Chapter 03 | Their Devotion

Matthias woke to the vacuum cleaner.

He tried to straighten his legs and struck the sofa's armrest.

Right. The bedroom was occupied.

He pushed the blanket aside and sat up.

Astreal was working her way down the hallway, silver hair pinned back. She had traded her black dress for dark slacks and a pale blouse, but even in ordinary clothes, she looked too flawless to belong in his apartment.

The vacuum stopped.

"Good morning, Master."

Before he could answer, the smell of warm rice and dashi reached him.

He turned toward the kitchen.

Belial stood at the stove in a white apron, lifting the lid from a pot. Steam curled past her face as she glanced over her shoulder.

Morning light caught her golden hair. Her emerald eyes brightened when she saw him, and he found himself staring again.

Apparently, a night's sleep hadn't made her beauty any easier to get used to.

"Good morning," she said. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

He started folding the blanket.

"I can help."

"It's only seven. Sit for a little longer."

"At least let me—"

"Please, Master."

She smiled at him over the lid.

He sat.

Astreal unplugged the vacuum and wound its cord.

"Do you cook too?" he asked her.

"Adequately."

He remembered her assessment of his body last night.

"How adequate?"

"Acceptable edibility. No aesthetic merit. Belial handles the kitchen."

"And you handle everything else?"

"Correct. She would leave dust on the upper shelves for weeks."

"I would notice," Belial called from the stove. "I would simply consider breakfast more urgent."

"You would not have noticed."

Belial gave the pan a pointed stir.

Matthias hid a smile behind his hand.

Usually, he spent this part of the morning checking the time and deciding whether he could skip breakfast. Now he sat listening to two women argue over his shelves while someone cooked for him.

He left the blanket folded beside him.

For once, he wasn't in a hurry to get up.

Miso soup, grilled fish, rolled egg, pickled vegetables, and rice filled the table.

Matthias looked at the dishes, then at his small kitchen.

"All of this came from there?"

"You have everything I need," Belial said, setting down his bowl.

Astreal adjusted a plate by a finger's width before sitting.

He took a bite of the egg.

Belial watched him.

"Well?"

"I should have asked for cooking lessons last night."

She laughed, and he reached for another piece.

He was halfway through the rice when she said, "Tomorrow, we'll move to better accommodations."

His chopsticks stopped.

"We'll what?"

"There's a house downtown. It's been ready for some time."

"Downtown isn't cheap."

"No," Belial agreed.

He waited for the rest of the explanation.

She smiled.

"How did you afford it?"

"I can explain," Astreal said.

She set down her chopsticks.

"Over three thousand years, we have lived under many identities. We worked, invested, and moved our holdings as countries and financial systems changed."

"So you've had time to save."

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Enough to purchase this city roughly one hundred times over."

Matthias lowered his bowl to the table with both hands.

Astreal considered for a moment.

"With sufficient capital remaining to equip a reasonably sized private army, if required."

"I didn't ask about an army."

"It gives you a sense of the reserve."

He looked at Belial.

She took a calm sip of her soup.

Of course. Three thousand years, and they know how to invest.

That made sense until he tried to picture the amount. He gave up and reached for his fish.

For a moment, he wondered whether he ever needed to work again.

Then he pictured explaining his resignation. More awkwardly, he pictured waking up with nothing expected of him except being someone these women remembered.

He wasn't ready to give up the part of his life he understood.

"Right," he said. "Substantial."

"Quite," Astreal said.

He chewed slowly. The question he'd carried since last night was harder to ask with them sitting in front of him.

"The money. The house. All that planning."

Belial put down her spoon.

"Was it specifically for me?"

"Every part of it."

She answered so quickly that he couldn't look away.

"Every investment, every new identity. We wanted to be ready when we found you."

Her fingers rested beside her bowl, close enough that he could have reached across and touched them.

"You had lost everything once," she said. "We wanted you to come back to a home."

Matthias turned to Astreal.

Her ruby eyes held his.

"Every year of it," she said. "All for you."

He looked down at his hands.

Twenty-eight years was his whole life. They had waited more than a hundred times that long, without knowing which morning would finally bring him back.

