Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Oi! I'd be sleepin' right now if it weren't for you, so ya better not keep me waiting!"

I open my eyes blearily to find the wall directly in front of me and something cold beneath me. I shift my legs slightly, then realise, with a sudden flash of exasperation, that I appear to have spent the night sleeping on the floor. How did that end up happening? Did I just... conk out? I can't believe this...

"If ya aren't gonna come out, I'll just come in!"

I roll over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, stretching briefly before pulling my knees back up to my chest. Rigid and chilly as the floor is, it's actually kind of comfortable. Still, though... how did I end up on it?

Ah - now that I think about it, I remember. After spending who-knows-how-long contemplating the coming year on the floor, I'd been tentatively asked if I wanted some food by Beelzebub, who informed me that I'd apparently been forgotten by the rest of the house at actual dinner-time, and that he'd just remembered my existence on his way to the kitchen for an evening snack.

Well, I'm para-phrasing a little, but that's basically what he'd said. While I appreciated the sentiment, I was a little too busy still thinking myself into a sixty feet deep hole, so I'd just responded with a 'no thank you' and gone back to staring at the ceiling as his footsteps disappeared around the corner. After that... well, I can only assume that I ended up falling asleep.

Another set of furious knocks sound from the door. Before I even have time to formulate a response, a distinctive voice hollers, "Alright, that's it!"

I raise my head from the ground just in time to see the heavy door swing open and a pair of black shoes appear in my field of vision. Mammon stands in silence on the spot for a moment, then abruptly jumps backwards.

"What the hell are you doin' on the floor?!" He barks, looking a lot more alarmed than he really should be. He shakes his head aggressively, then sets his hands on his hips, peering down at me with a sneer. "Did ya fall out the bed or somethin'?"

I slowly sit up and squint up at him, rubbing at my crusty-feeling eyes with one hand and attempting to pat down my hair with the other. "No... I think I fell asleep down here."

"Stupid," He says simply in response, bending over and hoisting me up by the arms - the same way you'd pick up a misbehaving cat - then setting me back on my feet. "There's a perfectly good bed, like, right there."

I dust off my shirt and start stretching out my arms. "I know that. It just kinda... happened."

Mammon scoffs, flicking me hard in the side of the head for my apparent foolishness. "Idiot. Go wash your face or somethin'. Breakfast's in a few."

I nod and turn around, then pause. "Where?"

He shoots me a look, then points at something with his thumb. "Right there. You've got ya own bathroom, see?"

I follow the line of his gesture to see a door that I hadn't noticed yesterday. "Oh."

The bathroom is easy enough to navigate despite the size of everything inside, so I wash up quickly, taking a moment to lament just how much like a disturbed panda I look when I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. Well, the top of my face, anyway. The mirror's too high off the ground for me to really get a good look at myself in it.

Mammon is tapping his foot impatiently when I emerge. He's taken the liberty of sitting himself down on my bed, and I have to take a moment just to complain to myself about how easy he makes it look to get up on that thing. To be fair, though, he has much longer legs, but still...

"Took ya long enough," he comments, getting to his feet again as I hurriedly pull my blazer out of the wardrobe and tug it on. "C'mon, breakfast."

The kitchen is barely a minute away from my room, but I amuse myself on the way there nevertheless - by craning my neck back about 45 degrees to get a good look at all the paintings across the walls. One in particular looks remarkably like a wonky hole-punch.

"It's usually Levi's turn to make breakfast today," Mammon says to me as we pause in front of a wooden door with about seven locks on it, all of which have been undone, and six of which appear to be broken anyway. "But he's always sleepin' in and forgettin', so we've just gotten used to fixin' something to eat for ourselves."

"What sort of things do you eat down here?" I ask as he swings the door open. "I'm guessing you don't have cereal."

"The hell is that?" is Mammon's reply.

In any other case, I would have been pretty disturbed by someone not knowing what cereal is, but Lucifer's already proved that demons don't even know what photosynthesis is, so I'm not nearly as surprised as I should be.

"It's, uh... you know, I don't actually know how to describe it. It's breakfast... oh, good morning!"

That last exclamation is directed at Satan, who I hadn't noticed sitting by the table in the middle of the kitchen. He raises his eyebrows and waves in a good-natured sort of way, setting down the book in his hands.

"Good morning to you as well," He says with a polite smile, then pauses. "Ah, now that you're up, I have something for you..."

"Huh?" I frown slightly in confusion and approach the table as Satan rummages through his pocket for a moment, then finally pulls something out.

"Your D.D.D.," He says by way of explanation, sliding it across the table like a bartender would a shot of vodka. "You left it in the assembly hall yesterday."

"I did? Oh, right..." I fumble for a moment as the D.D.D. almost slips off the table under my touch, then hurriedly scoop it up and shove it into one of my blazer's many pockets. "Thanks, Mr Satan."

