nature as a sign of weakness. However, he respects the sheer scale of Lotan and acknowledges Levi’s power, even if he thinks the demon is a…strange specimen.

Sebek admires Satan’s dedication to study but thinks his rebellious streak against Lucifer unseemly.

He thinks Asmo is far too frivolous. Sebek doesn't understand why a demon would spend three hours on skincare when they could be training.

He respects Beel’s physical prowess and disciplined appetite. He views Beel as a worthy soldier.

As for Belphie, Sebek is constantly yelling at him to wake up and show some respect, which only makes Belphie even more exhausted, in turn making him sleepy.

Lucifer

Initially, Lucifer is exhausted by the volume of Sebek’s voice. He values order and silence, and Sebek provides neither. However, he is secretly impressed by the boy’s unwavering loyalty and rigid adherence to rules.

Lucifer finds Sebek’s soldier-like attitude a refreshing change from his own brothers' laziness. If Sebek says he will protect you, Lucifer actually believes him. That’s a major green checkmark in his book.

While he approves of Sebek’s character, he finds the constant mentions of Malleus annoying. Lucifer is thinking about reminding Sebek that in the HOL, there is only one Master he needs to worry about - Lucifer himself.

Mammon

Mammon absolutely cannot stand Sebek at first. “Who is this loud-mouthed brat tellin' ME how to act?!"

They spend most of the first meeting shouting at each other until Lucifer intervenes.

After the initial shock, Mammon gets defensive. He’s worried Sebek is too stiff for you and might try to take you away to a world of boring rules. He’ll try to test Sebek by asking him to help with a scheme, only to be met with a lecture on integrity.

Deep down, Mammon is relieved you found someone who is clearly too honest to ever lie to you or cheat on you. He’ll never admit it, though.

Asmo

Asmo thinks Sebek is striking but desperately needs a makeover. He finds Sebek’s constant shouting and stiff posture utterly charming in a tragic sort of way.

He loves teasing Sebek just to see how red the boy’s face can get. Asmo is the only one who can make Sebek lose his composure by flirting or commenting on his strong, sturdy frame.

He gives his approval because he thinks Sebek is exotic and adds a fun, loud energy to the family dinners. Plus, he trusts Sebek to always keep you safe.

Beel

Beel is quite fond of Sebek. He likes that Sebek doesn't beat around the bush; he always knows exactly what Sebek’s thinking because he’s usually screaming it.

Your boyfriend’s physical strength earns Beel’s respect. He even invites Sebek to work out with him. When Sebek manages to keep up with a demon’s training regimen, Beel decides he’s more than worthy of dating you.

Beel’s main concern is whether Sebek will cause your eardrums to explode, but Beel sleeps easily knowing Sebek is protective.

Satan

Satan is fascinated by the fact that Sebek is a half-fae with a massive loyalty complex. He spends the first meeting observing Sebek’s reactions to the brothers’ chaotic dynamics.

He appreciates Sebek’s honesty. In a world of demons who thrive on manipulation, a human-fae who is ‘what you see is what you get’ is a breath of fresh air.

However, Satan will definitely play some mind games with Sebek, using complex logic to confuse him just for the fun of watching Sebek try to argue his way out of it. He’ll give his approval once he sees Sebek won't back down from a challenge.

Levi

Levi is terrified of Sebek. "Why is he so loud?! Is he a shonen protagonist?!"

He tries to hide in his room, but Sebek’s voice carries through the walls, making it difficult for Levi to have any quiet time.

He refuses to believe someone as normie-core and rigid as Sebek can understand your bond. He’ll try to challenge Sebek to a video game to prove his superiority, only for Sebek to take the mission way too seriously.

It will take Levi a long time to warm up. He only starts to accept him when he realizes Sebek is just as obsessed with his Malleus as Levi is with Ruri-chan. They share the same fanboy energy.

Belphie

Belphie has a headache within five minutes of meeting Sebek. He hates how much noise Sebek makes, especially while Belphie is trying to nap.

He finds Sebek’s loyalty-to-a-master trope annoying and thinks Sebek is a brainwashed puppet. He will go out of his way to be rude or ignore Sebek entirely.

To get Belphie’s approval, Sebek will have to learn to lower his volume…at least a little and prove that you are his number one priority, even above his Malleus. Until then, expect a lot of glares from the attic.

———————————————

➣ All Masterlists

➣ TWST Masterlist: [Genre]

➣ OM Masterlist: [Genre]

[lancermylove]

Case of the Unconscious Queen 10

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

You navigated the sea of dancing students until you spotted Kalim. He was standing near a mountain of jeweled dates, laughing as he handed out plates to his fellow dorm mates with his usual endless energy.

Grim trotted at your heels, his nose twitching at the combined scent of the different dishes sprawled on long wooden tables. You stepped into Kalim’s line of sight and called his name over the thumps of the drums.

Kalim turned instantly, his face lighting up with delight. “Hey! You finally made it! Are you hungry? We have enough food to feed a whole school!”

You couldn’t mirror his smile as the weight of the night’s long, confusing investigation was pressing heavily on your body. “Kalim, we need to talk. It’s about Riddle.”

Kalim’s smile faltered slightly as he tilted his head. “Riddle? Is he coming to the party too? I should tell Jamil to set out another place!”

“He isn't coming to any party. He passed out earlier yesterday evening, and we’re trying to figure out why,” Grim said and crossed his small paws.

Kalim stared at you like you told him the world was going to end. “He what? Riddle collapsed? Oh no, that’s terrible! Is it the heat? Was it something he ate?”

His voice began to rise into a frantic pitch of pure panic. Before you could try to soothe him, Jamil emerged from the crowd, looking l as composed as ever, his sharp eyes scanning Kalim’s distressed face.

“Kalim, breathe,” Jamil calmly commanded. “What is the problem now?”

“They said Riddle passed out!” Kalim cried, looking like he was about to burst into tears. “We have to do something! We need a doctor! Or a magic carpet!”

Jamil’s gaze shifted toward you, his expression unreadable. However, before he could say anything, the heavy doors of the dorm flew open with a violent bang enough to cut through the music.

“I ORDERED YOU TO STOP THIS AT ONCE!”

Riddle stormed into the light of the torches. His face was a shade of red that rivaled his own hair, and his eyes were wild with a mixture of fury and absolute mortification. Trey and Cater were trailing behind him, looking like two exhausted parents trying to control a runaway firework.

“Riddle, please, everyone is looking,” Trey whispered.

“Let’s just take a breath and go get some tea, okay?” Cater added, his l phone nowhere to be seen as he tried to block Riddle from public view.

Riddle entirely ignored them and marched straight up to you, his chest heaving. “I told you the matter was settled! You are making an utter spectacle of yourself and my reputation!”

Leona drifted out of the crowd to stand at your side, his tail swishing with irritation. He looked down at the tiny Housewarden as if he were a particularly noisy insect. Malleus stepped into the light behind you, his towering presence radiating a power that made the nearby students back away.

Trey and Cater both went pale when they realized exactly who was standing guard over you. Riddle, however, was far too deep in his own rage to notice the dragon prince.

“You’re the one making a scene,” Grim shot back, while hiding behind your leg.

Before Riddle could unleash a tirade, Kalim’s voice cut through. “Wait! Did Riddle pass out because he partied too hard?”

The courtyard fell into an agonizing silence as the music seemed to die out on its own. You looked at Kalim, your brow furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

Kalim blinked, looking perfectly innocent despite the bomb he had just dropped. “Well, Riddle was here earlier that evening! We were hanging out and having snacks. I thought he was just tired from all the dancing!”

Riddle’s head snapped toward Kalim. “Kalim Al-Asim, I command you to be silent!”

“You were here?” You asked as the pieces of the puzzle began to click into a very strange shape.

“It is irrelevant where I spend my time!” Riddle yelled.

“He was totally here,” Kalim continued, ignoring Riddle’s murderous glare. “He was eating a bunch of stuff, but he wouldn't stay for the main show.”

Riddle’s temper finally snapped. He grabbed his magical pen, his voice rising to a shrill, hysterical pitch. “Off with your head!”

Magic flared in the air, but Jamil was already there, stepping between them with a look of pure irritation.

“Are you really that embarrassed, Riddle?” Jamil asked, his voice dripping with dry sarcasm.

Riddle’s face somehow turned even a darker shade of red. “This does not concern you, Viper!”

“It concerns the entire school when you start throwing collars around at my party,” Jamil replied.

Trey managed to grab Riddle’s arm, holding him back with significant effort, while Cater stepped in front of his Housewarden like a human shield.

You looked at Jamil, wanting the truth as you had reached your limits. “Jamil, tell me exactly what happened.”

“Just spill it. I have a headache that could kill a horse, and I want to go to sleep,” Leona growled, rubbing his temples.

Malleus quickly and calmly added. “I would suggest you speak. If Rosehearts attempts to silence you again, I will ensure his magic finds no purchase here.”

“It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. Riddle was here, and he ate his way through an entire bowl of salted crackers and smoked cheese. But when we offered him something to drink, he checked his watch and realized it was past sunset,” Jamil sighed, crossing his arms.

Jamil paused, glancing at the mortified Riddle. “He cited Rule 153. He claimed that only herbal tea could be consumed in the evening. Since we didn't have any in stock, he refused to touch a single drop of water or juice. He walked out of here as dry as the desert sands because he was too stubborn to break a rule for his own safety.”

A heavy silence followed the explanation. Then, Jack stepped forward from the back of the group with narrowed eyes. “Wait. Just to be absolutely clear…you’re saying Riddle passed out solely because of…dehydration?”

Jamil nodded slowly. “Total salt overload and zero hydration. He essentially turned himself into a piece of jerky.”

Trey and Cater were utterly speechless. Trey looked like he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, while Cater’s hands moved instinctively toward his pockets, likely mourning the fact that he couldn't post this to Magicam.

“Fascinating. Humans truly are such fragile, peculiar creatures,” Malleus dryly chuckled.

Leona started chuckling. “I have to hand it to you, Red Tyrant. I wasn't expecting a biological comedy. No wonder you didn't want anyone looking into it.”

Grim couldn't contain himself. The cat fell onto his back, kicking his paws in the air as he let out a loud, wheezing cackle. “You passed out because you were thirsty! You were taken down by a cracker!”

Riddle looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Kalim, ever the sweetheart, rushed forward with a guilty look. “I’m so sorry, Riddle! I didn't realize the rule was that serious! I’ll make sure Jamil orders ten crates of herbal tea tomorrow so you never have to be thirsty again!”

You let out the longest sigh of your life, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. The mystery was solved, and it was the most absurd conclusion you could have imagined.

“Riddle,” you said, looking him in the eye. “It’s not embarrassing to be human. But it is incredibly stupid to follow a rule so blindly that you risk your life over a glass of water. Please, for the sake of my sanity, drink something next time.”

Riddle opened his mouth to argue, but the combined stares of Leona, Malleus, and Jamil seemed to drain the last of his fight. He just looked at the ground, his shoulders slumped.

“It’s over,” you announced to the group. “Finally. I am going back to Ramshackle and going to sleep for a week. Do not wake me up unless the school is actually on fire.”

Leona nodded in agreement, stretching his arms over his head. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll join you. Your couch is better than my bed anyway.”

“Absolutely not happening,” Malleus said immediately, his eyes narrowing.

Leona glanced at him with a snarl. “Excuse me? I don't remember asking for a dragon’s permission.”

“I will not allow such a crude display,” Malleus replied, stepping between Leona and you.

As they began to bicker, Riddle blinked and looked up at Malleus. “Wait. Since when has Malleus Draconia been standing there?”

Trey sighed, looking older than his years. “Since the very beginning, Riddle.”

Cater leaned in and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Are you sure you don't still feel a little faint? Because missing a giant like that in a courtyard this small is genuinely impressive, Housewarden.”

Riddle’s eyes snapped back to life with a spark of familiar fury. “Cater Diamond! Off with your head!”

Cater didn't wait around for the collar. He bolted toward the portal, laughing as he went. Riddle chased after him instantly, his cape flying behind him as he shouted about rules and propriety.

Grim continued to laugh until he ran out of breath. Trey rubbed the back of his neck and turned to you with an appreciative smile. “You’ve had a rough few days. Tell you what, I’ll make it up to you. My treat. I’ll bake whatever you want tomorrow.”

You chuckled, feeling the tension leave your body. “A strawberry tart, Trey. A huge one.”

Trey nodded. “Consider it done.”

“And don't give a single slice to Riddle,” you added, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “He made me work way too hard for this. Think of it as a punishment for making me worry.”

Trey laughed softly, looking over at the portal where Riddle had disappeared. “That’s a tempting idea, and he certainly deserves it. But I think I’d prefer not to be on the receiving end of his next tantrum when he finds out.”

