"Velethus?" Auren repeated, rolling the name on his tongue. It was certainly easier than its True Name, "Vel'Ezuthra Kael Mynothra."
He flexed his body, testing the strange, new lightness in his limbs. The ache that had gnawed at him for years was dulled now, not gone but distant—manageable. Where the demon had devoured his soul's excess, it had left him cleaner, sharper, more alive.
His gaze drifted to Eldrin's cold form in the shadows.
"Did you recognize him?" Auren asked, pointing.
Velethus tilted its veiled head, eyes blinking like distant stars, "Master, I do not."
Auren's brow furrowed.
'Poor Aldrin... ' He thought dryly, 'This demon that doesn't even remember the old one who fed himself to it.'
"His name was Eldrin," Auren said flatly, "My butler. He died trying to summon you."
Velethus regarded Eldrin's shriveled husk — phantom eyes glimmering like dying stars under the veil.
It hummed — an eerie, echoing note that made the lantern's dead flame gutter for half a second.
"It seems," Velethus said at last, tone eerily calm, "He failed the sacrifice. A ritual to summon a demon is no child's game, Master. The higher the demon's rank, the greater the offering required to breach the barrier of this world."
Its voice dropped to a soft, cruel purr.
"My rank, in the Demon World, is far above what such an old mortal could afford. Even if he poured out his entire lifespan, his entire soul, it would never have been enough."
Auren's fingers drummed on the Demon Summoning Book. His mind spun at the phrase.
The Demon World.
Demon Ranks.
So, there was some hidden hierarchy among demons.
He frowned faintly, thinking of the memories buried in this body. Unfortunately, Caelus's knowledge was so shallow.
This prince was truly useless. Let alone the hierarchy of demons in the Demon World, he didn't even know the hierarchy of nobles in his own kingdom.
Next.
Auren wants to ask it, but he suppresses it for now.
The air in the basement was increasingly cold, and Auren's weak body could barely handle it.
"Help bury Eldrin's body in the backyard. We will talk again tomorrow.
"As you wish, Master."
Auren wanted to press further, but the chill in the chamber clawed at his skin, seeping deep into bone that had only just stopped screaming in pain. He felt the shiver behind his ribs, a reminder that even with his Overflowed Soul tamed, this body was still fragile — still mortal.
He exhaled, breath fogging in the cold.
"Enough for now," Auren murmured, closing the Demon Summoning Book with a soft thud. He slid it under his arm, careful not to stain its edges with the fresh blood drying on his palm.
His eyes drifted once more to Eldrin's pitiful remains, the old man who'd lived for decades in quiet service, only to gamble it all for a forbidden ritual that devoured him in silence.
"Help me bury him," Auren said, voice calm, almost gentle, "Out back, beneath the ivy. He was loyal… in his own way."
Velethus's veiled shapeshifted as its eyes blinked in and out of existence like dying embers.
"As you wish, Master." The layered voices were respectful, but behind them lurked a whisper of amusement, as if the demon found mortal sentiment an odd little toy.
Auren stood silently as Velethus approached Eldrin's lifeless body. Without a word, the demon's veil of shadows thickened, unfurling like a living cloak. The corpse vanished into the swirling darkness — devoured whole, without a trace left behind.
A low whisper of shifting silk was the only sign that Velethus had drowned the old man's remains in his shadows and then dissolved into the gloom himself.
Auren watched the last flickers of shadow vanish into the cracks of the stone walls. He exhaled once, cold breath curling in the lantern's wavering light.Then he bent down, lifted the old brass lantern by its handle, and turned away from the hidden chamber.
Step by step, he climbed the narrow stairs, boots brushing old dust off the stones. He slipped through the hidden door behind Eldrin's bookshelves and paused for a heartbeat, glancing around the empty, silent room.
'What a pity, such a loyal butler.'
He sighed under his breath, voice so soft it barely reached the dusty curtains.
"…Forget it. At least I have a better replacement for this old man."
Auren shook his head once — the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth — and stepped into the dark hallway beyond.
Outside, the rainstorm still lashed against the windows.
But inside, lantern in hand, Auren made his way back to his room — the flickering flame painting the corridor walls with restless shadows that now felt almost like company.
⚜ ⚜ ⚜
The next morning, Auren was woken by a blade of sunlight cutting through the heavy curtains.
"Good morning, Master."