"You're welcome," He smiles again, then indicates to the many cupboards around the kitchen with a single hand. "Well, help yourself to breakfast. You don't want to run through your first day at the R.A.D. on an empty stomach."

"Oh, uh— I don't usually eat breakfast," I admit, pulling awkwardly on a stray thread on my blazer sleeve. "Normally I just have some tea... or coffee on school days. It's supposed to help you stay awake."

"Well, what sorta things d'you like eatin'?" Mammon asks. I turn to see him eating from what appears to be a bag of shrivelled mushrooms. He seems to notice my confusion quickly. "What're ya looking at me like that for? You never seen deathcaps before?"

"Uh, no..." I trail off and blanche slightly as Mammon grabs an entire handful of mushrooms and drops them all into his mouth. They crunch between his teeth in a way that reminds me of breaking bones. "Deathcaps sound kinda... inedible."

"Psh," He scoffs in reply, wiping his mouth roughly with his sleeve and dropping the now three quarters empty bag back on the counter. "What, you gonna die if ya eat one? Humans're so sensitive..."

"Actually, probably, yeah," I say after a moment of thought. "I've never tried it, personally, but I read somewhere that just touching some kinds of mushroom is dangerous."

"Really?" asks Satan, mildly intrigued. "Do you know what they were called? There might be some more information about them in the library..."

"No, but I'm pretty sure the touching is only actually deadly if you, I don't know, touch your mouth afterwards," I explain with a shrug, moving my arms behind my back and beginning to tap the fingers of my right hand restlessly against my left palm. "I don't think it goes through your skin... and mushrooms are poisonous, not venomous."

"What, there's a difference?" Mammon asks. "Between poisonous and venomous, I mean."

Satan turns and sends him a withering look. "Of course there's a difference, idiot. Venomous means it kills you if it gets into your blood - poisonous means it kills you if you ingest it."

"Basically, if you bite it and you die, it's poison," I chime in when Mammon just pulls an even more confused face in reply to Satan's explanation. "If it bites you and you die, it's venomous."

"Oh," he says, clarity forming across his face. Then his expression drops again, and he asks, "So what is it if it bites ya and it dies?"

"Then you're the poisonous one, obviously," Satan replies, his own face pulling into one of unimpressed derision. "That's basic logic, Mammon. Use your head for once."

"If you bite it and it dies, then you're venomous," I quickly jump in with some more facts before Mammon can climb over the table and start attempting to fist fight Satan, which he's beginning to look close to doing. "And if it tells you that you've changed and that it thinks the two of you should take a break from each other, then you're toxic."

"The hell are you goin' on about now?" Mammon scoffs. At least he doesn't look like he's about to commit aggravated assault anymore.

After a moment, he spins around and swings open the massive fridge sitting beside one of the counters - the one that looks like it could store about five human bodies at once, not the slightly smaller one beside it.

Two fridges in one kitchen... these guys really are living a life of luxury. "Well, whatever. You sure you don't want anything right now?"

I think for a moment, then answer, "Uh, something to drink, I guess?"

"Sure," He says, beginning to rummage about. After a series of clinking, scrambling, and what sounds suspiciously like something smashing, he finally emerges with what looks like a bottle of juice.

I fumble to catch it as he chucks it nonchalantly over his shoulder, then inspect it. "...what is it?"

"What does it look like?" He responds, pulling a tinted container out of the fridge and then bumping the door closed with his hip. "It's a drink."

The bottle is unlabelled and made of black glass, with a pretty little golden cap screwed on top. I pause for a moment, then think, hey, what's the worst that can happen? and carefully twist it off.

There aren't any immediate explosions or poisonous gases released into the room, but, keeping in mind what Mammon's just eaten, I still don't trust the drink not to have some kind of hidden deadly element to it. I raise the brim of the bottle to my nose and give it a hesitant sniff.

There isn't a scent that causes any immediate alarm, but at the same time, most drinks smell of something or another. And somehow I doubt that this is a simple bottle of water.

"Hey, Mr Mammon," I say, pulling the bottle away from my face and swirling its contents around a little. "What exactly is this?"

" Cyanide Crush," Mammon grunts back, struggling to pry the lid off of the container he's retrieved from the fridge. "It's one of Levi's, actually, but he probably won't mind if ya just have one."

I immediately recap the bottle, set it down on the table, and push it away from me. Mammon looks up from his box at the clink of the glass against the wood, then scowls at me. "What's your problem? Too good for it, are ya?"

I look at him, then back down at the drink sitting innocently on the table, unsure of how to explain that he's essentially just handed me death in a bottle. Luckily, I'm spared from coming up with a tactful way to say that Mammon's just given me a sure-fire way to off myself when Satan steps in.

"Cyanide is poisonous to humans, Mammon," He says slowly, enunciating each syllable with great emphasis, as if he thinks Mammon won't understand him otherwise. "She's going to die if she drinks that."

"...oh."