You exhaled one last time, watching the sun set over the desert. The mystery was gone, replaced by the familiar, chaotic rhythm of Night Raven College. It was ridiculous, it was exhausting, and it was finally over.

Fin.

[lancermylove]

Reflections of the Past 10

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

The hallway outside the twins' room felt longer than usual, but Mammon’s earlier reassurance provided a lingering sense of warmth. As you got closer to the door, you didn’t wait for an invitation, turned the handle, and stepped inside.

Belphie sat on his bed, back pressed against the headboard, his eyes absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. He looked exhausted but far more awake than he had ever been. Beel stood near the foot of his bed, staring at his twin in concern. The moment you entered, his head snapped toward you. Beel’s eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of protectiveness and desperate hope. He looked like he wanted to block your path and pull you into a hug all at the same time.

"You came," Beel said in an exhausted voice.

"I need to talk to him, Beel," you said.

Beel looked at his twin, then back at you. He saw the clarity in your expression, along with the refusal to play the role of the victim any longer. Slowly, he gave a slight nod and stepped aside. "I will stay. But I will not get in the way."

You walked toward Belphie until you were standing in his line of sight. "Belphie…”

"I am not doing this again," he mumbled, his eyes still focused on the ceiling. "I don't have the energy for another interrogation."

"I am not here to interrogate you," you calmly replied. "I am here because you left a question unanswered."

Belphie turned his head, letting you see his bloodshot eyes and dark circles that were deeper and darker than before. "You heard what I said to Satan. You know what I think."

"I heard what you said when you thought no one was listening," you countered. "Now I want you to say it to my face. Do you actually regret that I am here?"

His jaw tightened, and he looked at Beel, then back at you. "It isn't about regret. It is about the fact that everything is different now. We used to be simple. We were demons…we took what we wanted, we destroyed what we hated, and we didn't look back. Now? I can't even close my eyes without wondering if you're safe. I hesitate...t-that hesitation is a flaw."

"Is it a flaw, or is it just new?" you asked.

"In this world, they are the same thing," Belphie snapped, but the fire in his voice died out almost instantly. He slumped back against the headboard. "I hate that I can't go back to the way I was. I hate that I’ve lost that coldness."

You watched him carefully, seeing the internal friction Solomon had described. "If you hate it so much, then why don't you just stop? Go back to being the demon who didn't care about the balance or being nice. Go back to being the one who didn't hesitate."

The room became silent as you gave him space to think about your words. Beel watched his twin with bated breath, his hands clenched at his sides.

Belphie looked down at his lap, his voice turning into a whisper. "I can't. That’s the problem. I hate that I can't go back, but...I don't actually want to."

The admission seemed to drain the last of his strength. He looked up at you, his gaze unguarded. "I am afraid, (y/n). I am terrified because you are something I can't control, and yet, you are someone I can't afford to lose. I called it weakness because I didn't know what else to call the feeling of my heart breaking every time you look at me like I’m a stranger."

Sighing, you walked close and rested a hand on his arm. He flinched slightly, but he didn't pull away.

"You're not weak for caring, Belphie," you softly said. "You're just finally having to face the cost of it."

Belphegor didn't apologize as he wasn't ready for that yet, but he sank more into the mattress, his eyes searching yours with a silent acknowledgment. He had stopped running, and behind you, Beel let out a long, shaky exhale. His shoulders had finally dropped from their defensive hunch. The sheer relief on his face was noticeable as the world was no longer ending. The family structure, despite being dented, was holding.

"Thank you," Beel whispered.

You shook your head. "Don't thank me. Just take care of him."

You left the twins and stepped out into the empty, hallway, but you felt like you were being watched.

You hadn't walked more than seven steps when a tall figure stepped out from the shadows near the staircase. Lucifer stood with his arms folded across his chest, his expression a mask of regal composure. He did not look angry, but his eyes held a weight - the same weight where he had to discuss something serious.

"You handled that with more precision than I anticipated," Lucifer said. His voice was smooth and measured, a sharp contrast to the raw emotions you had faced recently.

"You were listening," you said.

"I am the eldest brother," he replied simply. "Nothing happens in this house that I do not allow. The discord of the last few days has been... distracting. I am pleased to see you have taken it upon yourself to stabilize the situation."

He stepped closer, and his presence grew heavier until he seemed to occupy the entire hallway. "But do not mistake resolution for a lack of consequence. You have seen now what your presence does to them. You have seen how it fractures their identity and forces them to confront parts of themselves they have spent millennia burying."

"I know," you said, meeting his gaze. "I'm not blind to it."

Lucifer studied you, his eyes scanning your face as if he were reading a report. "Then you must also realize that you are no longer a guest in this house. You are a part of its architecture. Every move you make, every word you speak, ripples through them. You have become a force of nature in their lives."

He paused, his voice dropping to a tone that was almost, but not quite, a warning. "They are demons, (y/n). They are built on pride and power. By making them care, you have made them vulnerable. To some, that is a gift. To others, it is a target."

"Why are you telling me this now?" you asked.

Lucifer leaned in, his gaze burning with a sudden, intense seriousness. "Because I need to know if you are prepared for the burden of that influence. You have decided to stay, but in doing so, you have accepted responsibility for the changes you bring. Do you intend to be the force that holds them together, or are you merely waiting to see how much more they can break before they fall apart?"

The question was a direct challenge, one that reframed your entire existence in the Devildom. You weren't just a human in an exchange program anymore; you were a pillar in their reality.

"I'm not going to break them, Lucifer," you firmly said.

Lucifer gave a slow nod, though the exhaustion in his eyes didn't fade. "I hope for all our sakes that you are right. Because if this house falls, it will not be the brothers who suffer the most. It will be the one who tried to change them."

"Go. Rest. The air in the house has cleared, but the weight of the sky remains,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the stairs.

As you walked past him, you understood the truth behind his words. The personal crisis with Belphie was over, but the structural reality of your presence had only just begun to reveal its true cost.

Fin.

[lancermylove]

Case of the Unconscious Queen 9

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

The afternoon sun burned bright above the main campus, though the silence was broken by the rhythmic tapping of Grim’s paws as he paced in frantic circles. You stood near the Queen of Hearts’ statue while Leona leaned his heavy weight against the base of Scar’s statue, looking as though he might fall asleep at any moment despite the gravity of the situation. Jack remained by your side, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his tail gave an occasional flick.

Grim stopped his pacing and looked up at the group. “So let me get this straight. There was no magic attack, no clear biological cause, and the bio-data says he’s fine. But the guy still dropped like a sack of potatoes after visiting the octopus.”

You rubbed your temples. “Every clue says Octavinelle, but Azul hasn't left proof.”

Leona let out a mocking scoff. “That’s because you’re looking for footprints in a place where everyone swims. It doesn’t mean anything yet.”

“It means that Octo did something!” Grim argued, his blue ears sparking with fire. “He probably used a secret, high-tech ink that Idia’s scanners can't see!”

“We can’t accuse a Housewarden of poisoning another without proof. That’s how you start a dorm war,” Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

You exhaled and massaged your temples. “That’s the problem. Everything points in one direction, but the evidence is as thin as a ghost.”

“Then stop looking for it.”

The voice was as sharp as a guillotine. You turned to see Riddle standing a few yards away, his posture so rigid it looked painful. Trey stood just behind him, looking uncomfortable as he adjusted his glasses.

“I have told you once already,” Riddle continued, his voice tight with an emotion that seemed suspiciously like panic. “End this investigation immediately. This is an order from the Housewarden of Heartslabyul.”

Grim huffed, putting his paws on his hips. “Oh, here we go again. Ragin’ Riddle is back to give orders.”

“Riddle, we aren't doing this to annoy you,” you calmly said. “You collapsed. We’re trying to make sure it doesn't happen again.”

“Nothing happened!” Riddle snapped, face bright red.

Leona pushed off the pillar, a smirk dancing on his lips. “We aren't stopping, Red Demon. Some of us actually like solving puzzles, especially when the prize is watching someone like you squirm.”

Riddle’s gaze snapped to him. “Excuse me? You are a guest in this school’s public space, Kingscholar, not a private investigator. You have no authority here.”

“And you have no power over me.” Leona’s smirk widened. “What are you going to do about it? Put a collar on me? I’d like to see you try.”

The air around Riddle began to feel charged. Trey stepped next to his friend, placing a cautious hand on Riddle’s shoulder. “Riddle, maybe if you just explain the situation, they’ll understand why you’re being so cautious.”

“There is nothing to explain!” Riddle shouted. “I said the matter is closed!”

Jack frowned. “You’re acting defensive for someone who claims nothing is wrong.”

Riddle looked like he was about to explode into a full-blown tantrum, but before he could reach for his magical pen, Trey’s grip on his shoulder tightened.

“That is quite enough,” Trey said, his voice dropping into a tone so serious that even Riddle couldn't ignore. “We are leaving. Now.”

Riddle stiffened, looking at Trey in shock. “Trey! Let go of me!”

“Not a chance,” Trey firmly said, physically pivoting Riddle around. “You need rest, not a screaming match in the courtyard. My apologies, (y/n). We’ll be heading back now.”

You watched in silence as Trey literally dragged a fuming Riddle away from the area. Once they were out of earshot, Grim blinked. “Well, that was a disaster. Why is he so scared of us finding out the truth?”

“Because the truth usually isn't pretty,” a calm, deep voice said from behind you.

Grim yelped and jumped nearly three feet into the air. Malleus’s green eyes shimmered with amusement.

“Stop doing that!” Grim shrieked. “One of these days, I’m going to lose a whisker!”

Malleus ignored him entirely and focused on you. “I happened to overhear your conversation. It was quite difficult not to, given the volume of Rosehearts’ voice.”

Leona let out a groan. “Great. Now the lizard joins the party.”

Malleus’s gaze shifted toward Leona, his expression neutral but his eyes hinting at his irritation. “I am more curious as to why the Child of Man is accompanied by such a… boisterous group of beastmen.”

Leona’s expression darkened instantly. “You got a problem with us, Lizard Punk?”

“Not at all,” Malleus replied smoothly. “I simply find the combination of a lion and a wolf following a magicless human to be a fascinating biological study.”

Jack looked awkward. “We’re helping investigate...”

Malleus nodded and glanced at you. “Then I shall assist as well. It would be rude to leave the Child of Man in such questionable company.”

“No. Absolutely not. Go back to your castle,” Leona scoffed.

“I believe my presence would be quite beneficial,” Malleus calmly said.

“No,” Leona growled.

“Yes,” Malleus countered.

You let out a massive sigh, the sound of their bickering already giving you a migraine. Without a word, you turned and started walking toward the Hall of Mirrors. Jack followed you immediately, not paying heed to the bantering prefects.

Leona clicked his tongue, but he didn't want to be left behind with Malleus, so he power walked to catch up. Malleus glided beside him, much to the lion prince’s irritation.

Grim ran to keep pace with your stride. “So, where are we going? We’ve hit almost every corner of this school.”

You didn't slow down and kept your eyes forward. “The only dorm left. We’re going to Scarabia.”

“Scarabia? You think Jamil is the one who took out Riddle?” Grim asked.

You shook your head. “No, Jamil is too smart to get caught in something this messy. But if there’s a rumor on campus, Kalim has probably heard something.”

“That’s not a reason. You’re looking for an excuse to get a headache.” Leona huffed behind you.

“We’re going anyway,” you firmly replied.

The moment you stepped through Scarabia’s portal, the dry air scraped your throat, and the distant sound of rhythmic music drummed against your ears.

Grim winced, covering his ears. “What is that noise? Is the dorm collapsing?”

You stepped into the main courtyard and stopped to take in all the decorations. Colorful silks hung from the pillars, and students were dancing around tables piled high with exotic fruits and steaming platters of food.

Leona took one look at the crowd and turned around. “Nope. I’m out. I’m going back to my room.”

“Wait right there!”

An enthusiastic voice rang out over the music. Kalim came rushing through the crowd, his turban slightly askew and a massive grin on his face.

“You’re here!” Kalim shouted. “This is perfect! We just started the main course!”

Leona raised a hand to stop him. “Don't even start. I’m leaving.”

“You can’t leave without eating!” Kalim pouted, reaching out and grabbing Leona’s arm with a strength that was surprisingly difficult to shake. “Jamil made the lamb stew! It’s incredible!”

Leona froze, looking down at Kalim’s hand with a look of disbelief. “Don’t touch me.”

“You have to try the dates, too!” Kalim insisted, completely ignoring Leona’s personal space as he began to drag the much larger man toward a buffet table.

Leona didn't resist as much as you expected he would. He looked deeply unimpressed, but the promise of food seemed to be the only thing keeping him from jumping back through the portal.

“The predator got caught. That’s embarrassing.” Grim snickered.

