"Darling, this 'date' thing, can you explain it more?" Zeraphira asked as we stepped outside the outer wards of Morningstar Manor, her crimson eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and… dangerous expectation.

I cleared my throat. "Uhm… It's basically when two people spend time together. Doing something fun. Relaxed. Peaceful."

Zeraphira blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then tilted her head, horns glinting lightly under the morning sun.

"…Peaceful?" she repeated softly, as if trying to decipher an ancient demonic scripture.

Gods.

I had a bad feeling.

"Yes," I said slowly. "A date is peaceful. Like… walking, talking, maybe eating something nice."

"Walking."

She nodded seriously.

"Talking."

Another nod.

"Eating."

Her tongue licked her lips once.

Then—

"I understand, Darling."

She absolutely did not understand.

Because she immediately followed up with:

"So it is… a test of compatibility? A ritual trial? A chance to observe prey behaviour in natural environments? A public declaration of mating exclusivity? A battlefield to eliminate potential competitors should they approach within a thirty-meter radius?"

"NO."

She stared at me.

I stared back.

"Zera," I said gently, "a date is just… a date."

"…But competitors will surely appear."

"They won't."

"They always do."

God, she wasn't wrong, but still.

"Today," I said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "is just the two of us enjoying the human city. No trials. No bloodshed. No—"

"Ah." She exhaled slowly. "So you want a stealth elimination? Quiet. Efficient. Undetected."

"WHAT— NO—"

But she was smiling. Playfully.

Zeraphira.

The Demoness of Wrath.

Who could level mountains

—was teasing me.

I groaned.

She giggled.

And just like that, the tension melted.

Today, she was wearing a beautiful, bright red sundress, which Selene somehow conjured out of thin air at 3 AM while shouting, "ZERA-CHAN NEEDS MAXIMUM DATE POWER! RED MAKES HER CRIT RATE HIGHER!!"

I still had no idea what that meant, but the dress looked amazing.

Zeraphira adjusted it gently, smoothing the fabric over her hips. The colour made her eyes glow like molten rubies. Her long crimson hair, tied loosely with a black ribbon, shimmered in the sunlight.

She looked…

…dangerously beautiful.

And also, like she might accidentally kill someone with too intense eye contact.

"Darling," she murmured as she took my arm, "I am prepared."

"For… the date?" I asked cautiously.

"For anything that may happen during the date," she corrected.

That was not reassuring.

At all.

But she looked so happy that I swallowed all logical survival instincts, nodded, and smiled.

While my snow-white hair, messy but sharp enough to look intentional, caught the sun like fresh frost. My blood red eyes gleamed behind the dark shades.

I was wearing a deep crimson shirt that clung to my build, the fabric slightly wrinkled where my muscles shifted beneath. The sleeves were casually rolled up, showing off strong forearms and the gleam of a heavy, expensive watch hugging my wrist.

Light grey trousers contrasted the shirt, tailored just enough to look clean without trying too hard. Black leather shoes grounded everything, giving me the vibe of someone who could walk into a formal meeting or a street fight without changing a thing.

This was also done by Selene, who looked too proud of herself, but the heavy blush betrayed her as she sneak-peeked every three seconds, grinding her thighs together behind the doorframe as we left.

I didn't comment on it.

I valued my life.

Zeraphira didn't react either, though one of her eyes twitched, which meant she definitely noticed Selene's "fidgeting" and had filed it under:

Threat Level: To Be Dealt With Later.(Preferably when Darling is not looking.)

Which was… fine.

Probably.

Hopefully.

We walked toward the city. Hand in hand.

Zeraphira kept glancing at her fingers interlaced with mine as if they were the most sacred artifact in existence.

"Darling…"

Her voice was very soft.

"Mm?"

"This is… correct, yes? This is how humans perform the 'pair bonding walking ritual'?"

"It's not a ritual. It's called holding hands."

She squeezed.

I winced.

Her grip tightened with enough enthusiasm to pulverise an ox.

"…Gently," I reminded her, smiling through the pain and the incoming nerve damage.

Her eyes widened in horror.

Then—instantly—her demonic strength receded like a vacuum seal being undone. She loosened her grip until her fingers trembled lightly against mine, barely touching.

"Is… this alright?" she whispered.

"…Yeah," I said softly.

She exhaled.

I swear, I saw an imaginary tail curled behind her in a shy little arc that sent my heart into cardiac arrest.

ChatGPT said:

Zeraphira's shoulders relaxed—Only for the tension to immediately return as soon as we crossed the first street.

Because humans.

Humans everywhere.

And every single one of them, in Zeraphira's eyes, was apparently:

A Threat. A Competitor. A Possible Target. A Witness.

In that order. Simultaneously.

Her gaze scanned the sidewalk like she was a sniper surveying an active warfront.

The moment a girl walked past us, glanced in our general direction, then kept walking like a normal human being—

Zeraphira froze.