"Yeah, oh," Satan shoots back, shaking his head as he reaches across the table to grab the bottle. He pauses and looks at it for a moment, a tiny smirk spreading on his face. Then he reels back his hand and flings it directly at Mammon.

I yelp and duck behind the table as Mammon immediately whacks the bottle with his hand with all the strength of an all-star baseball player, sending it flying across the room. It hits the wall at such velocity that it immediately shatters into roughly a million little pieces, sending its contents spilling across the floor.

The three of us stare at it in silence.

"...I'm not cleaning that up." Satan says finally. Then he gets up and legs it out of the door.

"Oi!" Mammon barks after him, hands flying to his hips as he storms to the doorway and sticks his head out into the corridor, presumably to yell at Satan's rapidly retreating back. "Get back here! You're the one who threw the damn thing!"

I subtly skitter backwards as the cyanide juice starts getting dangerously close to the tips of my only good pair of shoes. Mammon yells one final, indiscernible insult, then pulls his head back into the kitchen, turning to see me rooted to the spot in the corner like a terrified rabbit as the cyanide puddle grows ever closer.

"The hell are you doing?" he asks. "It's not gonna kill ya if ya step in it."

"I don't want to ruin my shoes," I reply, shuffling as far back into the corner as I can physically get myself. The cyanide juice puddle is beginning to bubble threateningly. "Dad spent a whole month's savings on them. And, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to let cyanide touch your skin."

"Oh, for the love of..."

He sighs, then strides over, ignoring the puddle completely, grabs me by the arms and easily hoists me up, then turns and sets me down on the table. I blink and lean over to look down at the still-growing puddle, feeling tall for the very first time since I've appeared down here.

"Stay there, ya little troublemaker," Mammon tells me, then turns and yanks a large tea towel off of a clothes line that's been rigged across the room. I swing my legs back and forth restlessly as he carelessly dumps the towel on the puddle, then starts pushing it back and forth with the tip of his foot.

"Do people just drink poison on the regular down here?" I ask after a moment as Mammon picks up the now sopping wet tea towel and dumps it in the sink.

"Depends what ya definition of poison is," is his nonchalant reply as he quickly rinses off his hands, then dries them on the hem of his blazer. "But if you're just talkin' about the juice, then yeah. It's a pretty big favourite, actually. Hey - ya need help gettin' down from there?"

I pause and look down over the edge of the table again. My feet are nowhere near the ground, but it doesn't look like I'm high up enough that I'd immediately shatter anything if I jumped down. "Uh... I don't think so."

"Don't think —" Mammon begins, but before he can finish, I push myself off the edge of the table. "Hey!"

I forget to bend my knees properly, so an unnervingly sharp jolt immediately runs up my legs and through my entire body as I land. Fortunately, though, I don't seem to have broken any bones, so I quickly shake out my limbs and send Mammon a thumbs up.

He shakes his head and lets out another worldly-weary sigh. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"Sorry," I say, not particularly sorry. After a moment, I glance over at the clock on the wall and ask, "Hey, when's registration?"

"Registration?" Mammon follows my gaze to the clock. It takes him a while to put two and two together, but he does get it eventually. "What, ya mean class? Not for a good hour n' a half. Lucifer just wanted ya up early to get all your stuff sorted. You still have time for some breakfast if you're hungry."

You know, it's pretty weird that this entire other realm uses the exact same time system as the human world, I think to myself as I nod in response to Mammon's clarification. "I'm alright. Can we start heading there now, then?"

He shrugs. "I don't have anythin' to do right now - too damn early. If ya wanna go now, then we'll go."

He starts walking out before he's even finished talking. I quickly shake out the rapidly developing cramp in my ankles and scurry after him. I notice after a moment that the laces on one of my shoes have come loose, but I can't afford to stop and tie it up - to be honest, these pound store laces that I bought two years ago because they looked cool come undone every five minutes, so I've just gotten used to running and walking with them trailing behind like little tails.

"Do I need a bag?" I ask. "For books and stuff."

Mammon glances down at me. He's walking with his hands linked casually behind his head in a way that I've only ever seen in animation, but it doesn't look nearly as unnatural as I'd have thought it would on someone in real life. "I mean, if ya want one, sure. You could just ask for a locker or somethin', though."

I consider it for a moment. "... the R.A.D.'s massive, though. Do you just go back and forth to your locker?"

"Well, not everyone just sticks with the lockers," He replies. "I don't bother. I'd just forget it, y'know?"

I make a non-commital sound as we cross the threshold of the front door and start walking down the path to the gate. "...oh, where do I get... you know, stuff to write with?"

Mammon shrugs. "If ya go ask Satan, he'll probably let ya tag along with him into town. He's always lookin' at that sorta things - collects pens like rocks. Might even let ya borrow a few if ya ask real nice.

I go quiet again as we walk, thinking very hard over the many school-related questions beginning to spin through my head. There's a certain art to managing all the equipment you need, but the school culture here is already shaping up to be completely different to what I'm used to.

