My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Following Sapphire, Raphaeline, and Stella, along with Amon, Vergil entered a long corridor, its walls adorned with intricate reliefs and sculptures that seemed to recount ancient stories of the Underworld.

The atmosphere was steeped in heavy silence, broken only by the sound of their footsteps on the polished obsidian floor.

At the end of the corridor, a pair of golden double doors opened, revealing what appeared to be a "secret" room.

It was, in fact, a vast hall with a high ceiling supported by black columns that gleamed with golden magical inscriptions.

At the center, an immense round table dominated the space, crafted from glossy black wood, with golden engravings that seemed to pulse faintly, as if the table itself were alive.

Each seat around it was equally impressive: carved chairs adorned with symbols representing the demons who would occupy them.

Beside each chair stood a maid waiting in silence. Their postures were flawless, each embodying the elegance and discipline demanded of those who served such powerful figures.

Vergil, however, paused upon entering, his expression shifting to a mix of surprise and amusement as he spotted a familiar figure standing beside one of the chairs.

"You're here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he recognized his loyal maid, Viviane, waiting beside the chair clearly reserved for him.

Viviane, with her immaculate blue hair tied back and her maid uniform perfectly aligned, bowed in respectful acknowledgment. Her gaze, however, retained its usual sharpness. "I received Lord Amon's invitation to serve you at this table, Master Vergil," she replied, her tone more formal than usual—a detail that didn't escape him.

"Invitation? Or command?" Vergil murmured to himself, a faint smile forming on his lips.

Looking around, he noticed that Viviane wasn't the only one present representing their loyalty. Across the room, he saw a purple-haired maid he recognized as Ei, standing calmly beside the chair reserved for Raphaeline. Nearby, Novah, a woman with a presence as commanding as Sapphire's, stood like a protective shadow beside the seat designated for the crimson-haired queen.

Vergil continued to observe, noticing two more figures along the table. A white-haired maid with an impressive presence and a generous figure—impossible to overlook—patiently awaited Cabernet's arrival. As soon as Cabernet entered, she moved toward her designated seat without exchanging a word with her servant, as though their connection was instinctual.

On the opposite side of the table, a green-haired woman with eyes that shimmered with an almost hypnotic aura awaited Stella. Her posture was impeccable, but her gaze betrayed an acute vigilance, ready to respond to her mistress's every command.

"Well, it seems everyone brought their 'escorts,'" Vergil remarked, approaching the chair indicated by Viviane. His gaze slid over each maid, mentally noting their postures and the energy they exuded.

They weren't just maids—that much was clear...

'Novah's aura... she's far stronger than I thought she'd be. If she's like this... then Viola... must be formidable, right?' Vergil thought at first, recalling that Viola was supposedly Sapphire's maid, not Novah... or so he had been led to believe. Novah had always been with Katharina, not Sapphire...

Viviane, however, interrupted his thoughts as she stepped closer to him. "Master, please maintain your composure," she whispered, as though sensing he was already planning something outside protocol—and well, he was...

"Composure? I'm always the picture of composure," he replied with a nonchalant smile, which only made Viviane sigh softly. Despite this, she maintained her serene expression.

Vergil finally settled into his chair, glancing around the room as the others also took their seats.

Amon seated himself at the central chair of the table, his posture as imposing as ever, but a noticeable shadow of irritation lingered on his face. The hall, which had carried a faint murmur of anticipation, fell completely silent as he assumed his position.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Without preamble, his words cut through the air like a blade.

"I'll be blunt because I despise beating around the bush," he said, his tone firm and devoid of patience.

All eyes were fixed on him, and for a brief moment, the tension in the room climbed to a breaking point. Then, Amon continued:

"Whoever kills the boy becomes an Archon."

The impact of his statement was like a thunderclap in the room, but to the surprise of some—or perhaps not—no one moved.

Vergil raised an eyebrow, surprised but far from alarmed. He glanced around the table, expecting something to happen, but what he found was pure indifference. The four Demon Queens—Sapphire, Raphaeline, Stella, and Cabernet—did not react as he had anticipated.

Sapphire let out an exasperated sigh, crossing her arms as if listening to a child throw a tantrum. Raphaeline rested her chin on her hand, her eyes alight with sheer boredom. Stella rolled her eyes as though she had seen this coming a mile away, while Cabernet shot Amon a look of pure incredulity, as if he were the only lunatic in the room.

The lack of reaction was so glaring that even Vergil began to find it amusing. He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together as he watched Amon with a mischievous smile.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Vergil remarked in a tone of mock disappointment, breaking the awkward silence. "I figured these three wouldn't bother, but even Gremory didn't flinch. That's a surprise. But hey, looks like no one here's all that eager for a promotion, huh?"

