He didn't remember how he ended up at 'Devil May Cry'. The agency was quiet and lifeless. Vergil closed the door behind him and walked into the depths of the lobby, illuminated only by the dim red light of the lantern outside the window.

Vergil collapsed onto the leather couch , spread his arms across the back and threw his head back. The snow on the half-demon's shoulders and hair had melted, and now cold drops were running down his face, down his cheeks, down his neck, and crawled uncomfortably onto his back. The dark blue coat clung unpleasantly to the skin. The wet vest stuck to his chest, but Vergil didn’t care.

A month has already passed since the brothers returned from hell. The roots of Qliphoth have been completely destroyed and the world is no longer in danger. At least for now.

He took a deep breath, running a cold hand through his white hair. Years of struggle and search for power. A race against yourself. He never thought it would end like this. Vergil was tired and there was no point in running away from recognizing his own loneliness.

But the biggest hole in all the half-demon's calculations was you. He refuses to see you as anything other than a weakness that causes a lot of unwanted emotions. You don’t fit into the usual picture of his reality.

The bells hanging above the agency door made a light sound, signaling that Vergil was no longer alone. "Go away." He closes his eyes; deprives himself of even minimal eye contact with you