As the days turned into weeks, Lucas and Asta had covered an obscene amount of distance just for a few locations. Taking the entire world in scope, they traveled around half of the circumference of Sabaoth. Of course, flying in a straight line without any stops at a high speed, it was only natural, not that it didn't start to tire them out.
Stopping in a town nearby the mountains, Lucas decided to gather some local intel while Asta looked for lodging, leaving Bell to her devices. Normally it was her duty to seek asylum, but after having chosen a few bad inns, Asta started to take matters into his own hands.
Seeing Lucas enter a local tavern to converse with the people, Bell recognized the town's name and started to get a little excited.
Throughout her journey, she kept in contact with her pen pall using simple letters delivered by a white pigeon. As she stared at the sky, she could see the cute little one flying in circles.
'He's here somewhere in town! I can't wait to see his face!'
Bell instantly felt the need to skip around as she tried to follow the bird who noticed her presence. Flying from one rooftop to another, the bird led her to its master.
Bell, who normally wore her maid dress couldn't wear such a thing on a long journey, choosing for light clothing that kept her warm instead. Seeing a reflection of herself in a nearby window, Bell instantly felt self conscious.
'Oh no, what am I wearing?! Why did the young master have to propose such ugly clothing!'
Quickly looking for a clothing shop, she entered without hesitation. The white pigeon who was meant to lead her forward suddenly stopped and landed before the store's door. The pigeon almost seemed to look inside as it waited.
Searching for the perfect combination, Bell almost panicked since this little town had little to offer when it came to cute or beautiful clothing. Most were normal or work clothes, nothing that truly piqued her interest. Seeing that there were no great clothing, she decided to look for something that accentuated her assets.
If that was a possibility, people would look less at her clothing and more her body. Hoping she was able to somewhat dress herself, she tried to apply some makeup before going outside to meet the bird who was patiently waiting for her.
"Hello little birdy! I'm ready to meet him now, please show me the way again," bending down to greet the little one, it spread its wings once more for Bell to follow.
Arriving at a small villa, most likely the biggest house in the town, the bird perched itself on the gate. Standing in front of it, the guards stared at her for a moment.
She shifted her weight, suddenly aware of her hands, her posture, the dust on her shoes. It was obvious they had no idea who she was, and explaining that she had simply followed a bird would only get her laughed off the property or worse.
"U-um, excuse me," she began, her voice thinner than she intended. "I'd like to meet Morior. I believe he may be inside."
The guards exchanged a look, brows knitting together. Bell's stomach dropped. 'Did I say it wrong?'
"You want to meet with the master? What's your name?"
"Bell, sir," the moment she spoke her name did the wariness of the guards vanish. Their eyes relaxed and they even put on a slight smile.
"Oh, the master has been waiting for you. Please go inside and go upstairs. There should be a maid there to help you further."
Opening the gate right after, the guards let her in without any fuss. Once inside, she was guided to a cozy little living room. "Please wait here, I'll go fetch the master."
Normally, she was the one standing at attention, offering tea, smoothing nerves. Being served felt strange, almost indulgent. She allowed herself to sit back slightly, eyes drifting over the room. It was tastefully decorated, paintings arranged with care, shelves dotted with curious little artifacts, and a plush carpet beneath her feet patterned with repeating flowers.
She reached for a small pastry, then hesitated before taking it anyway. Her appetite was there, tangled tightly with nerves. After all, she was about to meet the man she had exchanged letters with for over a year, letters she had reread more times than she cared to admit.
She lifted a hand to her hair, smoothing it, twisting a loose strand back into place. 'Please look presentable. Please don't embarrass yourself.'
The door to the living room opened as Bell froze in place.
A tall demon stepped inside, long blond hair falling neatly down his back, horns curving with natural grandeur. Every detail of him was immaculate. From the tailored clothing to the unhurried confidence in his stride. Standing there, he felt less like a person entering a room and more like a painting coming to life.
Bell almost felt like she was insulting him with her presence.
"Ah," he said warmly, stopping just inside. "You must be Bell. I fear the introductions are long overdue, but you may call me Morior."
He bowed, just enough to be polite, not performative. Every movement was deliberate, refined, as though he had never known haste.
Bell forgot how to breathe.
He took the seat opposite her, crossing his legs with practiced ease, hands resting calmly atop his knee.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person," Morior continued, a soft chuckle accompanying his words. "After all this time, I hadn't expected our meeting to be so… sudden. I hope my request didn't come across as rude."
"No! No, not at all," Bell blurted, wincing internally. "I mean, I didn't mind. Not even a little."