Auren turned, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and froze when he saw the familiar figure standing by the window.
"…Velethus?"
The old man turned, a polite smile on his lips — but the glint in his eyes betrayed something far older and far less human.
"Master," Velethus said smoothly, bowing his borrowed head, "I thought it would be most convenient to serve you in this form. I have absorbed Eldrin's memories — his daily routines, his contacts, the people he interacted with. It saves time, does it not?"
Auren pushed himself upright, sheets falling away from his shoulders. He stared openly, half amused, half unsettled.
"You can do that?"
Velethus nodded, eyes glinting faintly under the skin that used to belong to an old, loyal butler, "Yes, Master. As long as the brain remains fresh enough to harvest… the memories are intact."
Auren's expression went blank, "…You ate a dead man's brain?"
Seeing his master's face twist slightly, Velethus offered a reassuring smile, unsettling in Eldrin's kindly features, "Do not worry, Master. I did not chew it."
Auren's eye twitched.
'What difference does that make?!'
A silent sigh escaped him
'Forget it.Perhaps demons have different cultures from humans.'
Pushing aside the last tangle of blankets, Auren swung his legs to the cold stone floor. "Prepare my bath."
"It shall be ready shortly, Master." Velethus bowed with flawless grace — the same bow Eldrin had practiced a thousand times in life.
"And remember," Auren added, voice dry but serious, "Call me Your Highness. Just like Eldrin did."
Although they lived in an abandoned castle far from any residential areas, it was possible that the royal family or other nobles had sent spies to linger around these grounds.
Just in case.
"Of course, Your Highness," Velethus said smoothly, lips curling in a polite, human smile that barely hid the cold amusement beneath, "It shall be as you command."
Soon, steam curled from the adjoining washroom — the ancient pipes rattling to life as water filled the tub.
Auren leaned back on his bed for a moment longer, listening to the sound, his eyes half-lidded.
Outside, the storm had passed, leaving only crisp sunlight and a clean chill.
Inside this abandoned castle, a dead man's shadow served him tea and heated his bath.
Soon, the bath was ready. Auren let out a small, dry chuckle as he glanced at the steaming water and the demon butler standing at polite attention.
'Not bad for a first morning arriving in this new world.'
Around thirty minutes later, Auren stood in front of the tall, slightly tarnished mirror in his chambers, regarding his reflection with a faint, almost amused admiration.
He had to admit—he cut a striking figure, even by this world's royal standards.
His jet-black hair fell in soft, slightly tousled layers that framed his sharp features and half-shadowed his crimson eyes—eyes that still glowed faintly in the dim morning light filtering through the curtains. Black hair and crimson eyes: the unmistakable, unique features of the Babylon Royal Family, a lineage whose bloodline was said to carry an ancient, otherworldly bloodline.
The black royal attire fit him well: a high-collared, elegantly embroidered coat with subtle golden threads tracing sharp, angular patterns down his chest and sleeves. Silver chains draped across his shoulders, pinned by ornamental clasps shaped like stylized stars and crosses. Small gemstone studs glinted from his cuffs, and the dark fabric hugged his lean frame, accentuating both the regal air and the underlying frailty of his thin build.
"Not bad…" Auren murmured, adjusting a fold near his collar, his tone a mix of dry humor and genuine approval, "The fashion here isn't as backward as I thought. Not bad at all."
Yet the illusion of health was paper-thin. Decades without sunlight, the torment of an Overflowed Soul, and a prince's idle life had left him too pale, too slender—like a fragile blade yet to be forged properly.
He touched his bare collarbone with a frown.
'I suppose… I'll need to exercise,' Auren thought to himself, 'Or I'll snap like twigs in a storm.'
Behind him, Velethus—still wearing Eldrin's shape—bowed with impeccable grace, "Your Highness looks most dignified. Even without a crown, you carry the air of nobility and dread alike."
Auren shot him a dry look, "It seems like even a demon knows how to flatter."
Velethus only tilted his head slightly, his smile polite yet sly, "Does Your Higness dislike flattery?"
"I don't like insincere flattery," Auren said casually while adjusting his collar..
Velethus dipped his head, "Then rest assured, Your Highness — in this world, is there anything more sincere than a demon bound by pact?"
Auren chuckled, turning away from the mirror as morning sunlight caught the sharp lines of his dark, regal silhouette.
"You do have a point."