Chapter 44, Playing House.

(Chapter 43 was only available on my DeviantArt account as you need to confirm your age to view it.)

And just like that, things had seemed to go back to normal between the two beings.

The demon gave her a warm smile before kissing her and leaving yet again to finish up some of the things in his office. He had ordered the servants to come pick up the room and help the girl get cleaned up, but once Mephisto had strolled out as though he were on cloud nine, humming a little tune, she instantly declined assistance. For she had spent a lifetime tidying up after her own mother, and at times, it gave her a sense of solace and accomplishment when she seemed to be lacking in all other facets of life.

Belial only put up a small dispute before realizing the demanding expression of hers would never waver; he reluctantly bowed and took his leave of her despite his masters' orders. A hamper for the dirty linens was placed outside of the door, as well as a bucket of soap water and a washrag. The girl took her time, enjoying the silence of the dark room as she scrubbed on the flaking blood that had turned a shade of dark, rich umber, like clay fields drying in the summer heat. She put all her might into it, as a pestle would grind upon the mortar, until it too vanished as if nothing happened. As though everything were perfect, that by cleaning up such a mess made the wound upon her arm disappear without a trace; like a collector carefully placing porcelain dolls upon their shelves, all neat and tidy in their rows, poised and proper with perfectly ironed dressed and flawlessly puffed petticoats.

The girl stared into the hazy, browning water, with her knees aching and arm throbbing. Arms shaking, her grip strangled the cloth as her fists rested upon her legs, the dirty water leaking from the rag until there was nothing left to give. And then, without thinking, she hurled it into the bucket like trash, where water and soap bubbles were sent over the edge and across the marble floor.

Launching to her feet, she gathered the spare linens from the corner of the room where Amaimon has covered her sleeping form, and she snatched up the torn, bloody pieces of a sweater with a tight jaw. They went directly into the hamper, but before she continued, she paused in the doorway for a moment. Her pupils moved over the dimly lit room from the hall, and for just a moment, her heart thumped heavy against her ribcage, begging to be let out. Her chest rose and fell, faster and faster, and she dashed back into the chamber, tearing the comforter and sheets from the bed, plucking the pillows from their cases and casting them aside like cheap meaningless playthings. Trudging around the bedframe, she watched her surroundings carefully until she was far from the door. She kept her gaze on the only escape route as she kneeled, picking up the white Order uniform that the demon had left.

Much to her surprise, as she flopped it over her arm there was a waft of sake, and perfume.


The jaunty little tune had all but ceased as the tension in the room heightened. A foot bobbed rhythmically beneath the desk, thumping onto the dark wood every few seconds. Green eyes looked up from the paperwork, a grave expression befalling his features as he looked over the boy before. He waited patiently upon one of the plush chairs, ever so slightly rigid, and it was unlike the child to be so quiet and well behaved.

His voice came like glass shards. "So, tell me what happened in there."

The green haired boy rolled his orbs around in his skull, attempting to keep away from the sharp eye contact. "I went to check on her, she was bleeding, I patched her up. She needed more of that remedy stuff, and I helped her do the thing—" he made a plunging motion with his fingers and thumb, as if he were administering a shot; "And I stayed with her until she fell asleep. To make sure she was alright." He paused for a split second. "That's all."

He studied the boy carefully with stony eyes, watching as he shifted around in his seat, craning his neck every which way. The pen in his hand let out a cry as it teetered on the verge of snapping. "You went against my orders," he said through gritted fangs.

"I reasoned she could have been hurt, brother," he said, turning to look the elder demon in the eyes finally.

"I told you to make sure she didn't try getting out or doing anything else, that was all. You had no business going in that room."

"But were you so positive she was unharmed when you left?" the boy queried with a comfortable posture, cocking his head.

The thunk below the desk stopped suddenly, and dagger eyes stared the boy down in silence. The pen flicked back and forth rapidly, tapping on the desk repeatedly before he stopped and sighed.

"If I hadn't ensured she was safe, she could've lost so much more blood. Humans don't last very long in those conditions, it seems. Then you would have had to deal with Thanatos for—what was it—a fourth time? How silly you would have felt for telling him everything was fine when you weren't even certain."


Whispers echoed down the hallway, only audible enough to catch the nuances of conversation. Harsh S's slithered across her ear as footsteps echoed throughout the estate. There was no other voice, so she figured he must have been on the phone – come to think of it, she could ever so slightly remember the faint jingle of his cell from the other room. It seemed to always be making some sort of noise, and she had learned to just ignore it for the most part, letting it fall into background noise. It must be more business calls, she thought. He was on his phone a lot, whether he was excusing himself to take a call, or sitting next to her on the couch or in bed typing away. It was always the same answer: work. The Order needed something, he had emails to respond to. If he wasn't on his phone or in his office, he was out in meetings as Johann Faust or Mephisto Pheles.

It had been like this for months, and it had never bothered her until now. She had sat reflecting on their time together, feeling as though they never actually spent quality time together. It was always just bits and pieces, and she was like a kept doll locked away in the house, waiting for her master to return to give her some attention. And truthfully, she had enjoyed their moments together as much as her alone time; she wasn't a needy woman in the slightest, and prided herself on being as independent as possible. His mind was everywhere all at once, never ceasing to sit in one place for longer than a few minutes, and she always understood he was a busy man. In fact, she had admired that about him. But for some reason, recently she couldn't stop looking over their time together, feeling more alone, more like a doll for him to pass the time by with.