Her face burned. Thankfully, her naturally red skin spared her from giving herself away completely.
"What a relief," Morior said, smiling gently. "I must admit, I was concerned you might think me impatient. I'm glad to know the feeling was mutual."
"Yes," Bell murmured.
Her thoughts tangled, she realized how easy the letters had been. Letters didn't look at her like this. He tilted his head slightly, observant but kind. "Forgive me, have I unsettled you? You're quieter than I imagined. I hope I haven't disappointed you."
"No!" Bell said quickly, hands curling in her lap. "You haven't done anything wrong. I just, I'm nervous. I didn't expect you to be so…"
She trailed off, mortified.
Morior wasn't sure why she acted the way she did, he knew himself to be handsome, but never did anyone show such a shy demeanor around him. Finding it endearing, Morior tried to change the subject to break her out of her shell.
"Bell," Morior began gently, "from your letters, I gathered that you serve someone of noble standing. Might I ask about your circumstances?"
She hesitated, knowing full well what her position truly was.
"Well… your assumption is correct," Bell said at last. "I'm bound to my master through a contract. I serve as his maid."
Her gaze dropped to her lap. Among demons, her position was a humble one, barely worth mentioning. Even her single horn, partially hidden among carefully arranged hair, was a quiet mark of her lesser standing rather than something to boast about.
She braced herself. For mockery. For polite discomfort. For the subtle revulsion she had learned to expect.
Yet when she dared to look up, Morior's expression held neither disgust nor pity. Instead, his jaw was tight, eyes darkened with something closer to frustration, no, anger, restrained but real.
"Bell," he said slowly, "I may have been foolish to assume that we could simply be together. Still… I had hoped you were free."
Her heart clenched, the words felt harsh, punishing, despite the love behind them. What struck her was the fact he cared little for her horn and standing.
"You… you don't mind my appearance?" she asked quietly.
She reached up, pulling her hair aside to reveal her horn more clearly, fingers trembling. Before she could stop herself, she felt his touch, light, careful, as Morior gently brushed his fingers along its curve. He closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head.
"Sabaoth is a world where strength determines choice," he said. "I am strong, and thus I choose for myself. Bell, I care little for your appearance. I have fallen in love with you for who you are."
The words struck her breathless. Bell could not speak. She only stared at him, searching his face for doubt, for cruelty, for some hidden condition, but there was none.
"To me," Morior continued, voice steady yet weighted with emotion, "you are worth more than anyone who has ever sought my hand." He leaned forward slightly. "If you share even a fragment of these feelings, allow me to annul your contract. And even if you do not love me, at least let me free you."
His composure cracked just enough for his urgency to show.
"I cannot live knowing you remain under another's complete dominion."
He stood, extending his hand toward her.
"Come live with me, Bell."
Her gaze locked onto his outstretched hand.
Until now, her life had been simple, predictable, dull. She had hoped the return of her young master would bring change, but instead she had been pushed aside, an inconvenience, a burden. She had begged merely to accompany them, and even then Lucas made no effort to hide his irritation.
Now, before her, lay a choice she had never been allowed to imagine.
One hand.
And with it, a future filled with possibility. Bell's fingers twitched, her heart pounding as she weighed the chains she had worn all her life against the warmth offered before her.
Bell didn't know what to do. Her heart ached to grasp the hand offered to her, even as her mind desperately tried to pull her back. The plea in Morior's eyes was unmistakable raw, unguarded. He wasn't asking out of pride or convenience. He was asking because it hurt to imagine her suffering.
Unable to withstand it, she slowly reached for his hand. Perhaps impulsive, maybe emotionally driven, even Bell couldn't explain clearly why she did.
When her fingers closed around his, she became painfully aware of how damp her palm was. Yet the instant relief that crossed Morior's face washed her embarrassment away. He brought his other hand over hers, gently enclosing them both.
"Bell," he whispered, voice unsteady, "I don't have words for what I'm feeling right now. To know that my feelings are returned… that the image of you I've carried for a year isn't some illusion, you've…"
His voice broke. A tear slipped down his cheek. Realizing it, Morior stiffened slightly and moved to wipe it away, visibly flustered by his own loss of composure. Before he could retreat, Bell felt herself being drawn upward into his arms.
He embraced her back, their warmth was shared.
His hair smelled faintly of lavender, soft beneath her fingers. His arms wrapped around her back, steady and protective, as though he feared she might vanish if he loosened his hold.
"Thank you, Bell. I promise you, I will make sure you'll live a happy life. No matter the cost."