Jamil approached the group, but his composure slipped when his eyes landed on Malleus. “This is certainly an unexpected group of guests…”

Malleus inclined his head with a faint smile. “Kalim invited us. It would be churlish to refuse such energy.”

Jamil recovered his composure, though he looked like he was already calculating the extra security needed for a party containing both Malleus and Leona. “Since you are all here…then, I suppose, welcome to Scarabia.”

Jack nodded politely, though he looked overwhelmed by the noise. Grim looked around at the tables of food, drooling. “Is this what you call a small gathering? There’s enough food here to fill a pool!”

“Kalim has a very loose definition of the word small,” Jamil sighed.

You looked over at the table where Kalim was trying to pile a mountain of food onto Leona’s plate. The prince looked like he wanted to be anywhere else on the campus but here.

“Let’s see what we can find out,” you said quietly to Grim. “And maybe keep an eye on Leona before he bites someone.”

Grim snickered, and Malleus smirked, not leaving your side.

What do you do?

Question Kalim

Question Jamil

Get some food and enjoy the party

Voting ended onApr 26

[lancermylove]

Reflections of the Past 9

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

The silence of the last few days had been a slow-acting poison for Mammon. While the others analyzed the situation or retreated into themselves, Mammon had been obsessing over the one thing that defined his existence: the fear that he had finally become too much of a burden to be wanted by you.

You didn't answer him with words. Instead, you ran towards him, and before his brain could process your movements, you threw your arms around him and buried your face in his chest.

Mammon froze. His breath hitched in his throat as he didn't understand where the gesture came from. His mind was still caught in the loop of expecting rejection, of waiting for you to tell him that he was the problem. The sudden contact was a sensory overload that fried his mind and expectations. But his shoulders dropped, and a shuddering breath escaped his lips. His slightly trembling arms settled firmly around you. Mammon held onto you with a desperate, grounding force, as if he were afraid that if he let go, you would reject him outright.

"You," he whispered, but stopped to swallow hard before continuing. "You’re not mad at me?"

The question was devoid of his usual bravado. It was a nice change of pace that he wasn't asking about the state of the house or the conflict with the others.

"No, Mammon," you whispered. "I’m not mad at you."

He pulled you a bit closer, his fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. For Mammon, being ‘The Great Mammon’ was an exhausting performance; it was a loud, greedy mask worn to ensure that if people walked away, it was because of his actions and not because of who he was underneath. But you had seen underneath, and you were still holding him.

"You’ve been acting weird," he admitted in an uncharacteristically soft voice. "Like you weren't really there. I thought I messed somethin' up. I mean, it’s usually me, right?"

You pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were wide, the pupils dilated with an intensity that he usually hid behind a grin. His fear of being the family's problem child lay bare.

"It wasn't you," you said firmly.

Mammon nodded, despite the uncertainty still flickering in the corners of his expression. He let out another breath and leaned his back against the wall, his arm still draped around your shoulders as if to maintain the connection.

"House feels weird," he mumbled, glancing down the dark length of the corridor. "Beel looks like he’s carryin' the weight of the world, and he hasn't even touched a snack in hours. Belphie is...well, he’s just gone."

He looked back at you, his brow furrowing with a protective sort of frustration. "And Lucifer is walkin' around actin’ like he’s a statue. Everyone’s thinkin' too much. I hate it when it gets like this. I don't care what you changed or what people are worried about. I just don't like when nobody’s talkin', and the air feels like lead."

He slowly let one arm drop to his side. "You talked to Satan, didn't you? That guy...he’s probably in there right now tryin' to write an essay on why he’s confused. He’s gonna think himself into a corner if someone doesn't kick him out of it."

A faint smile touched your lips at the accuracy of the description. Mammon saw it, and for a second, a spark of his old self returned to his eyes. But the spark faded quickly as his gaze shifted back to the door at the end of the hall.

"You talked to Belphie, too," he said. It wasn't an accusation, but a quiet observation. "He looked messed up, (y/n). I mean, really messed up. He was shakin' when he ran past me."

He looked at you directly, his yellow-blue eyes filled with conflicting emotions. Mammon spent most of his time being the one his brothers complained about, but he was also the one who noticed their mood shifts first. He was the family’s emotional barometer, and right now, he felt like he was reading a storm.

"Look, I don't know what you said to him," Mammon continued. "And I’m not gonna pretend I understand all the deep, complicated stuff you and the smart brothers get into. But I know Belphie. When he gets like this, he shuts down. He locks himself away and lets the dark stuff grow until it swallows him whole."

He paused, searching for the right words. "And Beel... well, he is just standin' guard, tryin' to keep the house from fallin' down while his other half is fallin' apart. He’ll act like he’s fine because he thinks he has to be the strong one, but he’s breakin' inside."

Mammon gave your shoulder a grounding squeeze. "I’m not sayin' you were wrong to say whatever you said. If he was bein' an idiot, he needed to hear it. But...can you go talk to him again? For Beel’s sake. And for his, too."

The request was humble, coming from a place of genuine love for his brothers that he rarely admitted. He wasn't asking you to fix the house; Mammon just wanted you to help his brothers find their way back to the light you provided.

"You don't have to carry the whole house on your back," Mammon added, his voice firming up. "That’s not your job. But whatever you said to him, it got through. It cracked that shell he keeps around himself. I don't care what’s changed. Just don't leave me out of it."

You looked toward the stairs, thinking of the twins, and then back at Mammon, who stood there with a steady presence, waiting for you to make your choice.

You head to Beel and Belphie's room, and...

Invite yourself in and say you need to talk to them

Knock on the door and wait politely

Walk into the room and hug Belphie

Walk into the room and hug Beel

Voting ended onApr 25

[lancermylove]

Case of the Unconscious Queen 8

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

As soon as all of you stepped into Ignihyde, Grim squinted at the glowing circuitry embedded wherever you looked. “I don’t like this place. It feels too quiet, but at the same time, it’s like the walls are watching me.”

Leona walked past you without the slightest hesitation. “Then stay behind and talk to the walls. I’m not waiting.”

Jack followed close behind, his posture straight and his eyes scanning for potential threats. You stepped in last, taking in the doors that seemed futurist but ancient simultaneously.

Grim marched up to the entrance and knocked loudly. “Hey! Open up! We know you’re in there!”

For several seconds, it was totally quiet. Then, a muffled, frantic voice echoed through a nearby intercom speaker. “I’m not here! The Idia you are looking for is currently unavailable and has moved to a server where social interaction is disabled!”

Grim blinked at the speaker. “We didn’t even say who we were yet!”

“That makes it worse!” Idia snapped, his voice rising in pitch. “Anonymous visitors are the final boss of social anxiety! Go away! This feels like a trap. I’m not getting dragged into whatever quest-line or social disaster you’ve triggered!”

A small panel on the wall flickered to life, revealing a camera lens that zoomed in on your group.

“Wait, you brought Leona?” Idia’s voice turned into a hiss. “A high-level physical tank and a prefect who always attracts trouble wherever they go? This is definitely a setup. You’re here to frame me for something! I’m taking the back system route, I’m out!”

Leona scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Open the door, shut-in, or I’ll see how much pressure these hinges can take before they snap.”

There was a long, tense pause.

“You would actually do that, wouldn’t you?” Idia mumbled.

The sound of multiple electronic locks clicking open echoed through the hall. The door slid aside with a pressurized hiss.

Inside, a dizzying array of glowing screens illuminated the room in shades of neon blue. Ortho Shroud stood near the entrance and offered a polite smile.

“Welcome to Ignihyde,” Ortho said. “I apologize for my brother. He is currently experiencing a sudden spike in his cortisol levels due to your unexpected arrival.”

“I do not apologize for anything!” Idia yelled from somewhere deeper in the darkened room, his hair flickering with nervous blue flames.

Grim seemed distracted by the flashing lights and wandered away from the group. “Ooh, what’s this shiny red button do? Is it a snack dispenser?”

“Please do not press that, Grim,” Ortho calmly warned.

But Grim pressed it. A deafening alarm blared for a split second, and red warning lights strobed across the ceiling. Ortho moved with lightning speed, his fingers dancing across a holographic interface to shut it down instantly.

Grim froze in place, looking guilty. “I didn’t do anything! The machine started it!”

Leona dragged a hand down his face, looking even more exhausted. “Useless. Can we get to the point before the cat blows up the dorm?”

Jack took out a small notebook, looking at the glowing consoles with a disciplined focus. “We came to ask about Riddle. He collapsed yesterday evening, and we thought Ignihyde might have the biometric data to explain why.”

From behind a massive, multi-monitor setup, Idia peeked out. His sharp gaze darted between you and Jack like he was looking for a hidden weapon.

“Why me?” Idia grumbled. “I didn't do anything. I was in my room. I have logs. My activity data is timestamped. I have multiple alibis in three different MMOs!”

“No one is accusing you, Idia,” you calmly said.

“That’s exactly what people say right before they drop a massive accusation!” Idia sighed, though he slowly rolled his high-tech chair closer to the center of the room. “Fine. I’ll pull up the data. But if this turns into a blame-spiral, I’m logging off and locking the doors.”

Idia’s fingers blurred across his keyboard. Several holographic screens expanded in the air before you.

“Mr. Zero EQ,” Idia began as he typed away. “Dorm leader. High magic output. Extremely high stress baseline. Basically, his stats are always capped.”

Jack leaned in, squinting at the complex graphs. Leona stayed back, closing his eyes, but his ears were focused on Idia.

“According to the campus-wide monitoring systems,” Idia continued, “his magic output spiked irregularly about an hour prior to his collapse.”

“What does that mean in normal words?” Grim asked, tilting his head.

“It means something disrupted his internal equilibrium,” Idia explained, tapping a specific peak on the graph. “His magical signature became unstable, like a server under a DDoS attack.”

“External interference?” Jack curiously asked.

“Inconclusive,” Idia replied, shaking his head. “There is no clear signature of a direct magical projectile or a curse. If someone hit him, they used a stealth build I can’t track.”

Ortho hovered closer, analyzed the data alongside his brother. “However, we should consider that his physical condition may have contributed to the event. Biometric readings suggest he was physically vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable how?” You asked.

Ortho’s eyes narrowed. “Environmental stress is a factor, but there is also a recorded intake imbalance in the hours leading up to the event.”

Idia waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, but that’s super basic. We’re obviously looking for a high-level magic anomaly, not something as mundane as what he ate.”

You frowned. “Intake? As in food and drink?”

“Exactly,” Idia mumbled. “But the logs show no confirmed record of Riddle consuming any regulated dorm beverages after the evening tea hour.”

Jack’s brows furrowed. “No recorded intake at all?”

Ortho nodded. “Correct. There is no logged data of him consuming liquids.”

“So no poison,” you whispered, tapping your chin with your index finger.

“Theoretically, yes. I’m just saying the logs are empty,” Idia added.

Leona’s eyes flickered toward the screens, though he remained silent. You stepped closer to the holographic map. “Can you track his movement through the school before he went back to his dorm?”

Ortho nodded and pulled up a secondary screen. A faint, glowing line traced a path across a digital layout of the campus.

“Riddle’s pathing data shows significant movement toward the Octavinelle territory earlier that evening,” Ortho revealed.

Grim immediately pointed a claw at the screen. “I knew it! See! All roads lead back to the octopus!”

Idia looked uncomfortable, pulling his hood lower. “Look, that doesn’t prove a crime happened. People go to the Mostro Lounge all the time.”

“But it proves he was there,” Grim shot back.

Jack crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed. “Which aligns perfectly with the rumors we heard. He went to confront someone about the deals being made.”

Idia leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. “Look, Octavinelle’s supply chains are a total nightmare to track anyway. They move a lot of product through the school. It’s all encrypted and off-book.”

“What kind of product?” Grim narrowed his eyes.

“Drinks, food, custom contracts, whatever,” Idia said quickly. “If he consumed something there, it wouldn’t show up on my official campus intake logs. It’s all private business.”

The suspicion settled heavily in your gut. Azul. It always came back to deals and hidden transactions.

“There is also a minor note in the medical sub-file regarding a slight electrolyte imbalance at the time of collapse.” Ortho calmly spoke up.

Grim blinked. “Electro-what? Is that like a lightning spell?”

“Salt levels and hydration balance,” Ortho explained patiently.

Idia waved it off again, rolling his eyes. “Again, Ortho, that’s just basic biology. That wouldn't explain a full magical collapse. We need to find the glitch in the magic, not the salt in his blood.”

“So, there was no magic attack?” you asked, summarizing the findings.

“No confirmed evidence of one,” Idia replied, his fingers twitching toward his keyboard as if he was itching to return to his games.

“And no clear cause for the collapse,” Jack added, closing his notebook with a frustrated snap.

“Too many variables and not enough clean data,” Idia concluded, already starting to turn his chair away from the group.

