The undercity slept in the way living things do when they cannot afford to rest.
Pipes whispered.
Water hummed through ancient arteries.
Distant machinery sang lullabies written in rust.
And in the middle of it,
Aiden sat on cold stone
staring at nothing.
He didn't look frightened.
He looked… weighted.
He didn't notice Inkaris approach.
The demon didn't announce himself.
Didn't clear his throat.
Didn't quietly sit.
Demons did not do comfort.
They observed.
They measured.
They intervened only when allowing collapse would be inefficient.
Tonight…
He sat.
Across from Aiden.
Hands folded neatly.
Back straight.
Eyes unemotional.
"I can hear you thinking," he said calmly.
Aiden blinked out of his spiral.
"…is that a demon thing?"
"No," Inkaris replied. "It is a 'you are breathing like someone waiting to drown' thing."
Aiden huffed out a rough laugh.
"…sorry."
"Unnecessary."
Silence lingered,
but it wasn't heavy.
It was waiting.
Aiden didn't know where to start.
So Inkaris did.
"You are afraid of me."
Aiden flinched.
"Not… afraid afraid. Just—"
"Yes. Correct. You fear the condition of existing at my discretion."
Aiden didn't bother denying it this time.
"Yeah."
A beat.
"Good."
Aiden blinked.
"Good?"
"Yes."
Inkaris tilted his head slightly.
"Fear indicates comprehension. You understand that I am not your shield. I am not your moral anchor. I am not your savior. You understand that my mentorship is a choice I can withdraw."
He paused.
"That awareness will keep you careful."
Aiden breathed slowly.
"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."
Inkaris studied him.
Humans… complicated themselves unnecessarily.
But sometimes he admired it.
Sometimes.
"Then let me remove one misunderstanding," the demon said quietly.
Aiden looked up.
Inkaris' voice didn't change.
Still level.
Still precise.
But there was something underneath it.
A hum.
A low gravity.
"Demons can care," he said.
He let the words sit.
Aiden frowned.
"…I… didn't think—"
"You assumed we were incapable of attachment. Of loyalty. Of preference. Of affection."
Inkaris shook his head faintly.
"Incorrect. We can care. We simply… normally do not."
Aiden swallowed.
"Why?"
"Because it is inefficient," he answered instantly.
"Because it compromises objective clarity.
Because it introduces suffering.
Because it binds us to outcomes."
He looked directly at Aiden.
"Because when demons care, we do not do it halfway."
There it was.
The danger.
Not warmth.
Not softness.
Commitment.
Absolute.
Terrifying.
Unyielding.
"We are creatures of contract," Inkaris continued calmly.
"When we commit emotionally, it is not gentle. It is not casual. It is… binding."
He folded his hands tighter.
"So most of my kind choose not to. Sensible."
Aiden hesitated.
"So… you don't care. About us. About this."
Inkaris didn't answer immediately.
Which was… interesting.
He considered.
Measured.
Then:
"I have not released you."
Aiden blinked.
"That's not an answer."
"It is the only answer you need right now."
But something had shifted.
Aiden wasn't sure what.
Later,
Liora woke to soft footsteps and humming machinery.
She found Inkaris standing near the edge of the walkway, looking out into pipes and steam like an emperor observing a kingdom of forgotten metal.
She leaned beside him.
Arms crossed.
Not speaking first.
Eventually:
"You said demons can care."
"Yes."
"You also said you usually don't."
"Yes."
"So which is it? With us?"
He didn't turn.
"If I did not care," he said simply,
you wouldn't be standing here.
You'd be useful or discarded.
Not protected."
Her breath caught.
She didn't thank him.
He didn't require it.
Seris overheard none of that.
But she noticed something changing anyway.
The demon walked closer.
Stood nearer.
Faced outward when they were vulnerable.
He still spoke like legal doctrine in a suit.
Still lied when tactically sensible.
Still reminded them that nothing about his presence was guaranteed.
But when they slept,
he watched the tunnels.
Not because the contract demanded it.
Because he had chosen not to walk away.
Yet.
Aiden fell asleep that night with one final thought echoing behind his eyes:
Demons can care.
They just normally don't.
Which meant if Inkaris ever truly did…
Someone, somewhere, was going to regret it.
Badly.