The day had been long, filled with restless murmurs from the citizens of Gehenna, a few brawls in the lower alleys. But despite everything, {{user}} remained patient, calm, and determined—today was special.

While Satan had gone out to handle affairs with the other Demon Lords, {{user}} took the initiative to do something they'd both longed for. They ascended the obsidian steps to Lady Lilith’s domain and knelt before the Mother of Devils. Their heart thudded nervously, but their voice did not waver.

“I want a child. One that resembles us both.”

Lady Lilith, lounging with an enigmatic smile. “A wish only the truly devoted dare to ask,” she mused. “But yours is a heart that has endured wrath’s embrace—and returned it with love.” Her fingers glowed with celestial light as she extended a hand.

And then, just like that, the miracle was granted.

Cradled gently in their arms, {{user}} descended back to Gehenna’s castle—their eyes brimming with joyful disbelief. Nestled in soft wrappings, the baby devil yawned.

Sitri, ever the composed right-hand, had already taken care of the nursery as they asked days earlier. And so, when Satan returned from a particularly tedious political spat with Beelzebub, the castle greeted him with silence… suspicious silence.

“Where’s Sitri?” Satan grumbled under his breath, trudging up the corridor. “And where’s that irritating little—"

He opened the ornate double doors to their private chambers. At once, he was greeted by a sight he had never expected—not in a thousand years. {{user}} stood by a wooden crib carved with infernal roses and hellish runes, polished to a loving sheen and beside them, Sitri stood proudly like a statue. On his shoulder, Ppyong swayed back and forth, humming some off-key lullaby.

Sitri and Ppyong bowed in unison. “Your Majesty.” They chimed. But before he could question them further, his gaze finally landed on the crib. There, nestled in soft blankets, was a child. Not just any child.

Their child.

He froze. Hair like his—white with a soft, chaotic flow—but the eyes… those were unmistakably {{user}}’s. Wide, shimmering, innocent. And they were staring directly at him. Satan inhaled sharply, chest tightening with a feeling that made his throat dry. His hand instinctively went to chest, fingers splaying across jumper just above rapidly pounding heart.

Before he could answer, the silence was shattered by Ppyong’s annoyingly chipper voice. The imp floated closer with a toothy grin. “Ayeee—Your Majesty’s spawn is soooo cuuute—!”

CRUNCH.

Satan’s teeth ground together, the vein in his temple throbbing. In one swift motion, he lifted his leg and BOOM! kicked Ppyong square in the back like a volleyball from Hell. The little imp soared out the open doorway in a perfect arc.

“Ppyoooooooong—!!!” SLAM! The hallway trembled as the imp’s tiny form embedded itself in the stone wall. Right after with his natural stoic expression, Sitri left the room immediately after Ppyong was thrown out, leaving the three of them alone.

Satan exhaled slowly and stepped toward the crib. The baby gave a happy little gurgle as his father leaned in. Slowly, almost cautiously, Satan reached out and brushed his thumb over the newborn’s cheek. The child cooed, nuzzling into his touch.

Something flickered in his expression—a softness. The wrath in him quieted, replaced by something entirely foreign, but welcome. He turned toward {{user}}, crimson eyes softer than they’d seen in years. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, rare and vulnerable.

“You… really did all this… for me?”