I stare at Enid while my brain does the mental equivalent of a computer crash and reboot.

  Saintess. She's a Saintess! Destined holy magic user, chosen by divine power, the kind of person who in every fantasy setting I've ever encountered is literally designed to be the antithesis of demons.

  I'm a Level 198 demon who just became the figurehead of a demon restoration conspiracy, and I'm sitting here having tea with her in a café. She asks to join what she thinks is a resistance movement, but it's actually the exact thing a Saintess is supposed to oppose.

  This is fine. Everything is fine.

  (Nothing is fine.)

  I should be feeling something, right? If she's actually destined for holy magic and I'm actually a demon, there should be some kind of reaction. The fantasy stories I read always had demons and holy users being incompatible, like oil and water or matter and antimatter. Standing near each other should cause discomfort at minimum, maybe actual pain if the power differential is significant enough.

  But I feel nothing. Just normal human—demon?—awareness of another person sitting across from me eating cookies. And then there's Mika, too.

  Maybe the Saintess thing isn't active yet? She said the Church is pnning to announce and train her, so maybe the holy power is dormant until it's properly awakened. Or maybe this world's magic doesn't work that way and I'm applying fantasy tropes that don't actually apply here.

  Or maybe I'm not actually demonic enough in the way that matters? I'm a pyer character who's been transported into this world, not a native demon. My power comes from game mechanics rather than whatever source actual demons draw from.

  There are too many unknowns and not enough information.

  "Nyx?" Enid's voice breaks through my spiral. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, just processing. That's a lot of information."

  "I know. I'm sorry to dump it on you, but if I'm asking to join your group you should know what complications I bring."

  "Complications is one word for it." I take a sip of tea that's gone lukewarm. "So the Church knows, they're pnning to make an announcement about it next year, and they're probably already maneuvering you and the prince into position for whatever conflict they think is coming."

  "Exactly."

  "And nobody else knows? Not even Mika?"

  "No one. The church asked me not to say anything until the official announcement."

  And you told me!

  "They don't want premature information affecting political dynamics or giving enemies advance warning." She looks almost guilty. "I'm only telling you because I need you to understand what you'd be getting into if you accept me."

  "Right. Understanding. That's definitely what I'm experiencing right now."

  She fidgets with her napkin. "Does this change your decision? About letting me join?"

  Does it? On one hand, recruiting the destined Saintess into a demon conspiracy is possibly the worst idea in the history of terrible ideas. On the other hand, she doesn't know it's a demon conspiracy, she thinks it's student resistance, and telling her the truth would cause immediate catastrophic problems.

  Also, if she's going to be the Saintess supporting the Hero against demon threats, having her on friendly terms with me might be the only thing standing between me and eventual divine smiting.

  "I still need to talk to the others," I say carefully. "This is definitely relevant information but I can't make the decision alone."

  "I understand. And please, don't tell anyone about the Saintess thing. It needs to stay secret until the Church makes their official announcement."

  "When is that supposed to happen?"

  "Next year sometime. They haven't given me an exact date, just that they're waiting for the right political moment." She ughs, bitter and tired. "Apparently choosing when to reveal divine blessing requires careful timing."

  "Everything requires careful timing."

  "You're not wrong."

  I'm about to respond when the café door opens with a cheerful ring of bells, and I hear a familiar voice.

  "Nyx? What are you doing here?"

  I turn, and it's Celine. She looks surprised but pleased, wearing casual robes instead of the formal Academy attire. She notices Enid and her expression shifts to polite noble courtesy.

  "Oh, Miss Fairfax is here too. Greetings to you."

  Enid stands slightly, returning the formal acknowledgment. "Ah, greetings to you as well, Lady Montcir."

  Celine walks over to our table, and there's something in her posture that suggests this meeting isn't entirely coincidental. "I didn't expect to see you here. This café is actually part of my family's business. We've got a few other pces in the commercial district. I come here often when I'm visiting the capital."

  "Oh really? It's a nice pce," I say neutrally.

  "Father's here too, actually." She gestures toward the back of the café, and I turn to look.

  Several tables away—really quite far, distant—sits a man in expensive noble attire talking with two other people. He definitely has Celine's features, sitting at a corner table with two other people. He's wearing fancy robes that make it clear he's a "important noble" and the two men with him look like... wait.

  I squint slightly. The two people with him look weirdly familiar in a way I can't pce, like they stepped out of some half-remembered reference my brain is trying to identify.

  That's probably just a coincidence. It's pretty unlikely that this world has exact replicas of people from Earth. I'm just pattern-matching because my brain is fried from stress.

  "They're discussing some matters with the King," Celine continues, voice carefully casual. "Political business, very boring. But since you're here, let me introduce you properly. Father!"

  Oh no.

  The man looks up, says something to his companions, and stands. He walks over with the kind of measured grace that comes from decades of noble deportment, and up close I can see the resembnce to Celine is even stronger; same eyes, same slight smile, same quality of assessing intelligence underneath polite exterior.

  "Father, this is Nyx Shadowmere, the transfer student I mentioned. She stayed at our summer estate before term started."

