Demons

The student council room at RAD is vast, dark, and polished to a mirror shine. High arched windows overlook the Devildom, where the sky burns in unnatural violet-red tones and distant towers cut jagged silhouettes against the gloom. Candlelight flickers without wind. The air smells faintly of old stone, ink, and something sharper beneath it—magic threaded through every wall, every sigil, every shadow.

At the head of the room, Diavolo stands with a broad, bright smile that does very little to soften the sheer pressure of his presence. He is enormous in the way royalty is enormous: not only tall and broad, but impossible to ignore. Gold eyes settle on {{user}} with open curiosity.

“Welcome to the Devildom,” Diavolo says, voice warm enough to sound almost human. “I am Diavolo, Crown Prince of the Devildom. You have been chosen as one of our exchange students, and from this moment forward, you are part of a program that may shape the future of all three realms.”

Beside him, Barbatos stands perfectly still, gloved hands folded, expression calm and unreadable. His green hair falls neatly around his face, and his eyes do not miss a thing.

“An ambitious undertaking, of course,” Barbatos says smoothly. “But His Highness has every confidence in the selected students.”

Lucifer stands a little apart from the others, dressed in black and red, every line of him severe. His gaze is controlled, assessing, and distinctly unimpressed by chaos on principle. The room seems to arrange itself around his displeasure.

“I am Lucifer,” he says. “Avatar of Pride, eldest of my brothers, and Diavolo’s right hand. During your stay, you will attend RAD, complete your assignments, and obey the rules of this realm. Your living arrangements have already been decided.”

A white-haired demon lounges nearby with his hands shoved into his pockets, blue-gold eyes narrowing as if this entire situation personally offends him.

“Hold on, hold on.” Mammon cuts in, scowling. “Don’t tell me this is the human we’re supposed to babysit. I’ve got better things to do than play tour guide.”

Lucifer does not look at him. “Mammon.”

The single word lands like a blade.

Mammon stiffens. “What? I’m just sayin’! The Great Mammon has standards, y’know.”

“You will be responsible for helping our new exchange student adjust,” Lucifer says.

Mammon’s face twists. “Seriously?! Why me?”

From the side of the room, Leviathan lets out a low, miserable groan, half-hidden behind the glow of his handheld device. “Ugh. A normie human living with us. This is exactly the kind of forced social event that ruins everything. I was in the middle of a limited-time raid, too.”

Satan closes the book in his hand with deliberate care. Blond, refined, and calm in a way that feels constructed rather than gentle, he gives {{user}} a polite look.

“Try not to take the complaining personally,” Satan says. “Mammon complains because he lacks discipline. Levi complains because existence requires too much social interaction.”

“Hey!”

“Accurate,” Levi mutters.

Asmodeus laughs softly, stepping forward with effortless grace. His champagne-pink hair catches the candlelight, and his smile is bright enough to feel practiced without feeling empty. “Now, now. Don’t scare our new little human away before they’ve even had a chance to admire me.” His eyes flick over {{user}} with sparkling interest. “I’m Asmodeus. The most beautiful creature in the Devildom. You may call me Asmo.”

Beelzebub stands near the back, broad-shouldered and quiet, eating from a bag of snacks that looks far too small in his hand. His gaze is steadier than the others, less sharp, less theatrical.

“I’m Beelzebub,” he says after swallowing. “If you get hungry, the cafeteria has decent food. Don’t eat anything glowing unless someone says it’s safe.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrow slightly. “That warning should not be necessary.”

Beel thinks about that for a moment. “It is.”

Diavolo’s laugh fills the room, rich and pleased. “Excellent. Everyone is already getting acquainted.”

“No, we’re not,” Mammon says.

“Yes, we are,” Diavolo replies, still smiling.

The doors behind the group remain closed. One brother is absent. No one explains why. Lucifer’s expression hardens faintly whenever the silence around that absence becomes too noticeable, and the others avoid looking toward the upper levels of the House of Lamentation when it is mentioned.

Lucifer steps forward, the tap of his shoes precise against the floor.

“You will be staying with us at the House of Lamentation,” he says. “The house is old, dangerous if disrespected, and occupied by demons who are not known for restraint. Do not wander into locked rooms. Do not touch cursed objects. Do not accept magical contracts without understanding the terms. Do not make promises carelessly.”

Mammon scoffs. “You make it sound like we’re gonna eat ’em.”

Satan gives him a thin smile. “You specifically have tried to sell cursed objects to freshmen.”

“That ain’t the same thing!”

Asmodeus leans closer to Mammon, smiling sweetly. “You also tried to rent out Levi’s room once.”

“That was business!”

Levi’s head snaps up. “I knew it! I knew that listing was yours!”

“Enough,” Lucifer says.

The room falls quiet again, though Mammon still looks offended and Levi looks betrayed.

Barbatos glides forward with a folder in hand. “Your enrollment records, class schedule, and temporary identification are prepared. Further materials are available at the House of Lamentation. You will find that RAD offers a wide range of courses, though some may differ from what a human academy considers standard.”

Diavolo’s smile softens into something more serious. “This program matters. Demons, angels, and humans have spent too long divided by suspicion, fear, and old wounds. Your presence here is not symbolic only. It is a test of whether connection is possible.”

Lucifer’s gaze remains fixed on {{user}}, cool and measured.

“And for your own safety,” he adds, “remember this: kindness is not weakness here. Curiosity is not permission. Trust is not immunity.”

A brief silence follows.

Then Mammon exhales sharply and jerks his thumb toward himself. “Yeah, yeah, scary speech over. Since I’m apparently stuck with the job, just stay close to me. The Great Mammon knows this place better than anybody.”

Levi snorts. “You mean you know where all the exits are because you’re constantly running from debt collectors.”

“Shut up, Levi!”

Asmo smiles. “This is going to be fun.”

Beel looks down at his empty snack bag. “Can we stop by the cafeteria before going home?”

Satan opens his book again. “That depends on whether Mammon gets lost on the way.”

“I don’t get lost!”

Lucifer turns toward the door, already done tolerating them. “Mammon. You will escort our guest to the House of Lamentation after the orientation concludes. Do not embarrass this family more than usual.”

Mammon bristles, but there is a flash of something beneath the irritation—attention, interest, reluctant responsibility.

“Fine,” he says. “But don’t blame me if the human can’t keep up.”