My Wives are Beautiful Demons

The silence in the hall remained oppressive, but Vergil appeared entirely unbothered by the weight of hundreds of stares fixed on him. He adjusted the collar of his shirt casually, as though he had just returned from a leisurely stroll. His gaze swept across the room with a mixture of curiosity and mild disdain, as if he were evaluating the decor of a mediocre restaurant.

"So..." Vergil began, tilting his head slightly, his tone laced with sarcasm. "This is how the high demon nobility entertains itself? I must admit, I expected something... more impressive."

The remark was a spark to dry tinder. Some demons gasped, others murmured, and a few let out nervous chuckles. Most, however, remained frozen, unsure of how to respond to such audacity.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"Who does he think he is?" one noble whispered, only to be immediately silenced by a sharp glare from his consort.

Meanwhile, Vergil's wives observed the unfolding scene, each reacting in her own way. Katharina ran a hand over her face, stifling a laugh. Ada crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes, though the slight curve of her lips betrayed a hint of amusement. Roxanne, for her part, barely managed to contain her laughter, covering her mouth with her hand as her shoulders shook. Experience tales at empire

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" Ada whispered to Katharina.

"That's why I love him," Katharina replied with a resigned sigh, though the pride in her voice was unmistakable.

Vergil continued strolling through the hall, deliberately ignoring the growing tension, as if on a leisurely walk in the park. He stopped by a table adorned with crystal glasses and a bottle of dark demon wine. With deliberate calm, he poured himself a glass and raised it toward the assembly.

"To your health," he said with a lazy smile, taking a sip. "I hope the food is as good as the delightful display of nerves you're putting on."

The comment transformed the tension in the room into a chaotic mix of indignation and shock. Sapphire, watching from a distance, smirked discreetly, shaking her head.

"You really do enjoy stirring the pot, don't you?" she thought, crossing her arms as she followed his every move with interest.

Vergil finally stopped pacing and looked directly at the crowd, tilting his head again. "So, who here is responsible for explaining the purpose of this fascinating event? Because honestly, I only came for the snacks."

On the far side of the hall, a young man with sharp eyes and neatly combed black hair rose from his velvet chair.

He wore an impeccable suit adorned with silver details that gleamed in the chandelier's light.

His expression was a blend of disdain and challenge—hallmarks of his reputation. Mael Raum, one of the most promising demons of the new generation, was known for his cunning and razor-sharp tongue.

"So, this is the famous Vergil," Mael said, his firm voice cutting through the rising murmurs in the hall. He descended the steps of his elevated platform with measured steps, each movement exuding a confidence that seemed almost rehearsed. "I must admit, you know how to make a first impression. Though frankly, it strikes me more as that of a jester than a king."

The hall fell silent once more, all eyes shifting to Vergil, anticipating his reaction. Vergil's wives remained still, their gazes sharp. Katharina frowned, her hand tightening slightly on Ada's arm, while Roxanne simply observed with an intrigued smile, clearly eager to see how Vergil would respond.

Vergil tilted his head to the side, studying Mael as if examining something mildly interesting. He took another sip of wine, allowing the silence to stretch uncomfortably long before finally speaking.

The hall was still charged with tension, the silence thick enough to cut with a blade. Vergil stood in the center, his expression calm and utterly unbothered as Mael lay crumpled on the shattered marble floor, gasping for breath. Slowly, Vergil lowered his glass, swirling the wine inside it lazily before speaking once more, his voice carrying an air of mock cheerfulness.

"Now that that's settled..." he said, turning on his heel to address the rest of the hall with a casual, almost friendly smile. "Shall we proceed with the evening's events?"

Before anyone could respond, a voice—sharp, commanding, and ice-cold—cut through the air, silencing the murmurs and freezing everyone in their tracks.

"Stop making a scene in my house."

The words were laced with an authority so palpable it felt like a physical force pressing down on the room. Conversations died instantly, and every gaze turned to the source of the voice. Even Vergil, typically unflappable, raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

At the far end of the hall, standing with an aura of undeniable dominance, was Sapphire. Her piercing gaze swept over the room, pausing on Mael before settling on Vergil. She took a step forward, her heels clicking against the floor with deliberate precision. The sound echoed ominously in the stillness.

