After so ti, Hiyori and her grandmother finally arrived ho. Their house was massive, to say the least—an imposing, ancient estate that looked like it could've belonged to a legendary figure straight out of a history book. In truth, it had. This grand house was a relic of Hiyori's lineage, her ancestors having been renowned heroes from the days when demons and angels waged war. That's right, Hiyori was no stranger to the celestial conflict. Her family had been right in the thick of it for generations.
As they approached the house, an assembly of maids and butlers in pristine uniforms greeted them, bowing in perfect unison. The scene exuded an air of old-world elegance and rigid formality. Hiyori carefully supported her grandmother as they ascended the steps leading to the towering entrance.
The massive front doors swung open as two maids bowed deeply, ushering them inside. The interior was no less breathtaking—a sprawling, otherworldly expanse steeped in history, with every corner whispering tales of battles and legacies past. The mont they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The air was cooler, carrying a faint scent of aged wood and incense. The interior was breathtaking—a labyrinth of high ceilings, gilded chandeliers, and intricate tapestries depicting battles against creatures most could only imagine in their nightmares.
While walking through the grand halls, Hiyori noticed two familiar figures ahead. They appeared to be in their early-to-mid forties. Steeling herself, she approached them and bowed her head respectfully.
"Good evening, Father, Mother," she said softly, her voice carrying a practiced politeness. "I'm sorry for being so late."
The two figures were none other than Hiyori's parents. Their eyes, sharp and scrutinizing, seed to pierce through her as they acknowledged her presence. Her father, whose intelligent gaze glead behind polished glasses, had the kind of presence that could command armies—or silence them.
Her father's eyes narrowed behind the gleaming lenses of his glasses, the sharpness in his gaze cutting like a blade. "Where have you been, Hiyori? Your mother and I have been waiting for you," he said.
"I was at the mall, Father," Hiyori replied, keeping her composure. His hawk-like stare didn't faze her anymore. She'd grown up under its weight, and by now, it was as familiar as the air she breathed.
"I don't mind you indulging yourself from ti to ti," her father continued, his voice clipped, "but you're fully aware of the situation we're in, aren't you?"
"Yes, Father. I'm sorry," Hiyori said, bowing again, the motion practiced and precise.
Before her father could press further, her grandmother spoke up. "Don't be too hard on her. It's my fault she's late. I made her stay with . If you need soone to scold, it's ."
Her father turned his sharp gaze to the older woman. "Mother, you should know better. You understand the risks of going out, yet you persist. The prophesied child who will bring about Yesh's death is out there, and demons are everywhere. You no longer have the strength you did in your pri. You're putting yourself—and this family—at risk."
The grandmother scoffed, her tone sharp enough to cut through steel. "Old? ? Don't make laugh, boy. I could still tear a demon apart with my bare hands if I had to!"
Their heated exchange only underscored the truth: this was no ordinary family. For generations, Hiyori's bloodline had stood as one of the most formidable forces in the battle against demons. It was a legacy steeped in violence, discipline, and unshakable duty—a legacy Hiyori herself was destined to inherit once she graduated from high school.
And then there was the prophecy—a shadow looming over them all. The Demon Hunter Association had confird the existence of the Child of Anti-Prophecy, a mortal born to defy the heavens and kill Yesh, the Creator of all. This child, crafted by Ayin—the ancient nesis of Yesh—was said to turn the tides of war, plunging creation into chaos and tilting the balance in Hell's favor.
Hiyori was fully aware of everything—about Yesh and Ayin, the Child of Anti-Prophecy, and the eternal war between Heaven and Hell. She hadn't encountered a demon herself yet, but she'd seen her father and mother spar countless tis. Their fierce training sessions left her in awe, especially when they wielded their Holy Weapons, demon-slaying tools radiating with imnse power.
Her father let out a sigh before turning his sharp gaze to her. "Alright. You're dismissed. Go back to your room now, Hiyori."