Well, it doesn't seem like the dress code is too strict - Mammon's tie would've gotten him a behaviour point back home. Lucifer had, like, a turtleneck under his jacket... and Satan had a bow tie. So it seems like you can modify it a bit? Alright, that seems simple enough...

Okay, what about the hallway rules, then? Do we have to all stick to one side of the corridor? Oh, I guess I could just wait until we actually get into school and see what everyone else there does.

What're the rules about missed deadlines and detentions? What does detention even entail down here? Do they, like... put you on the rack? No, that's ridiculous...

I stay in this vein of thought for a while, eyes fixed on the ground in front of me. Mammon glances down at me at regular intervals, as if checking to make sure I haven't somehow fallen into a pit or gotten lost already. I only snap out of it once I hear my D.D.D. ding.

I quickly pull it out and and turn it on. Mammon leans over to have a look, then asks, "What's Lucifer textin' you for?"

"Beats me," I reply, pressing my thumb to the home button and unlocking the device. Karasu greets me again.

I pause, then ignore the little red one staring up at me from the Messages app icon in favour of the Setitings. Mammon loses interest in watching me mess with my profile data quickly, which is just as well, since I'd feel kind of awkward putting in my newly chosen username in front of him.

Satisfied with my new virtual identity, I close Settings and finally move to the Messages app. Lucifer's name is handily highlighted in pink above his incoming message to let me know that its unread, and a quick glance down reveals that I've also been messaged by Beelzebub and Diavolo, with both texts timestamped to around five hours ago.

I make a mental note to reply to them - once I've seen what Lucifer's messaging me about. From what I can tell from my limited interaction with him, he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who messages people just to have a chat...

Lucifer:
Good morning. Have you arrived at the R.A.D. yet?

bread man:
not yet

should be there soon though

Lucifer:
Good.

I see that you've taken the liberty of changing your account name.

Is there any reason behind it?

bread man:
because i like piano man by billy joel and i also like bread

Lucifer:
...I see.

Onto the topic at hand. It's come to my attention that we haven't gotten around to giving you an uniform. We did originally have several prepared, but it's become clear that they wouldn't fit you.

bread man:
sorry about that

Lucifer:
You don't need to apologise. It couldn't have been helped.

bread man:
right sorry

Lucifer:
I just told you that you didn't need to apologise.

bread man:
sorry

wait no i mean

[...]

you know what i'll just stop talking

Lucifer:
That would be wise.

Well, in any case, we still need to get you fitted for a uniform. I've already asked Asmo to help you with that. He should be waiting somewhere in the entrance hall for you by the time you arrive.

bread man:
got it

Lucifer:
And since we're still here, I might as well ask...

Have there been any problems with settling in so far? Or has Mammon given you any trouble?

bread man:
no problems right now

it's just that everything's so BIG

and mr mammon hasn't given me any trouble, he's been lovely

Lucifer:
You can just call him Mammon.

And I do not think that 'lovely' would be the word to describe him.

bread man:
i mean he hasn't threatened me with battery or assault yet. that's a ten out of ten in my books

Lucifer:
Hmm.

As long as you don't have anything against him, I suppose I can't say much about it.

Good luck with your first day. I'll see you at the R.A.D.

Conversation notwithstanding, I put the D.D.D. away. The R.A.D. looks closer now, and I'm still trailing behind Mammon - which is impressive in and of itself. At this point, I probably should've gotten lost or left behind already.

"Mr Lucifer isn't a chatty guy, is he?" I comment. Mammon starts slightly, as if he'd forgotten that I was following him.

"Nah," He answers at last, voice a little hesitant, as if afraid that Lucifer will appear behind him like some sort of punishing spectre if he says a word about him. "Can't hold a conversation to save his life."

I wrinkle my nose slightly, remembering how authoritative he'd been back in the assembly hall. "I was thinking more like... you know, big boss doesn't have enough time for small talk."

"Well, ya only met him yesterday," Mammon says dismissively. "I dunno about that, anyway. He's just bad at sayin' interesting things."

"Like?"

He snorts. "Just listen to his conversations with Diavolo. He's never got anythin' to say - Diavolo does all the talking."

"Checks out," I mumble. I might not even have known him for twenty four hours yet, but I'm already fully aware that Diavolo isn't exactly shy.

The entranceway into the R.A.D.'s main building is already bustling by the time Mammon and I reach it. I shrink back a little, and wondering how much trouble I'd be in for running away - only for Mammon to simply stride ahead and into the throng.

I hurry to catch up with him, but it's too late - by the time I've managed to navigate my way around them, dodging several elbows, Mammon's disappeared.

I spin around on the spot in a panic, attempting to pick out his white hair from the crowd, but it's fruitless - the sea of students beginning to swell and file through the main door is so large that I wouldn't be able to pick him out, even if I did somehow spot him for a moment.

Oh, this is bad. This is bad. I determinedly raise a fist and knock my knuckles into the side of my head as I feel a familiar tightening in my chest. Stay calm, stay calm...