Sapphire's expression was unreadable, but her presence alone was enough to command the attention of every demon present. The room seemed to shrink around her, her aura growing heavier with each step she took toward the center.

Vergil turned to fully face her, his smirk returning, though his eyes gleamed with a spark of curiosity. "Ah, Sapphire. I was wondering when you'd step in. It's not a proper party without the host making an entrance, after all."

Her lips curved into the faintest semblance of a smile, though it was far from warm. "And here I thought you'd learned a modicum of restraint. Clearly, I overestimated you."

Vergil chuckled, setting his glass down on a nearby table. "Restraint's overrated. Besides, your guest there," he gestured toward Mael with a slight nod, "decided to test his wit. I was merely helping him recalibrate his sense of self-worth."

Sapphire's gaze flicked to Mael, who was still struggling to rise, and then back to Vergil. "And you thought breaking my floor and humiliating a promising ally was the appropriate response?"

Vergil shrugged, a picture of nonchalance. "Better now than later. Consider it a public service."

The corners of Sapphire's mouth tightened almost imperceptibly, though she maintained her composure. "You're bold, Vergil. But boldness without wisdom is reckless."

Vergil stepped closer, his smile widening slightly. "And wisdom without boldness is boring. I'd say we balance each other out nicely, don't you think?"

The room seemed to hold its collective breath as the two faced off. Sapphire's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it was as though an invisible current of power passed between them—a silent battle of wills.

Then, with a flick of her wrist, Sapphire gestured toward the floor. The cracked marble repaired itself instantly, the damage disappearing as though it had never existed. She turned to the rest of the hall, her voice ringing out clearly.

"Enough distractions. Let us proceed with the purpose of this gathering. Vergil," she said, her tone cool but pointed, "try to behave. You may find it more challenging than you think."

Vergil's grin didn't falter as he gave her a slight bow. "I'll do my best. No promises."

Sapphire turned away, her cape flowing behind her as she returned to her place at the head of the hall. The room, still tense but now abuzz with murmurs, began to regain some semblance of order.

Ada, Katharina, and Roxanne exchanged glances, each one betraying varying degrees of amusement and exasperation.

"Classic Vergil," Roxanne murmured, smirking.

"One of these days, he's going to push someone too far," Ada replied, though there was a note of reluctant admiration in her voice.

Katharina folded her arms, watching as Vergil returned to them with an unbothered air. "Let's just hope he doesn't burn the whole place down before this night is over."

At the top of a luxurious staircase that descended into the grand hall stood Cabernet Gremory. She was a figure of pure elegance and authority, like a calm storm on the brink of devastating everything in its path. Tall and poised, her striking crimson hair cascaded down her back in perfect alignment, adorned with a black rose on the left side of her head—a stark contrast to her piercing, radiant eyes. Her lips were painted a deep, blood-red, matching the dark shadow that enhanced the intensity of her gaze.

Cabernet didn't merely enter a room; she claimed it. Her flowing black dress seemed woven from living shadows, molding to her form with the precision of an ancient secret. Every step she took was deliberate, the sound of her heels echoing like a funeral march throughout the hall.

Vergil narrowed his eyes, studying her. Her presence was unlike anything he had encountered before. It wasn't the raw power of Raphaeline, the explosive strength of Sapphire, or the chaotic magnetism of Stella. Cabernet exuded something deliberate, almost clinical. She was the kind of person who had already won the game before the first move was made.

"Should I assume you're Cabernet Gremory?" Vergil finally spoke, his usual casual tone intact, though there was a subtle edge of caution in his stance. He knew better than to underestimate her.

"And you, apparently, think you can do whatever you please," Cabernet replied, descending the stairs with the grace of a predator. Her voice was like velvet, yet it carried an implicit warning.

The entire hall held its breath. Roxanne leaned forward slightly, intrigued, while Katharina and Ada exchanged glances, clearly assessing the unfolding situation. Sapphire, for her part, remained silent, though the gleam in her eyes betrayed that she knew exactly what was coming.

Vergil, however, appeared unfazed. He raised his glass again, this time with a sardonic smile on his lips. "Well, I do my best. But I must admit, your home is... impressive. As is its hostess."

Cabernet paused on the final step, tilting her head slightly.

"Are you flirting with me?" she asked, her sharp gaze probing his, as though testing for any cracks in his composure.