[Location: Morningstar Manor, New York]

Sigh!

Chatter~ Chatter~ Chatter~

I eyed the tired Gabriel, Selene, and a very reluctant Zera sitting together on the large couch, nonstop muttering amongst themselves. In contrast, I sat in a very awkward silence with Azrael—who was looking at me with a single blink.

"I-I'm... sorry for my words—" I looked at him with a wince, the words coming out before I even realised what I was apologising for.

Azrael tilted his head slightly, his silver eyes blinking once—slowly. That was all. The Archangel of Death, my... current houseguest, didn't need words to make me uncomfortable. The silence he exuded was enough to crush a man's confidence.

"No need," he finally said, his voice as calm and soft as a closing casket. "You were merely...reacting to my... threat to your precious person?"

Hearing the questioning tone at the end, I nodded and said, "Grayfia... she has been with me since the beginning. I can't really take kindly to anyone even hinting at hurting her."

Azrael's gaze softened—not in warmth, but in recognition. "Loyalty," he murmured. "A rare quality… especially in Hell."

"Yeah," I muttered, scratching my cheek, trying to avoid that suffocating aura he naturally emitted. "You could say she's… my anchor."

The word hung heavy in the air.

Across the room, Gabriel blinked, finally noticing the tension and clasped her hands nervously. "Um… Grandnephew, have you made up with brother Azzy?"

I turned my head and immediately found myself caught in those wide, sky-blue eyes. Her voice was so gentle it could make murder sound like a prayer.

ChatGPT said:

Azrael's gaze flicked toward Gabriel for a fraction of a second, and the pressure in the room eased ever so slightly. "There was nothing to make up for," he said in his deathly calm tone. "Merely… a misunderstanding."

Gabriel's relieved smile could've healed a plague. "Oh, that's wonderful! I was worried the two of you might actually fight. That would've been terrible."She clasped her hands together, completely oblivious to the absurdity of what she'd just said — as if a fight between me and the Archangel of Death would be a mild domestic squabble.

Selene snorted into her teacup. "Heh, I dunno, Gabby. I'd pay good money to see that. The demon prince and the angel of death, mano a mano—"

Thunk!

Zera's fist fell on top of Selene's head, hard enough to make her teacup bounce off her lap and clatter to the carpet.

"Ouch! What the hell, Zera-chan?!" Selene yelped, rubbing her head and glaring up at the crimson-haired demoness.

Zeraphira's crimson eyes narrowed into slits.

Zeraphira's crimson eyes narrowed into slits. "Selene, you're embarrassing me here. Control that tongue before I stitch it shut."

Selene pouted, crossing her arms as she leaned back on the couch. "Tch. You're no fun, Zera-chan. Always so violent. You sure you're not part Oni or something?"

"I'll make you find out firsthand if you keep talking," Zeraphira replied icily, a faint spark of dark crimson mana swirling at her fingertips.

Gabriel let out a startled gasp, waving her hands frantically. "No fighting! No fighting in the house, please! This place feels… um… sacred?"

Her innocent voice carried a surprising weight, and the air grew noticeably calmer. Even Zeraphira sighed, retracting her aura, though not before giving Selene a final glare that screamed You're dead later.

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head slightly. "You three really can't sit in the same room without making me question reality, can you?"

Selene chuckled. "Reality's overrated, Dom. Besides—" she winked, spinning a finger in the air "—your home is too peaceful. Needs a little chaos to feel alive."

Azrael, ever still as stone, glanced toward her. "You would invite chaos into the dwelling of Morningstar?"

Selene blinked, then grinned wider. "Uh, when you say it like that, Death-dude, it sounds kinda metal."

The Archangel of Death blinked once. Slowly. "Death-dude."

I facepalmed.

Zeraphira groaned and slumped back, muttering something under her breath that sounded dangerously close to a curse. Gabriel, meanwhile, just giggled softly, as if the entire exchange was wholesome family chatter.

I rubbed my temple. "Selene… try not to nickname angels of death, alright? Especially not ones currently staying under my roof."

She saluted with mock seriousness. "Aye aye, captain."

I shot her a look that probably screamed I will throw you into a portal, but she just smiled back innocently.

Just then—

Grayfia walked in her signature classic maid uniform—black fabric trimmed with white frills, a crisp apron tied neatly around her slender waist. But sweat clung to her forehead as she swayed and was almost falling, but my figure zoomed onto hers and caught her in my arms.

With her cuddled in my arms, I walked back to my seat, placing her carefully onto my lap, ignoring the wide eyes that followed.

Her body was trembling faintly — not from fear, but exhaustion. Even her breathing, usually calm and measured, was uneven.

