My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 587

587: Forgotten Names 587: Forgotten Names The silence following the revelation seemed to expand like an echo between worlds.

The blue flames burning at the edges of the clearing flickered, and the wind rushing through the dead forest carried with it a distant rustle-as if hell itself were whispering the name that had been spoken.

Artemis.

Selene stood firm, but her gaze betrayed something deep-not fear, exactly, but the discomfort of someone who had been stripped of a carefully constructed veneer.

She breathed slowly, as if measuring each beat of her heart to maintain her composure.

Vergil, for his part, watched her with a serene, almost gentle gaze.

His voice, when it returned, had completely lost its previous harshness; it was warm, measured, like the echo of thunder that had decided to become a breeze.

“Don’t worry,” he said, taking a step back, his hands returning to the pockets of his black coat.

“I have no ill intentions toward you.” She paused for a moment, staring at the reddish sky above the twisted treetops.

“Just know that everything is okay.” The smile that curved her lips was light, honest.

And that small gesture… was enough to dismantle Selene’s defenses.

“Why?” she thought.

Why was he being so kind?

Men like Vergil didn’t usually offer comfort-they demanded loyalty, exacted results, and punished lies.

And she had lied.

From the moment she stepped onto his turf, she had constructed a disguise with layers of shadows and half-truths.

The revelation of his divine nature could have condemned her.

But there was no fury in his gaze.

Not even disappointment.

Only understanding.

Selene lowered her gaze, and for a moment-brief, but real-she felt something she hadn’t known in a long time: acceptance.

He knew who she was… and yet, he didn’t reject her.

She looked away, trying to contain her inner turmoil.

Deep down, Vergil didn’t need to say anything.

His very presence was an answer-steady, silent, and unwavering.

He saw her not as a fallen goddess, but as a weary soul trying to exist away from a past that had wounded her.

And that, to him, was worthy.

Vergil had learned long ago that power alone meant nothing.

Olympus, Hell, Heaven-every realm he had known was filled with deities who fed on their own corruption, masked by titles and false virtues.

But someone who renounces the throne to seek freedom… That kind of courage, he understood.

And respected.

Selene felt her heart tighten.

“It’s okay.” His voice still echoed in her mind, calm and real.

So simple.

So devastatingly true.

Meanwhile, Zuri watched the scene from a distance, her gaze piercing and curious.

She had always known that Selene carried something different, something purer and, paradoxically, darker than the rest of us.

And seeing that moment of vulnerability was enough to make her laugh softly.

A light, serpentine sound escaped her throat.

“Hmph…

who would have thought…” she murmured, as her body began to shrink.

In a few seconds, the imposing serpent-woman transformed into a small white snake, with almost luminous scales and eyes as red as newly lit embers.

She slithered into a patch of dark grass, moving among the stems like a whisper.

“When he finds out about me…” she thought, the mental hiss echoing with irony and a touch of hope.

“I hope to be welcomed in the same way…” But the thought had barely finished when a voice-that voice-cut through the air like a blade.

“Where do you think you’re going, liar number two?” The serpent’s tiny body froze instantly.

The dry sound of the words seemed to weigh more than a sentence.

Zuri slowly turned her head, her eyes wide.

Her trembling tongue flicked out and back in a nervous reflex.

“W-what are you talking about?!” she stammered, and her voice, even in a hiss, carried authentic panic.

Vergil looked at her, but the calm smile remained.

A smile that mixed irony and a dangerous calm-like that of someone who already knew the answer before even asking.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” Vergil asked, crossing his arms.

The tone was light, almost playful… but his eyes-blue as blades dipped in ancient fire-spoke otherwise.

That wasn’t a question.

It was a statement.

A sentence.

The air seemed to vibrate.

The dead forest fell silent; even the blue flames crackling around it slowed, as if hell itself held its breath at what was about to happen.

Vergil tilted his head slightly, watching the small white snake tremble on the ground.

A crooked smile curved his lips, the kind of smile that never meant anything good-or, depending on your perspective, meant exactly what you feared.

“A spirit that can’t be summoned like the others…” he said, his tone almost thoughtful, letting the words fall through the air like sparks.

“Interesting.” Zuri kept her body still, but her red eyes followed him closely, measuring every step he took toward her.

Vergil continued: “A spirit that had the foulest mouth in the underworld, that cursed everyone, including me… and now comes all refined, polished, acting like a lady of class.” The laugh that escaped his throat was low, husky, and downright dangerous.

“Almost convincing, Zuri.

Almost.” She swallowed, her scales sparkling in the light of the runes.

“M-master, I…” “‘Master,’ is it?” he interrupted, arching an eyebrow.

“Now you call me master?

