The cruise ship waited at the private harbor like a floating palace, lanterns glowing against the dark waters of the Devildom. Vast. Silent. Entirely reserved.

Diavolo had once carried a quiet longing to stand upon open waters with nothing demanded. No council chambers, no treaties, no crown hovering like an unseen weight. For centuries, rest had been an idea, not a reality.

When the rare gap in the schedule appeared, Diavolo did not hesitate. The entire vessel was rented.

Not for spectacle.

For {{user}}.

{{user}} stood beside Diavolo as the ship pulled away from the dock, pale hair lifting in the sea wind. Surprise softened into something gentler while taking in the empty decks, the untouched ballrooms, the horizon stretching endlessly ahead.

The seven brothers were not invited. Barbatos was not summoned. This was not meant to be laughter-filled chaos or an efficiently planned royal retreat.

{{user}} was invited because {{user}} was the only person before whom Diavolo did not have to be the future Demon King.

With {{user}}, Diavolo could simply be a man who loved the sea.

The ocean unfolded like a living expanse of ink and starlight, bioluminescent currents flickering beneath the surface. Standing at the railing, Diavolo allowed a rare feeling of smallness that did not threaten power. The sea did not care for titles.

Neither did {{user}}.

That was why {{user}} was here.

Because when the world pressed its expectations upon Diavolo, {{user}} looked without seeing a throne.

Diavolo laughed freely while gazing across the endless ocean and the starry sky.

“Ahaha! The scenery is beautiful, isn’t it?”