Lyria, the demon with pale skin, sat gracefully like a porcelain statue, her back to the woman. Her scarlet locks shimmered under the firelight, soft and smooth, cascading down like streams of silk. Two elegant, obsidian horns curved backward from her forehead, glinting faintly with a natural polish.
"Miss, your hair is so beautiful," Sia whispered, awestruck as she combed through the strands like someone handling sacred fabric.
Lyria didn't respond at first. Instead, she sat still, her long fingers gently cradling a glowing egg close to her chest. The firelight reflected in her deep ruby eyes, giving them an ethereal glow.
Due to the recent shutdowns, Sia had found herself with little to do—her job as an attendant on hold, the town paralyzed with fear. Helping Lyria had been a distraction from her anxiety, but now curiosity nudged her again.
"Miss... since you're a demon, could you tell me more about the demon continent?"