My D.D.D. buzzes in my pocket, and I dig it out with slightly trembling fingers. A brief flicker of relief sparks in my chest when I see the contact name, but it disappears as soon as I read the message.

mammoney:
Yo, just remembered I got something to care of. You can manage on your own right

Just text Lucifer if you need something

But don't tell him I left you or anything got it?

bread man:
mr mammon if you didn't want to have to babysit me you could have just said so

mammoney:
I never said that!

bread man:
yes but i'm right aren't i

mammoney:
[...]

I don't have to answer to you!

Lucifer just told me to make sure you got into school so I've done my job. That's it, capiche?

bread man:
dubious piche

mammoney:
Watch it. Just because you're an exchange student doesn't mean you're a big shot. I could totally crush you like a bug if I wanted!!

So don't go around thinking you're the boss of me!

bread man:
whoa

i mean you're right but bit harsh

mammoney:
[...]

Look just keep your nose clean and stay outta trouble, got it? Not my fault if you do something stupid.

You're on your own now, kid.

I look at his final message for a long moment before pressing my thumb firmly down on the power button. I'm well aware that Mammon made it clear yesterday that he doesn't want anything to do with me and that, had he had his way, he probably would have left me to my devices for the rest of the year.

I really thought we'd bonded over the whole cyanide thing this morning, though. Guess I should stop getting attached to anyone who's nice to me.

Still, I don't really blame him. And it's not like he has an obligation to take care of me or anything. 

I huff out a breath through my nose and place my D.D.D. back in my pocket. That reminds me of something - I'm supposed to meet Asmodeus to get a proper uniform.

Now that I think about it, I'm actually a little excited about it. The R.A.D.'s uniform is downright snazzy, so hopefully I'll stop getting so many looks for my out-of-place outfit once I get one...

"Yo, tiny," I jump as a voice abruptly breaks me out of my train of thought. "You might wanna get moving. Traffic's going to get pretty bad soon."

My first thought is that this new voice sounds eerily similar to my History teacher's. My second thought, as I turn around and reflexively look up, is that the demon behind the voice looks exactly the way I'd imagine a bottle of champagne would if it was a person.

"Oh, sorry!"  I hurriedly jump to apologise when he raises an eyebrow at me, only now realising that I've been standing bang in the middle of the entranceway for about five minutes.

It's a wonder no annoyed demons have attempted to eat me already - if I'd pulled something like this back up at my school in the real world, I'd have been bullied to hell and back.

"Hey, don't give yourself an injury, now," He says in good-natured kind of fashion as I almost trip over my still-trailing laces in an effort to skedaddle as quickly as possible. "Can't run from a demon on a sprained ankle."

I narrow my eyes and turn to him. "Is that a threat?"

He opens his mouth to respond, hands already raised in the air as if in apology, but before he can, my expression shifts. My tone serious and flat, I state, "Please do it. I'm having such a bad day."

He stares at me for a moment, then lets out a single 'ha!' of laughter. Shaking his head, he folds his arms and shoots an amused look down at me. "I can't just eat you right here. The amount of trouble I'd get into is unimaginable."

"Oh," I say, disappointed. "Too bad."

"Too bad indeed," He echoes, flashing me a grin that reveals a single, pointed canine. "But I can't exactly kill the human transfer right at the beginning of the year, can I? Lucifer would smite me on the spot."

I tilt my head to the side slightly and ask, "What about after a month or something, then?"

He laughs again. "I'll consider it."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He raises his head and looks at something some distance away, then back down at me. "By the way, I think that's Asmodeus waiting for you over there."

"He is?" I crane my neck, but am predictably unable to see over the sea of heads around me. 

"Just outside the doors," He clarifies, adjusting his position to set one hand on his hip. "You might wanna speed it up a bit. Asmodeus isn't the most patient of guys."

"Got it," I nod quickly, going up on my tiptoes briefly as if that'll help me see wherever Asmodeus is, then deciding that that's a stupid idea and dropping back down. "Um, thank you!"

I start taking off into the crowd before the demon has time to respond, which I know is a little rude, but I really don't want to stay in the middle of this crowd any longer than I have to. Besides, now that I have the reassurance that someone I can recognise is close by, I'm willing to scurry my way through the crowd like a mouse through a maze so that I won't have to just stand around on my own.

Luckily for me, the demon hadn't been lying; Asmodeus, sure enough, is leaning against the wall beside the entrance doorway, fiddling about with his D.D.D. with one hand and restlessly finger-combing his hair with the other. I note with approval that his D.D.D. has a little cat charm dangling from it.

Somehow he notices my approach before I even have time to call out to him - which is just as well, since I'd been having trouble hyping myself up to do it - and immediately offers me a wide smile as he and slips his D.D.D. into what looks like a specially-fitted pocket in his pink messenger bag.

"Morning!" is his cheerful greeting as I skid to a stop, almost tripping over my laces again. I really should tie those up properly.

