My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 594
594: Just get on with it.
594: Just get on with it.
A few days had passed since Gabriel’s visit.
The atmosphere in the mansion was surprisingly calm, at least on the surface.
The smell of hot food mingled with the faint scent of the garden flowers that wafted in through the open dining room window.
Vergil sat at the head of the long oak table, surrounded by his wives.
Katharina, always impeccable, silently sipped her tea; Ada rested her chin on her hand, observing the scene with her usual analytical and curious gaze; Roxanne, on the other hand, seemed more interested in the light conversation with Stella, who was busy devouring a slice of chocolate cake.
Raphaeline and Sapphire sat on either side of Vergil, the former distractedly playing with her napkin, the latter with a distant look, more bored than ever.
Viviane served the dishes with almost ceremonial precision, while Iridia and Zex helped, moving with impeccable synchronicity, although the silent nervousness they carried was visible in every exchanged glance.
The clinking of cutlery and the soft murmur of the meal lasted a few minutes before Vergil, without warning, broke the silence: “I’ve decided that I’m going to transform Iridia and Zex into demons.” The sound of cutlery ceased almost instantly.
Ada raised an eyebrow, her gaze fixed on him.
“And they want this?” she asked, in a neutral tone, but there was a trace of genuine concern in her voice.
Vergil nodded, without hesitation.
“Yes.
It was their choice.
No pressure, no commands,” he said calmly, placing his fork on the plate.
“They understood the risks, and yet they decided.” Iridia and Zex, on the other side of the table, briefly exchanged glances, as if confirming to each other that this was real.
Sapphire let out a small sigh and leaned back in her chair, her gaze empty.
“Whatever,” she murmured, swirling the wine in her glass.
“As long as they don’t cause any trouble.” Raphaeline averted her gaze from him to Vergil, her expression slightly sour.
“Of course, it doesn’t matter to you…” she muttered, in an almost childish tone, crossing her arms.
Vergil noticed the jealousy in her voice and simply smiled, affectionately stroking Raphaeline’s hair.
“Hey, don’t be like that,” he said softly, with a touch of humor.
“They just want to truly live.” Raphaeline huffed, but ended up smiling, even though she didn’t want to show it.
“I know…
but I still don’t like the idea,” she grumbled.
On the other side, Stella watched everything while licking the chocolate-covered fork.
“So they’re going to become like…
mini-yous?” she asked with the absurd naturalness of someone talking about the weather.
Roxanne, beside her, laughed loudly.
“Careful, little Stella, two Vergils are already enough for one world,” she joked, and Stella burst into laughter.
Katharina, always more reserved, simply sighed and clasped her hands on the table.
“If that’s their wish, I see no reason to stop them,” she said elegantly.
“But, Vergil…
make sure the process doesn’t destroy them from the inside.” “Of course,” he replied, his voice calm but firm.
“I wouldn’t do this if there were a real risk.” Viviane, who was serving the last dish, glanced for a moment at Zex and Iridia.
It was impossible not to feel the mixture of fear and anticipation in the air.
Vergil leaned back in his chair, his gaze wandering across the table, and murmured: “It seems everything is going well.” The soft clinking of cutlery still echoed around the table when a distinct presence crossed the air, cold, elegant, and impossible to ignore.
The door to the room opened without warning, and Sepphirothy entered with the same gait he always had: calm, yet making the air seem to bend around him.
His long silver hair swayed gently with the movement, and his eyes-a deep, almost ethereal blue-swept the room until they landed on Vergil.
“Am I interrupting dinner?” he asked in a soft tone that didn’t really sound like a question.
Vergil raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair.
“It depends,” he said with a hint of irony.
“If it’s for something important, I might even forgive the lack of etiquette.” Sepphirothy crossed his arms, a discreet smile appearing on his lips.
“You’ll have to forgive it, then,” he replied.
“Because you’re going to need a new suit.” The comment elicited an immediate reaction from the women around the table.
Ada looked up, curious.
Raphaeline grimaced.
Sapphire sighed loudly, already anticipating the reason.
Vergil blinked slowly.
“A new suit?” he repeated, with a touch of disdain.
“I have dozens.
What’s wrong with the ones I already have?” “Nothing,” Sepphirothy replied serenely.
“Except that this event requires something…
more formal.” Vergil placed his fork on the plate, leaning slightly forward.
“What event?” he asked, now genuinely interested.
Sepphirothy maintained a steady gaze, unhurried, as if carefully choosing his words.
“A meeting between the competitors of the Celestial Tournament,” he finally said.