"Yes, Father," she replied with a bow, her tone dutiful yet soft.
Hiyori didn't linger. She turned on her heel and headed for the grand staircase. Her footsteps echoed faintly against the ornate walls as she ascended to the second floor. The hallway stretched endlessly before her, each door leading to a part of their vast estate, but her path was clear. Reaching her bedroom, she slipped inside and let out a small sigh of relief.
The mont she stepped in, she dropped everything she'd bought—a mix of clothes and other trinkets—onto her study table in a haphazard pile. Then, she carefully slid the books—mangas and light novels—onto the shelves where they belonged. Her room was her sanctuary, and now that everything was in its place, she couldn't wait to collapse onto her bed.
With a soft thud, Hiyori dove onto the plush mattress, belly-first. At first, she just lay there, her body sinking into the soft sheets. Then it hit her—waves of excitent she couldn't suppress.
Her legs kicked up, alternating wildly as her emotions bubbled over. She pressed her face deep into the pillow to muffle the squeal threatening to escape her lips. Her heart was hamring, refusing to calm down no matter how hard she tried.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Her mind raced. Thank goodness I managed to keep it together in front of Father earlier. If I'd lost my composure, I'd have been a nervous wreck! She buried her flushed face deeper into the pillow, heat creeping up her cheeks. I can't believe it—I'm really in love...
Hiyori had never imagined herself falling for anyone. She'd resigned herself to the idea that one day she'd marry soone from another demon-hunting family, chosen by her father. It was just how things were supposed to be. Falling in love? That was a luxury she didn't think she'd ever have.
But her heart had other plans. Emotions were cruelly unfair. No one—not even the person they belonged to—could control when or how they surged. No one could stop a heart from beating, from loving, no matter how much they wanted to.
The turmoil in her chest slowly lulled her into sleep, her body still warm from the rush of feelings she didn't quite know how to handle.
What Hiyori didn't know—what she couldn't have known—was that the very person she had fallen for, Kouhei, was the Child of Anti-Prophecy her parents had been warning her about.
***
anwhile, in Hell, where demons ruled and thrived, Yuuna strode along the path leading to her forr ho—the Great House of Sarushima. The so-called "house" was anything but ordinary; it resembled more of a castle, a grand and imposing structure that lood against the fiery skies. As she made her way closer, every demon servant she passed stopped to bow deeply before her. She was their princess, after all, and her presence demanded respect.
The towering gates lood ahead, and soon, she stood at the entrance. Demon servants rushed forward, greeting her with reverent bows before stepping aside to let her in. As she crossed the threshold, the oppressive atmosphere hit her imdiately. The air was thick with a crimson aura that seed to seep from every crevice, saturating the space with a suffocating weight.
Yuuna's lips curled slightly in disdain. Now that she was back, she rembered why she despised this place. The aura of the house, once familiar, now felt stifling.
Her heels clicked against the polished floors as she walked deeper into the Great House. Eventually, she arrived at her destination—a cavernous room that exuded an air of authority and nace. It wasn't a throne room per se—there was no throne in sight—but the sheer grandeur and aura of power gave off the sa intimidating vibe.
At the center of the room was a lavish red sofa, its surface gleaming as though crafted from the most exquisite and forbidden materials Hell could offer. And lounging on it with an air of smugness was the one person Yuuna had hoped to avoid at all costs.
"Oh, hey. You finally decided to co back," the man greeted her, his golden hair catching the dim light, his piercing red eyes locked onto her with a mix of amusent and arrogance. His extravagant attire scread opulence, and his deanor only made it worse.
He looked to be around Yuuna's age. He was ten years older than her—a re blip in ti for beings like them, who had existed for centuries. The age difference hardly mattered, but his insufferable attitude always did.
"Are you finally giving up on establishing a house of your own?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. "Have you co crawling back to live with ?"
Yuuna narrowed her eyes, her tone icy. "I'm not here to move back in, Brother. I'm here for our dear father. I need to request sothing from him."
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