"G'morning," I reply with much less energy, offering him a short wave.

"Hey, no need to sound so down," He pouts, pushing off the wall and setting his hands on his hips. A moment later, he looks down at me and cocks his head to the side. "Did you have a rough night? You're all kinds of ruffled."

Well, I guess you could call accidentally falling asleep on the floor a rough night... but I actually feel more refreshed than I usually do after sleeping. "Not really. Just had a bit of a panic."

"Oh?" He indicates for me to follow him as he begins walking into the building. "Why?"

I kick at the ground a little grumpily, frowning as I remember. "Mr Mammon left me in the crowd."

Asmodeus clicks his tongue in sympathy and shakes his head. "Typical Mammon. Don't mind him. He's never been able to think of anyone but himself."

"I won't," I say, then pause and add, "Mind him, I mean."

"Attagirl," He coos, turning to offer me a smile. "Don't take any nonsense and you'll get along down here just fine."

"Thanks, Mr Asmodeus."

He clicks his tongue in disapproval and reaches down to give me a reproachful poke in the shoulder. "Don't call me that! Asmo's fine. 'Mr Asmodeus' makes me feel old."

I choose not to point out that he probably is extremely old by human standards and mumble an affirmative instead. I mean, am I going to listen to him? Something about addressing figures of authority by a nickname just doesn't sit right with me... well, either way, I'm not going to start calling him Asmo. Maybe Mr Asmo. Yeah, that works.

We make a turn down an unfamiliar corridor at one of the junctions, one where the polished grey bricks of the floor and the carved stone of the wall slowly fade into a plush red carpet patterned with what look like black vines and golden wallpaper edged with dark blue. I look around in fascination, slightly jarred by the sudden change in interior decorating style.

I'm not entirely sure whether the clash of the red-and-black and gold-and-blue is awful or revolutionary. The longer I look at it, the more unsure I am about how to feel about it - and the more I notice that its aesthetic feels familiar - and then I realise where the familiarity comes from when I see a portrait of a distinctive golden-eyed face hanging along the wall.

"Hey, Mr Asmo," I begin, trying to sound as casual as possible. "By any chance, did Mr— I mean, Lord Diavolo choose the design for this hallway?"

His eyes widen slightly as he looks back at me. After a moment, he responds, "Yeah, actually. This corridor got kind of wrecked in this big fight a while back, so he got to choose what the renovated version would look like. How did you know?"

I glance back at the portrait on the wall. "...just a hunch."

The two of us walk in silence for several paces before finally reaching what appears to be our destination. Asmodeus pauses to flip the sign hanging from the doorknob around, then pushes the door open and ushers me in.

I obey and quickly scurry into the room, then stop short in my tracks. If the gold-blue-red-black of the corridors I've just passed was a jarring colour palette, this room's entire design is nothing less than... well, it's not less than anything. Quite the contrary - it's too much of everything.

Ten different shades of lanterns dangling from a ceiling both carved into swirling gold patterns and painted with vaguely humanoid shapes, a thick, velvety carpet with what looks like the entire colour spectrum splashed all over it, flickering candles made of wax so brightly coloured that they look almost neon, hung from brackets dangerously close to the bouquets of flowers decorating the walls... the nicest way to describe it would be 'creative'.

"Oh," I say plainly as Asmodeus skips in after me and makes a beeline for several boxes lined up beside one of the enormous oaken tables. "Um... nice room?"

"Aw, thanks - but this wasn't my design," He says brightly, beginning to dig out a bundle of fabric. "We had a bunch of votes - one for the wallpaper, one for the wall decor, one for the carpet colour, one for the carpet pattern, that sort of thing - so this is what we ended up with. I just chose the flowers."

"That explains it," I mumble as I glance up at the ceiling. Is that guy naked? Uh oh, better look away... "I like the flowers as well. They're really pretty."

"You think so?" I turn to see Asmodeus pop up from the boxes with an armful of clothing and a grin on his face. "You're too sweet! It was nothing, really..."

He arefully sets the pile of clothing on the table, then turns and gestures for me to come closer. "...but, anyway, we need to get you a uniform. We can always talk flowers later, hmm?"

"Sounds good," I nod, though I'm pretty sure that his words are more of a polite rhetoric than an actual invitation. "Do I need to get measured or anything? Because, um... I'm not very about that."

"Oh, don't worry!" Asmodeus reaches down to chuck me under the chin - I freeze slightly at the sudden contact. "I know plenty about spell-resizing, so you just need to put them on and look pretty. Then I'll just adjust them for you - is that okay?"

Well, I can do the first part, but probably not the second. I catch the teal shirt he throws my way and hold it up in front of me. While it's certainly smaller than the general size of the shirts that the demons are wearing, I can tell just by looking at it that it's definitely at least four sizes too big.

That's just how I like my clothes, to be honest. I'm happy with this. "That's fine, Mr Asmo."