“So this whole trip was useless.” Grim huffed.

Leona pushed off the wall, walking toward the exit without a word, though his silence felt more pressed than usual. “I told you this would be a waste of time.”

You ignored the comment and looked at the screens one last time. “Thanks for the help, Idia.”

Idia blinked, looking surprised that you weren’t staying to argue. “Wait, that’s it? You’re just leaving?”

“For now,” you replied.

Ortho smiled politely as the group moved toward the door. “Please visit again soon! I can prepare a presentation on hydration if you like!”

“Absolutely not,” Idia’s voice echoed as the doors slid shut.

The natural breeze on the main campus was a sharp contrast to the filtered oxygen of Ignihyde.

Grim looked up at you, his tail swishing. “So, we’ve got a path to Octavinelle. You think he got poisoned?”

“But we still have no proof of an attack. And the magic spike suggests it wasn't just a simple poison.” Jack frowned.

Leona glanced at you from the side, his eyes narrowed. “And no evidence of a spell being cast on him. Interesting, isn't it?”

You nodded slowly. “Something doesn’t add up.”

"Looking at all the evidence so far, who do you think is the main culprit?" Jack curiously asked.

"Azul because he is always involved in shady business."

"Rook. He suggested visiting Azul, and if poison is involved...well, Vil..."

"Heartslabyul members. Things seemed strange there."

"Maybe the real culprit is still at large."

Voting ended onApr 19

[lancermylove]

Reflections of the Past 8

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

The morning was quiet as you stood before Satan’s door, your hand hovering over the dark wood. The weight of the last few days had settled deeper into your bones than you liked. You didn’t bother to knock and just walked into his room.

Satan was exactly where you expected him to be - on his bed, reading a leather-bound volume. His posture was disciplined, and his focus was like none other. He didn’t look up until he finished the sentence he was reading.

"You look like you haven't slept in forty-eight hours," Satan said, concerned.

"I haven't," you bluntly replied, closing the door softly behind you. You stayed in the center of the room, feeling a bit nervous to be close to the Avatar of Wrath in a moment you were about to heat up. "I heard what you said to Belphie in the hallway. About demons not being meant to soften...and how hesitation is a weakness that gets punished."

Satan’s finger traced the edge of his page, but he did not flinch or react immediately. He exhaled and closed the book with a soft thud before meeting your eyes with a terrifyingly analytical gaze.

"I see," he whispered. "I wondered how long it would take for you to process the shift in the atmosphere. You are remarkably perceptive when you are pushed to the edge."

"Is that what I am to you?" you flatly asked. "A shift in the atmosphere or an inefficiency in the system?"

Satan slowly stood up and began to pace the small strip of rug. "You are asking if I meant those words as an insult to you. The answer is no. I was not making a moral judgment on your character. I was making a structural observation about my own."

He stopped and looked at you, tilting his head slightly. "You must understand something. My brothers…they have a frame of reference I lack. They remember the Celestial Realm. They remember what it felt like to exist in a state of grace, where softness was the natural order of things. When they feel attachment to you, they are returning to a familiar language. It is a homecoming for them."

He momentarily met your gaze with a tight expression. "I do not have a home to return to. I was not born; I was shed. I am the manifestation of Lucifer’s unadulterated wrath…no matter how much I loathed the fact at one point. My foundation is not grace; it’s instability. Every ounce of calm you see, every book I read, every intellectual pursuit I follow is a brick in a wall I had to build manually to keep the wrath in me from tearing everything apart."

The weight of his words constricted your heart as you realized that his coldness in the hallway was a defense mechanism.

"So when I feel hesitation," Satan continued, "I do not see it as growth. I see it as a structural flaw. I have spent my entire existence fighting for control over a nature that wants only to destroy. You have introduced a variable that I cannot categorize. I cannot predict how you will make me feel, and therefore, I cannot control the response."

"And if you can't control it, you don't trust it," you whispered.

"Exactly," Satan nodded, his eyes remained fixed on yours. "To a demon like me, softness is not a virtue. It's more of a glitch and loss of autonomy. When I said that kind of weakness gets punished in the Devildom, I wasn't being vicious. I was being literal. If I lose my discipline because of an emotional attachment I don't understand, the wrath at my core will fill the gap. I label it as weakness because it makes me predictable and vulnerable to the very impulses I have worked centuries to suppress."

Satan didn't hate you. He was terrified of the version of himself that cared for you, because that version didn't have a manual.

"You think that by labeling it weakness, you can dismiss it," you calmly said. "But you aren't dismissing it, Satan. You're just obsessing over it. You're trying to solve a human heart like it's a logic puzzle."

Satan looked at you with a focused gaze as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. "It is the only way I know how to interact with the world. If I cannot analyze a thing, it owns me. And I refuse to be owned."

"Not even by yourself?" you asked.

A flicker of the wrath he was so afraid of flashed in his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it and exhaled shakily. Satan reached out, his hand hovering near your face before he caught himself and pulled back.

"I do not resent you," he honestly said. "I resent the lack of clarity you bring. I resent that I can no longer look at a situation and see only the most efficient path because your safety or your opinion has become a weight in the scale. It is inefficient…and dangerous."

"But do you regret it?" you cautiously asked.

Satan was silent for a long time. The clock on his mantel ticked away the seconds, making each heavier than the one before. He looked at the book on the bed, then back at you.

"No," he finally said in a clipped tone. "I do not regret it. But that does not mean I know what to do with it. I am a creature built on control, attempting to house something that is, by definition, uncontrollable. I am an observer of a phenomenon I was never meant to experience."

He turned away then, walking back to his bed, though he did not sit. Satan looked at one of his bookshelves, lost in thought as he continued. "I can acknowledge that my phrasing in the hallway lacked nuance. I was not considering how a human would interpret a structural analysis of demonic vulnerability. It was an oversight."

You figured that was the closest you would get to an apology for the time being. Satan was at least acknowledging that he had failed to calculate the emotional cost of his words.

"You're going to keep thinking about this, aren't you?" you said as you walked toward the door. "You're going to go back to your books and try to find a chapter that explains why you didn't just walk away when things got complicated."

Satan didn’t look back, but his shoulders tensed. “I will continue to analyze the situation. The variable remains unresolved."

You left his room without another word. You knew that while the others might seek comfort or distraction, Satan would spend the rest of the day in a silent battle with himself, trying to figure out how to trust a heart that he couldn't put into a category. You had broken his logic, and for a demon who lived by the mind, that was the most intimate thing you could have done.

“Hey, you….okay?” A hesitant voice called out from a few feet behind you. Mammon curiously studied your face when you turned around as if trying to read whether you would also run away this time.

You..

Nod and walk away

Apologize to him

Run close and hug him

Invite him to your room to talk

Voting ended onApr 17

[lancermylove]

Case of the Unconscious Queen 7

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Grim paced near your feet, his blue-flamed ears twitching with irritation. “We need answers, and we need them before I lose my mind.”

You exhaled shakily, feeling the weight of the night pressing against your chest again. Your patience had finally reached its limit, and without warning, you stepped forward and dropped your entire weight directly onto Leona’s body. His emerald eyes snapped wide, and the prince was at a loss for words. Jack, who was now leaning against the fireplace, stiffened before moving his eyes away, his cheeks turning a faint red. Ruggie paused mid-bite, unsure of whether to snicker, ask if you had a death wish, or suggest getting a private room.

You rested your head on his shoulder, using him as your mattress, and faced him with an unwavering gaze. “I am not getting off this sofa until you tell me everything you know about what happened tonight.”

Leona stared back at you, still trying to get his mind to wrap around your courageous move. You could feel the heavy thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, but he didn't push you off, though his tail gave an annoyed flick.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, (y/n),” he growled.

“Answer the question,” you countered.

Leona shifted slightly, though he seemed more resigned than angry. He let out a heavy sigh that ruffled your hair. “Riddle is awake. He was discharged from the infirmary and sent back to Heartslabyul about thirty minutes ago.”

You scrambled off him so quickly you nearly tripped over the coffee table. Jack stepped forward to catch you, but you regained your balance and beelined for the door, Grim tailing close behind. Leona slumped back into the sofa with a grunt of annoyance, mumbling about idiots who didn't listen. Jack and Ruggie exchanged a long look, but neither of them dared to say a word.

The run to the Heartslabyul portal felt like an eternity, but when you reached the rose gardens, you saw Riddle standing alone in the center of the courtyard. His posture was rigid, and his hands were curled tightly by his sides.

“Riddle,” you called out in a breathless voice.

He turned sharply, his red eyes flashing with a defensiveness you weren’t expecting. “(Y/n). What are you doing here at this hour?”

The relief that surged through you was quickly overshadowed by the coldness in his tone. He looked pale, but he was undeniably upright.

“I heard you were back,” you said, trying to catch your breath. “I was so worried. Crowley asked me to investigate what caused you to collapse, and we were afraid there was foul play or some kind of curse.”

The moment the word investigation left your lips, Riddle’s expression shifted from irritation to horror.

“No,” he sharply said.

Grim flinched, and you blinked, taken aback by the finality of his voice. “Riddle, we just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Stop the investigation this instant,” Riddle ordered. “I am perfectly fine. There was no foul play, no attack, and certainly no reason for the Headmage to send you scurrying around the school like a common messenger.”

Grim frowned, his tail whipping behind him. “But you were out cold! We’ve been all over the place looking for clues!”

“There are no clues to find because nothing happened,” Riddle snapped. He looked desperate to end the conversation. “I am the Housewarden of Heartslabyul, and I tell you there is nothing wrong. You will return to the Ramshackle Dorm and get some rest. That is an order.”

Before you could protest, before you could ask about the rumors Rook had mentioned or the conversation with Azul, Riddle turned on his heel. He marched toward the dorm building without looking back, his cape whipping behind him. You and Grim stood speechless in the empty courtyard.

“Well,” Grim muttered, his ears drooping. “That was a warm welcome.”

You didn't answer as a dull ache began to fill your chest. Wordlessly, you turned and began the long walk back to Ramshackle. When you returned to the fire, it had burned down to a low, orange glow. Ruggie had dozed off in the chair with his head lolling to the side. Jack remained by the hearth and looked up with a questioning glance as you entered. Leona hadn't moved from the sofa.

“Back already,” Leona noted, his eyes tracking your slumped shoulders.

You sank on the edge of the other sofa, staring into the flickering flames. “He was angry and told me to stop everything. He acted like I was being a nuisance for even caring.”

“I tried to tell you,” Leona said, stretching his arms over his head. “He was acting strange. He wanted to be left alone, even more than he usually does when he’s throwing a tantrum. Listen to what I have to say before running off next time.”

Jack shifted his weight, his brow furrowing. “He can be childish when his pride is wounded. Maybe he’s just embarrassed that he collapsed.”

Grim shifted his gaze to you and whispered, “Should we just call it? We can tell Crowley tomorrow that Riddle shut us down and that there’s nothing left to look into.”

You stared at your shaking hands as you thought about the burnt roses, Riddle’s behavior when he left Heartslabyul without telling anyone where he was going, the shady ledgers in Octavinelle, and the cryptic warnings from Lilia. Most of all, you thought about the way Riddle had looked at you as if your concern was a burden.

“No,” you firmly said.

Grim blinked and tilted his head. “Huh?”

“This isn't just about Crowley’s orders anymore,” you said, looking up at the group. Your frustration had hardened into cold resolve. “I spent the entire night exhausted and stressed because I was genuinely worried about him. I put myself through too much because I thought Riddle was in danger. I am tired of being blown around like a leaf by everyone in this school. If Riddle is hiding something, I’m going to find out what it is. Now it’s personal.”

Leona watched you with a blank expression, but your eyes were unusually focused on your face. There was a glimmer of respect in his gaze, though it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“If you’re going to be that dramatic about it, do it after you’ve slept,” Leona said. He settled deeper into the cushions. “I’m not leaving tonight. Walking back to Savanaclaw will be a pain.”

Jack stepped forward, clearing his throat. “If the offer still stands, I would like to use one of the spare rooms. I’d rather be here if things get...complicated tomorrow.”

“Go ahead, Jack. Third door on the left upstairs,” you said before heading back to your room.

You lay in your bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, but sleep was miles away. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Riddle’s defensive stance, but your thoughts were disrupted by a light knock on your door. You sat up as the door creaked open, revealing Leona’s silhouette.

“You’re still awake,” he stated, staying by the doorframe.

“So are you,” you countered.

Leona sighed and looked at you with an unreadable expression. “You need to learn how to stand your ground. You let that crow of a Headmage walk all over you.”

You let out a dry laugh. “I don't exactly have a choice, Leona. Crowley expects me to handle everything because I’m the only one who doesn't have magic to fight back with. If I don't play along, I lose my roof and my food.”

