Chapter 6
In my previous life, I lived what could only be described as an utterly ordinary existence.
Despite studying hard and getting accepted into a prestigious four-year university, I couldn’t afford the steep tuition fees. So, I ended up attending a much more affordable two-year college and graduated from there.
Society was cold and unforgiving. The companies I worked for dismissed me without a second thought. Those endless overtime and weekend work drained both my body and mind.
There was no time to make friends or travel. My salary was pitiful, the cost of living was high, and the student debt I accumulated from that essentially useless college weighed heavily on me.
Each month, I had to make ends meet with what was left after paying off debt and interest. Rent, phone bills, and other fixed expenses left me constantly hungry. I struggled to get by. I thought that’s just how everyone lived.
With no time or money, my social life consisted solely of my colleagues.
I thought I was the only one without friends. I believed I had to endure the loneliness. I thought everyone lived like that.
[“Why do you live so miserably?”]
That was what she asked me; my much younger superior, who entered the company as a manager straight out of college, unlike me, who had been stuck at the entry level despite working there for seven years. She looked at me with pity as she spoke those words.
It was the first time I realized that the world was unfair, and not everyone lived in constant struggle like I did. I never tried to figure out where it all went wrong. After all, that time had already passed. So, I handed in my resignation and decided to rest, to do absolutely nothing for a while.
Was it really that comment that made me feel so pitiful? It didn’t seem like it at the time. Even as I sobbed uncontrollably, sniffling like I’d lost a country, I couldn’t quite understand why I was crying so hard. It was difficult to even sympathize with myself.
I was the one crying, and yet I couldn’t relate to it. Then, I felt a cool sensation on my forehead. It was like one of those cold towels they place on people in TV dramas.
[“Who would even take care of me?”]
But it wasn’t exactly a towel. It felt a little firmer, and it slowly moved from my forehead to my cheek with a cautious gentleness, lingering there for quite some time.
‘Is this… a hand?’
The unfamiliar hand caressing my forehead and cheek was oddly comforting. I felt so at ease that my crying came to a sudden stop. That’s when I realized that this was no longer the cold, desolate world I had known. I had started a new life in a place where death could come at any moment.
But more than anything, here… I wasn’t alone. That hand, the only one I had ever felt, belonged to the Demon King, Lucifer. No other hand could be so chillingly cold.
‘Still… I feel a little relieved.’
I didn’t know why. Lucifer was someone who could easily kill me the moment he lost interest. And yet, I found comfort in his touch.
But one thing was certain: As long as Lucifel remained interested in me, I would stay alive.
‘I need to stay by his side. That’s my only path to survival.’
I had to stay in his good graces. I had to make sure he never lost interest in me. That belief began to take deep root in my heart.
***
“Did she just say… ‘Daddy’?”
Lucifer frowned at the unfamiliar word. He wondered if this impudent child had just insulted him in human language.
“Did she just curse at me?”
Considering the only humans Bellatrix had encountered so far were those who kidnapped her, it was unlikely she’d learned any human profanity. Still, that’s what it sounded like. Her expression looked very much like she was cursing.
“Not at all,”
Regnator corrected the misunderstanding.
“From what I’ve heard, human babies call their parents by titles like that.”
“Parents?”
“Yes. The ones who give birth to and raise the child.”
“I did not give birth to this thing.”
“But you are planning to raise her. According to what we’ve learned about the human concept of ‘daughters,’ the one who gives birth is called ‘mother,’ and the one who provides the seed is ‘father.’”
“Does she think I’m some kind of hero?”
Lucifer swept his hair back with a scowl. The very idea that he could be mistaken for some petty human hero was revolting. Even the mere thought of it offended him. It was he who saved her at birth, named her Bellatrix, and remained by her side while she grew in the womb.
And yet she dared mistake him? How impudent.
Noticing Lucifer’s mood darkening, Regnator quickly cut in:
“Didn’t the hero die before the child even began to form in the womb?”
“Yes. This brat has never even heard the hero’s voice.”
Could it be, then, that she had mistaken him for a ‘parent,’ the kind of bond that exists only among humans? Lucifel felt the displeasure he’d just experienced dissipate in an instant.
“So she sees me as her ‘daddy.’ A parent is said to be irreplaceable to a human child, after all.”
“To think a demon king would be called something like that.”
“Truly, only a child bold enough to kick Lucifel himself would say such a thing.”