“Something like…
a diplomatic gathering.” The atmosphere at the table seemed to shift.
Katharina adjusted the tea in her hand, Ada raised an eyebrow, and Sapphire gave a slight smile-one that seemed to know more than it let on.
Vergil, however, merely snorted.
“Gods trying to look civilized before they kill each other,” he muttered, resting his chin on his hand.
“Lovely irony.” “Call it what you want,” Sepphirothy retorted, impassively.
“But it will be mandatory.
The presence of all representatives is required.” Raphaeline glanced at him sideways, clearly uncomfortable.
“And they really think putting everyone in the same room before a tournament is a good idea?” “It seems so,” Vergil replied with a half-smile.
“A political game, probably.” Stella, who until then had been distractedly chewing on her cake, looked up.
“Will there be food?” Roxanne laughed loudly.
“I bet it’ll be the most boring and expensive thing at the same time.” Sepphirothy crossed her arms and added: “The event will take place in one of the neutral zones, under the supervision of several divine entities.
No one will be able to fight inside.” “‘Able’ is too optimistic a word,” Sapphire grumbled.
“If they put Ares and a demon in the same room, the floor will be on fire in five minutes.” Vergil chuckled softly, his gaze fixed on the glass of wine in front of him.
“So that’s it…
they want me to go smile, shake hands, and pretend I like beings who tried to destroy half of my lineage.” Sepphirothy approached him, resting one hand on the back of his chair.
“It’s politics, Vergil.
You know how it works,” she said in a low voice.
“Show them you’re above it.
That you’re not just another descendant of Lucifer…
but someone they need to respect.” Vergil looked up at her, his blue eyes sparkling with a dangerous calm.
“And that’s exactly why you want a new suit,” he deduced.
“You want me to look…
dignified.” “Dignified, irresistible, dangerous…
choose the adjective you prefer,” she replied with a slight smile.
“But yes, I want them to remember who you are-and who they’re dealing with.” Raphaeline leaned back, muttering.
“He already attracts too much attention without needing a suit.” Vergil gave her an amused look.
“Oh, that’s not bad, but I believe Ada will have to come with me.” She blushed slightly, pretending to look away.
“Only if I can choose the tie,” Ada said.
Katharina, in turn, took another sip of tea and said with the serenity of someone already accustomed to chaos: “Just try not to turn this event into a war.
The tournament will happen one way or another.” Vergil gave a slight smile, the kind of smile that promised nothing good.
“Me?
Never,” he said ironically.
“Unless someone deserves it.” Sepphirothy sighed, touching his shoulder.
“Tomorrow morning, the celestial tailor I hired will arrive.
He’ll take your measurements and prepare something…
befitting the occasion.” Vergil raised an eyebrow.
“Celestial?” “He sews for gods,” she replied, seriously.
“And he doesn’t accept mortals as clients.
Consider it a privilege.” Vergil laughed.
“Fantastic.
I hope he doesn’t try to exorcise me while measuring my waist.” Sepphirothy turned to leave, but before crossing the door, she looked back with an enigmatic half-smile.
“Just don’t show up with a katana at the cocktail party, Vergil.” “No promises,” he replied, and then went back to cutting the piece of meat on his plate, as if nothing had happened.
The next morning, the mansion was silent-the kind of silence that precedes the inevitable chaos.
The sun streamed through the tall windows, casting golden reflections across the polished marble floor.
Vergil stood in the main hall, wearing only a simple black shirt and cotton trousers.
His loose hair, still a little disheveled, showed that he had no patience for morning formalities.
“Tell me this is a joke…” he muttered, upon seeing the man Sepphirothy had brought.
The “celestial tailor” stood before him, a tall being with androgynous features, pale skin gleaming like porcelain.
His eyes were a vivid gold, and his clothes seemed made of pure liquid light, stitched with threads of energy.
In one hand, he held a measuring tape made of floating runes that moved on their own.
“Lord Vergil,” said the tailor in a melodious, almost hypnotic voice.
“It is an honor to craft something…
for the newly appointed Demon King.
At least, that’s what they say.” Ada, leaning against the doorframe, crossed her arms and watched everything with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
“I like him,” she commented.
“He has the nerve to provoke you right from the start.” “That’s not courage,” Vergil retorted, giving her a sidelong glance.
“It’s recklessness.” “Oh, I prefer to call it divine inspiration,” replied the tailor, approaching, the measuring tape floating in the air.
“Now, if you could stand still for a moment, I need your measurements.” Vergil sighed, resigned.
“Just get on with it.”