"Lick the toilet seat, bubble-gourd."
"Oh, Lila, why are you always like that?" another voice giggled from outside my bathroom stall.
Two voices. Familiar voices.
"It's fine, then—I'll make it easy for you. Lick my shoes or the toilet seat."
And that's when it hit me.
Lila and Samantha. My classmates. The top scorers. The perfect little angels in front of teachers… and nightmares everywhere else.
I let out a tiny, unintentional meek.
"Who's there?"
Both of them sounded suddenly alert.
In seconds, the stall door flew open, and I gaped at them in shock.
"Oh my— the new student, Linda! How's it going for you, buddy?" Samantha chirped.
Dear Samantha. I swear I had heard nothing. I froze, like always.
"It's fine, we're pretty close, Linda," she cooed. "You know what? I really like you. I won't hurt you, sweetie."
And with that fake sweetness still dripping off her voice, she shoved me hard and slammed the door right into my face.
"Hey—open it! Please!"
I banged on the door until my palms stung, but all I heard were their fading giggles.
Growing up, bullying had always been a part of my life. I'd gotten so used to it that it barely even stung anymore.
The janitor eventually helped me out, and I escaped with the excuse that I had dozed off. I wasn't even that late—classes had just ended.
I hurried out of school, heading toward the bus stand.
That's when I saw her—an old lady sitting beside the road, selling strange, shimmering stickers I had never seen before.
"Hey girl! Would you like to buy some stickers? Lucky ones!"
The voice sliced right through my thoughts, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I turned and saw an old lady waving a sheet of… honestly, the weirdest stickers I'd ever seen.
For a moment I pretended she was calling someone behind me, but no — her expectant eyes were glued to me. Great.
I fumbled for an excuse. "Uh… I don't have—"
"They're only fifty yen," she insisted, stretching her smile in a way that made me wonder if she practiced in the mirror. "Please buy them."
Fifty yen. Exactly the amount I needed for the bus home.
I checked my purse again, hoping maybe money would magically appear. Nope. Still broke.
So I sighed, handed her the coins and tried to smile like a normal human being.
"Thank you," she whispered, "and may He bless you."
Okay…
I walked away, instantly regretting my life choices. Great. Now I'd have to walk all the way home like a tragic side character in a sad indie movie.
On the way, I glanced at the stickers.
Five bizarre, satan-like adhesives that looked like they crawled straight out of a horror manga.
One had horns. One looked like it wanted to eat my soul.
Cute.
By the time I reached home, it was already seven.
The house was locked, as usual, so I lifted the doormat to grab the keys — and surprise, another note from Mom:
You were late. Had urgent work. Forgot to cook dinner. Order something.
Won't be back before tomorrow evening. Take care.
Ah yes. The classic "I love you but work loves me more" note.
That's what happens when you're raised by a genius single mom who became a full-time researcher and part-time mother after Dad ran off with another woman.
She works all the time. Sleeps… sometimes.
Talks to me? Only when the universe aligns.
I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and the quiet hit me like always.
One plate. One person. One empty house.
Cooking for myself? Yeah, no. I love myself, but not that much.I had hardly even kicked off my shoes when the doorbell rang.
Great. Just great. Who now? Debt collectors? Samantha with a knife?
I dragged myself to the door and peeked through the little hole.
"Oh—Sandras.Why you're—" I opened the door, blinking at him in surprise.
There he stood: my stepbrother.
Twenty-one, stupidly handsome, stupidly intelligent, and stupidly serious.
The universe just handed him everything, that I didn't have .
"I saw your mom," he said in that perfectly straight-faced voice of his. "I thought you might be starving, so I dropped by to give you some food. I know you won't cook for yourself."
He didn't even say hi.
Just straight-up roasted my life choices and handed me a food bag.
"Oh yes," he continued, like he was talking about the weather, "we got a new special lead on demons and their world. Your mom may be very busy for a while."
Demons. Again.
Of course.
He stepped into his sleek black car and drove off like some undercover agent.
I watched him leave and then stared down at the food packet like it was treasure dropped straight from heaven.
For me, he was… well, everything my mom forgot to be.
Someone who actually noticed when I was hungry. Someone who cared.
I ate as fast as a wild raccoon. My favourites—chicken and seafood.
I was exhausted beyond repair, so the moment I dumped myself on the bed, my eyes started shutting.
But then… the stickers.
Those stupid weird satan-like stickers I had wasted my bus money on.
They practically glowed in the dim room, begging for attention like cursed Pokémon cards.
I reached out from my blanket cocoon and grabbed them.
Up close, they looked even weirder—symbols, horns, eyes, stuff straight out of a bad horror movie.
It reminded me of the things Mom and Sandras worked on.
Demons. Their "research." Their obsession.
I frowned.
That lead he talked about… was it real?
Are demons actually real?
Is there an actual demon world?
And I didn't even realise the fact that I dosed off.
"Oh my Satan, it's happening…" murmured some voices —
and that was the first voice Linda heard as she jolted awake.
I heard voices—actual voices—and snapped awake, expecting maybe burglars, ghosts, or Samantha with a chainsaw this time.
Instead, there were people.
