The city's neon lights and constant noise seemed to fall silent in that moment—as if time itself had granted them a brief pause, freezing everything for a handful of seconds. Seconds that felt eternal for two misunderstood beings who, for the first time, appeared to truly see one another.
She had styled her hair so that the front, the part she always hid behind her bangs, now revealed her green eyes—eyes like emeralds. It was the first time he saw them so clearly, giving her an even more angelic and exotic presence than the former heroine had ever shown before.
And then, as if deliberately staged for a theater performance, the pale moonlight entered the scene, filtering through the perpetual smog of Daten City. It settled on Mina, bathing her in a silver glow so faint, but so magical, that it enhanced her ethereal and vulnerable appearance—her exotic skin even more beautiful beneath that nearly celestial radiance.
For Devyus, it was like seeing a ghost from a past he hadn't realized he'd been searching for. Something stirred inside him—something primal and protective—something that, for a moment, silenced the cold, calculating mind of the ex-Lord and cynical incubus. He did not think of strategies, of risks, or of dimensions. He simply felt an overwhelming need to protect this girl who seemed crafted of intertwined light and shadow.
She, too, looked at him with a mixture of innocence and the yearning to be protected, understood, listened to. Her mind was not in the present—it was in the memory of what she felt when he saved her. The security of his arms carrying her through the sky.
It was not only embarrassment she felt recalling it—it was the echo of something forgotten long ago: the feeling of being rescued as a child.
The feeling of being important to someone.
And now, as a woman, something else surfaced— a spark of warmth that ignited in her chest, something she did not yet know how to name. Something her classmates used to talk about in gossip and laughter, something she had only read about in stories and romantic novels.
Silence stretched between them, charged with something new and electric. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity—lost in the reflection of the other—recognizing a loneliness that perhaps could finally end.
"Uhm… you look really beautiful in that," the incubus managed to say, still overwhelmed by such pure innocence.
"It's nothing… I just grabbed the most comfortable thing I found. I was going to put on a bit of makeup, but… I didn't want to keep you waiting out here," the dancer replied, grabbing her right arm and avoiding his gaze.
Devyus stepped closer—he needed to see her more clearly. Himika noticed. Her embarrassment urged her to step back, to retreat from the man who had saved her and now stirred something so basic — yet essential — in any living being.
Because of her job, she had stood in front of millions of men for years. And yet, she had never felt as flustered as she did now, before this single man who simply walked slowly toward her.
The demon stopped in front of her and, with ancient tenderness, took her chin and gently guided her gaze to meet his own. Devyus needed to do that—something in his heart demanded to see up close the innocence the moonlight revealed.
KLLLIII
The moment shattered with the soft creak of the door. Two shadows emerged from the tin house, wrapped in silk robes that contrasted absurdly with the poverty of the place. Catherine, in deep cobalt blue matching her sister's hair, and the younger twin in emerald green matching her elder sister's. They had taken their time to change with efficient demon precision.
Their faces, free of human illusion but still held in their restrained form, observed the scene silently. They said nothing. Their yellow eyes shifted from their Onii-sama—clearly affected—to the human girl who seemed to have enchanted him. They respected the moment not for the dancer's sake, but for their brother's—but their presence was a reminder of reality.
"Ahem," Katherine cleared her throat, breaking the spell with surgical precision. "Onii-sama, you may come in."
Devyus blinked, releasing the girl's chin gently, as though waking from a dream. He shook his head slightly.
"Ah… yes. Right. Uh… may I… come in?" he asked Himika, his voice unusually uncertain.
She seemed to awaken as well, a flush rising from her neck to her ears.
"Y-yes, of course," she said, stepping aside and lowering her gaze again, mortified under the twins' scrutiny. "Come in."
Devyus entered, and the twins immediately closed in around him, forming a small protective circle as the embarrassed girl retreated to the kitchenette.
"We conducted a preliminary sweep," Katherine whispered, her voice nearly soundless. "The structure is precarious but stable. No listening devices or surveillance detected. The only notable element is the large cabinet. It contains several unusual tools—possibly local blades—and… assorted items. Appears to be urban survival gear, not a threat."
"But we will keep watch," the elder twin added, cutting a sharp glance toward Himika, who was now rummaging through a nearly empty cupboard.
Himika opened it, revealing only a few cans, water bottles, empty liquor bottles, packets of instant noodles, and dehydrated soup mixes.
"I'll make something," she said, taking a drink from the nearly empty liquor bottle—her attempt at sounding casual failing. "I hope you don't mind… there's not much variety in the district's markets, and… honestly, I was never good at cooking." She held up three packs of instant ramen. "This is what there is."
"It's enough," the ex-Lord replied—and realized his voice sounded softer than usual. "Thank you."
As Himika prepared the soup with a small electric burner, Devyus found himself wandering toward the bed area. The space was so small it was inevitable. Her scent was stronger here—a mix of cheap soap, warm skin, and something uniquely her, something earthy and strangely captivating.
He wondered, for the hundredth time that night, what was happening to him. Why did this human—this broken former heroine—affect him in ways neither gods nor demons ever had?
His gaze drifted to the nightstand. Beneath the base of a rusted metal lamp, the edge of a photograph peeked out. Without thinking, he slid it free.
It was faded. There was Himika—years younger—with a wide, carefree smile, untouched by the shadows now in her eyes. She stood among classmates in school uniforms.
One girl with red hair and heavy eye bags, sleeves too long for her hands.
The other with long green hair tied at the end in a thick braid, hugging Himika like a sister, both wearing twin-style odango buns.
In his ancient mind, Devyus knew this was more than a photograph—it was a record of a time when being a heroine was not a crime.
Himika, who had just poured boiling water into the four soup cups, turned at that exact moment. She saw the photo in his hand.
Her eyes widened—not in anger—but in fear, pure and sharp, as if he had touched the grave of someone she once loved.
"No!" she cried, rushing toward him.
She snatched the photo from his hand with desperate speed, pressing it to her chest as though it were the last, most precious thing she had.
Her breath trembled. Her eyes shone with restrained tears.
"That… that's not yours," she whispered—voice thin with pain.
And in that instant, Devyus understood—
He hadn't touched a picture.
He had touched a wound that was still bleeding.
"If you've reached this far… thank you for walking through Devyus's silence."
"Your thoughts matter — even one word helps me keep building this world."
As this year ends, I want to thank those who remained.
Those who read between the lines, who waited, who trusted the silence.
May 2026 open new doors for you—and may you never lose the hunger for stories that matter.
© 2025 D.S.V.
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without the explicit permission of the author.