Leona didn't tease you this time, nor did he offer a snide comment or a lazy smirk. He studied your dark circles and the way you were gripping the edge of your blanket.

“Go to sleep,” he said, in an unusually soft voice. “And next time you decide to make a point, don't use me as a bed in front of Jack and Ruggie.”

“What? You mean I should only do it in private?” You teased as a small smile tugged on your lips.

Leona froze, and for a second, the cool, untouchable King of Savanaclaw vanished. You would have sworn you saw a faint, dark flush creep up his neck. He turned away so quickly he nearly clipped the doorframe. “Go to sleep.”

You smiled to yourself as he shut the door. The tension in your chest finally eased enough to calm your mind and give in to sleep.

The next morning, the sun broke through the dust motes in the lounge. You walked downstairs to find Leona and Jack already awake and waiting for you.

“We’re coming with you,” Jack said.

You blinked, not expecting to hear such determination from him first thing in the morning. “Both of you? Why?”

“It’s the weekend,” Jack said, clearing his throat. “I have nothing better to do.”

Grim squinted at them as a playful smile curled on his lips. “You guys are worried about the (y/n), aren't you?”

“In your dreams, furball,” Leona drawled. “I just want to see how this disaster ends.”

“Where to next? You’ve hit almost every dorm,” Jack continued, not wanting to get sidetracked from the main objective.

You exhaled, mentally checking off your dorm list. “Scarabia and Ignihyde. Those are the only two left.”

"Then where would you like to go?" Jack asked.

Scarabia

Ignihyde

Crowley’s office

Back to Riddle

Voting ended onApr 12

[lancermylove]

Reflections of the Past 7

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

As soon as you walked into your bedroom, wanting to get away from the others, a worried voice broke the stagnant silence.

"You look like a discarded porcelain doll…all cracked and fragile at the edges."

Asmo sat at the foot of your bed with a fashion magazine in one hand. He saw through your stoic mask immediately. It was a talent of his born of centuries of studying the nuances of desire and striving for perfection.

"That bad, then?" he whispered when you didn’t respond.

You didn’t have the energy to lie, so you crossed the room and joined him on the mattress, your shoulders hunching as if bracing for another tense conversation. Asmo moved behind you, and while you noticed, you didn’t question him. His hands were warm and smelled faintly like rosewater. When his fingers first pressed into the knots along your spine, you nearly flinched, but the gentle pressure began to relax your tense muscles.

"You are…stressed," Asmo noted. "Did something happen downstairs? Or is this just the weight of being the only human in a realm of demons finally catching up to you?"

You stared at the patterns on the rug as you tried to figure out how to answer his question. "Was it a mistake, Asmo? My coming here, the exchange program...did I just ruin everything for all of you?"

His hands stilled, and the air in the room froze. But he quickly resumed the massage, though his touch grew more grounding.

"Whatever gave you such a ridiculous idea?" he curiously asked.

"I changed all of you," you whispered, your voice unintentionally cracking. "Demons aren't supposed to be soft...and I changed that."

Asmo let out a soft huff as he leaned forward, resting his chin on your shoulder. "You did change things. I would be a liar if I said the House of Lamentation was the same as it was a year ago. But…"

He paused to work a stubborn knot near your neck. "Before you arrived, my beauty was a weapon and a shield. I used it to keep people at a distance while demanding they look at me. I was terrified that if I stopped being perfect for even a second, there would be nothing left worth loving. I was a hollow ornament, sweetie."

Asmo’s fingers swept across your shoulders, leaving a wake of goosebumps. "You were the first person who looked at me like you saw me. You didn't care about the glamor or the fame. You made me realize that my value wasn't something I had to perform. You didn't make me weaker. You gave me the courage to like who I am when the makeup comes off."

He squeezed your shoulders firmly, and while you couldn’t see his face, you could hear the joy in his voice. “I like the person I have become because of you. I wouldn't trade this self back for all the power in the Devildom."

Asmo pulled back slightly and tilted his head to see your face. His eyes were searching yours as if he was trying to figure out the answer to his question even before asking. "Why would you ever think your existence was a mistake?"

You felt the urge to explain the hallway conversation in detail, to tell him everything Solomon and Mephisto had said, but the words died in your throat. You were too drained to repeat the tragedy.

"It is a long story," you said quietly. "I am just tired, Asmo."

He didn't push and simply hummed before returning to work on your shoulders until your bedroom door burst open.

"Asmo!" Levi said in a panic. “Mammon is in the common room with a camera and a stack of your limited edition palettes. He is telling his followers that the cosmetics are yours and for sale. The bidding is already into the thousands of Grimm!"

Asmo’s tender side vanished and was replaced by the rage of a demon. "He did what? Those are my custom blends! I will pluck every hair strand on his head!"

Once Asmo hurried out, Levi shifted his weight from one foot to the other before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"You have been acting differently," Levi quietly said.

You tensed, expecting another interrogation, but Levi didn't move closer. “I am not going to ask why. I know I am just a shut-in otaku, and I am not good at the whole emotional support NPC thing. But I noticed that the air in the house feels...wrong. It is quiet, and not the good kind of quiet where I can play my games in peace, but the kind of quiet that happens right before a final boss wipes your entire party."

He met your gaze and attempted to give a small smile. "When you are distant like this, it is like the light in the house has been nerfed. It makes everything feel dark and cold. I hate it."

The bluntness of his confession caught you off guard. Leviathan usually spoke his feelings in hidden layers of sarcasm or self-deprecation, but this was direct.

"You are the light of this house," he said with a slight crack in his voice. "I know that sounds like some cheesy dialogue from a low-budget dating simulator, but it’s true. If you ever need to talk, or if you just need to hide from the others because they are being too much, my room is a safe zone. No one goes in there without my permission. I will even let you use my best headset."

His sincerity touched a part of you that had grown numb since the hallway incident. You looked down at your feet, considering your options, then back at him. "Do you want to watch something, Levi? I don't think I can be alone right now."

His usual gloom vanished and was replaced by a frantic energy of a fan who had just been given a super ultra rare figurine. "You want to binge-watch? Seriously? I have the entire new season of 'The Magical Ruri-Hana' on my drive! We can start from episode one!"

For the next few hours, you sat in a bean bag next to Levi as the two of you watched the episodes. He even gave you a running commentary of tropes and plot holes, ensuring your mind was not thinking about the thoughts that had been pressing on your chest.

Halfway through a pivotal battle scene, the main character of the show sacrificed their own safety to protect a group of strangers. Levi moved his eyes to you and gave a small smile. "You know…you are a lot like the lead character in this series."

You laughed weakly. "I don't feel like a hero, Levi. I feel like the person who keeps tripping over the power cords."

Levi shook his head firmly, his eyes determined to help you think otherwise. "No, you’re the dependable one. The one who enters the story, and suddenly, everyone else's character arc starts moving forward. We were all just stuck in a loop before you got here. The same fights, same pride, same boredom….and so on. You are the one we all end up needing, even if some of us are too stupid or prideful to admit it."

He glanced at you with a smile that reached his orange-blue eyes. "You keep us from falling apart. Without the lead, the rest of us are just background characters with no purpose. Don't ever think we would be better off in Devildom without you."

You leaned your head back against the massive bean bag, and for the first time in days, your spiraling thoughts slowed down. Not everyone thought the way Belphie and Satan did, and it felt like standing in the shade on a bright summer afternoon.

But you knew you couldn't avoid the inevitable forever, so you decided that the first thing in the morning you would visit...

Satan

Lucifer

Mammon

Belphie

Voting ended onApr 4

[lancermylove]

Case of the Unconscious Queen 6

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

As you stepped out of the Octavinelle portal, Grim’s ears drooped, his usual cheekiness replaced by weariness. You didn't need more clues - you needed silence. Your gaze drifted to the portal that glowed a deep, eerie green.

“Are we really going to Diasomnia?” Grim whispered, sticking close to your ankles.

“Yes,” you sighed. “They usually keep to themselves. It’s the only place on campus where no one will ask us for a favor or a contract…hopefully.”

The green light pulled you into the mystery-shrouded quiet valley of thorns. The air felt heavier here, yet had a sense of much-needed calm. A familiar figure stepped out from the shadows of a towering pillar and stared with wide, bluish-purple eyes. “(Y/n)? And Grim. It is quite late for a visit. Is everything alright?”

You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hands. “Not in the slightest. My head is spinning, Silver.”

Grim nodded emphatically. “We’re officially rebelling. Our brains are mush...”

Silver’s expression softened as he studied the two of you with concern. “You shouldn't be standing out here in the cold. Come inside.”

You followed him through the winding path and quiet halls, giving him the details of the night and your investigation from the scorched roses in Heartslabyul to the cryptic warnings in Pomefiore, and the aggressive standoff with Azul in Octavinelle.

Silver listened with a steady, grounding presence without interrupting or offering theories. The conversation continued until you reached the lounge.

“So you came here to hide,” Silver said softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I find that rather sweet. I’m glad you feel safe enough here to let your guard down.”

You only nodded as you were too drained to find a witty response. Silver led you into a room where Lilia sat cross-legged on a satellite chair, his face illuminated by the neon glow of a handheld gaming device. The electronic beeps and chirps felt surreal in the gothic setting.

Without looking up, Lilia chuckled. “Oh, look at that. Our favorite little trouble magnets have arrived.”

He finally glanced up, his crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backward.”

Before you could speak, he flicked his wrist, tossing a gaming controller in your direction.

“Sit,” Lilia chuckled, gesturing to the space beside him. “You need a distraction before your mind fractures.”

You sank into another satellite chair beside his and started to follow Lilia’s lead in the game. Behind you, Silver sat on Lilia’s bed, leaned back against the headboard, and instantly gave in to his drowsiness. Grim didn't hesitate to take advantage of Silver’s warmth and curled into a ball against his side.

After several rounds of silent play, Lilia broke the silence without shifting his gaze from the screen. “You’re completely drained. Who do I need to go out and jump scare?”

You let out a long, ragged breath. “Everyone. I’ve spent the night hearing one lie after another.”

“Night Raven College is never short on drama,” he said, laughing softly. “You certainly chose a stressful night to play detective. I suppose you’ve already had a pleasant chat with Azul?”

Your head snapped in his direction. “How did you know we went to Octavinelle?”

“Some students are simply easier to track than others. Azul is a spider who enjoys the center of his web, but he’s been more active lately. I’ve heard whispers that he’s been planting seeds of doubt throughout the dorms,” Lilia playfully replied. “But I’m certain you will provide more details.”

You summarized the investigation again, the frustration returning to your voice as you mentioned Azul’s suspicious behavior. Lilia listened with an intensity that suggested he was reading between the lines of every word you said.

“Do you know what he’s planning?” you asked, leaning in.

Lilia smirked, his eyes flickering with a hidden light. “I am truly flattered that you think I am the fountain of all knowledge. But I am not a gossip queen who keeps a ledger of every secret. I simply keep my ears open.”

You narrowed your eyes. He was hiding something; the deflection was too smooth…way too practiced, but before you could press him, the door was flung open with enough force to rattle the decorations on the wall.

“(Y/n)!” Sebek stormed into the room, causing Grim to yelp and tumble off the bed.

Sebek pointed a finger at you, his voice louder than before. “Explain your presence! Have you no concept of the hour? Younger master requires his rest, and your late-night wandering is a direct affront to the sanctity of this dorm!”

You winced, your headache returning with a vengeance, but before you could say anything, a shadow cast over Sebek.

“Sebek,” Malleus quietly commanded. “Lower your voice. You are the only one disturbing the peace.”

Sebek froze, his face draining of color. “My deepest apologies, young master! I was merely protecting your privacy!”

Malleus ignored him, his green eyes shifting to you with a look of mild curiosity. “I do not mind their company. In fact, I quite enjoy spending time with the child of man.”

Your face heated up, while Lilia chuckled. Grim, now fully awake and grumpy, stared at the sleeping Silver in disbelief. “How is he still out? Is he dead? He’s gotta be dead!”

Malleus gestured toward the hall with a graceful hand. “Walk with me for a moment.”

You stood on shaky legs and followed him out into the night. Malleus walked with his hands clasped behind his back as he glanced down at you.

“What brings you to Diasomnia this late?” he asked. “Do you suffer from insomnia?”

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling exhausted at the thought of having to once again repeat all the events of the evening, but Grim beat you to the punch. He began a rapid-fire explanation of the entire night, from finding Riddle to the Mostro Lounge.

“Is Rosehearts alright?” Malleus asked when Grim finally paused for air.

“He’s stable, but he hasn't woken up,” you softly replied.

Malleus nodded, his gaze lingering on the dark horizon. He didn't press you for more details, seemingly sensing that your capacity for conversation was at its limit. Instead, he led you toward the path to Ramshackle Dorm.

