No matter how far I wander, I always feel directionless.

Drifting without a home, like a soul on an endless journey. In the darkness, I hear the voice deep within my heart—and see the eyes watching from the shadows.

So I will find you. Please, wait for me.

○

Slender, pale fingers—belonging to a young girl—gently combed through crimson hair.

Eyes closed, alone in the silent emptiness, the girl’s lavender lips parted slightly. Crimson liquid slid down her throat, leaving a searing path of fire straight to her stomach.

Scorching flames that could burn away all memories and doubts. The girl sank deeper into her own imagination.

The black-haired boy from her memories was fading at the edges, yet his face remained clear—gentle smile in place, fragile but pretending strength, fearless yet worrying over everything.

*Hmm. What he’d always call it… probably "tsundere."*

He’d never even held a girl’s hand, yet loved lecturing about "heroines" and "romance routes" like an expert. A smile tugged at her lips, but tears spilled over uncontrollably.

*Fool. Such a fool. Why didn’t you just take my hand? I’d have died with you gladly.*

In her fantasy, the boy rode a majestic skeletal dragon, his face forever smiling.

*"Lotus," he said. "I’ve come to take you home."*

○

The Ninth Netherworld—the Demonic Realm.

The history of Demonkind had faded like smoke. Ancient demons who once ruled the storms now slept within this endless, lightless Abyss.

They waited for their true king’s return: Virgil.

A world of pitch black, blood-red glows, and a towering palace built from bleached bones.

A hell no mortal could fathom.

Yet the palace stood hollow and vast. At its heart, a throne room rose atop countless stairs—each step carved from colossal femurs.

Only one thing broke the monochrome horror: a colossal golden throne.

Pure gold, encrusted with glittering gems. Upon it lounged a slender figure.

Clad in a crimson robe, bare feet like polished jade rested delicately crossed. Tiny, rounded toes gleamed with妖艳 purple polish. Above them, smooth white calves curved upward. The breathtakingly beautiful girl reclined sideways on the icy throne.

Her face was small, chin sharp, features exquisite. But her eyes held you captive—glistening with unshed tears, as if perpetually whispering sorrow. Her pupils held a thick, blood-like crimson, meant to intimidate. Yet the constant shimmer of tears lent them a haunting allure. That mix of tearful vulnerability and soul-piercing crimson created a lethal, irresistible magnetism.

No one could meet her gaze without falling under her spell. She seemed a spirit-stealing enchantress, melting all defenses. In truth, she was the deadliest demon of all.

Rank Fourteen. Supreme among Demon Kings. The current ruler of the Demonic Realm. Lotus was far more than a seductive siren.

Beneath her feet lay the Demon King’s Hall—a foundation of countless souls and bleached bones.

The sky of the Demonic Realm bled eternal, soul-devouring crimson.

But today, a colossal beam of black light split that sky. Countless bats erupted like storm clouds, blotting out the horizon.

Crimson waves crashed against obsidian reefs.

The very earth of the Demonic Realm trembled.

*The King has awakened.* The world itself seemed to shudder at his presence. After endless years of waiting, the true Demon King had finally returned.

An overwhelming spiritual pressure swept across the realm. Arrogant demons everywhere dropped their heads, prostrating themselves toward the Demon King’s Palace.

Lotus opened her eyes. Her crimson irises burned like live coals.

*"Demon King… have you finally awakened?"*

○

A young girl with bat-like demon wings quivered on the icy white floor.

*"Y-Your Majesty…"*

Her voice stumbled. She couldn’t fathom why the exalted Demon King would summon her. Terrified, she’d crawled on her knees all the way to the throne, never daring to lift her head.

To stare directly at a demon vastly stronger than oneself was the ultimate disrespect.

*"Nightmare. Agatha."*

The voice shocked her. The Demon King’s tone wasn’t the thunderous, hellish growl she’d imagined—all deep and rasping like other high demons.

Instead, it slid into her ears like a lover’s whisper—soft, intimate, utterly disarming. Each syllable carried a strange, trembling resonance that struck straight to the heart.

She nearly lifted her head, compelled. But the instant she moved, she froze. *This is suicide.*

Biting her tongue sharply, she used the pain to shatter the spell. Calming her mind, she focused on the King’s command.

*"Go to the mortal realm. Find the previous Demon King. Escort him back to the Demonic Realm."*

*"As you command, Your Majesty."*

Questions swirled in Agatha’s mind, but she dared not show them. In the Demonic Realm, strength ruled. A lowly Nightmare demon like her had no right to question the King.

The next moment, the world spun. Darkness swallowed Agatha as she plummeted into an endless abyss.

Lotus stared at the spot where the little demon vanished, lost in thought. She ached to rush to the mortal realm herself. But bound by the price of losing the War of Light and Shadow, she—and all pure demons—were oath-sworn never to leave the Demonic Realm.

That girl, however, was an exception. Not pure Demonkind, but a hybrid—demon and faerie blood mingled in her veins. She could shift into a fluffy white faerie creature.

With caution, even the Deity Race wouldn’t sense her.

*"Demon King…"*

The beautiful girl drew her knees to her chest, gaze drifting into the distant past.

○

Information flooded Agatha’s mind as she plummeted, weightless. A whooshing wind filled her ears—or perhaps it was only in her head.

Within the spatial rift, her body glowed softly. Limbs, tail, and wings retracted inward. She transformed into a plump, white orb.

When her vision cleared, dazzling light surrounded her. Strange, vivid petals—fragrant and bright—drifted in the air.

In the distance, three hazy figures emerged.