Alexander had not imagined this. When Cristina spoke of her success, he expected comfort, perhaps modest luxury. But the house before him was striking—modern French architecture, sleek lines, tall glass windows, and a wrought‑iron balcony that caught the evening light.
"I built this," Cristina said, her tone calm but proud. "My house, my car, my garden. Come inside—I'll show you."
The interior was rich, every detail expensive. Marble floors stretched beneath crystal chandeliers, walls adorned with abstract art, and furniture of polished leather and carved wood imported from Italy. The air carried the faint scent of roses from the garden outside.
She led him into the kitchen. It was a masterpiece of modern wealth—black granite counters veined with silver, chrome appliances gleaming, copper pans hung like ornaments, and a wine rack filled with rare bottles. A tall window opened to the garden, where fountains glimmered among carefully arranged roses and lilies.
Alexander paused, his gaze sweeping the room. His voice was low, deliberate. "It's extraordinary. You've built a life of strength and elegance."
Cristina brushed her hand across the counter, her smile faint but certain. "It's mine. Every piece. I wanted you to see it."
. Alexander leaned back, his voice calm but deliberate. "When you feel ready to come to Austria, I will show you the world I have built."
Cristina's lips curved into a faint smile. "I would love that."
They sat together, the silence between them heavy with admiration until Alexander broke it. "Coffee?"
She nodded.
He rose with measured ease, selecting porcelain cups edged in gold. The aroma of rich French roast filled the air as he moved with quiet precision, every gesture deliberate. Cristina watched him, her gaze steady, her expression unreadable, though her eyes lingered on the way he carried himself.
"You know," Alexander said, his tone edged with teasing, "Lucian has changed. He was never like this before." He glanced at her, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
Cristina frowned, her voice firm. "What? Don't look at me as if I did something."
Alexander's gaze lingered on her. "I didn't say anything."
When the coffee was poured, Cristina spoke softly, almost hesitant. "You can stay here."
Alexander shook his head, his reply composed. "No. I have already rented a luxury hotel for the month."
Cristina lowered her gaze, a faint smile touching her lips. "Yes… why not."
They drank together, the warmth of the coffee settling into the silence. Around them, the modern French house gleamed with wealth and elegance—her world built with pride, his admiration unspoken but clear.
In the days that followed, Cristina's strength returned. She walked without pain, her body healed as though nothing had ever happened. Alexander spent time with Elise; their friendship grew easily, marked by evenings at the cinema and quiet conversations. The four of them—Cristina, Alexander, Elise, and Arian—traveled together, roaming across France.
They wandered through Lyon, with its riverside cafés glowing under lanterns. In Marseille, the Mediterranean breeze carried salt and spice from the harbor markets. In Nice, they strolled the Promenade des Anglais, the sea stretching endlessly beside them. They collected memories in vineyards, lavender fields, and quiet villages where cobblestone streets carried centuries of history. When Alexander finally left for Australia, his farewell carried both warmth and silence. "One day," he promised, "I'll show you my world when you will come to my country ." Cristina's reply was soft, sincere: "I would love that."
Cristina, meanwhile, often found herself with Arian. He was kind, patient, never pressing beyond friendship. Yet something inside her held back, a barrier she could not cross. Arian respected that, and so they remained best friends.
At Cristina's demon office, her work was steady. Lucian treated her with unexpected care, and even David showed concern. Lucian had not yet found a cure for his eyes, and Cristina often caught herself looking at his face, speaking with him, and feeling a strange happiness in those moments. One evening she teased, "When you find it, tell me—or take my soul." She laughed, and Lucian replied with a grin, "You should be afraid, not me." His smile softened the words, and sometimes he laughed when she joked.
She asked him once about Amelia, his former girlfriend. He only said, "We broke up." Cristina felt an unexpected relief hearing this. "Well, you deserve better," she told him. Lucian looked at her, his tone sharp but playful. "Better? And who would that be—another demoness?"
Cristina shook her head. "I don't know."
Months passed. Cristina did not call Lucian in her human world—she felt she didn't need to. But something changed when she traveled with Elise to another city in France. The streets were alive with history—cathedrals rising against the sky, bells echoing across stone plazas. Elise insisted they enter a church. Inside, Cristina froze. She saw her mother, surrounded by a new family, a young daughter of ten. They looked happy, complete.
Elise touched her arm. "Are you okay?"
Cristina forced a smile. "Yes, I'm fine."