And to think that not long ago you called me an ‘arrogant son of a bitch.'” He laughed again, the sound echoing through the clearing, amidst the distant crack of thunder and the murmur of the living forest.

Zuri looked away, shrinking a little further.

Her tiny body seemed about to sink into the black earth.

Vergil took another step, now close enough for his shadow to cover her completely.

The smile, though still present, softened-as if it blended curiosity and amusement in equal measure.

“Why don’t you show your former form?” he asked, his tone almost teasing.

“Since I arrived, I’ve only seen you hiding: sometimes as a hybrid, sometimes as this fragile little snake.” His gaze narrowed, and his voice lowered, laden with gentle irony.

“Are you saving yourself…

or are you afraid of what I’ll see?” Zuri squirmed, her eyes shining with unease.

“I-it’s nothing like that…” “Oh, of course.” Vergil chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair, as if trying to hide his impatience.

“Because, you see, Zuri…

I start to get nervous when people lie to me.” The way he said it caused the air to shift.

The energy around him pulsed, the containment runes at the territory’s borders trembling.

Selene-or rather, Artemis-watched from a distance, in complete silence.

She knew it wasn’t anger…

it was instinct.

Vergil brooked no illusions.

And every lie revealed brought him closer to something primal.

Zuri, now visibly shaken, opened her mouth to respond-but her voice came out shaky, almost a whisper: “I just…

thought it would be easier this way.

That you…

would rather not see.” Vergil stepped closer, until the toes of his boots touched the ground where the serpent’s body coiled.

He lowered his head slightly, and the tone of his voice changed-no longer threatening, but firm, direct, like someone demanding the truth and nothing less.

“It’s not up to you to decide what I want to see,” he said.

“Show yourself, Zuri.” The silence that followed was almost tangible.

And then, the ground began to vibrate.

The runes on her body lit up one by one, revealing a golden glow that spread across her scales like liquid fire.

The air distorted around her, energy sizzled, and the small white snake’s body began to grow, to expand.

Selene took a step back, her eyes wide-even she, a goddess, could feel the power emanating from that transformation.

Vergil simply crossed his arms again, watching silently, with that subtle smile that blended satisfaction and absolute control.

Vergil’s laughter died the instant the air around him began to tremble.

A low sound, almost a whisper, echoed-like the sliding of scales on stone.

The ground beneath his feet darkened, and the aura around Zuri expanded abruptly, filling the space with an ancient, almost divine pressure.

The small white serpent raised its head.

Its crimson eyes glowed like burning rubies, and for a moment all was silent-until the light around it shattered, like glass, and a new presence emerged.

Before him, where before there had been only a small serpent, now she stood.

Zuri-or rather, “I already imagined you were a gorgon…

but not their Queen…

right…

Medusa,” Vergil said, smiling.

Her skin was the pale hue of ancient marble, bathed in a faint, spectral glow reminiscent of the moon over the ruins of a forgotten temple.

Strands of emerald serpents entwined her vivid hair, moving with hypnotic slowness, each with its own eyes-tiny reflections of her fragmented consciousness.

Medusa’s eyes were a spectacle in themselves.

Red as freshly spilled blood, but with a melancholic, almost human glow.

Her gaze held eons of pain and suppressed rage, yet something serene.

As if time had spent centuries trying to tame her fury-and failed.

She wore a white tunic adorned with crimson sashes and embroidery, the fabric torn in places where golden scales emerged from her skin.

Around her neck, an ancient gold necklace held red stones that pulsed in time with her heart.

Vergil remained motionless.

The air around her wavered between beautiful and terrifying.

Each movement of the serpents in her hair emitted a subtle sound, like the rustling of dead leaves.

The shadows leaned toward her, drawn by an invisible force.

Medusa stared at him, her lips parted in a mixture of surprise and resignation.

“So…

you finally know,” she said, her voice echoing softly, yet heavy with echo, as if several voices were speaking alongside her.

“It’s been so long since anyone dared call me by that name.” Vergil stepped forward, his coat flapping in the hellish breeze.

His blue eyes glinted in the reflection of the gems on his necklace.

“Not to dare…” he replied calmly.

“Just to acknowledge it.

You are extremely beautiful, you know that?” Medusa lowered her gaze for a brief moment, her serpents withdrawing slightly, as if feeling the weight of the memory.

“That name is a curse,” she murmured.

“A burden I did not ask for.” Vergil tilted his head, studying her carefully.

“No.

It is the name of one who survived the hatred of the gods.” Who was cursed with being too beautiful, too strong, too free.

A faint, almost sad smile appeared on her lips.

“You speak as if you understand.” “I know the mythology, but I’d like to hear more about you, dear.” Vergil chuckled, seeing how embarrassed she looked…