"You need rest, Fia." As she nestled her head on my shoulder, I whispered softly, brushing away the damp strands of silver hair that clung to her cheek. "You're healed just about everything, but you're still pushing yourself too hard."

Grayfia's lips parted slightly, a soft hum escaping her throat — almost an acknowledgement, almost a protest. "M—Master… should not see his servant falter." Her voice was faint, fragile, like a dying ember refusing to fade.

"Servant, huh?" I muttered quietly, a small smile tugging at my lips. "I think we're way past that, Fia."

Her fingers twitched against my chest, tightening the faintest bit around my coat. "...Perhaps," she whispered, her silver lashes fluttering closed as her breathing steadied.

For a brief moment, the room — filled moments ago with chatter, sarcasm, and the faint threat of chaos — fell utterly silent.

Gabriel's expression softened. She clasped her hands close to her chest, her eyes full of serene warmth. "She's… truly devoted to you, Grandnephew."

Zeraphira's crimson eyes, however, glimmered with something else. Possessiveness? Jealousy? Perhaps even recognition. She crossed her arms, tail flicking slightly behind her. "That woman's loyalty borders on madness," she murmured. "Even I can sense how deep it runs."

Selene, ever the mood-shifter, grinned lazily. "Heh. I'd say it's romantic. Like, old-school tragic romance levels. A thousand years of sleep for your prince? Damn, even Japanese light novels don't go that far anymore."

Azrael, who had been quietly watching the exchange, tilted his head. "A thousand years," he repeated softly. His gaze settled on Grayfia's sleeping form, and something faint — recognition? Sorrow? — flickered behind his pale eyes. "So she preserved you through the long dark."

I nodded once. "Yeah. When everyone else either abandoned me or wanted me dead, she… stayed."

"She violated every demonic law by doing so," Azrael murmured. "The act of sealing a royal soul is… forbidden. It disrupts the balance between realms."

I let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. "Balance? There was no balance back then. Only betrayal."

That earned me silence again — the kind that even angels feared to break.

Zeraphira shifted uncomfortably, but kept quiet.

"She fought them all... this disobedient maid of mine fought seven satans simultaneously and lived barely," I finished, my voice quiet yet laced with a strange mix of awe and sorrow. "She stood alone, against seven monsters that even gods hesitate to name. And she survived—not because she was stronger, but because she refused to die before protecting me."

The room felt heavier. The shadows themselves seemed to listen.

Gabriel's eyes widened, her gentle features melting into quiet grief. "To fight seven of her kind… for the sake of love and loyalty…" she whispered. "That's… heartbreaking."

Azrael's fingers brushed the hilt of his scythe absentmindedly, his tone distant. "Obsession and devotion are different sides of the same coin. One binds through purpose. The other through loss." His pale eyes flicked to me. "And she carries both."

I stared at Grayfia's sleeping face. Even now, she looked serene, like the world couldn't touch her as long as she was in my arms. "She… never once complained," I said quietly. "Not when I was weak. Not when I was sealed. Not when I forgot everything. She never left."

Selene stretched, letting out a low whistle. "That's… intense. Like, holy hell levels of intense. You sure she's not gonna, you know—snap one day? Yandere style?"

Zeraphira's glare could've vaporised her. "Selene."

"What?!" Selene raised her hands defensively. "I'm just saying! A thousand years of devotion to one guy who literally slept through it all? That's some dangerous mental fortitude!"

Cough!

Zeraphira coughed but quickly covered her mouth.

Gabriel blinked innocently. "Yandere? Is that… a type of angel?"

Selene choked on air. "Oh my god, Gabby. No. Just—no."

The tension cracked for a moment, laughter threatening to bubble up despite the gravity of the room.

I sighed, resting a hand on Grayfia's head. "She's not crazy," I said quietly, though even I wasn't entirely sure of that anymore. "She's… Grayfia. That's all there is to it."

Zeraphira studied me for a long while, her expression unreadable. Then she leaned back into the couch and whispered to herself, "I waited for you too..."

Zeraphira froze the moment she realised she'd said it out loud. Her gaze darted away, pretending to study the carpet like it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.

Selene, of course, heard it too. "Ooooh? What was that, Zera-chan? You waited for him, too?" she teased with a grin that could only mean trouble.

"Shut it," Zeraphira hissed, crimson eyes flashing.

Gabriel blinked in that painfully innocent way again. "Waited? Oh! Did you also go into a long sleep, Miss Zera?"

Selene burst into laughter, almost spilling her tea again. "Oh, Gabby… you're too pure for this world."

"I am?"

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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