The white devil floated lazily above a bench, drifting back and forth as if pulled by an invisible breeze. Two quiet days had passed since Cecilus secured passage to the island. With nothing left to do but wait, he lay stretched across the bench, one arm behind his head, the other tossing an apple into the air.
Up. Down. Up. Down. The rhythm was almost hypnotic.
"I'm boooooooored," Cecilus groaned, letting the apple drop into his palm with a thud.
"Sure you are," the devil replied. "That's life. Sometimes you just have to endure a little boredom."
Cecilus rolled onto his side, staring directly at the floating creature.
"Was there seriously nothing I ever did in my past life to deal with being bored?"
"You gave gifts to the elderly."
Cecilus shot upright. "I did?"
"No," the devil said immediately, "but what would you do if I told you that you did?"
"I would've slandered my past self. Dumb idiot. Who finds joy in something like that?"
"I'd say the same about killing, frankly…"
Cecilus scowled. "Stop pretending you care, devil. You've probably eaten millions of humans."
"I'm actually a vegetarian."
Cecilus froze. Then stood. Then pointed accusingly. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any worse! Ah—wait. That's it. I'm hungry. I need chicken."
He marched away from the bench. The devil drifted after him like an annoying balloon.
"Also, devil," Cecilus said, narrowing his eyes, "why did none of the villagers in that last place I visited have powers?"
"Because magic type is nearly impossible to figure out on your own," the devil replied. "It's determined by fate. You had me to explain soul magic when you woke up with no memories. Most people discover their type through a verification crystal. Your old self did too."
"Then why not just give those crystals to everyone?"
"A monopoly. Only the rich have them. Power is… deliberately gatekept."
"Why? If more villagers had magic, they wouldn't have been taken down so easily by someone like me."
The devil stopped drifting and hovered eye-level with Cecilus.
"Think about it this way, Cecilus: why do some humans hate elves? Why do demons glare at you when you walk by? Why did the tailor charge you extra at the clothing shop?"
Cecilus frowned. "I… don't know. Superiority complex?"
"No. It's simpler. The wild nature of animals."
Cecilus blinked. "…Animals?"
"Sentience is a fancy lie we tell ourselves," the devil said, circling him slowly. "We're all animals scavenging to survive. Do you know the ascension wolf?"
Cecilus shook his head.
"They're intelligent. Not as intelligent as humans, but clever. They send scouts to gather information about their prey. And the difference between ascension wolves and humanoid species"—the devil tapped Cecilus's forehead—"is that the wolves don't pretend to be civilized."
It floated backward, gesturing broadly to the city around them.
"Humans prey on elves. They call them lesser beings. But really? They just want to get ahead. Have a better life. Hunt down their prey. Mate and live. It's easier to prosper if you group your enemies together and rally against them."
Cecilus quietly absorbed that.
"So," the devil continued, "why would a noble at the top of society hand strength to a weakling begging on the streets? That's like an ascension wolf offering its claws to its prey. Ridiculous."
The devil pointed at the bustling crowds.
"This world is just animals. Elves, demons, humans, monsters. All playing predator and prey."
"And I," the devil added with a little sigh, "want no part of it."
Cecilus didn't answer right away. He walked a few steps, hands clasped behind his back, thinking. Finally:
"So why are you here then? Helping me?"
The devil's expression softened by a fraction.
"The world offers us many choices. Like the dust elemental you saw before, I simply chose the obvious one. Maybe, one day, you'll learn why."
"You talk in riddles," Cecilus muttered. "But from the sound of things, you hate civilized folk more than wolves in the wild."
"But it doesn't matter to me," he continued. "Humanoid creatures might look more like me, but I can kill them just the same as the wolves in the wild."
"Yeah," the devil said lightly. "That's all you need to do. But when you regain your memories—what then? What if you're not the same person? Would that bother you?"
"It matters." Cecilus looked down at his hands. "Which one would I be? The me right now… or the past version? Maybe this will all feel like a dream later. But that doesn't change anything. I have one goal in this life. It's been given to me. And doubting that goal would mean I've got nothing left."
The devil chuckled softly. "Ha… interesting way of putting it."
Cecilus glanced at it. "Were you this casual with my past self?"
"No," the devil admitted. "You figured that out?"
"I just had a feeling." Cecilus leaned closer. "So, devil… will you finally tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"Your name."
The devil paused—unusually long—before giving a single, unreadable smile.
***
Bhif wiped a clean layer of condensation from a glass, his big hands moving with habitual efficiency. The bar was overflowing tonight, packed shoulder-to-shoulder with drinkers who had long passed the point of caring about dignity.
Bhif wasn't just a bartender. He broke up fights. He hauled drunks outside.
He was the only one big enough to stop a stampede of idiots when they got rowdy.
He rubbed his blind eye out of habit. Years ago, a man had smashed a wine bottle into it. That was the day he learned both pain tolerance and that people were generally stupid.
His boss burst in from the hall.
"Bhif! Another fight! And they're using magic!"
Bhif sighed heavily and grabbed his bat. "Of course they are…"
Stepping into the main drinking area, he surveyed the chaos.
Broken bottles. Alcohol pooled across the floor. Two burly men shouting insults and swinging axes at each other.
One had lightning crackling along his arms.
The other jerked the spilled alcohol into tendrils that whipped through the room.
The crowd loved it—howling, stumbling, cheering.
Bhif muttered, "My shift was about to end… Naturally…"
"Pack it up!" he bellowed. "Both of you! You're banned!"
The men looked at him.
And without speaking, they seemed to reach the same conclusion: hit the big guy.
A wave of alcohol surged toward him at the same moment lightning streaked down. Bhif raised his arms to shield his face—
Nothing hit.
He peeked through his fingers.
A thick wall of foliage—leaves, vines, branches—had sprouted in front of him like a sudden garden.
"What the—?"
The greenery dissolved into nothing. The two fighters lay unconscious, sprawled out like discarded rugs.
And standing beside them was a young blond girl.
She smiled sweetly. "Looks like you owe me one. I'm looking for someone, and I don't have time to deal with thugs."
Bhif stared. "…Uh. Thank you? How did you do that?"
She blinked at him. "Have you never seen magic before?"
Bhif flushed bright red. "No—no, I mean yes—I have, it's just—uh—you're such a young girl. Didn't expect you'd be the one saving me."
The girl giggled. "Well, treat your savior to a glass of wine and answer a few questions."
Bhif nodded quickly.
At the counter, he poured her a drink with the utmost respect. She accepted it with a polite nod.
"You're welcome," she said softly—then pulled a folded drawing from her coat.
A white-haired elf.
"Have you seen this boy around?" she asked.
"No, sorry. I don't get out much." Bhif rubbed his neck. "But I can ask my friends. Someone might've seen him."
"Okay. Good. Where can I find you? What's your name?"
"Bhif! That's my name."
"Nice to meet you, Bhif. I'm Marina."
She flashed him a bright smile.
Bhif hesitated, then asked: "Why are you looking for this boy, Marina?"
"It's nothing crazy. He's just the only goal I have left."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't think of anything else to do. Finding him is the only task I have."
"Is he important to you?"
"No." She shrugged. "I don't even think I like him. He annoyed me every time we talked. But I owe him a lot."
Bhif's expression softened. "Paying back what you owe is admirable. I'll help however I can."
"I appreciate it," she said.
Marina finished the wine in one smooth motion, set the glass down, and walked toward the door—her cloak fluttering behind her.