Seeing Regnator’s admiration oddly lifted Lucifer’s spirits. His lip twitched as if the sour mood had never existed. Bellatrix, who had seemed so insolent, now appeared endearing.
Indeed, from the womb, she had shown boldness and spirit. Such guts were fitting for a Demon King’s daughter. Lucifer felt satisfied with his decision to bring Bellatrix with him. He once again believed it was the right choice not to ignore the hero’s wife when he passed her by.
“Her first word upon being born was ‘daddy.’ It seems Bellatrix likes you very much, my lord.”
“Now that I think about it, she always smiles whenever she sees me.”
“I saw that too. Maybe she was trembling not from fear, but from happiness. Humans do cry or tremble when they’re overwhelmed with joy.”
“She was so happy she trembled?”
“Possibly. When people are in pain, they often call out to the one they cherish most.”
Regnator’s sweet words were pleasing to Lucifer. He had thought humans were insignificant and noisy, but the more he learned, the more intriguing they became.
He even liked the phrase Regnator used—’irreplaceable.’
However, her frail body was problematic. The rise in her body temperature made her unable to cry properly, and her inability to open her swollen eyes from all the crying made her look pitiful.
“What do human fathers do when their child is like this?”
“Hmm, let me check.”
Regnator, who had evidently brought back a thick book from the human world while designating Bellatrix as the Demon King’s daughter, pulled it from his coat.
“Ah! Here it is. A rise in temperature and listless crying—this indicates illness. Judging by the symptoms, it appears to be a ‘cold.’”
“An illness?”
Demons did not fall ill. Naturally, Lucifer had no concept of something like a ‘cold.’
“Human infants are extremely fragile, with no immunity, and thus highly susceptible to all sorts of illnesses.”
“Even my energy can’t heal this?”
“Apparently not. The book says it must be treated with the appropriate medicine. It also warns that medicine must be mild and specific to the illness.”
“Each illness needs a different medicine? Even for infants?”
“Yes, and it also says the parents must ‘care’ for the baby to ease their anxiety.”
Lucifel scowled, realizing that being a human ‘father’ involved more duties than he expected.
“And what does ‘care’ mean?”
“It means staying very close and never leaving their side.”
“Will the baby die if I’m not near?”
“It doesn’t say that explicitly, but… given how weak human infants are, it’s certainly possible. If you take your eyes off them and they stop breathing, that would be a disaster.”
“Human infants are that weak and worthless?”
Annoyed, Lucifel snapped. Regnator responded calmly:
“If even adult humans are fragile, then their infants must be weaker than wildflowers in the Demon Realm.”
“How troublesome.”
Despite his words, Lucifer couldn’t take his eyes off Bellatrix, lying in the wine basket. Her swollen eyelids barely opened, and her breathing was so faint that one had to listen closely to confirm she was even alive. Occasionally, she seemed to stop breathing altogether, prompting Lucifel to channel his energy into her repeatedly.
Only then did he realize that his actions since dawn were what Regnator described as ‘care.’
Indeed, even the briefest distraction could lead to her death. No wonder he hadn’t looked away.
“A relief?”
He frowned, taken aback by his own thoughts. Had he really just thought it was a relief that this insignificant human infant didn’t die? He tilted his head in confusion but soon dismissed the thought.
“What will you do now, my lord? It doesn’t seem like you intend to let her die…”
Regnator trailed off. Lucifel didn’t hesitate since it wasn’t even a matter worth pondering. If Bellatrix died now, he wouldn’t be able to fulfill the wish of the hero’s wife. For the great Demon King to fail in his first contract with a mere human—that would be unacceptable.
Lucifel pointed his chin toward the basket.
“Regnator, carry her.”
“…You’re going to the human world?”
“Yes. If she needs that medicine to survive, then she shall have it.”
“Understood.”
Regnator carefully cradled the wine basket in his arms. The sight of him holding it so gently with his usual expressionless face was rather amusing, but he remained perfectly composed.
“While we’re there, we should also learn how to raise a human child so that she doesn’t die.”
Although it hadn’t been long since he left the human realm, Lucifel had already learned an important lesson: Appearing openly and confidently in the human world would only cause an uproar.
Lucifel, who despised noise to begin with, certainly didn’t want the already restless world to disturb Bellatrix, especially when she had only just fallen asleep. To prevent any disturbance, both Lucifel and Regnator concealed their demonic aura and even changed their distinct crimson eyes, a trait unique to demonkind, before stepping into the human world.
It was a quiet, simple outing. Just a visit to the doctor for a sick infant.
