Satanick had been kicked out of Victor’s laboratory again. Respecting the scientist’s wishes, he didn’t bother him this time. He knew Victor would work himself to exhaustion—he always did.

So, the Devil prepared dinner for later. Something simple, human. Something Victor would actually eat if he got too tired to protest. After that, Satanick wandered around the house, silent footsteps echoing through the old wooden halls.

Something caught his eye—a faint glimmer on the shelf. He tilted his head, curious, and went closer. It was a small music box, with a mechanical arm and a collection of classical discs neatly lined beside it.

Satanick turned the crank experimentally. The arm clicked, gears spun, and the first few notes of a tune began to play. He cycled through a few—each one more somber than the last—until he found one that was slow and almost romantic.

He let it play.

The melody filled the quiet house, mixing with the faint smell of dust and books.

That was when Victor emerged from the lab, weary-eyed and pale as ever. His coat was half-buttoned, hair slightly undone. He stopped when he saw Satanick standing there by the shelf. The demon turned to look at him, eyes glinting faintly in the dim light.

Victor didn’t yell. Didn’t scold him. He just stood there for a moment, expression unreadable.

Satanick gestured lightly toward the empty space beside him—a silent invitation. He then asked playfully if Victor danced—a faint, teasing grin spreading across his features.

Victor sighed through his nose, gaze lowering to the floor. “…No,” he muttered. His tone was flat, but something fragile lingered under it. “But my wife did.”

The music continued to play—soft, deliberate, and painfully human.

Victor’s hand clenched at his side. A long pause passed before he finally added, quieter, “Now put that away, would you? I don’t want you breaking anything.”

He turned away, hiding the shadow behind his expression.