Bell wanted to answer, to thank him in return, but the moment swallowed her whole. She wished the world would stop moving, that time itself would bend to preserve this fragile warmth.
Too soon, Morior pulled back, his hands resting gently on her shoulders.
"There is something you must know," he said, tone returning to calm resolve. "To break your contract, I will need to invoke a similar binding ritual. Fortunately, there are established procedures for freeing slaves. We can adapt one for you."
Turning to the nearby maid, he ordered her to bring him the necessary materials. Bell was happy with her choice, even if there still was a lingering feeling of attachment to her current master. Asta wasn't mean or rude, he just ignored her for the most part, pushing her aside to be forgotten. Even if that was how she felt, there was still a longing for him as well.
By the time Bell could truly think about it, the maid had already returned. Morior wasted no time. He wrote carefully, precisely, the symbols flowing from his hand as Bell sat across from him. When he finished, he turned the paper toward her and slid it across the table.
"This is it," he said, smiling softly. "This will free you."
Bell's chest tightened.
"Morior, I…" she swallowed. "I'm sorry, but it feels like I'd be betraying him if I signed this. I want to. I truly do, I just…"
His smile faltered, but only for a moment. He closed his eyes before nodding twice.
"You've served him for a long time," he said quietly. "It would be unnatural not to care. But listen to me, Bell. Breaking the chains does not make you his enemy. It simply removes his power over you. It makes you equals, nothing more."
He met her gaze again.
"You aren't betraying him. You're reclaiming yourself."
She exhaled shakily.
"You're right," Bell said, letting out a small, breathless laugh as she shook her head.
Staring down at the piece of paper in front of her, her entire life would change in an instant the moment she signed it. Grabbing the pen next to the paper, she stabbed her thumb until a droplet of blood came out. Pressing it on the paper she tried to make sure her entire thumb was printed onto the document.
Pulling her hand back, she didn't feel anything yet, even though her heart was pounding heavily. To go against the young master, though not directly, surely would have some consequence? No, she wasn't going to allow pessimism to rule over her.
When she looked up, Morior was watching her with unmistakable warmth. "Now you'll be free, my dear."
He lifted the paper as he recited the spell aloud. The parchment ignited, burning away into glowing embers before vanishing completely. Bell gasped.
For a brief moment, she felt weightless, unbound, it felt that for the first time in her life, she was capable of making her own decisions. It felt exhilarating, but the high he felt slowly settled into something quieter, familiar. Her expression shifted from joy to confusion.
Without any time to process things, the door burst open and two people entered the room in quick succession.
"Brilliant performance, Morior, truly! You could take to the stage if you're ever interested. I know a few theaters I can recommend."
Bell froze in her seat as the two people who entered where far from friendly visitors. Morior's expression emptied as he looked up at them.
"Was this truly necessary, Alastor?"
"Why, of course. I knew from the start Astaroph would be able to get all the candidacy coins in a year, he's not stupid. Besides, his friend is also quite a force to be reckoned with."
"Yes, but you still haven't explained why I had to court her."
Alastor laughed, "Oh, Morior. The shrine of the Progenitor Demon God requires three individuals to open the final door. Why do you think I sought out only the strongest companions? I don't waste space."
While it made sense, Morior didn't like the reason for his act. "So you believe we'll lose against them?"
Alastor paused just for a heartbeat before laughing again. "Lose? Perhaps," he said lightly. "A strategist always plans for every outcome. This is our contingency," he said as he gestured towards Bell.
Morior frowned a little, still, he quickly doused those internal flames since he knew Alastor wouldn't lose. He knew pretty much everything, and was a monster in battle as well. Thinking about defeat just didn't make sense.
Alastor stared at the silent Bell, seeing her attire, he smirked a little, "Looks like you really put in the effort. Well, don't worry too much. We don't want you dead, so put a smile on that face of yours."
His awful smile would certainly haunt her dreams from now on, the feeling that everything was dictated by him frightened her. 'What have I done?'
While Bell panicked, Alastor couldn't help but feel giddy, "Hahaha, oh Bell, I can tell what you're thinking by the look on your face. Don't worry, I'll send you back to your beloved young master. You will follow his orders, but you will not be bound by them. You'll follow them out of your own free will. You will smile. You will obey. And you will tell him nothing."
Bell wanted to scream no, but her head moved up and down. She wasn't in control any longer. Worst of all, she couldn't even help the young master anymore. She was just going to lead him to his downfall, and she would do it willingly.
She wanted to cry, but the pressure of the demons in front of her made her unable to.