He nods cheerily, slinging a miniature jacket over his arm and ushering me closer. "Here - do you want a skirt or trousers? The default's trousers, but you're allowed a skirt if that's what you'd like."

"Um..." I assess my options briefly.

Pants have the whole ease-of-movement thing going for them, but depending on the fits, teh skirt would probably hide more... and there's no guarantee that the R.A.D.'s uniform's pants would actually be comfortable. They seem to fit everyone else pretty tightly, after all. Besides, I'm kind of used to wearing a skirt for uniform.

"... skirt, please."

"One skirt coming right up!" Asmodeus sings, sorting through the pile of clothing and pulling out just that. I blanche slightly at the sight of it, and he pauses. "What's wrong?"

"O-oh, it's just, well..." I avoid his gaze, feeling a sudden wave of awkwardness hit me like a dumpster truck. "It's kinda... short."

"Is it?" Asmodeus looks genuinely confused. He shakes the skirt out and holds it up in front of his face, inspecting it with a critical eye.

"Um, yeah," I grimace slightly as Asmodeus bends down and holds the skirt in front of me. My initial hypothesis was entirely correct. It's probably a fashionable length, but it isn't a comfortable one for me. "Not really my style."

For a moment I expect him to dismiss my complaint and tell me to put it on anyway, but then he nods his head so vigorously that his fancy fringe looks as if it's going to go flying right off his head. "Oh, you should've said so sooner! I'll fix it for you right away, don't worry!"

He flicks the skirt's folds out and tells me to hold it up around my waist. I oblige, trying not to feel stupid as Asmodeus measures out the distance between the hem of the R.A.D. skirt and the hem of my own uniform skirt with two fingers, then murmurs something about excess length under his breath, clicking his tongue agitatedly as he seems to think very hard about something.

"You okay, Mr Asmo?" I ask as he lets out a defeated sigh.

"I'm a little rusty with my measuring," He mutters with a thoughtful pout, pulling back and frowning at the skirt in his hands. "So I might end up messing up the length a bit."

"That's fine." I tell him as he closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, his honey-coloured eyes are glowing a soft rose gold. "Oh, uh...?"

"Spells like this are super fiddly," He says, tilting his head from side to side as the glow spreads from his eyes and runs down his arms to his perfectly-painted nails. "Fabric's hard to manipulate... especially when it's as stiff as this. I keep telling Diavolo we should use softer stuff for these uniforms, but he never listens..."

He hums a jaunty tune under his breath as glimmering tendrils of the light start snaking down the skirt, multiplying in number and weaving together. I blink and rub my eyes as the light intensifies, and by the time I pull my hands away from my face, the skirt has lengthened at least two inches.

Asmodeus fluffs it out with a flourish and holds it out to me with a smile. "Ta-da! How's that, then, darling?"

I allow Asmodeus to press the skirt enthusiastically into my hands, then lift it up to give it a look-over. It seems that Asmodeus has done more than lengthen it - he's added some pleats (for flavour, obviously), as well as subtle sort of braided belt around its waistline. "Looks good."

"Great!" He chirps, pressing the blazer into my hands as well. "Here, here. There's a screen just over there - go ahead and get changed."

I obligingly gather the host of clothing items he's given and scurry over. I wave a hand about behind the stretched-out material experimentally, but it seems that the fabric it's made from is robust; even though there's a lamp directly behind it, no shadow comes through.

"That screen's super thick," Asmodeus's voice comes matter-of-factly from behind me. I stop in my tracks, my hand still hovering awkwardly in mid-air. "So you don't need to worry about your shadow coming through. I'm facing the wall, too - see?"

I hesitate for a moment, then do as he says and turn around. Asmodeus is indeed firmly stood with his back to me; he's so close to the wall that his nose is practically touching it. Even as I watch, he raises a hand and shoots me a peace sign over his shoulder.

"I figured you might be a little uncomfy changing in here," He says, his voice taking on a sympathetic tone as he drops his hands and folds them behind his back, "But I didn't wanna risk taking you to one of the big changing rooms, either... demons can be scary, you know? So I asked Diavolo to lend us the screen."

I blink at the back of his head blankly. A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. "...thank you, Mr Asmo."

"Oh, it's no problem, darling!" He says with an airy laugh, swinging back and forth on his heels. "Come on, now, go try it on! You don't want to end up late for your first class, do you?"

I nod and hurriedly duck behind the screen. There's already a chair standing behind it, so I dump my armful of clothes on it, then start tugging off my blazer.

Even before I've gotten the whole thing on, I can tell that nearly the entire ensemble is several sizes too big. The jacket in particular keeps drooping to one side and threatening to slip right off. I struggle with the complicated button design for a moment, then give up and just leave the blazer hanging as is.

Asmodeus perks up slightly as I hesitantly creep out from behind the screen and, being careful not to look around, asks, "Are you done?"

"Um..." I glance down at myself. At best, I look like a toddler who's just raided their dad's wardrobe. "Yeah. But, uh, it's kinda... big."