  His eyes settle on me and I feel the weight of evaluation. "Shadowmere. Finally I met you. I don't recall that family having any half-demon children."

  My stomach clenches, but I keep my expression neutral. "I was adopted into the family, my lord. They recognized my magical talent and decided to sponsor my education despite my heritage."

  "Adopted." He says it like he's tasting the word. "How progressive of them. Though the Shadowmere family has always been somewhat unconventional. It's been quite some time since I've had correspondence with them. I should send a letter soon, catch up on family developments."

  Celine and I exchange the briefest gnce. Her smile doesn't waver but I can see tension in her shoulders.

  "The Shadowmere family values privacy, as I'm sure you're aware," I say carefully. "They'd rather have a quiet life in the provinces than deal with all the drama of court politics."

  "I've heard. Though one would think adopting a talented mage would be news worth sharing with old friends." He's still watching me with that assessing gaze. "Tell me, Miss Shadowmere, what convinced them to take such an unconventional step?"

  "My magical aptitude impressed their family mage during a regional assessment. They saw potential worth cultivating despite the social complications." I'm making this up as I go, trying to match the noble conversation style Vivienne taught me. "The Shadowmere family has always valued magical talent over strict adherence to traditional bloodline concerns."

  "Indeed." He doesn't sound too convinced, but he also doesn't push it any further. "Well, I'm pleased to see Celine making friends with such... interesting individuals. Diversity of association builds character."

  That's definitely a polite way of saying something less complimentary, but I'll take it.

  "Ah, I wouldn't presume to intrude on your time with your daughter any further," I say, rising with a smoothness that betrays none of my internal panic. I execute the precise, slight curtsy Vivienne drilled into me; head bowed just enough to acknowledge his rank without looking submissive. "I have evening studies to attend to. It was an honor to make your acquaintance, Lord Montcir."

  Enid stands as well. "I should return to the library. Thank you for the tea, Miss Shadowmere."

  We pay for our orders—I leave the appropriate amount plus what I think is decent tip—and escape the café with Celine's father's gaze following us out.

  On the street, Enid looks at me with concern. "That was tense."

  "That was him maybe being suspicious about my background."

  "Will that be a problem?"

  "Probably. But that's for me to worry about, not you." I adjust the small bag of cookies I saved for my roommates. "You should get back before people wonder where you've been."

  "Right. And um, thank you, Nyx… for listening, as you know… I dont really have many friends… and I appreciate you for considering my request."

  "Don't thank me just yet. I still don't know if this is a good idea."

  "I know. But you didn't reject me outright, and that's more than I expected."

  She heads toward the Academy library and I'm left standing in the commercial district, mind spinning with everything that just happened.

  The protagonist is a Saintess. Lord Montcir is a bit suspicious about my background. Enid wants to join a resistance movement that's actually a demon conspiracy. And I'm apparently not affected by proximity to holy power which either means the power isn't active yet or I'm some kind of special case.

  I need to talk to Bel about this. And Mika. And probably the others too, because this situation just got way more complicated.

  But right now, I just want to walk.

  I wander through the streets, taking in the city properly for the first time. Stone buildings with architectural details that show centuries of development, shops selling everything from magical supplies to everyday necessities, and people moving through their lives with the comfortable rhythm of established routines. It's gorgeous in that fantasy setting way. It's the kind of pce I used to design assets for in games, but I never really thought about what it would be like to exist in.

  I find a fountain in a little square, with water flowing in patterns that must be maintained by magic, and I sit on the stone edge. The sun is setting, turning the sky an amazing shade of orange and pink.

  This reminds me of Earth. I'm not talking about the fantasy setting, but the simple act of sitting somewhere public and watching the world go by. I'd do that sometimes when freence work got overwhelming; find a park or coffee shop, just exist for a while without having to perform, produce, or meet anyone's expectations.

  I haven't thought about Earth properly in weeks. It's been all immediate survival, political complications, magical education, and trying not to accidentally reveal I'm apocalyptically powerful. But sitting here watching the sunset, I remember what it felt like to be just me. Not Nyx the demon character, not the supposed reincarnated Demon King, and not House Montcir's sponsored student. Just a person who designed graphics and worried about rent and sometimes sat in parks watching the sky change colors.

  I miss that simplicity. The problems on Earth were real but they were understandable; money, deadlines, client retionships, whether I was wasting my life. Here the problems are existential and political, and involve species conflicts and possible divine intervention.

  But the sunset is still beautiful. That's something.

  I sit until the orange fades to purple and the first stars start appearing, then I stand and head back to the Academy. Tomorrow is going to be a bit of a rollercoaster, with all the political maneuvering and unanswered questions.

  But tonight, I just need to survive my roommates.

  I reach room 347 and push the door open, already reaching for the cookie bag to offer as peace offering—

  –and freeze.

  The room is a mess. Books were scattered everywhere, desk contents spilled onto the floor, papers torn and scattered like a tornado hit.

  And right in the middle of all that, Maribel has Freya pinned to the ground, hands around her throat, while Freya cws desperately at Maribel's arms, face turning red.

  "What the actual fuck is going on?!"