The universe did not notice the House of Sin immediately.
It never did.
Change was subtle at first. Like a ripple spreading through still water, invisible unless you were already watching closely.
And some were always watching.
---
In the Upper Heavens, a jade tablet cracked.
A young angel froze mid-step as a sharp fracture split across the divine artifact. Lines of light bled out, flickering erratically.
"That's impossible," he whispered.
The tablet was used to monitor absolutes—realms governed by fixed laws. It had not reacted in over ten thousand years.
He called for his superior.
Minutes later, the chamber filled with wings.
An older angel studied the fracture in silence.
"This is not destruction," she said slowly. "It's… displacement."
"Displacement of what?"
She closed her eyes.
"…Authority."
---
In the Abyssal Courts, a demon archivist dropped his pen.
The parchment in front of him burned to ash on its own.
"No," he muttered, frantically pulling records from the shelves. "No new dominion was declared. No war was recorded."
His eyes widened.
"Then why are contracts rerouting?"
Every infernal agreement that referenced neutral territory had begun shifting.
Redirecting.
Toward a location that officially did not exist.
---
In the Dragon Graveyard Realm, ancient bones trembled.
Elders who had not moved in centuries opened their eyes.
One of them spoke, voice dry as dust.
"A Sovereign has bowed."
Silence followed.
"That is impossible," another replied.
"Then why," the first asked calmly, "does my instinct tell me to lower my head?"
---
Back inside the House of Sin, Kael Verin was lying on the couch.
He stared at the ceiling.
"This place is too quiet," he said. "We should add background noise."
Lyenne flinched slightly.
Valer straightened.
Brun looked up from a half-formed blueprint he'd been sketching directly onto the air.
"…Background noise?" Brun repeated.
"Yeah," Kael said. "Like wind. Or water."
Brun swallowed.
"Of course," he said carefully. "I'll… see what can be done."
Kael nodded and closed his eyes.
Satisfied.
None of them spoke for several seconds.
Mirex was the one who broke the silence.
"My Lord," he said gently, "permission to report an observation."
Kael opened one eye. "Is it important?"
"Yes."
Kael sighed. "Okay."
Mirex folded his hands.
"External entities have begun noticing this place."
Kael frowned. "Already?"
Valer stiffened.
Lyenne's grip tightened on her staff.
"Who?" Kael asked.
Mirex hesitated, choosing his words carefully.
"…Everyone."
Kael blinked.
"…That's vague."
"It is also accurate," Mirex replied.
Kael rubbed his face.
"I just wanted to build a small, quiet city."
No one laughed.
Because they all understood something Kael didn't.
A city built here would not be small.
And it would never be quiet.
---
Far away, in a human empire, a scholar stared at a map covered in scribbles and annotations.
"There's no record of this place," he said shakily. "But every divination points here."
His assistant swallowed.
"What do we call it?"
The scholar hesitated.
Then spoke the name that had begun circulating in whispers.
"…The House of Sin."
---
Back in the hall, Kael yawned.
"Let's worry about visitors later," he said. "Tomorrow, we start building."
The air pulsed softly.
Another rule settled into existence.
Outside, unseen by him—
Kings paused mid-sentence.
Gods reconsidered old plans.
And messengers began to run.
Because a place that offered absolute safety
and absolute reward
had just announced its intention to exist.