Chapter 572: Come on, annoying guy.
The dawn was silent, obscured only by the pale light of the hellish moon filtering through the curtains. Vergil lay, his bare chest covered by disheveled sheets, surrounded by three presences that, together, were the definition of peace and chaos: Katharina, Ada, and Roxanne.
Katharina, the closest, rested her head on his chest, her finger tracing lazy circles on his skin. Ada was on the other side, propped up on her elbow, watching him with the analytical gaze of someone who never stopped calculating possibilities, even in bed. Roxanne, her golden hair spread out over the sheets, had her legs entwined with his, as if trying to mark her territory even in her sleep.
The silence was short-lived.
“So…” Katharina began, her tone slow, almost too saccharine to be innocent. “Let me see if I understand correctly…”
Vergil raised an eyebrow, already anticipating confusion.
“Wukong,” she continued, lifting her head, “the Monkey King decided to appear to you… transformed into a hot blonde?”
The way she said “hot blonde” was full of venom.
Vergil sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “It was a temporary transformation. He said he adapted to the situation.”
“Adapted to the situation?” Ada repeated, frowning. “Interesting. A form of empathy… or manipulation.”
Roxanne, who had seemed calm until then, straightened up and crossed her arms, her eyes flashing. “I want to know why he had to be blonde.”
Katharina was already sitting up, huffing. “I’m going to kill that damn monkey!”
Ada laughed, resting her chin on her hand. “Oh, right, because you’re so calm and rational when you’re jealous.”
“Shut up, Ada!” Katharina growled. “He could have turned into anything!” A raven, a cloud, an old demon… but no! He turns into a… a… blonde bitch!
Roxanne laughed. “Hey, hey, hey! Let’s go easy on the vocabulary.” She pulled a lock of her own golden hair and held it up in front of the other’s face. “I’m the only blonde here, and if there are any more, I’ll rip them out one by one.”
Katharina turned to her with a look of pure menace. “Oh, don’t start!”
Vergil was already covering his face with his hand, trying to contain his laughter. “Are you really fighting over a thousand-year-old magical monkey?”
“Turned into a BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!” Roxanne and Katharina said together, indignant.
Ada shook her head, resigned. “Honestly, I’m not surprised.”
She turned and looked directly at Vergil, her eyes narrowed, analyzing his every expression. “And you?”
“Me what?”
“What did you think of that?” Ada asked, with that teasing tone of someone who already knew the answer but wanted to hear the embarrassment.
Vergil turned his face to her and replied calmly, “I found it… curious.”
Roxanne snorted. “‘Curious’? That’s the word you use when something interests you.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” Vergil laughed, leaning his head back against the pillow. “But yes, it was… uncomfortable.”
Katharina arched her eyebrows. “Uncomfortable?”
“Yes.” He turned slightly, looking at the ceiling. “Because I’ve met him before. His original form. The real Wukong.”
Vergil’s expression changed slightly, somewhere between respect and discomfort.
“That being who faced the entire sky, who challenged Buddha, who faced divine armies alone. And then…” He let out a small, humorless laugh. “He appears before me… transformed into a blonde, legs crossed, smiling as if it were a joke.”
Ada rested her chin on her hand, thoughtful. “It’s… a peculiar way to test your limits.”
“Limits?” Roxanne scoffed. “That’s blatant provocation!”
Katharina grumbled, “He should test his limits before I rip that naughty monkey’s tail off!”
Vergil turned to her, a half-smile on his face. “I appreciate the concern, Katharina, but I doubt he cares.”
She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. “Oh, really? Well, I do care.”
Ada laughed, her tone low and soft. “How cute. Our little Katharina ready to go to war against the Sage Equal to the Heavens because of a look.”
Katharina turned to her, her eyes shining with fury. “Shut up, Ada, before I stick this calculus quill in your—”
“Girls,” Vergil interrupted, his voice calm, but with a weight that silenced the three of them for a second. He rose slightly, leaning on his elbows, his eyes roving over each of them. “Listen.”
The silence grew thick.
“Wukong is unpredictable. Always has been. He transforms, adapts, provokes… it’s his nature.” Vergil paused. “But even if he appears before me as the most beautiful of women, the most tempting of beings, I would never touch him.”
Katharina arched an eyebrow suspiciously. “‘Never’?”
