The undercurrent of noble devil society was politics.
But the weapon of choice?
Tea.
More accurately: tea parties.
For noble households, hosting a gathering wasn't about refreshments or conversation. It was a battlefield disguised in lace, sugar cubes, and porcelain cups.
At four years old, Kael Gremory was now a regular participant in these affairs.
Not willingly.
Not happily.
But out of necessity.
He was the second child of the prestigious Gremory family—still blindfolded, still unreadable, still an enigma to everyone in the Underworld.
And lately… nobility had started paying even more attention.
The Gremory estate was sparkling with enchanted cleanliness for today's gathering. A multi-house tea event: minor nobles from the Agares and Glaysa-Lucifer lines had been invited for a "children's social."
Kael called it a "small-scale information war."
Sirzechs called it "cute."
Sirzechs was wrong.
Kael sat under the garden's central parasol, legs crossed in perfect posture, sipping cursed-infused iced tea from a child-sized porcelain cup with a pattern of flaming skulls. (A gacha gift. He refused to drink from anything else.)
Across from him were three children—all his age or slightly older—looking at him like he was either fascinating or contagious.
One of them, a smug boy from the Agares branch family, leaned forward.
"My magic affinity is darkness. Father says it'll be strong when I grow up."
Kael nodded politely. "Darkness is good. Makes it easier to hide when you lose."
The boy blinked. "Wha—"
Another noble child giggled into their sleeve.
Kael took another sip.
The nobles didn't know what to do with him.
He wore a jet-black blindfold enchanted with enough cursed energy to give most magic sensors a headache. He never cast spells, never showed an affinity, and yet everyone who spent more than five minutes near him walked away with the same feeling:
"That boy is hiding something."
And they were right.
Kael was hiding everything.
Venelana watched from a shaded table nearby, eyes soft with maternal amusement as her son calmly dismantled another heir's ego with a single sentence.
She'd started noticing subtle changes in herself lately. Tiredness. Sensory shifts. And a growing warmth in her chest she couldn't quite explain.
She'd be seeing the family physician later that evening.
She didn't mention any of this to Kael.
She didn't need to.
Because Kael already knew.
Back at the tea table, the boy from earlier tried again.
"My house controls time magic," he said with pride. "What do you control?"
Kael slowly set his cup down.
The air chilled—just slightly. Not from magic. Not from temperature.
But from pressure.
"I control myself," Kael said simply.
Then he smiled.
And the boy changed the subject.
"Daily Gacha Roll: You've received… 'Enchanted Napkin of Infinite Sass – Makes every formal gesture 20% snarkier.'"
Kael activated it. Folded the napkin. Placed it in his lap with devastating elegance.
A noble lady across the garden gasped like she'd witnessed an act of divine etiquette.
Kael didn't flinch.
He just took another sip.
The tea party ended, as they often did, in awkward farewells and forced smiles. Parents exchanged polite words while their children scowled or fake-laughed beside them, clearly wishing to be anywhere else.
Kael, naturally, disappeared before the guests even reached the gates.
One second he was sitting beside his mother with a cursed biscuit in hand.
The next?
Gone.
Teleportation via cursed energy left no magic signature.
He wasn't hiding from the nobles.
He was bored.
He reappeared in the manor's upper garden, lounging on a stone bench, sipping something suspiciously frothy from a gacha-shaped cup labeled:
"99% Juice. 1% Schemes."
The cursed butterfly he summoned weeks ago had evolved. It now followed him like a familiar, occasionally dive-bombing birds that got too close.
He flicked his fingers once, making the creature spiral upward with a glittery hum.
Then… he paused.
Eyes unseen.
Blindfold still firm.
But his expression turned thoughtful.
Something just changed.
Elsewhere in the manor, Venelana Gremory sat on the edge of her bed, a soft hand pressed to her abdomen.
The healer was just finishing her spellwork, her expression growing warm and surprised.
"Well," she said softly, "it seems congratulations are in order again, Lady Gremory."
Venelana's eyes widened. "…Truly?"
The healer nodded. "You're pregnant."
Venelana's hand trembled slightly. A breath escaped her lips—half joy, half disbelief.
And deep down, past all her noble training and practiced expressions, one thought whispered through her soul:
He already knows, doesn't he?
