POV: Malerion
The Sin Rouge headquarters was not built for royalty.
It was built for survival for shadows, for hidden deals, for whispered information, for people who had only their fists and their ambitions left.
So watching a Goetia prince step through its front doors felt like watching a swan wade into a pit of wolves.
The neon sign outside flickered uncertainly, as if unsure how to react to nobility.
Vaethelion paused on the threshold, his porcelain mask reflecting the bright pink glow of the bar lights.
"Oh," he breathed. "This is… surprisingly lively."
Behind him, my entire inner circle held their collective breath.
Donna stood at my right shoulder, perfectly composed, yet her tail flicked with nervous precision.
Quill hovered near the back, notebook trembling in his hands.
Dreg crossed his arms and blocked half the doorway like a living barricade.
Liza melted into the shadows along the wall.
Skit and Bit clung to each other like two damp cats thrown into a thunderstorm.
Vael had no idea.
He stepped inside Sin Rouge like a noble strolling through a banquet hall.
The HQ Tour (that should never have happened)
The central room buzzed with quiet activity demons drinking, talking, repairing gear, writing messages, dealing cards. Conversations died one by one as Vael walked past, feathers shimmering softly.
Eyes widened.
Chairs scraped.
Someone dropped a drink.
Someone else crossed themselves even though their religion didn't allow it.
Vael whispered, "They seem frightened."
Donna cleared her throat gently.
"You're a Goetia, my prince. People do not 'relax' around your kind."
"Oh."
He looked genuinely surprised.
"Do I… intimidate them?"
"Very much so," I said.
Vael blinked behind his mask, puzzled, as if no one had ever mentioned this fact before.
He Sees Everything… Yet Understands Nothing
As we led him deeper inside, Vael inspected everything:
the storage rooms
the training area
the modified machinery Quill built
the underground bunker hallway
the office wing
and finally the central planning room
He touched walls, tables, tools.
He tapped crystals Quill embedded in the walls.
He examined maps, connecting strings, codex notes, and even Skit's messy inventory racks.
But every time he got close to something mildly suspicious…
He misinterpreted it.
Completely.
"This wall has… incredibly stable ambient magic," he said, touching one of the resonance-stabilized panels Quill and I built.
Quill froze.
I froze.
Donna froze harder.
Vael added, "Has someone done… cleaning rituals recently?"
Donna's soul left her body.
"Yes," I said immediately. "Very thorough ones."
"Oh! Lovely!"
He moved on.
Next he looked at Quill's workbench where runic prototypes lay half-finished.
"These markings…" He leaned closer. "…I've never seen these sigils before. Are they ornamental?"
Quill stuttered.
"N–no I mean yes they're decorative. Just for show ha hah very pretty"
Vael clapped.
"Marvelous craftsmanship!"
Quill nearly collapsed in relief.
Riff whispered to Skit, "He's either an idiot or the most polite bastard alive."
"Why not both?" Skit whispered back.
Donna Reads Him
After some time observing Vael, Donna leaned closer to me.
"He's masking something," she whispered. "Not deception emotion. He's excited. Very excited. But also… lonely."
I glanced at her.
"Lonely?"
"Painfully," she murmured. "Like someone who's been kept inside a golden cage all his life. He feels freedom here. Even if it terrifies him."
That explained his curiosity.
His enthusiasm.
His lack of boundaries.
He wasn't here because he found clues.
He was here because he felt something he had never felt before.
A place not built for him but not rejecting him either.
When the Prince Realizes Something Strange
After we finished the slow walk through every corner of the base, Vael stood in the center of the main room.
He closed his eyes.
And inhaled.
I stiffened.
So did Donna.
Quill made a squeaking noise.
Vael whispered:
"That sensation again… The air here feels… aligned. Stabilized. Almost harmonious. As if someone carefully polished the chaos."
His feathers flickered.
"I can't explain it. But this place feels… pleasant."
Donna looked at me sharply knowing exactly why.
But Vael?
He smiled.
Softly.
Warmly.
Genuinely.
"I like it here."
Those four words nearly gave Dreg a heart attack.
He Should Have Left. But He Didn't.
Vael turned toward me suddenly.
"Malerion," he said gently, "may I… come again?"
The room went silent.
Skit dropped a wrench.
Bit kicked it under a table.
Liza froze like a statue.
Donna raised both eyebrows.
Quill scribbled the words OH HELL NO in his notes.
I studied the prince carefully.
He wasn't asking because he found clues.
He wasn't asking because he suspected anything.
He wasn't asking because he wanted control or power.
He simply felt
"comfortable," Donna whispered.
Right.
Comfortable.
In a place he absolutely should not find comforting.
Vael shifted slightly, suddenly shy for the first time.
"I… can't explain it," he admitted. "But something about this district feels… nice. Safe. Interesting. Balanced. I'd like to see more."
Alastor whispered in my mind, quiet and sharp:
"Let him come. Use it. Carefully."
I exhaled.
"Of course," I said. "You're welcome here."
Vael brightened instantly.
"Marvelous! I'll return soon then."
He swept his cloak dramatically, as if leaving a royal ballroom rather than a slum base.
Then he walked out into the neon-lit street, humming softly to himself.
When he disappeared, my entire inner circle exhaled.
And Liza whispered:
"He's coming back."
I nodded slowly.
"He will. He doesn't know why."
Donna finished the thought:
"But you do."
Yes.
Because the echo of resonance always pulls on sensitive souls.
Even those at the top of Hell.
Even princes.