The world Belial had fallen into was so different from Earth.
It was called Varietas, a realm where magic was not reserved for the dominion of Heaven or Hell but could be wielded by nearly every race.
Unlike the underworld he once ruled, Varietas was filled with diversity. Barely half of its inhabitants were human; the rest were races like elves, beasts, and many more.
Yet, because magic was so prevalent, the growth of technology had stagnated, leaving the world locked in a medieval age.
Different from his siblings, Belial was rather preoccupied with his job than taking a vacation in another world which limited his knowledge about this world.
To his annoyance, the ruler of Varietas was none other than his sister, Lilith.
Belial sighed, slipping his fake glasses back into place. The wound on his hand had already closed, leaving no trace of his earlier outburst.
He left his office and descended the stairs, where a petite woman with short black hair and soft amethyst eyes, framed by round glasses, greeted him.
This was Lamia, his assistant: responsible for his schedule, administration, and handling the front office. She was a succubus, a maid his father had assigned to him when he was banished here.
It left Belial with complicated feelings. After all, it was his disdain for her kind that had caused his exile.
Still, Lamia performed her duties with accuracy and rarely made mistakes. He had no reason to dismiss her. For now.
"My Lord, is something wrong? I heard glass breaking in your office," she asked softly, her tone hesitant.
"The mirror shattered," he replied evenly. "Call someone to clean it. Is there another patient today?"
She jolted and fumbled with the notes in her hands before answering quickly, "Y-yes! Lady Sienna is scheduled for treatment of female hysteria, but her appointment is this evening."
"I see. Then I'll take lunch in the meantime." He turned to leave, but Lamia suddenly darted in front of him.
"Wait! There's another couple that just arrived—"
Belial frowned. "Did I not tell you I'm not accepting new patients for now?"
"I know, but listen, my Lord!" she leaned in, trying to tiptoe closer to his ear, though her small frame barely made a difference.
In a whisper tone, she added, "The wife… she suffers from what they call hypersexuality on Earth."
His eyes lit up. "Truly? You're certain?"
She shook her head vigorously. "It isn't severe, but the husband begged me to let you see them. He says he can't endure her desire any longer."
"This should be another easy case!" Lamia exclaimed.
Belial rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a slow smile curving his lips. "Indeed. Show me this couple."
"They're waiting. The husband refused to leave after I told him to come tomorrow. He swore he wouldn't survive another day."
Belial chuckled, together they headed toward the waiting room beside the front desk.
Gehenna & Co. was the name Belial chose for his clinic.
Everything about it was forged: the certificates on the wall, the gilded seal of the Royal Warrant he had procured after seducing the Queen herself.
The building rose three stories tall from the outside, but within, its corridors stretched into his personal domain, larger and deeper than any human construction could allow.
When both of them arrived, Belial could already see the hypersexual wife they had come to discuss.
She was an elf, strikingly beautiful, with long golden hair that spilled over her shoulders and forest-green eyes that caught the light in a way that made them shimmer.
A flush colored her cheeks. Her figure curved amazingly beneath the soft drape of a pale green gown: breasts full and heavy, almost straining against the fabric, hips broad and lush, the kind made for childbearing.
To Belial's eyes, a pink aura all but blazed from her, fertile and indecent, radiating a sensual energy too strong to ignore.
Lamia's earlier assessment had been correct. The woman was indeed afflicted with hypersexuality, though not yet severe.
"Mr. and Mrs. Dalee," Lamia announced with a pleasant smile, "Therapist Belial de Gehenna has agreed to meet with you."
The husband rose at once. He was an elf as well, almost unnaturally handsome, with golden hair that fell past his shoulders and eyes of deep blue.
Yet exhaustion carved in his face, dark rings below his eyes, his frame thin and weary. He clasped Belial's hand with desperation.
"Doctor! Please save us! no, save me!"
Belial answered with a professional smile. "Please, just call me Belial. Or Mr. Belial, if you prefer."
He paused briefly, then added, "Why don't we continue this in my therapy room? I trust you've both completed the intake forms my assistant provided?"
"Yes, of course, Mr. Belial!" Dalee snatched up the two forms resting on the table and offered them with trembling hands.
Belial skimmed through the pages, nodding. "Good. Come with me."
Relief flooded the husband's face. He muttered thanks again and again as they followed, though Belial's eyes remained fixed elsewhere.
On the wife.
She walked with her head lowered, hands half-covering her blushing face, but her long ears betrayed her: perking up, trembling faintly, flushed red at the tips.
It was almost… adorable.
Belial's smile deepened. He was already wondering what kind of "therapy" he would prescribe for her.
***
Arel Dalee sat slumped in his chair, his fingers twisting nervously together. Beside him, Viessa looked radiant yet restless, also embarrassed.
"We've only been married for three months, Mr. Belial," Arel began, his voice heavy with fatigue.
"At first everything was normal, only three times a week, nothing excessive. But then…" He hesitated, his face coloring as he stole a glance at his wife.
"Then I accidentally discovered that… spot she likes most. Since then, it's been impossible to keep up."
He sighed deeply, "I tried to reason with her, I really did, but she won't take no for an answer. At first I didn't mind. It was thrilling, even. But now… now I think I'm going to die if this keeps up."
Viessa's eyes widened, wounded by his words. Her voice rose in protest. "But it's not that bad, Arel! Ten times a day! isn't that normal, Mr. Belial?"
"I can't help it! It feels too good! my body keeps craving more no matter what I do!"
Her lip quivered, her eyes glistening as if tears would come out soon. "Or… is it because you don't love me anymore?"
"Of course not!" Arel burst out, seizing her trembling hands. "I love you, Viessa. Don't you remember our promise when we were children?"
She nodded faintly, though she still looked hesitant.
Belial, meanwhile, wasn't listening to their melodrama. His gaze lingered above Viessa's head, where three faint stars shimmered in the air.
'Three stars,' he mused. 'So this won't be as simple as I thought. Childhood sweethearts always complicate things.'