“You look as though you might collapse at any moment,” Malleus observed as you reached your dorm. “You must sleep.”

“I’m going to,” you promised.

Malleus stopped and turned to face you with a dead serious expression. “If you do not sleep, I will be forced to take matters into my own hands. I shall throw you over my shoulder, carry you back to my own quarters, and take you to bed myself.”

Crickets. Your jaw dropped, and a heat more intense than any fire spell rushed to your cheeks.

“I…” you stammered, your brain short-circuiting at the thought of Malleus taking you to his bed. But you didn't wait and sprinted toward the front door of Ramshackle. Your heart was ready to hammer out of your chest. Grim scrambled after you, shouting for you to slow down, but you didn’t hear a word.

Malleus stood alone at the gate, looking bewildered. “Did I misspeak? But Lilia said I should say those words…”

You burst through the front door of Ramshackle, thinking you could run to your room; instead, you found Leona draped across the sofa, Jack stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed and his tail twitching with nervous energy, and Ruggie sat on your favorite armchair, happily munching on a bag of snacks you had kept for yourself.

Grim’s eyes went wide. “HEY! Those are our snacks!”

Ruggie grinned. “You really shouldn't leave your stash in such obvious places.”

Grim growled and charged at him, but your focus was on Leona. “What are all of you doing here?”

Leona cracked one eye open, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “A little bird told me you’ve been running all over campus playing detective tonight.”

“Did you come here to help me?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

Leona let out a short, dry laugh. “Help? No. This mess is your responsibility, not mine. I’m just here for the show.”

Jack stepped forward then, his ears flattened slightly in embarrassment at his Housewarden’s attitude. “(Y/n), if you truly need assistance, I can help you. It’s unfair that you have to do this alone.”

You looked at the three of them, then at your stolen snacks, then back at the door. Your break was officially over.

With a heavy sigh, you...

Take Jack's help

Take Leona's help by blackmailing him

Bribe Ruggie and take his help

Use Leona as your personal bed

Voting ended onApr 5

[lancermylove]

Reflections of the Past 6

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

“What did you say to him?” Beel asked again.

You kept your eyes fixed on the glass in your hands. The water inside trembled in sync with your heartbeat until you set it down on the counter with a soft clink.

“You deserve the truth, Beel,” you said quietly.

Beel did not interrupt you. He stood with his large hands resting on the back of a wooden chair, his knuckles white against the dark grain. You spoke bluntly and told him about the poisonous words you had overheard Satan and Belphie exchange. You detailed the way those words had made you feel while you wandered through the streets of the Devildom. You mentioned Solomon’s clinical observations and Mephistopheles’ straightforward advice. Then you told him about the foyer. You described the way Belphie had been waiting, his eyes full of a concern that felt like a lie after what you had heard. You repeated the question you had thrown at him, the one that had left him looking like a ghost of himself. But you didn’t apologize for the psychological bruise you had left on his twin.

When you finished, a heavy silence fell over the kitchen. Beel stood like a statue, his broad shoulders rigid as if he were bracing for a physical blow. His usual warmth was replaced by a chaotic conflict clearly visible on his face - a mixture of pain, hurt, and confusion.

“You heard him say all that?” Beel quietly asked.

“I heard every word,” you replied.

Beel ran a hand over the back of his neck, contemplating the situation. He was the emotional anchor of his brothers, the one who experienced the world through feelings rather than hardened logic.

“I am angry at him,” Beel admitted, his voice trembling. “He shouldn’t have said those things about you…ever.”

The confession sounded as though it pained him to say it aloud.

“But he is my twin,” Beel finished quietly. “He looked broken this morning. I have seen Belphie in every state imaginable. But I have never seen him look like he was empty.”

You felt a sharp pang in your chest, but you didn’t let it sway your resolve. Beel lifted his eyes to meet yours, and for the first time, there was a flicker of accusation in his gaze. “Why were you so harsh with him?”

The question was not intended to wound you, but it did exactly that. He could not understand why you chose to hurt someone he loved, even if Belphie had hurt you first.

“Because I needed to know the truth, Beel,” you said as patiently as you could. “I needed to know what your brothers really think of me. Am I someone you actually care for, or am I just a mistake that you are all too proud to admit?”

Beel’s brow furrowed deeply. “You know that is not how we see you.”

“Do I?” you whispered. “I heard Satan and Belphie talk about how I changed the balance. How demons aren’t supposed to be soft. I needed to know if they were mourning the monsters they used to be, or if they actually resented the person who made them change. I cannot stay somewhere if my existence is tearing your family apart.”

The sentence hit Beel hard, and the color drained from his face. He gripped the back of the chair so hard the wood cracked under the pressure.

“No,” he said, panicked. “You can’t...”

“I am not saying I have decided to leave,” you replied. “I am saying I had to know the truth before I decide if staying here is selfish on my part.”

Beel shook his head slowly, his eyes wide with a burgeoning terror. Family was everything for it; he had spent centuries acting as the quiet glue, checking on his brothers, ensuring they were fed, and absorbing their tensions so they wouldn't have to. Your words did not just mean a personal loss; they signaled the collapse of the fragile peace he was trying to maintain.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to apologize for him, Beel.”

“But I do,” he insisted. “Belphie should never have made you feel like you had to question your place here. I should have noticed. I should have seen that you were hurting before it got to this.”

“You did nothing wrong. You have spent your life here trying to keep everyone together. You are the one who notices everything, but you are not responsible for the things they choose to say,” you softly said, gently touching his arm.

The hurt in his expression didn’t vanish, and you were aware it wouldn’t go away anytime soon.

Mammon stepped into the kitchen, looking frantic. “Hey, Beel, have you seen my-”

He stopped mid-sentence, his instincts picking up on the high-stakes atmosphere in the room. His eyes darted between your distant face and Beel’s devastated expression. Mammon shifted his weight, his usual bravado faltering as he tried to find a way to fix the unfixable.

“Okay,” Mammon said slowly. “Did I walk into a funeral or something?”

Neither of you answered him. Mammon scratched the back of his head, laughing awkwardly.

“Wow,” he muttered. “The vibe in here is bad. Is there a curse on the kitchen today?”

You let out a long, tired sigh that seemed to drain the last of your energy. Without a word of greeting or explanation, you turned and walked past him.

“Hey, wait! (Y/N)!” Mammon called out, reaching for your sleeve.

You didn't stop. Mammon stood frozen for a second before turning back to his brother.

“What the hell just happened, Beel?” he asked, his voice rising in pitch. “Why did they just walk out on the Great Mammon like I was invisible?”

Beel stared at the spot where you had been standing. “I think the house is breaking.”

Mammon’s expression crumbled. The mask of the arrogant older brother slipped, revealing the deep-seated insecurity that always simmered beneath the surface.

“Did I do something?” Mammon asked. “Did they say they were mad at me? Did I screw up again and not notice?”

Beel shook his head slowly. “No, Mammon. It’s not about you.”

But for Mammon, everything was about the fear of being unwanted. If you were upset, it felt like a personal failure on his part to keep you happy. He watched Beel push his chair back and walk toward the stairs. Now that he was alone, Mammon felt the silence of the House of Lamentation pressing on him like a physical weight. He couldn't stand it and needed someone to tell him what to do.

Mammon headed to Lucifer’s office and knocked frantically before pushing his way inside. Lucifer sat behind his desk, looking composed as always, but the way he held his pen suggested a tension that was near its breaking point.

“What is it, Mammon?” Lucifer asked without looking up.

“Something is wrong with everyone,” Mammon blurted out. “(Y/n) won’t even look at me. Belphie is acting like a corpse, and Beel looks like he’s about to cry. What are we supposed to do?”

Lucifer’s eyes were shadowed by a fatigue that went deeper than sleeplessness. He looked at Mammon, but it felt as though he was looking through him at the very foundation of the house itself.

“I am aware of the situation, Mammon,” Lucifer said in a clipped voice.

“So? What’s the plan? Who do I have to yell at to make things go back to normal?”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “We are going to do nothing.”

Mammon stared at him in disbelief. “Nothing? Are you serious? The whole place is falling apart!”

“This is not a problem that can be solved by my intervention or your shouting,” Lucifer replied. His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of genuine pain. “Some fires must be allowed to burn themselves out. They need to confront the reality of who they are before they can decide who they want to be.”

Mammon scowled, his frustration growing. “I hate when you act like you’re too smart to care. It’s a stupid plan.”

“It is not a plan, Mammon. It is a necessity,” Lucifer said, his gaze returning to his papers. “Now leave me. I have work to finish.”

Mammon turned and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He stood in the hallway, trying to figure out what to do. He wanted to buy you something expensive, or pick a fight with Leviathan, or do anything that would make the air feel less like it was made of lead.

But as he looked down the long, dark corridor, he realized he had no idea how to fix a situation he didn’t know about.

You drag your feet away from the kitchen, and you...

Return to your room

Visit Levi

Visit Diavolo's castle

Go outside and scream at the top of your lungs

Voting ended onMar 27

[lancermylove]

Case of the Unconscious Queen 5

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4]

“Let’s Sparta kick Azul’s office and interrogate him!” You confidently said, pumping your fist in the air.

“Spa- what?” Grim tilted his head, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, in my world, Spartans were a group of civilization. There was a movie made on their king, and…you know what, never mind. Let’s just kick his door down and interrogate him,” You laughed nervously. The thought of having to explain history and the movie scene to Grim made your head spin. He would ask too many questions…way too many questions.

The air in Octavinelle was filled with the scent of various foods wafting from Mostro Lounge. Grim shivered when a draft of cold air smacked his body. “Every time we set foot in this place, I feel like my wallet is getting lighter just by breathing.”

You didn't respond or even slow down. Two towering figures loomed near the entrance to the inner sanctum. Jade stood with his usual poise, hands folded neatly, while Floyd leaned against the bar counter.

“A marvelous evening to you, (y/n),” Jade began in a smooth voice, but he was already searching your eyes to learn of your intention.

“Ooh, Shrimpy’s here,” Floyd exclaimed, a crooked, wide-eyed grin tugging across his face.

You didn't look at them, nor did you offer a greeting. You marched past them so closely that the wind of your movement ruffled Jade’s bangs. Jade’s mismatched eyes widened as his practiced smile faltered for a moment, and Floyd blinked, his head tilting with interest.

“Oh,” Floyd leaned closer to whisper to his twin. “This looks like it’ll be fun.”

Grim puffed out his chest, sensing the shift in your energy. “Ready on your signal.”

You didn't give a signal and kicked. BOOM. The wood slammed against the interior wall with a crack that echoed like a gunshot through the silent lounge. Azul jolted so violently that he nearly knocked over his inkwell, but a stack of contracts slid across his desk at his sudden movements. He stared at you with wide eyes behind his frames, his usual composure flushed down the drain by your unexpected appearance.

“Explain,” you commanded, storming into the room before he could gather himself. “Explain exactly what you did to Riddle.”

Azul’s composure struggled to stitch itself back together, but managed to stutter out a response. “I...I beg your pardon? This is a private office, not a-”

“Yeah! What kind of poison did you slip him?” Grim marched forward, hopping onto the edge of the mahogany desk. “Don’t play the 'innocent merchant' act with us. Give us the antidote!”

“Poison?” Azul repeated, but went rigid. His voice was steady, but his fingers drifted toward a drawer in his desk. He immediately tried to mask his movements by adjusting his glasses. “That is...a remarkably bold, and legally actionable, accusation.”

“You spread rumors to undermine him,” you said, leaning over his desk. “You were paid to destroy his reputation.”

Azul’s gaze flickered to the doorway at the twins lingering near the doorway. Jade’s expression was unreadable, but Floyd looked like he was watching an entertaining circus act.

Azul folded his hands to suppress the urge to dig his nails into his palms. ”Rumors are the currency of this school. I merely observe the exchange rate.”

“And what does that exchange rate have to do with Riddle collapsing?” Grim demanded, pointing a claw at his face. “You wanted him out of the way!”

“That is absurd!” Azul’s voice jumped an octave. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping the floor. “I am a businessman, not an assassin. Sabotaging a Housewarden, especially one as volatile as Riddle, would be a logistical nightmare with zero return on investment!”

He paused, his eyes darting to a ledger on his desk, but he looked cornered. Azul didn’t look guilty, but certainly like a man with a skeleton in his closet that was currently rattling its bones.

“Then explain why he was heading here,” you pressed. “Rook saw him. He was coming for you.”

For a second, his customer-service mask slipped, revealing a flash of genuine anxiety. “Why not ask Riddle yourself?”

“He’s unconscious, you octo-jerk!” Grim yelled.

Silence. Azul looked at you, then at the twins, then back at his desk. He looked like a man trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing, or a man wondering which of his gambles had finally caught up to him.

