My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Tokyo – 9:47 p.m. — Hotel Andromeda, imperial suite

The elevator made a muffled ding as the doors opened. Vergil stepped out first.

He was still wearing his black Evangelion T-shirt, now partially covered by a Tokyo Revengers-printed cloth bag slung over one shoulder. In his right hand, he carried a huge, noisy bag full of doujinshis. In his left, two boxes of 1/6 scale figures — one of them a character in a bikini holding a pink bazooka. On his back, a backpack full of key chains, rolled-up posters, and... something that made suspicious noises when he moved.

He looked less like a Demon King and more like a resigned porter for a madam who collected animated obsessions.

Ada entered right behind him, light as a summer breeze. She carried only a half-finished milk tea and an indecent smile.

"You look wonderful," she said, without even trying to hold back her laughter.

Vergil stopped in the middle of the hotel room and stared at her with that expression of his: the lethal mixture of aristocratic contempt and silent exhaustion.

"I've been reduced to a... mule otaku."

Ada flopped down on the sofa with a satisfied sigh, taking off her sunglasses and shaking her hair. She seemed to glow more now than she had all day.

"You're exaggerating," she said, picking up one of the figures from the bag. "Look at this. It's contemporary Japanese art."

Vergil raised an eyebrow. "She's wearing a bikini the size of an eye patch and holding a rocket launcher. Where do you see the art in that?"

Ada stretched lazily on the sofa, pulling one of the bags onto her lap and examining the items.

"You know you liked it. I admit that the doujinshi you chose from 'Short Skirt Reaper' was a little... revealing. But your gaze when you saw the artwork didn't lie."

"It was out of aesthetic curiosity," he replied dryly. "The anatomy was... intriguing."

She laughed loudly, and the sound filled the room like a light enchantment.

Vergil finally began to get rid of the bags. He left a pile on the coffee table and another against the wall. Some seemed to emit their own light, such was the amount of holographic sparkles.

"And you still haven't told me," Vergil murmured, loosening his tie with a slow gesture. His eyes stared at her with a suspicious and slightly curious gleam. "What exactly did you buy in that damn bag you hid from me the whole way here?"

Ada froze for a brief moment, just long enough to make the moment deliberate. Her smile softened—it lost its mischievous tone and took on something denser, like an old secret finally about to be revealed.

She rose with the grace of a cat about to pounce, crossing the room to the discreet suitcase in the corner. From there, she pulled out the bag wrapped in matte black paper with a scarlet bow and a golden symbol engraved in the center—too discreet for something that clearly was not.

She turned slowly, as if showing a dangerous offering.

"Are you sure you want to know now?" she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper. "Or would you rather wait for the right time... and find out the right way?"

Vergil watched her silently. His eyes half-closed, the expression of a predator who recognized when he was about to be hunted. He tilted his head slightly, his tone so calm it seemed cutting.

"Does 'the right time' have anything to do with why you didn't want Aphrodite to see this?"

Ada moved closer, her heels echoing softly on the carpet, until they were inches apart. She looked up and met his gaze with raw intensity.

"Let's just say... it's something intimate. Delicate. Made just for the two of us," she said, almost whispering against his lips. "Something I think you'll love."

The silence that followed was thick as velvet. Vergil stared at her with growing intensity. And then, suddenly, as if tired of dancing, he pulled her by the waist, sealing the space between them with a deep, hot, possessive kiss.

She responded without hesitation, the bag still clutched between her fingers—as if its contents were part of the spell she had just cast on him.

When they parted, Vergil spoke in the hoarsest voice she had heard that night:

"I understand... Do as you wish. But be sure of one thing, Ada..."

He leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes shining with something ancient and primitive.

"...if this is what I think it is... you've just started a fire."

She smiled, satisfied. "Great. Because I came prepared to burn."

And then, calmly, she turned and walked toward the bathroom with the bag in her hand. Before closing the door, she took one last look over her shoulder.

"I won't be long, dear... The time has come." The door closed with a soft click. Vergil stood still for a moment, silent, feeling the echo of her provocation dance in the air.

Vergil sat down on the sofa, his back slowly sinking into the cushions as silence filled the room, broken only by the distant hum of the city through the armored windows.

He crossed one leg over the other, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door like a general observing the gate of an enemy castle. His fingers drummed slowly on the arm of the chair. Curiosity was a slow poison... but he was used to poisons.

A few minutes passed.

Then — click.

The lights in the room went out abruptly. Everything was plunged into dense darkness, except for the faint illumination from a strip of LEDs under the TV panel, tinging the room with a slight purple glow.

Vergil didn't move.

Then the lights came back on—but not all of them. Only a soft, golden directional light came on above the bathroom door.

And that's when he saw her.

Ada.

Standing under the beam of light, like a vision from the most dangerous of dreams. She was wearing black bunny lingerie that seemed tailor-made for perdition. Satin and lace, daring cutouts, everything hugging her body with surgical precision — and in the center, the blood-red bow tied over her bust seemed like a visual warning that this was a gift... and a trap.

Fishnet stockings covered her legs up to her thighs, connected by delicate clips to a corset that accentuated her waist. Black velvet bunny ears completed the look, along with a narrow ribbon necklace with a small silver pendant: the symbol of the Andromeda hotel... remade in the shape of a whip.

She said nothing.

She walked toward him slowly, her heels echoing softly like a sinful whisper against the thick carpet. Each step was a silent promise. A challenge.

Vergil didn't even blink.

When she reached him, she stopped. Hands on her hips, a sharp smile on her lips, and her eyes shining with pure dominance.

He looked up, and for the first time that night... he smiled genuinely.

"I think you've outdone the entire convention," he murmured, his voice low, as if he didn't even trust it at that moment.

Ada leaned forward, resting her fingers under his chin, lifting it subtly.

"That," she whispered, her lips millimeters from his, "was my real acquisition today. And it's... limited edition."

Vergil pulled her onto his lap in one smooth, decisive motion, as if sealing a silent agreement. She let out a soft sigh at his touch—a sound that seemed to set the air between them ablaze.

"Then show me," he said, his eyes locked on hers. "Everything that comes in this package."

Ada laughed hoarsely and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"With pleasure, my King."