Her thumb passed over the rubbery Pause button so she could try to hear a bit better. Turning her ear toward the cracked doorway, her breath was shallow and noiseless, and all she could hear was his words and footsteps echoing. It sounded as though he was pacing rather furiously, his shoes drumming on the hard stone floors promptly, muting his speech just a bit more.

A few hard K's and S's again, but she couldn't understand it over the banging of cabinets. "…Have you... 'Spatch all… to the beach."

The beach? She might have been able to hear what he was saying if maybe she had cupped her ear, but her hands were stuck to the controller. She sat in silence, listening to his voice as it carried closer, the tapping headed towards the stairwell.

"…'es, yes…" The footfalls came even closer. "Thank you, Ms. Kirigakure."

The girl hit the Pause button and resumed playing just as Mephisto bumped the door open with his hip. She glanced over at him as he entered, attempting to seem as though she was absorbed into the game enough to have never stopped. He was only partially dressed for the day, and his burgundy dress socks popped out below light linen trousers with each step he took. The white dress shirt was shoddily tucked in, and buttoned only midway, allowing the pale skin of his chest to peek out as he moved. There was a low beep as the nail of his thumb ended the call, and a plate of food was clutched in his other hand. He seemed to be going a million miles an hour and didn't take notice to the girl hastily trying to collect herself; at least, that's what she hoped.

"Lucky you!" he called out with a toothy smile as he stamped across the bedroom, his pupils still upon the screen of his phone as he tapped away at the buttons. The girl stopped the game once more, turning to him with a very prodding stare – which also went unnoticed. "It seems that a new mission has come in," he continued, setting the warm plate out until she took it from him. Her eyes widened as the reality of his words set in, and she grew more interested for him to continue by the second. Both of his thumbs tapped away at the phone as he wrote out what seemed like a whole letter. Her stomach bounced inside her as he snapped his phone shut abruptly, and finally addressed his human with a playful light dancing in his dull eyes. "I'm sending teams exorcists to deal with it, including the exwires from the Kyoto mission," he said with an air of professionalism in his tone, buttoning himself up and readjusting the tuck of his shirt. "Would you care to accompany me to watch this one, little flower?" he smirked, lifting his collar and flipping a tie over his head. "Perhaps I'll even let you participate," the demon said with a wink, leaning down for a quick peck on the corner of her taut lips before marching towards the closet.

Beneath her skin, she shook like the turning leaves of fall; a confusing concoction of panic and exhilaration all in one. She hadn't expected a new assignment to come in so soon – and deep down in her depths, she was surprised her demon lover was holding up his end of the bargain they had made. After all, nothing in particular was being held over his head in return. He had, as always, gotten exactly what he wanted; and now nothing was keeping him from backing out of his portion of the deal. There was no contract, nothing binding him to his word besides his sense of duty and his gentlemanly façade he always tried to play at, and there would be no consequences for him other than perhaps the negative effects it would have on their relationship – if you wanted to even call it that. Weren't demons notorious for twisting things and breaking promises they had no reason to keep?

Part of her was expecting it.

She was stunned, wondering if she had heard him correctly. Her eyes followed him around the room, and her lips parted speechlessly. Was this a glimpse at something opposite of self-seeking? Could demons put others' wants and needs before their own selfish desires? Maybe he wanted her just that much, maybe he didn't want to lose her just that much, that it was to his benefit to keep his word. Her mind raced through so many possibilities, but hearing that she would be going on an official exorcist mission as an exwire started a fire inside her, and she beamed with eyes wide as an ocean.

The demon glanced over to her, prodding for an answer from the silent girl. And it was then she realized her shock had stopped her from replying. Rocking forward and thumping her sprawled hands onto the bed in front of her, she finally blurted out: "Of course I want to come with!"

He gave a chuckle as he looked her over with his usual sly expression. "Good," he replied, pulling on a cotton blazer with wide burgundy stripes, separated by thin pink, purple, and white pinstripes. His tie matched in Mephisto Pink™ as usual. "Now finish up your breakfast and get dressed."

Nodding exuberantly, she quickly shoveled the meal into her mouth as she half-listened to Mephisto go over the specifics of the mission – something about a large aquatic demon of some sort that had been terrorizing the waters of a coastal city. A large team of exorcists would all join together to dispose of the creature. However, she wasn't particularly interested in the details, and she couldn't imagine missions were too complicated. Find the demon, and exorcise it. That was their job, right?

When she finished her meal, she bolted for the door of the extravagant closet, only to be stopped by the demon's voice. "Don't forget your swim suit, my dear," he reminded, lips spiraling while he looked her up and down as he sat upon the edge of the bed. "Hurry up now – I'm going to screw with your stats if you don't," he teased, picking up the controller to the paused game.

"Don't you dare!" the girl shrieked, face turning as pink as February as she darted for her clothes, anxious to get going.

(Sorry this took a while to update, I had to write a couple chapters out before deciding where to split it up.)