“Enough,” Azul coldly said. “You have barged into my office, leveled unfounded slanders against my character, and interrupted my work. I have nothing more to say to you.”

“You still haven't denied the rumor contract,” you noted.

Azul’s expression soured. “I do not discuss the particulars of my clients. Now, leave. I find your presence...taxing. Jade. Floyd. Escort our guests to the exit. Immediately.”

“Finally. I was getting bored just watching.” Floyd’s grin returned, wider than before.

“This way, Prefect,” Jade said in a perfectly polite tone as he gestured you out.

Jade closed the office door behind you with a soft click. As you walked back through the dimly lit lounge, Floyd let out a laugh. “Shrimpy, that was amazing! You actually kicked the door! I thought Azul was gonna ink himself.”

“He’s hiding something. I can smell the ink and the guilt,” Grim grumbled.

“Crowley’s little investigators are diligent,” Floyd teased, leaning down closer to your face. “Does the Headmage give you a gold star every time you find a clue, or is he just treating you like his personal little monkey?”

“We’re not monkeys!” Grim snapped, his tail flicking behind him in irritation.

“Right, right,” Floyd chuckled. “You just run around doing all his dirty work while he’s off having tea. It’s cute.”

A vein throbbed in your temple as your patience, already frayed by the encounter with Azul, was thinning.

Jade hummed thoughtfully, ignoring his brother’s antics. “Azul did look quite rattled, didn't he? It’s almost a pity. He’s worked so hard on his image.

Though if you are looking for evidence of...misconduct, you might find that Azul’s ledgers are far more interesting than his words. Not that I’m suggesting he’s guilty, of course. I would never dream of betraying my Housewarden’s confidence.”

The way Jade said it, with a sharp, knowing glint in his eye, made it sound like he was handing you the matches to start a fire.

“You’re just trying to get him in trouble!” Grim accused.

Jade placed a hand over his heart, looking wounded. “I am merely an observer of the truth, Grim.”

“Whatever,” you sighed. The salt air was making your head spin, and the constant riddles were exhausting. “I'm done for tonight.”

Grim blinked. “Wait, we’re stopping? But we’re so close to making him crack!”

“My brain is fried, Grim,” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Between the burnt roses, the tea rules, and the Leech twins’ word games, I can't think straight. We’re taking a break.”

Floyd laughed, stretching his long arms over his head. “Aww, Shrimpy rage quit! How adorable.”

“Rest well,” Jade said with a shallow bow. “The waters of Octavinelle are always here to...drown out your worries.”

You gave a slight nod and turned to the portal. You had more questions than when you started. Azul was hiding something, Jade was playing both sides, and Riddle was still out cold. But as you stepped back into the cool night air of the main campus, your mind protested to stop thinking. Your eyes flickered to the Diasomnia portal.

“Are we going to Diasomnia?” Grim whispered, standing close to your legs as if trying to comfort you.

“Yeah,” you sighed and started walking to the portal. “They usually stay out of the school campus drama…usually…so we can take a break there.”

"Who do you wanna go see?" Grim asked.

Silver. Maybe take a nap.

Lilia. Play video games with him.

Malleus. Walk around with him.

Sebek. Vent to him.

Voting ended onMar 22

[lancermylove]

Reflections of the Past 5

Series: [1] [2] [3] [4]

The concern in Belphie’s voice was real; a sharp contrast to the cold words you had heard him say in the hallway just nights before. He reached out to you, his fingers twitching near your sleeve, as if he was preparing to hear you say you got injured or a demon tries to hunt you.

"I am fine, Belphie," you said in a steadier voice than you intended. You remained perfectly still as you tried to calculate your next move.

"You shouldn't be out alone. You know how the others get when they think something's happened to you. Also, you're...you're acting strange…you’ve been acting strange," he sighed.

"Have I?" You tilted your head, watching the way his pupils dilated. "Or am I finally acting like the liability you and Satan think I am?"

Belphie froze, his hand dropping to his side, as the air in the room seemed to vanish for him. The dazed expression he usually wore gave way to a raw shock that made him look like a deer caught in the headlights. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out, and the suffocating silence stretched between you only got heavier.

"I heard you," you continued, following Mephisto's advice to the letter. You refused to be the wounded human he expected. "I heard what you said about the balance shifting. About how demons don't soften. About how you're not even sure you're demons anymore."

The Avatar of Sloth flinched as if you had struck him. He wasn't sure what to say, but managed to stutter out a few words that wouldn't even have convinced him if he were in your place. "That was...it wasn't meant for you. You weren't supposed to be there."

"But I was." You didn't let him retreat into his usual lethargy. You pushed further, locking your gaze onto his. "You're afraid because you think I've made you weak. You think that because you care about me. You think I made you lose your edge. You're mourning the demon you used to be because that version of you didn't have anything to lose."

He swallowed hard, and his eyes flickered as if he was trying to figure out a way to escape this conversation. "It's Devildom, (y/n). Softness is a death sentence here. We've lived through enough to know what happens when you let your guard down for the sake of a feeling."

"Then answer me this, Belphie. Do you hate that I changed you, or do you hate that you didn't want to change back?" Your voice dropped to an icy tone, daring him to look you in the eyes and give you a straightforward reply.

The question made him recoil as if you had punched his gut. His eyes widened, reflecting a sudden but terrifying realization that he was avoiding confronting. He could blame you for the weakness all he wanted, but he couldn't hide from the fact that he had embraced the warmth you brought. Belphie didn't want to go back to the cold, isolated existence he had known before, and he hated that the liability felt better than the power.

He looked at you like you were a stranger. The psychological safety of his indifference was stripped away by a single question. Belphie didn't answer - he couldn't. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, and for a moment, his eyes looked vacant. Without a word, he pushed past you, his shoulder brushing yours in a desperation to escape the room. He disappeared into the darkness of the upstairs corridor, his footsteps frantic against the stone floor.

You stood alone in the foyer, the adrenaline beginning to ebb away, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

"Whoa, hey! Watch where you're goin'!" Mammon's voice drifted from the area Belphie had hurried to.

A moment later, Mammon appeared in the archway, looking ruffled and perplexed. He looked back toward the stairs where his younger brother had disappeared before turning his attention to you.

"What the heck was that?" Mammon asked, walking toward you with his brow furrowed, but when he saw your expression, he paused. "Belphie just nearly ran me over. He looked like he saw a ghost. Or like someone just told him the world was endin'. Hey, (y/n)? You okay? You look kinda...pale. Did he say somethin' to ya? Because if he did anything, I'll go up there and-"

"Not now, Mammon," you interrupted in a cold voice.

You didn't look at him as you couldn't handle his frantic care right now. The weight of the evening, Solomon and Mephisto's words, and the look in Belphie's eyes were too much. You turned on your heel and walked toward your room, leaving Mammon standing in the middle of the foyer with his hand still extended toward the empty air. You didn't look back to see the hurt expression on his face. You just wanted the silence to return, even if it was the kind of silence that didn't feel comfortable.

The next morning, the House of Lamentation felt like it was holding its breath. The usual clatter during breakfast had given way to the heavy clink of silverware against porcelain. You went to the kitchen for a glass of water, hoping to slip in and out unnoticed, but Beel was already there. He was not eating and sat at the table with a single piece of untouched toast in front of him, his large frame hunched over. When he saw you, he stood up immediately with a deeply troubled expression.

"You're awake," Beel said softly, looking like he had not slept either. "I went to check on Belphie this morning. He was just sitting by the window. He didn't move when I came in...he didn't even look at me."

You kept your gaze on your glass, the water trembling slightly. Beel took another step closer, his voice dropping to a quiet plea. "I asked him what happened. I asked him if he had a nightmare or if he was sick. He wouldn't tell me anything. He just looked at the floor and said your name. That was all he said. Just...your name."

Beel searched your face, his purple eyes filled with desperation for answers. He was the protector of the family, the one who tried to keep them all safe, but he was out of his depth with a psychological wound he could not see.

"What did you say to him?" Beel asked, his voice cracking slightly. "He looks like he's falling apart, and I don't know what to do."

How do you respond?

Tell him the unfiltered truth

Keep it vague

Ask Beel a question instead

Walk away

Voting ended onMar 15

[lancermylove]

Case of the Unconscious Queen 4

Series: [1] [2] [3]

You stepped into the portal leading to Pomefiore with Grim following close by. As the two of you entered the dorm, Grim squinted up at the vaulted ceilings. “Why does this dorm always feel like it’s grading my existence?”

“It probably is,” you muttered and stopped to adjust your collar. The last time the left side of your collar was slightly higher than the right, Vil had given you a lecture on always looking presentable.

Vil stood in the center of the lounge, adjusting the sleeve of his dorm uniform. He didn’t need to look up and recognized your footsteps and Grim’s claws pattering on the marble floors.

“Prefect,” Vil greeted. “I assume your presence here concerns the unfortunate state of the Heartslabyul’s prefect?”

Word at Night Raven College spread at the speed of light.

“So you know?” you asked, relieved you could skip a full rundown.

“An unconscious Housewarden is hardly a subtle headline,” Vil remarked. “It’s untidy, and Riddle is never untidy.”

From a nearby settee, Epel leaned forward, his face clouded with curiosity. “Is he really that bad? People are saying it was a magic attack straight to the jugular.”

“That’s a rumor. But we’re still piecing the timeline together,” you said, keeping your voice neutral, as you didn’t want to give anything away in case the culprit was listening.

“We’re the lead investigators here to save the day,” Grim grinned and puffed out his chest.

Vil raised a brow, unimpressed. “How noble...of you.”

Before you could respond, a soft clap echoed from the shadows of the corridor. There was only one person in Pomefiore who loved dramatics - your next suspect, Rook Hunt.

“Ah, what a thrilling development!” Rook Hunt emerged from the shadows, his golden eyes shimmering in fascination. “Monsieur Rosehearts has fallen, and now the hunters gather to pick up the scent. C’est magnifique!”

Grim bristled. “We’re not hunters, we’re help!”

“In this world, mon petit chat, everyone is hunting for something. Truth, power...or perhaps just a bit of peace,” Rook smiled.

“Rook, did you see Riddle this evening?” You got straight to the point, knowing that if you beat around the bush, he would do the same.

Vil’s expression tightened as he looked at his vice-housewarden. “I had rehearsal all evening. Epel was with me. Neither of us saw him leave the grounds.”

“We were stuck in the ballroom until an hour ago. We didn’t even know he was out of his dorm,” Epel nodded quickly, eager to confirm the alibi.

The alibi felt solid and too clean to be worth poking. You shifted your focus to Rook, who was tilting his head at an angle that suggested he knew more than he let on.

“I caught a glimpse of him,” Rook murmured.

Vil straightened, his eyes narrowing. “You failed to mention that during dinner, Rook.”

“You did not ask, Roi du Poison,” Rook playfully replied.

“When exactly?” you pressed.

“Shortly before the sun dipped below the horizon,” Rook said in a collected tone. “He crossed the main courtyard alone…a solitary figure against the encroaching dark.”

“Alone,” you repeated, thinking back to Deuce’s claim that Riddle had left Trey in charge.

“Quite alone, and carrying himself with a remarkable intensity, even more so than usual,” Rook chuckled.

“That’s just Riddle,” Grim muttered. “He’s always uptight.”

“No,” Rook disagreed, his gaze drifting as if replaying the memory in his mind. “This was different. He checked his watch repeatedly, and his jaw was clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might shatter. He seemed like he was…forcing himself to a destination he didn’t want to visit.”

“Did he say anything?” You inquired.

“He muttered about order and inconvenience,” Rook replied.

“That describes roughly eighty percent of his waking life. The information is hardly useful,” Vil sighed.

“Did he look...sick? Or like he was about to lose control of his magic?” Epel asked with a frown.

Rook paused for a second as if he hesitating. “Not sick, but strained. Like a man resisting a very simple suggestion.”

It felt like he was purposely phrasing it to sound vague. “Resisting what, Rook?”

Rook met your eyes, his golden irises reflecting the chandelier light. “A suggestion of change. I advised him, in passing, to adjust his approach. His rigidity is a beautiful thing to behold, but even the finest diamond will shatter if hit at the wrong angle.”

“You criticized his leadership? No wonder he looked irritated,” Vil scoffed, crossing his arms in disapproval.

“I admired it,” Rook corrected, sounding wounded. “But I questioned its sustainability. He reacted precisely as one would expect, defending his rules with ferocity.”

“That sounds like a fight,” Epel said.

“It was a philosophical exchange,” Rook countered.

“Did you follow him after that?” you asked, growing suspicious.

Rook took his time answering the question as if weighing all of the options. “I observed his departure. My curiosity is rarely sated by words alone.”

“Rook,” Vil warned, his voice sharp. “Where did he go?”

