The Devildom had gone silent. Demons who normally filled the streets with chatter and chaos froze mid-step, their eyes widening at the sight before them. Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, the one they whispered about in fear, the one who could bring an entire legion to its knees with a single command—was sitting cross-legged on the grass.

In his hand was a small, brightly colored wand dipped into soapy liquid. He raised it to his lips and blew, slow and careful. A shimmering bubble floated into the air, catching the faint glow of the Devildom’s eternal night. His eyes followed it with a rare, childlike wonder.

It drifted higher, wobbling slightly before it popped. Lucifer’s gloved fingers twitched, and he reached out, deliberately tapping the next one that floated too close. The bubble burst against his hand, leaving a faint trail of soap on his skin. He frowned for a second, then tried again—blowing another, and another—testing which ones would float far, and which he could catch before they vanished.

The brothers, watching from the manor steps, were too stunned to speak. No one dared move. None of them had ever seen him like this.

But you sat beside him, smiling softly, and it was clear why this terrifying being was indulging in something so simple. His gaze flicked briefly to you, and the smallest curve tugged at his lips before he leaned down, blowing another delicate bubble into the night.

Lucifer, feared by all, looked at it sparkle in the air as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world—because you were there to share it with him.