And when that morning came, they had made him breakfast.

His throat tightened.

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Belial said.

That almost made it worse.

Their money. Not his. He thought to himself.

Even if those women had given him their everything without questioning, down to the last drop of blood. Which was, in his thought, a pretty strong case.

He wouldn't be sure if he deserved such an insane amount of money.

He took a sip of water and held the cup until he trusted himself to put it down.

Neither of them hurried him.

"What if I'm not who you remember?"

Belial's expression softened.

"We're here to learn who you are now, too."

He wanted to believe her. Enough that he noticed himself looking for conditions in the words.

There weren't any he could hear.

Perhaps he could disappoint an expectation without disappointing them completely. He hadn't realized how badly he needed that possibility.

Astreal nodded once.

"You told us you need time. We heard you."

He let out a breath.

"And if I did take up the old identity? If I became a demon lord again, would there be a catch?"

"There would be risks," Astreal said.

His fingers stilled around the cup.

"The three families?"

Astreal nodded.

"After your defeat in the final battle, Belial and I went into hiding. The heroes would have killed us if they had found us."

Matthias looked from her to Belial.

"Even with your immortality?"

"We do not age," Belial said. "That does not mean we cannot be killed."

"We are forever 19 at the time we were granted immortality," Astreal added.

He tightened his grip on the cup. Until now, he had pictured their long wait without imagining them afraid for their own lives.

"And now?"

"Their descendants still exist. They know about the cycle of rebirth. They would take action, if your return... complicated things."

"And the two of you? What would you expect me to do?"

"Choose for yourself," Astreal said. "We will follow you. In this life as in the last."

She didn't raise her voice or reach for him. Somehow, that made the promise harder to dismiss.

Belial picked up the pot and refilled his cup.

"There is no urgency this morning," she said. "You have time to decide what you want."

Matthias watched the steam rise.

Then he nodded.

After breakfast, Astreal slid her phone across the table.

Matthias stared at it. Beside her, Belial was putting her own phone away.

They have smartphones?

Then he caught himself. They had lived through almost the entirety of human history and culture, watching the world change and learning to live in it. They hadn't stepped out of an ancient painting yesterday.

Of course they had phones. He was the one struggling to catch up.

"The house."

Matthias picked it up.

Three stories, with broad windows, pale concrete, and dark wood. It was beautiful in a quiet way that made him suspect even the front door cost more than anything he owned.

He enlarged the photograph.

"This is what you had ready?"

"Belial wanted a mansion."

"A proper one," Belial said. "It seemed appropriate."

"A conspicuous property would attract unnecessary attention," Astreal said. "We compromised."

"Very much in her direction."

"Indeed."

Matthias looked up from the screen.

"Three stories is the compromise?"

Belial leaned closer to see the photograph, a loose strand of gold falling over her shoulder.

"I think you'll be comfortable there."

He looked around his apartment. The kitchen was spotless, the mail stacked neatly, and the sofa still held the blanket he'd slept under.

Yesterday, he'd expected to come home to this place for years.

"Tomorrow morning?" he asked.

"Everything can be ready by then," Astreal said.

He studied the photograph once more before handing back the phone.

"All right."

Belial's smile widened.

He glanced at the clock and pushed back his chair.

"But right now, I need to go to work."

"Of course." Belial began gathering the dishes. "We'll pack what needs packing and arrange the rest."

"Leave the things on my desk."

"Noted," Astreal said.

He retrieved his jacket from where she had hung it the night before.

At the door, he paused with one shoe on.

Belial was at the sink. Astreal folded the tablecloth, bringing its corners together with careful precision.

There should have been something he could say about the house, the breakfast, or three thousand years of waiting.

"Thank you," he said.

Both looked up.

For once, Astreal had no immediate answer. Belial smiled at him, her hands still beneath the running water.

He put on his other shoe.

"I'll be back by seven."

"We'll have dinner ready," Belial said.

Matthias closed the door gently behind him.

On the way to the station, he caught himself thinking about dinner instead of the reports waiting on his desk.

Someone would be there when he got home.

He tried to remember the last time he'd cared whether a train delay would make him late for dinner.

Then he took out his phone to check the time.