Sapphire couldn't suppress a soft chuckle. "You really think that kind of motivation works on us, Amon?"

"He thinks it does," Cabernet said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's adorable. Naïve, but adorable."

"Please," Stella added, her tone sharp as a dagger. "We kill for plenty of reasons, but climbing the ladder isn't exactly at the top of the list."

Raphaeline, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke, her voice calm but carrying an undertone of cutting subtlety: "And even if it were... Amon, do you honestly believe any of us would be foolish enough to create chaos over something like that?"

Amon's expression grew darker, but he said nothing.

"Tsk, you're all so boring," he muttered suddenly, his tone shifting to one of careless dismissal. "Fine, I tried the demonic way. Now I'll handle this my way."

With a snap of his fingers, several shadows emerged around the table, moving like serpents of smoke until they deposited contracts before each person present. The black parchment, inscribed with golden ink, glowed with an almost menacing light, as though the documents themselves were alive.

Vergil raised an eyebrow, regarding the contract in front of him with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He picked up the sheet carefully, turning it between his fingers.

"Impressive work, I'll admit. Who was the artist?" he quipped, his voice laden with sarcasm as he glanced at Amon.

Amon let out a low, exasperated growl. "That's a demonic sigil seal, boy, not some painting for your living room. Sign it."

"Tsk, I liked you better when you seemed like an angry guy," Vergil muttered, his tone dripping with irony as he picked up the quill left beside the contract.

Sapphire let out a short laugh. "You don't want to meet that guy, trust me. Pfft…"

"If he doesn't go through with it, he'll just die of boredom," Raphaeline remarked, resting her chin on her palm while carefully reading the contract.

Cabernet, on the other hand, merely scoffed, already scribbling her signature on the contract with complete disinterest. "This is just another political game dressed up as urgency. As usual."

Stella remained silent, meticulously analyzing each line of the document, her green eyes gleaming with intensity.

"You do have a flair for the dramatic, Amon," Stella finally said, running her fingers over the paper. "But I suppose this is... acceptable, for now."

Vergil observed the others' reactions before casting a glance at Sapphire, who was already signing without hesitation. He sighed, resigned. "Well, if everyone's jumping off the cliff, guess I'll join in too."

He signed the contract with an unnecessarily flamboyant flourish, as though he were autographing something. The shadows around the paper vibrated momentarily before vanishing, as if acknowledging his signature.

Amon crossed his arms, his stance shifting back to one of authority. "Alright. Now that we're all aligned... let's discuss why we're really here."

He crossed his arms again and shot a weary glare at Vergil, as if already regretting everything before even beginning.

"Sapphire, congratulations," he said, his tone a mix of irony and resignation, while Sapphire grinned from ear to ear, as though she'd just won an award.

"Thank you! It was hard work, but frankly, I'm amazing," she replied, flipping her hair with a dramatic flourish.

Amon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to stave off an imminent headache. "Ah... I hate you."

"Mutual feeling, darling," Sapphire quipped, her smile never faltering, while Amon continued as if she hadn't said anything.

"I hate you, I hate your daughter, I hate Raphaeline, I hate Raphaeline's daughter, I hate Stella, and I hate Stella's daughter. Oh, and I hate your husband." He pointed at Sapphire before turning to Vergil, who gave him a cheeky grin.

"Hi to you too," Vergil said, bowing with an exaggerated flourish, like a master of ceremonies.

"But Cabernet," Amon continued, turning to the white-haired queen, "you're the only one here who doesn't give me a headache. Keep it that way, please."

Cabernet merely raised an eyebrow, indifferent, as she sipped her wine.

Amon sighed again and glanced at Sapphire, his tone loaded with exasperation. "Seriously, Sapphire… did you have to make such a spectacle? What were you thinking?"

Sapphire shrugged with the innocence of someone who was anything but innocent. "Blame Raphaeline. She decided she wanted a sword from Phenex and figured auctioning off her daughter was a fair trade. I just… adjusted the pieces on the board."

Raphaeline, calmly sipping her tea, glanced at Sapphire without a hint of remorse. "The sword was quite beautiful, to be fair."

"You two are a nightmare," Amon grumbled, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"If Ada had just stayed with Vergil from the start, none of this would've happened," Sapphire added, as though explaining something obvious to a child.

"Oh, of course! Let's blame the poor guy," Vergil quipped, raising his hand as if he were the martyr of the room. "This just keeps getting better by the second."

Amon shot him another glare, this time with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You're not helping."

"I never said I would," Vergil replied with a teasing smile.