Back in the upper garden, Kael's cursed butterfly landed lightly on his shoulder.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
But a small smile touched his lips.
"Someone's in a good mood," the gacha system whispered. "Would you like a roll to celebrate?"
Kael raised a hand.
"Daily Gacha Roll: You've received… 'Socks of Comedic Timing – Causes thunderclaps when walking away from conversations dramatically.'"
He nodded.
Stored.
Filed for future use.
Far to the south, in the Sitri territory, Lady Sitri was quietly listening to her own healer's stunned announcement.
Another noble heir was on the way.
She placed a hand to her stomach, a subtle smile on her face.
"That makes two," she murmured. "Two to change the world."
Her husband blinked. "Two what?"
She didn't answer.
Because far above them, behind the clouds, Kael was already watching.
Kael Gremory came to a decision.
A firm, final, and somewhat petty decision.
If the Underworld was going to treat him like a mystery, a problem, or a puzzle…
He was going to make their lives entertaining.
No more sitting still like a perfect statue. No more cryptic nods and ominous tea sipping—well, okay, still those—but with flair.
From this point forward, Kael decided to inject maximum confusion and controlled chaos into every noble encounter.
And the opportunity came fast.
The Sitri family invited House Gremory to a formal gathering. Though technically a diplomatic visit between adults, the nobles insisted on bringing their young children along for "early bonding."
Kael had only one goal.
Troll everyone present.
He arrived on time.
By teleporting onto the Sitri garden fountain.
While cross-legged.
Wearing a handmade paper crown.
Drinking cursed milk from a glowing chalice labeled "Noble Juice."
Lady Sitri blinked. "Is… is that your second son?"
"Yes," Venelana said dryly. "He's just being expressive."
Sirzechs chuckled from the side. "He's embracing his creative phase."
Grayfia visibly braced herself.
Kael tilted his head slightly toward them all and raised one hand in greeting. Then lowered it… in slow motion.
The Sitri children were mostly nervous around him. Even the bold ones who had made a name for themselves among noble circles couldn't seem to hold eye contact with the blindfolded toddler lounging like royalty.
One brave boy approached.
"You're Kael, right?"
Kael leaned forward dramatically. "That's what they call me… when the wind howls."
The boy blinked.
"What?"
Kael leaned back. "Nothing. You're hearing things. Old age, probably."
"…We're four."
"Exactly."
Venelana looked like she wanted to disappear into her teacup.
Ajuka, who had arrived halfway through the event just to observe Kael, laughed so hard he nearly fell off his seat.
Later, during a structured "playtime demonstration," the children were asked to showcase their magical talents—simple tricks for levitation, conjuration, or elemental sparks.
Kael walked up last. He raised one hand…
And summoned a tiny cursed snowman.
It had a top hat, a monocle, and an aura of overwhelming smugness.
Then it exploded into glitter.
The Sitri children clapped. Some adults looked horrified.
Lady Sitri cleared her throat. "That… was certainly something."
Kael bowed deeply. "Art."
"Daily Gacha Roll: You've received… 'Mini Lute of Dramatic Entrance – Plays a random heroic melody whenever you enter a room.'"
Kael activated it.
From then on, every door he walked through was accompanied by orchestral fanfare.
Including the bathroom.
As the day ended and families parted ways, Kael appeared beside Ajuka in a flash of soft light and asked in a perfectly calm tone:
"Do you think they'll invite me back?"
Ajuka grinned. "Only if they're brave."
Kael smiled.
Then let's make the next one unforgettable.
The Gremory estate had hosted many noble gatherings over the centuries.
But this was the first time they hosted one where the youngest son—four-year-old Kael—was listed as a "potential point of diplomatic confusion."
The phrasing was Venelana's idea.
Sirzechs had laughed too hard when he read it.
Kael greeted the arriving nobles with polite bows, a calm tone, and an unsettling knack for saying just enough to make people think he knew more than he should.
"Lady Glaysa, how nice to see you. I heard your garden finally stopped whispering at night."
"Lord Agares, your son's flame affinity is quite impressive. I hope the curtains survived last time."
He didn't raise his voice.
Didn't smirk.
But he let the weight of his words sit just a little too long.