But she wasn't. The entire journey home she stayed silent, burying her pain. That afternoon, she went to an alcohol shop, bought bottles, and returned home. On her terrace, surrounded by roses, fountains, and the distant hum of the city, she drank heavily, tears streaming without end. By evening, she was lost in grief, cigarette smoke curling upward into the night sky. "How could someone do this? How?" she whispered, hurling a bottle to the marble floor, shards glittering under the terrace lights.
"No one cares," she muttered, staring at the ring Lucian had given her. She pressed it to her lips, whispering his name into the night air. "Lucian… Lucian… Lucian."
..
.Somewhere in Hell…
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.
.
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Lucian was seated in Lydia's library with David. The chamber was vast, lined with shelves of forbidden tomes, glowing runes etched into the stone walls, and the air heavy with ash and incense. David handed him a cure — a temporary remedy for his eyes, so he could continue his duties in Hell.
Lucian said quietly, "I'm not supposed to say this… but I'm trying to gather the courage. I feel… I have feelings for Cristina."
Lydia's voice was calm, almost certain. "We already know this."
Lucian turned sharply. "How do you know everything?"
Lydia replied, "We knew when it started."
David leaned forward, his tone cutting. "We have serious matters to discuss. You don't realize what's happening in Hell. You've been too busy with your little love life… while we are searching for the truth."
Lucian said what you mean.
David spoke quietly. "Lucian, do you remember your past life… before coming here?"
Lucian shook his head. "No. It's impossible. All memories were erased after I became a demon."
Lydia leaned forward, her voice sharp. "Do you know why humans are allowed to work with demons?"
Lucian answered firmly. "Yes. The humans who are willing to die are given a chance to live."
Lydia pressed. "And if they fail?"
Lucian's tone hardened. "Then we collect their souls."
David added, "Yes… but after collecting the souls, the wish is granted."
Lucian frowned. "What nonsense is this? I don't know about that wish."
Lydia said, "What you don't know is that Lucifer gives those souls to the Heaven King, and the Heaven King grants the wish."
Lucian's voice sharpened. "Why did Lucifer never inform us?"
David's tone was grave. "Because the Heaven King gave demons an option. If any demon refuses Hell and takes the wish directly — whatever they want — it is their chance to be free. Lucifer doesn't want this, because he wants to increase his army. He will do whatever it takes."
Lucian narrowed his eyes. "How do you know this?"
Lydia added, "Do you remember the man with the small horns who worked in Level Nine?"
Lucian nodded. "Yes. He and his demoness were killed by Lucifer's hand."
Lydia's voice dropped. "Do you know why they were killed? Because that horned demon refused to give his collected soul to Lucifer. He wanted to take the wish directly from Heaven, because his demoness wanted freedom. Lucifer discovered it — and killed them both."
The library fell silent, firelight flickering against their faces. Lydia continued, her tone heavy. "As a rule of Heaven, no one should be forced to become a demon. But Lucifer wants more slaves to build his army. That's why he hides contracts, forbidden portals, and magical equipment. The demoness found one of those contracts in his office — the one Lucifer concealed from all demons. And you know the rest of what happened."
Lucian said, "How do you know all this?"
Lydia met his gaze without fear. "I prepared the exact ingredients, performed the ritual, opened the portal, and saw it with my own eyes."
David exhaled. "You realize how dangerous this is."
Lucian's hand curled into a fist. "Dangerous indeed… but now I know the truth."
Lucian muttered, "How could Lucifer do this?"
David and Lydia exchanged a glance. "We are thinking of contacting the Heaven King, to inform him about the conditions in Hell."
Lydia tried to speak, but David interrupted her. "No, Lydia. Don't."
Lucian looked at them sharply. "Tell me."
David said, "We both believe Lucifer interferes in the human world, twisting surroundings with evil so that souls come directly to Hell and refuse Heaven."
Lucian's voice dropped. "You mean…"
David nodded. "Yes. We think he did something in your past life. We discovered that in your past life you killed two lakh people… which means Lucifer manipulated something there."
Lucian said firmly, "Listen. Let me take care of everything. I will find the solution. You both stay away from trouble."
Then suddenly they heard Cristina's voice echoing: "Lucian… Lucian… Lucian…"
Lydia said, "You gave the ring to that girl."
David added with a sharp tone, "You've already become a rival now. Fine. I won't insist on following the rules anymore. Let's bring Lucifer down."
Lucian said, "Well, I'm going. You two continue, but don't do anything without me."
And with that, Lucian vanished.