“He walked with a very specific resolve. Not toward the library for reflection, nor toward the gardens for leisure. Earlier that afternoon, a certain...rumor had begun to drift through the halls.” Rook’s eyes gleamed, enjoying every moment of this.

“What sort of rumors?” Vil questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“A whisper,” Rook replied in a low hush. “A suggestion that Heartslabyul’s strictness was dampening student morale. A rumor that the Roi des Roses’s severity was no longer a virtue, but a liability to the dorm’s reputation.”

“Who would spread something like that?” Epel gasped.

“And who, pray tell, harvests whispers more efficiently than those who trade in them? Commerce thrives on the imbalance of power, after all,” Rook chuckled.

“Commerce…power…you’re talking about Azul?” You asked, tapping his chin.

“I simply mean that a certain Heartslabyul student was seen approaching Octavinelle. Preceding that, rumors bloomed,” Rook said with a shrug.

“So a Heartslabyul student paid Azul to damage Riddle’s reputation?” Epel asked, eyes widened.

“To encourage a reconsideration of the rules,” Rook clarified.

A heavy silence settled over the lounge as you pieced everything together: Riddle, already irritated, discovered that his dorm member paid a rival housewarden to undermine his authority even after he had softened after his overblot.

“That would do more than irritate him,” Vil said in a cold voice. “It would be a declaration of war.”

“Especially,” Rook added, “if he discovered the paper trail.”

“He found out,” you whispered. “He went to confront Azul.”

Rook tilted his head, a knowing smile tugging on his lips. Grim stared at you, his eyes wide. “Then let’s head to the Mostro Lounge!”

You didn’t wait for Vil’s parting remark or Epel’s reaction. If Riddle had stormed into Octavinelle in that state of mind, there was a chance that he might have unleashed Off With Your Head on Octavinelle students, which would have triggered Azul.

Rook watched your departure with delight, his hands clasped behind his back. He hadn’t told you where to go and hadn’t directly accused a soul; he had simply laid out the tracks and watched as you began the hunt. Vil observed Rook’s expression from his peripheral vision, knowing that look all too well.

You and Grim returned to the portals. Despite being tired of the goose chase, Grim seemed determined as the two of you were getting closer to finding out the truth.

"Let's go talk to Azul," Grim sighed.

"Let's talk to Jade first."

"Let's talk to Floyd first."

"Yeah, let's Sparta kick Azul's office door and interrogate him."

Voting ended onMar 8

[lancermylove]

Reflections of the Past 4

Series: [1] [2] [3]

You wandered aimlessly under the glow of the Devildom streets. Despite it being night, the air had not lost its grandiosity as many demons were still out and about, enjoying the nightlife.

"You walk like someone replaying a conversation they wish had gone differently."

Solomon leaned against a wrought-iron lamp post with his hands crossed. He was watching you with the clinical yet gentle curiosity of a sorcerer who has seen too much in his life.

"I was hoping you would run into me," he added, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "You tend to overthink even when your path is clear."

You didn't try to hide it. The weight of what you had overheard and Simeon's words pushed down on your shoulders. You told him about weakness, friction caused by change, and the terrifying realization that your presence was a glitch in their system. Still, you left out Simeon's words as you wanted Solomon's genuine opinion without any influence.

Solomon listened with a stillness that only an immortal could maintain. When you finally trailed off, he let out a soft, acknowledging hum.

"That tracks," he murmured.

"'That tracks'?" The casualness of the phrase felt like a mismatch for your mental crisis.

"Precisely." He began to walk, gesturing for you to join him. "Demons are architectural beings, built on pillars: Pride, wrath, greed…These aren't just personality traits - they are their survival instincts. Then you arrived. You didn't just enter their lives, you interfered with their anatomy."

You frowned, "I made things complicated."

"You disrupted their equilibrium," Solomon gently corrected. He studied your profile with a sharp gaze. "You're looking at this through a human lens with the assumption that emotional growth is a universal virtue. But for a demon, an emotional shift is a security breach. It's unpredictability."

Satan spent centuries meticulously building a cage of logic to contain his rage. If he feels something he can't categorize…something that defies his books, he labels it a threat. It's not resentment toward you, specifically. It's resentment toward the chaos you represent for that cage."

"And Belphie?" you whispered.

Solomon's expression sharpened, and a flicker of something somber crossed his eyes. "Belphegor is a creature who has already paid the highest price for following his heart. He knows what happens when emotion overrides calculation. When he feels himself softening, especially toward a human, he doesn't see love. He sees a vulnerability that once nearly destroyed him."

"So I'm just a liability?" you said, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself. "I make them reckless."

"Not reckless," Solomon said, stopping to face you fully. "You make them capable of sacrifice. Demons understand the economy of power - contracts, leverage, dominance. But unconditional attachment? It has no market value. It can't be bargained away. It removes their upper hand. When a demon cares without a safety net, they lose their strategic advantage. To a ruler, that isn't just scary - it's existential terror."

He reached out, as if to pat your shoulder, but hesitated. "You aren't a weakness, (y/n). You are an uncertainty. They aren't debating whether you are 'good' or 'bad.' They are calculating what your existence is going to cost them in the long run."

The silence that followed was suffocating, but Solomon could read your mind, even if you tried to shield it from him.

"If they truly hated you," Solomon added, "they would be cold and efficient. They would have removed the problem by now. But conflict? Conflict is friction. It means they are fighting themselves because they can't bring themselves to pay the price of losing you."

With those words, he rested a large hand on your head and excused himself to give you space to think about his words. Even as you started heading back to the house, his words still rang in your ears. But then, Mephistopheles stepped out from behind a stone pillar, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied you with an intense gaze.

"Were you eavesdropping?" you asked in a weary voice.

"I was observing," he countered. "A minor distinction, perhaps. So, you've finally realized that the pillars of our society are leaning a bit too far to one side."

He stepped into the light, his polished shoes clicking heavily against the stone. Unlike Solomon's gentle redirection, Mephisto's presence was like a cold splash of water.

"You think they resent you for making them hesitate," he said bluntly. "Of course they do. They aren't used to valuing anything they can't force into submission. Attachment introduces risk, and in the Devildom, risk invites predators."

"So I am a liability," you repeated, the word tasting like ash on your tongue.

Mephistopheles let out a short, dry laugh. "If you were a liability, Lucifer would have locked you in a tower or sent you back to the human world months ago. They don't treat you like a weakness; they treat you like a territory worth defending. You're asking if they hate you, but the real question is: Are they willing to be 'lesser' demons for the sake of being better versions of themselves?"

He turned to leave, pausing only to cast one last look over his shoulder. "Don't shrink away. Demons respect power. If you act like a wounded animal, you'll only prove their fears right. Stand your ground and force them to admit that they would rather be vulnerable with you than powerful without you."

Simeon's words represented the brothers' thoughts, carved through the change he had seen in them from when they were angels to their current demon selves. Solomon's words were from the perspective of a wise immortal sorcerer who had contracts with countless demons. Mephisto's words came straight from the experience of being a demon. But all three essentially said the same thing.

By the time you reached the iron gates of the House of Lamentation, your mind was a whirlwind of leverage and cost. You pushed the heavy doors open, expecting everyone to be asleep, but found Belphie slumped near the entrance, looking half-dazed. But the moment his eyes landed on you, the lethargy vanished. He sat up, his brow furrowing with a sharp concern that mirrored exactly what Solomon had warned you about.

“Where were you?” he asked, his voice low and raspy. He stood up while scanning you from head to toe as if searching for injuries. “It’s late. You know it’s dangerous for you to be out there alone. You aren't hurt, are you?”

How do you approach the conversation?

Be blunt and put your foot down

Be calm and gentle

Mentally manipulate to test the waters

Immediately ask an unexpected question

Voting ended onMar 7

[lancermylove]

Case of the Unconscious Queen 3

Series: [1] [2]

You found Deuce near the back gardens, crouched low beside a half-ruined rose hedge with damp soil smeared across his gloves.

“Caught you red-handed!” Grim bristled.

Deuce recoiled violently and nearly tumbled backward into the thorns. “I-I’m not doing anything suspicious!”

“You’re kneelin’ next to a toasted bush,” Grim flatly said, unimpressed.

Stepping closer, you examined the damage; several blackened rose bushes sat at the edges of the garden, with their once-vibrant petals curled inward from the intense heat. Though the fire was out, the acrid tang of smoke still lingered in the air.

“Interrogation time,” Grim declared.

Deuce straightened and swallowed hard as his eyes darted toward the dorm windows, clearly calculating an escape route. When his gaze met yours, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Riddle said he was going somewhere,” Deuce quietly admitted. “Earlier today...”

“Where?” you pressed.

"He didn't say. He just informed us that Trey would be in charge until he returned."

That made sense, as Trey had been radiating the exhausted energy of someone forced to serve as a temporary authority.

Deuce rubbed the back of his neck, leaving a streak of dirt behind his ear. “Since he was gone, Trey and Cater decided to give everyone a breather from the crazy rules. Just until Riddle came back.”

Grim snorted, “In this place, less suffocating’ means chaos.”

“We thought,” Deuce continued, tripping over his words, “that if you came around asking questions, you’d report everything back to the Housewarden. So Trey told us to act normal, and Cater agreed.”

The forced smiles and hollow casual behavior from earlier made perfect sense. You gestured toward the scorched rose bushes. “And this?”

Deuce flinched and let out a nervous laugh, “Ace and I were practicing a fire spell. We wanted to improve our control…it was supposed to be a low-level spell…but it backfired. Haha….”

Grim stared at the remains of the charged hedge. “Backfire…literally.”

“The wind shifted! It spread faster than we expected, but we tried to stop the spell it. No one else saw it.” His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “Please, don’t tell Trey or Cater. And definitely don't tell Riddle. Please!”

You studied his face and saw fear along with a healthy dose of guilt, but it was the frantic anxiety that made you give in. He was trying hard, and if Riddle found out, there was a chance that Deuce would face a harsh punishment or be straight-up expelled.

“You think this is connected to what happened to Riddle?” You said to test the waters.

Deuce froze, his eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean? What happened to Riddle?”

“He’s fine, but we won’t tell until we find the culprit,” you dryly said, while Grim nodded.

He looked genuinely distressed now, and Deuce was far from a good actor, so you believed him.“I swear, we haven’t seen him since he left. He said he had an errand. That’s all I know.”

“Did he seem like himself, or did something feel off?”

Deuce thought for a bit before shaking his head. “He looked...irritated, but that’s normal for Riddle. He gets easily irritated, not that I need to tell you…everyone knows.”

"Irritated how? Like 'I'm gonna behead ya' irritated, or 'my tea is cold' irritated?" Grim tilted his head, trying to mimic your actions.

"Like something was bothering him," Deuce slowly said. "He wasn't angry at us, specifically. He just seemed...like he had to do something he didn't want to. He checked the time twice and muttered about Rule 153 before he walked out."

You weren’t even going to pretend that you knew any of the rules or remembered a single one. “Rule 153?”

“The evening tea rule,” Deuce sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Only herbal tea is allowed in the evening.”

“Why would a tea rule make him grumpy?” Grim asked, confused.

Deuce shook his head. “I don’t know. He just looked frustrated, like the rule was getting in his way or someone broke the rule.“

“You’re certain he didn’t say where he was heading?” You asked once more.

“I’m certain,” Deuce said firmly. “He didn’t tell anyone, not even Trey.”

Grim narrowed his eyes and placed his paws on his hips. “You’re hiding something else. I can smell the guilt!”

“I’m hiding the rose incident!” Deuce nearly yelled in desperation. “That’s it! I promise!”

You closely watched him, but his breathing had steadied, and his panic was focused entirely on the burnt bushes, not on Riddle. He didn’t do it. You and Grim exchanged looks, both of you seemingly on the same page.

“Fine,” you said, offering some mercy to him. “We won’t mention the roses.”

“Thank you. We’ll have them fixed before the sun comes up, I swear.” Deuce said with a small smile before returning to the charred hedges.

“You’d better, or I’m tellin’ him you used the roses for a barbecue,” Grim grumbled under his breath.

As you turned towards the exit, you glanced back at the ruined hedge. The clues were mounting: burned roses, a dorm enjoying a rare moment of leniency, and a Housewarden who had vanished on purpose, annoyed by a rule he usually worshipped, and your headache was growing. But Deuce had given you a puzzle piece - Riddle hadn't been taken and had left on his own terms.

“Now, what?” Grim asked as the two of you returned to the dorms portal area.

You looked around at the different dorm portals. “Who dislikes Riddle, or who does Riddle dislike?”

“Leona? But he dislikes everyone. Floyd? Riddle always gets mad at him. Rook? He creeps around Riddle once in a while. Maybe Azul? The guy’s always makin’ deals,” Grim frowned.

"So who do you want to see?"

Leona

Azul

Floyd

Rook

Voting ended onFeb 28