Her fingers twitched.

Her pupils thinned.

A faint demonic pressure began to seep out like a leaking nuclear core.

"Zera," I whispered immediately. "Stop."

Her eyes snapped back to me.

Then down to our interlocked hands.

Then—

she forced a breath out.

The pressure vanished.

The pedestrian, blissfully unaware that she was 0.2 seconds away from being erased from the plane of existence, continued walking while texting on her phone.

Zeraphira leaned closer.

"Darling… permission to eliminate all females who make eye contact with you?"

"No."

"All females who breathe in your general direction?"

"No."

"…All females."

"Zera."

She pouted.

I steered her toward the shopping street before she started a genocide attempt.

And surprisingly, after a few minutes, she actually relaxed.

Her steps slowed.

Her grip became a little firmer again, but gentle.

Her eyes wandered—this time with wonder, not predatory intent.

Humans chattered. Cars zipped by. Vendors shouted. Music spilled from café speakers.

Everything was loud, bright, chaotic.

Yet she looked… charmed.

"Darling…" Zeraphira whispered, leaning her head slightly against my arm as we walked.

"…Darling…" Zeraphira repeated, softer this time—almost reverent—as her eyes followed a pair of children eating ice cream near a fountain.

Her steps slowed again.

Her head tilted.

Her expression… shifted.

Not wrath.

Not possessiveness.

Not suspicion.

But something almost fragile.

"…They look… happy," she murmured.

"They are," I said gently. "Human kids are like that. They just enjoy things."

Her gaze lingered on them.

On the ice cream.

On their smiles.

Then she looked at me with utter, genuine confusion.

"…Darling," she whispered, "are we… supposed to do this as well?"

"…Eat ice cream?"

"Yes. As part of the date ritual."

"It's not a ritual—"

But she was already staring at the nearest ice cream stand like it was a sacred shrine she needed to conquer to prove her worth.

I sighed.

"…Yes, Zera. We can get ice cream."

Her eyes lit up like twin supernovas.

But—

"Wait," I added quickly, "you can't kill anyone if they get in line before us."

"I won't," she said immediately.

A beat.

"But if they push you—"

"NO."

Her tail flicked in annoyance (the invisible demonic metaphysical one, not a physical tail—but it was there, spiritually).

We approached the stand.

The vendor—a tired college guy with a beanie and a half-dead expression—looked at us and blinked like he momentarily forgot how visual perception worked.

Zeraphira had that effect on people.

"Uh… what can I get for you?" he asked, voice cracking slightly as he looked up at her towering, divine, demonic beauty.

Zeraphira looked at me.

I nodded, encouraging her to order.

She stepped forward.

"I wish to consume…" she paused, scanning the menu like she was deciphering eldritch runes. "…vanilla."

The vendor blinked.

"Cup or cone?"

Zeraphira looked at me again, eyes wide, as if he had asked her to choose which planet to destroy.

"…A cone," she said finally.

"Small, medium, or—"

"Large," she replied so fast it was almost a threat.

I ordered a medium strawberry.

We paid.

Zeraphira accepted the cone with both hands like she was receiving a royal decree.

She stared at it.

Studied it.

Brought it close.

Sniffed it.

Squinted at it.

The vendor looked mildly terrified.

"…Do you… need anything else…?" he ventured.

Zeraphira didn't even hear him.

She slowly took a lick.

Then froze.

Her pupils dilated.

Her entire aura flickered.

A soft, trembling exhale escaped her lips.

"Darling…" she whispered, voice shaky. "…this is…"

"…good?" I guessed.

She turned to me with such awe, such reverence, such unfiltered emotional vulnerability that for a moment I thought she might cry.

"It is… sweet," she whispered, as if discovering a new law of physics.

"Yeah," I chuckled. "That's the point."

She took another careful lick.

Another freeze.

Another trembling exhale.

Then she looked directly at me.

"Darling."

"Yes?"

"I will protect this treat with my life."

"…you don't have to—"

Too late.

She had already shifted her stance like a royal guard defending the crown jewels.

Someone walked by too close.

Zeraphira subtly angled her body to shield the ice cream.

A pigeon flew overhead.

Zeraphira's killing intent flashed for 0.02 seconds before she controlled it.

A cyclist passed on the road.

Zeraphira tracked him like he was a potential sniper.

"Zera, it's just ice cream—"

"It is mine," she said, clutching the cone delicately but aggressively.

Gods.

She was adorable.

We walked again, her eating slowly, savouring each taste like it was a divine revelation.

Then—

She stopped.

"Darling…" she whispered.

I paused too. "What is it?"

She looked up at me.

Eyes bright.

Cheeks pink.

Voice quiet.

"…This date thing… Humans do this often?"

"Yeah," I replied softly. "A lot of couples go on dates."

She stared at me.

A long moment passed.

Then her lips curved into a tiny smile.

"…I like it."

My heart skipped.

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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