And that was enough.
He wore a modest noble outfit: deep navy tunic, high collar, long sleeves. The only real extravagance was his blindfold—thicker than usual, embroidered with faint silvery thread.
People stared, but no one asked.
They never did.
During the garden mingling, Kael made simple rounds.
No loud declarations.
No paper crowns.
Just soft-footed steps and questions that danced between genuine curiosity and unnerving insight.
To one girl:
"Have you ever wondered why tea always tastes better in someone else's home?"
To a boy showing off a basic levitation spell:
"I like that. Clean technique. Do it again tomorrow—see if the wind answers differently."
No one was quite sure what he meant.
But everyone remembered it.
Ajuka arrived halfway through the event. As always, he didn't announce himself—he just appeared near the hedges with a glass of something dark and sweet.
Kael approached without hesitation.
"Enjoying the show?" he asked.
Ajuka smirked. "I'm here for the intermission act. Word is, you're supposed to summon something ridiculous today."
Kael shook his head. "Not today. I think the silence will speak louder."
Ajuka's smile widened. "You're learning."
When it came time for the children's magic display, Kael declined to perform anything flashy.
Instead, he stepped forward and calmly traced a single floating rune in the air with a thread of cursed energy—so delicate and quiet that most nobles couldn't even see it.
Then he stepped back and bowed.
A few guests applauded. Some looked confused.
Sirzechs smiled knowingly.
Venelana sipped her tea, pride in her eyes.
By the end of the evening, Kael had spoken to every noble child once—never long, never forcefully—but always with a presence that stuck.
More than a few parents left wondering if their children had just been gently tested by a miniature king in training.
They weren't wrong.
That night, in his room, Kael lay on his back and stared upward beneath his blindfold.
He didn't speak.
Didn't sigh.
Didn't even think about his next move.
He just smiled faintly.
Let them keep wondering.
Kael Gremory was five years old when the stillness broke.
The first shift came during his morning walk through the orchard—nothing loud or violent. Just a soft, layered distortion in the air that only he could feel. His Six Eyes pulsed beneath the blindfold, filtering the data effortlessly now.
Kael stopped walking.
There it was again. Another ripple.
One burned. One shimmered.
Two distinct presences.
One wild and loud.
The other cold and composed.
Venelana didn't need to announce her pregnancy. Kael had known for over a year. The signs were everywhere—her aura, her posture, her resting heartbeat.
He hadn't said a word.
He'd simply begun walking beside her more often, staying close like a silent guardian. And one morning, just days before her due date, she reached down, took his hand, and said:
"You're not surprised, are you?"
Kael only smiled.
The Sitri household made their announcement within days of Gremory's. Lady Sitri, radiant and calm, confirmed the arrival of a daughter with a soft statement and a subtle nod to the growing next generation.
The nobles, as always, whispered. Two great families. Two new heirs.
Kael listened to none of it.
He just watched the sky.
When the day arrived, Kael stood quietly outside his mother's room.
He didn't pace.
Didn't panic.
Just waited.
Until the air shifted. Again.
A pulse of heat and presence. Loud and impossible to ignore.
Rias Gremory had arrived.
A few days later, a softer ripple. More measured. Quiet, but deeply secure.
Sona Sitri had entered the world.
Kael didn't attend the births.
He didn't need to.
His presence was felt regardless.
Venelana, pale and tired but glowing with joy, called her son into the room.
Kael entered without a word.
He stepped to the side of the crib where his newborn sister blinked slowly up at the world.
She opened her eyes.
Bright crimson. Sparks of fire.
Kael tilted his head.
"Well," he murmured, "this'll be interesting."
Far in the Sitri estate, Lady Sitri cradled her daughter as the child's aura built its first natural barrier, encasing her crib in a layer of unbreakable calm.
"Already shielding yourself?" she whispered with a proud smile.
Outside the chamber, the shadows flickered once.
Somewhere above the estate, a silent figure rested cross-legged in the air—watching. Then gone.
Later that night, Kael stood alone in the garden.
No training. No plans. No jokes.
Just stillness.
The world had changed again. Two new pieces had entered play.
He reached into his inner world, not for power, not for preparation—
But simply to feel it.
The fire.
The water.
And him… the unknown.