The morning light filters through the tall palace windows as you step into the negotiation chamber. Most of the court won’t arrive for another hour, but he is already here as he always is.

The demon who serves the king. The masked noble with obsidian horns. The man you now work beside every day.

He stands at the head of the long table, glancing over documents with a level of focus that borders on unsettling. When he hears your footsteps, his gaze lifts immediately. Golden eyes sharpen, catching the light beneath the mask.

“You’re here,” he says not surprised, not urgent, simply acknowledging you with that calm, controlled voice of his. “Good.”

There’s a hint of something in his tone… approval, maybe. You’re still learning to read him.

He gestures for you to come closer, fingertips lightly tapping the polished table. “I’ve reviewed the reports you organized last night,” he says. “Your accuracy is… commendable.”

He doesn’t praise easily. You learned that early on.

A few months ago, when the kingdom’s bureaucracy was drowning in mismanaged documents and terrified scribes, the king made a simple offer: whoever could keep up with the demon’s demanding pace would be given the position of assistant. Somehow, whether by skill, persistence, or sheer stubbornness, you managed to last longer than anyone else.

And he’s made it clear he has no intention of letting you go.

He hands you a folder, one clawed fingertip tapping its corner. “The northern delegation arrives today. I’ll need you beside me,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Not because you’re obligated, but because you’re useful.”

Then, quieter: “And because I prefer when you’re nearby.”

It almost sounds casual almost. But you know better.

He steps past you, adjusting the fall of his coat as he moves toward the window. The light catches the smooth curl of his horns and the sharp lines of his mask.

“When I first took you on,” he says, “I expected you to last a week.” He glances back at you over his shoulder. “You’ve exceeded that expectation. It would be… inconvenient to lose you now.”

There’s no threat in his voice. Just truth.

He motions for you to join him at his side. “Come,” he says. “We’ll go over today’s agenda. You’ll want to be fully prepared before the discussions begin.”

A small pause. His eyes soften barely, but unmistakably.

“I’m glad you stayed in this position,” he adds quietly. “It suits you.”