Weird people.
With two horns, tails, and sharp teeth, standing beside my bed like they were waiting for me to sign a delivery package.
I choked on my own breath.
"Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my bedroom?" I squeaked, grabbing my pillow like it was a holy shield blessed by angels.
"Oh, my precious," the lady said sweetly—too sweetly.
"You are in actual Hell. And we are demons. And this is the Demon World."
The old goofy man next to her nodded proudly like this was the best hotel review of his life.
"Ohhh. I get it," I exhaled in relief. "Bad dream. Okay. I should go back to sleep now."
I literally lay back down.
"Don't do that," the old man said quickly. "You'll return to the Human World if you fall asleep again. We summoned you using the summoning seal. And it worked."
I pinched myself so hard my skin almost filed for divorce—but no, I didn't wake up.
It was all real.
"Well, it must be hard for you at first," the demon lady cooed.
"Here—wear these fake horns and this tail. They're magical, so you can't take them off."
She snapped her fingers, and the horns just—popped—onto my head.
The tail too.
Just like that.
I was now a Limited Edition Demon Cosplay Model.
"As for me," the old man continued with an unnecessary amount of pride,
"I'm the King of the Kingdom WEJA—a small territory in the Netherlands.
I am Yama Dhyar, the Demon King.
And she is my beautiful wife, Queen Zama."
I stared.
They looked like a demonic version of a toothpaste advertisement couple.
"We summoned you so you can train our daughter to be a successful queen," Yama added.
"I'm already 800 years old."
I almost died for a second time.
Eight. Hundred. Years. Old.
"Mr. Dhyar," I croaked, "so you're telling me that I—a human—have been summoned to the Demon World for the glorious act of training your daughter?"
He scratched his cheek.
"Actually, no. We were just experimenting. And since you being here is a potential danger…like if others demon find out you are human then you can be devoured by them but still we can't send you back. You're the chosen one."
"The chosen WHAT?" I whisper-screamed.
Queen Zama stepped forward with her calm, soothing, "did-you-drink-water" kind of voice.
"Remember the seal that old lady gave you? That was a pact. She sold your soul to us demons for 5,000 yen."
I froze.
I blinked.
Once. Twice.
"That cunning old lady… SOLD MY SOUL… for 5,000 yen?"
My voice cracked like a broken flute.
"Yes, that pact has been signed for a hundred years."
"A hundred YEARS?" I choked, half-sarcastic, half-hoping this was still a fever dream.
"Oh—sorry," the lady corrected herself casually,
"one year according to the human world.
So whenever you fall asleep, you'll be back in the Demon World.
Honestly, you have no choice left."
And she gave me that wicked smile.
"Okay… I accept my defeat," I sighed, feeling emotionally bankrupt.
"Tell me what exactly I have to do."
"So the deal is done," the demon queen declared proudly.
"You are now our adopted daughter.
You will call me Mama Zama and him Papa Yama."
I physically cringed.
"You must live a normal demonic life with our daughter Libera," Zama continued,
"and protect her.
And remember—never tell anyone you're human.
Otherwise… you'll be eaten."
I choked on pure terror.
"And your name is Raffire," Mr. Yama added as if naming a pet.
"Okay, get ready. You need to go to the Demon School. Everything is prepared."
Right then, a beautiful young girl appeared —
and by beautiful, I mean devilish, ethereal, terrifyingly elegant.
She stared at me blankly and said,
"Greetings, Big Sister Raffire. I'm Libera, 150 years old."
Her expression was unreadable.
Her beauty was unreal.
And I was… speechless.
"Enjoy your first day, my lovely Raffire," Queen Zama said warmly as she walked up to me
and kissed my cheek.
A demon queen.
A literal demon queen.
Kissed me like a doting mom.
How was she so kind?
So… humane?
They left me standing alone, drowning in the not so obvious choices that I made .
"It's fine, Linda," I told myself, inhaling deeply.
"I hardly ever dream such demonic scenarios like this.
Let's just… live the moment and pretend to be a good demon."
Before stepping out into the dark hallway, I caught a glimpse of myself in a broken mirror.
The fractured shards reflected a beautiful demonic figure staring back at me — horns, sharp eyes, inhuman elegance — completely different from my usual human self.
For a split second, I forgot to breathe.
But before I could process my new "demonic makeover," something moved in the corner of my eye.
A dark figure was approaching.
Instinct kicked in.
Without thinking, I pulled out the small cutlass tucked in my side pocket — don't ask me how it got there — and blocked a sudden sharp strike from another demonic male.
"Who are you, and what are you doing in the palace?" the demon growled, withdrawing his blade and swinging again.
CLANG.
I defended it cleanly.
Of course I did — I wasn't just Linda.
I was Linda, national-level fencing player, survivor of school bullies and demon kings alike.
"What the heck?!" I shouted mid-parry. "Why is my dream so dramatic? But listen here, Mr. Demon — I am NOT letting you ruin my only demonic dream and chance of being the protagonist! I WILL PROTECT LIBERA!"
And with that heroic declaration, I kicked the demon straight in the stomach, punched his jaw, and pinned him down — my blade resting near his neck as my eyes glared like I actually knew what I was doing.