“Never,” Vergil repeated firmly. “He is the Great Sage Equal to the Heavens. Which means messing with him would be like trying to kiss a bomb about to explode. And he introduced himself as a man before. I won’t get that out of my head.”
Roxanne bit her lip, still a little sulky. “Is that… a metaphor?”
Vergil smirked. “It’s a warning.”
Ada let out a light laugh. “At least he has common sense.”
Katharina lay back on his chest, still grumbling. “I still think I should rip that monkey’s tail off.”
“Of course you do,” Roxanne teased, smoothing her hair. “But I know he doesn’t have time for fake blondes…”
Vergil turned to her, amused. “Fake blondes?”
She winked. “I’m the original.”
Ada sighed, rolling her eyes. “You two will fight until the end of time.”
Vergil laughed, finally relaxing. “And that’s why I like you. No god, monkey, or celestial blonde can compete with my beautiful wives.”
The three of them looked at each other—and for a moment, jealousy gave way to a shared smile.
Katharina huffed, but leaned back against his chest. Roxanne hugged him from behind, wrapping her legs around his. Ada just sighed, settling in on the other side, muttering something about “irrational but statistically satisfying relationships.”
Vergil’s laughter echoed softly, muffled by the sound of their mingled breaths.
…
The afternoon was quiet—or at least the kind of quiet Viviane rarely managed to maintain for more than five minutes when she lived with Vergil.
She vacuumed the living room, humming softly an ancient hellish song, one of those whose origins no one could remember anymore. The sound of the motor drowned out the world, and the smell of sulfur incense mixed with the floral perfume she wafted through the house created a strange harmony.
The floor gleamed, the furniture finally free of the infernal dust that insisted on appearing as if the place breathed on its own.
Viviane paused for a moment, setting down the vacuum cleaner and staring at the ceiling.
“Finally… peace,” she murmured, closing her eyes.
And, as if the universe had heard and decided to mock her, the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong.
Viviane froze.
The doorbell rang again, this time more insistently.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
“Oh, hell!” she huffed, turning off the vacuum cleaner with a snap. “Who plays that damn thing like that?”
She walked to the door, quickly straightening her skirt and hair, the cleaning cloth still slung over her shoulder.
She opened the door.
And the world fell silent.
There was Amon.
In all his glory and weight.
The air seemed to constrict the instant he locked eyes with her. The golden horns, the dark coat that seemed made of solid shadows, the gaze that burned like a silent furnace. And, of course, his signature expression—the one of someone who was a second away from setting someone on fire out of impatience.
Viviane blinked twice, the cloth still slung over her shoulder, the vacuum cleaner behind her emitting a low hum as its motor slowed.
“…Ah.”
Amon arched an eyebrow.
“Is Vergil here?”
It took Viviane a second to process. “I… oh, yes, but…” She glanced quickly inside, as if hoping to find help amid the perfectly arranged cushions. “Do you… want to leave a message?”
Amon just stared at her.
It was a heavy look, the kind that could penetrate walls and wills.
“Viviane.” “Hey!” he said, his tone low and firm, his voice like suppressed thunder. “Call Vergil. Now.”
Viviane felt a shiver run through her. His tone wasn’t angry, but it was hurried—and Amon never showed any rush.
She tried to smile nervously. “Okay, okay… sure… just a minute.”
She closed the door halfway, turning to face the hallway. “Vergil!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “Vergil, your ‘boss’ is here! And he looks angry!”
Amon crossed his arms, sighing heavily, the sound echoing like a hot wind.
From inside, a crash.
A pause.
Then, slow footsteps and a hoarse voice muttering:
“I don’t have a boss.”
Viviane rolled her eyes. “Tell him that.”
Vergil appeared in the hallway a few seconds later, his hair a little disheveled and his expression sleepy, revealing how much he didn’t want to be awake yet. He wore only dark pants and an open shirt, and held a steaming mug of coffee.
“What now…?” he asked, yawning.
Then he saw Amon standing in the doorway.
The yawn died instantly.
“Oh.” Vergil blinked, and a small smile formed at the corner of his mouth. “The Archon himself. What an honor.”
Amon narrowed his eyes. “Spare me the irony. We have to go.”
“Go where, exactly?” Vergil asked, taking a calm sip of his coffee. “Because if this is another one of those ’emergency Council meetings,’ you can cross me off.”
“Shut up, let’s just find your tournament partner. I can’t wait to deal with you, you annoying little king.”