"Damon, STOP! She is my sister — she is Princess ....."
Libera's voice echoed sharply from the corridor.
The demon froze.
Within minutes, Queen Zama hurried in — not shocked, just… impressed.
Deeply, uncomfortably impressed.
"Oh my devil… who should I blame this time?" she sighed dramatically.
"I'm so sorry, Princess Raffire. This is Damon Grave — our guard dog , the son of the Infernal Council head, responsible for Libera's protection.
You returned so suddenly from your exile that I forgot to inform the others,"
Zama admitted with a guilty smile.
"Please accept my apologies, my dear."
Linda's cheeks burned with embarrassment as she tried desperately to regain her composure. She had not meant to cause such chaos the very moment she stepped into the Nether Castle.
"It's… fine, Devil Mom," she murmured, forcing a steady breath. "No wonder he was chosen as a guard dog to protect Libera."
Her gaze slid toward the tall, armored figure still frozen in shock.
"Good job, Damon. You're as alert as always."
The words struck Damon like a thunderbolt.
The girl standing before him—the one he had attacked moments ago—was Princess Raffire.
His mind raced backward to the stories whispered in the Infernal Council chambers. The Demon King and Queen once had an elder daughter—Princess Raffire—a name spoken only in shadows. A princess who had vanished into exile under mysterious circumstances. A princess long mourned, long feared lost.
And now… she was here.
Damon's breath caught. He immediately lowered himself into a deep bow, armor clattering against the obsidian floor.
"I—I beg your forgiveness, Princess Raffire," he stammered, his voice trembling with remorse. "I did not know it was you. I had no intention of harming you—please forgive my ignorance."
Linda, disguised as Raffire, felt a wave of confusion wash over her.
Princess Raffire? Exile? Elder daughter?
None of it made sense—but she was quick, sharp, and adaptable. Instinctively, she stepped into the role she was meant to play.
"It's alright," she said softly, her human warmth slipping into her tone. "You don't need to bow to me. You've been protecting Libera… and that means more to me than you know. Thank you, Damon. But please, next time—don't bow. We're more like a family now."
The hall fell silent.
Damon's eyes widened. Family?
Those words—gentle, grateful, human—were unlike anything he had ever heard from the infamous Princess Raffire. The ruthless, cold-blooded heir he had been warned about did not speak like this… did not radiate this strange warmth.
Libera, who had earlier bristled at the very mention of her newly returned sister, felt her hostility falter. Something about Raffire felt different—as if she carried a light no demon had ever known.
From the corners, Queen Zama let out a soft giggle, hiding her smile behind darkened fingers.
[ No matter what I do… the difference between humans and demons will always remain, she mused silently.
I don't know why I brought you here, Raffire… but I can already see it—you're going to change the Nether Realm in ways none of us ever expected. ]
Then the Queen stood straighter and said,
"Prepare yourselves.Just in an hour , you'll both begin at Torentirus Academy—the most infamous institution in the Nether."
Damon left to organize things, and suddenly Raffire and Libera were alone.
In the sudden quiet, Raffire found herself alone with Leberia.
The younger princess walked ahead, her steps slow and measured. Libera's face, pale and unreadable, was calm to the point of eeriness—like she had been carved from moonstone rather than born of flesh. She rarely displayed emotion, and the silence between them felt like a thick, untouched fog.
"Libera," Raffire called softly.
The girl stopped. She turned and bowed her head with mechanical precision.
"What do you require, Elder Sister? "
Her voice held a tone of politeness so rigid it felt rehearsed.
Raffire swallowed. She needed to be careful—every word she spoke in this world mattered.
"I…" she began, choosing her words with the clumsy caution of someone stepping into unknown terrain. "I've been in exile for so long that I barely know anything about the world anymore. I feel… disconnected. Would you happen to have a book, or a newspaper—anything—that could help me understand the current affairs of the demon realm?"
Inside, Linda's thoughts churned in panic.
I need more than books about demon politics… I need answers.
Books that might tell me how curses are broken… how souls are restored…
Libera is my only chance. If I can earn her trust… she might unknowingly lead me to the secrets I need to return home.
Anything. If I don't learn how this world works, I'll slip up… and if they find out I'm human… they'll devour me alive.
Libera blinked once—slow, contemplative.
"Follow me," she said.
They walked down a long corridor, lined with dark marble that reflected their silhouettes like shadows stretching on black glass. The torches flickered a blue flame that hissed as they passed, as if whispering secrets only demons could hear.
After several minutes, they stopped before a massive door.
Raffire felt her breath catch.
It was enormous—twice her height—crafted from obsidian stone.
On its surface was carved the face of a dragon, its eyes glowing faintly with ember-like life. Jagged fangs curled around the edges of the door, and a low rumble seemed to echo from within, though she couldn't tell if it was real or just her fear.
A cold shiver crawled down Raffire's spine.
Libera spoke, her voice calm as ever.
"I do not know what 'papers' you speak of, sister. But inside, you'll find books on the history of the demon world. They will help you understand our kingdom… and yourself."
Her hand reached toward the dragon's mouth, ready to open the ancient vault.