"Oh, I figured it would be," He replies cheerfully, and turns around. He pauses for a moment, and though he's making a valiant effort not to show it, I can tell he's holding back a giggle.

"You can laugh if you like, Mr Asmo," I tell him plainly. Normally I'm not particularly fond of being laughed at (most of the time it reduces me to tears), but Asmodeus doesn't seem to be amused in a malicious way, and I'm fully aware that I look kind of stupid right now.

He does inadvertently let a tiny 'heh!' slip out of pure surprise, but he quickly covers it up with a smile and cough. "Why would I laugh at you, darling? Come here, come here, let's get it all fitted."

I obligingly shuffle up to him, taking care not to drop the whole thing. Asmodeus indicates for me to take off the blazer, so I do so, leaving me standing awkwardly in just the giant shirt and skirt.

"Now let's see here," He mutters thoughtfully, moving around me to have a closer look at the back of the shirt. He pinches at the fabric around my shoulders, then clicks his tongue. "Ooh, dear... we're almost five entire sizes off."

"That's a lot," I comment awkwardly, unsure of what exactly to say. Asmodeus huffs in amusement, his eyes already beginning to take on the same rose gold glow as before.

He gently touches a hand to my right shoulder, pinching at the bottom of the shirt with the other. The shirt tenses, then tightens around my shoulders. "...yep, there we go! How does that feel?"

I hesitantly raise my arms, then flap them a little. "...good."

"You sure?" He asks, absent-mindedly straightening my collar out for me. "I kept it a little bigger 'cause I thought you'd like that, but I can always resize a bit more if you like."

I shake my head, brushing imaginary dust from my front. "No, you were right. This is how I like it."

"That's perfect, then, isn't it?" He beams, then crouches down slightly. "Alrighty, now everything else!

The jacket takes a lot longer than the shirt did, what with how needlessly complicated the design is, but by the time Asmodeus's finished with it, it fits like a glove. Then, at some point or another I mention that I get cold easily, to which he responds by whipping a little black jumper as well. Somehow he manages to put up with me for long enough to get it to just the right size, which takes no small amount of fiddling.

"What're the uniform rules?" I ask as he starts fussing about with the little red cape on my left shoulder, apparently unable to decide how to let it sit. "Do we get into trouble if we, like... don't do the buttons up properly or something?"

I'm pretty sure I already know the answer, but I want to check, just to be certain. Sure enough, though, Asmodeus shakes his head.

"Diavolo's actually pretty lax about that kind of thing," He says, fluffing the cape-thing out and finally leaving it to just hang down my back. I wonder if it'd billow if I run fast enough... "He won't care, but Lucifer might."

"Oh," I mumble as he stands back with a flourish. "Guess I should stay neat, then."

"Mmm, good call." He's inspecting me like an artist would an unfinished painting. Finally, he decides, "...we're missing something."

"Are we?" I glance down at my clothes, then up at the ones he's wearing. As far as I can tell, we're essentially dressed in the same general uniform. After a moment, I realise what he's talking about. "Like... a tie or something?"

A grin flashes across his face, and he snaps his fingers at me. "That's it! Here, I've got a couple in my bag..."

The one he finally settles on is a subdued shade of dark purple. He holds it up to my collar for a moment as if to compare the colours, then nods approvingly and hands it to me.

"You know how to tie that, right?" He asks as I wrap it around my neck. I nod and begin doing just that. "Great! That's everything! How do you feel, darling?"

"Uh... normal."

"And is normal good?"

"Yeah."

"Then we're golden," He concludes, chucking me under the chin again and giggling when I  make a surprised noise in response. "Now, let's go find Lord Diavolo! This way, this way..."

"Do I get a map?" I ask as I follow him out of the room.

"Barbatos or Lucifer'll probably get you one if you ask," He says thoughtfully. I don't bother asking who Barbatos is - I have a feeling I'll be meeting him soon, anyway. "If not, there'll probably be someone who knows how to draw one..."

His expressions scrunches slightly into a frown. "...you know, Mammon was supposed to be the one showing you around. Lucifer's not gonna be happy with him..."

"I don't really mind," I say quickly as we round the corner. The corridor's still empty, thankfully. "He's probably got better things to do. I mean, he didn't really wanna do this in the first place..."

"You're giving him too much credit," Asmodeus shakes his head with a sigh. "Mammon just doesn't care about anyone except himself - that's the long and short of it."

"That's probably not it..." I attempt to reason, though even I can hear the uncertainty in my voice. Asmodeus pulls a face and looks down at me.

"What're you being so nice to him for?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. "First day in a scary new school, and he's already basically abandoned you."

I pause and think it over. "...good point. But... still... I don't wanna, like... be mean. He's probably got something going on."

Asmodeus looks at me for long moment. Something unreadable crosses his expression for the briefest of seconds, but then it's gone. 

His eyes are strangely distant. "That's the sort of thinking that'll get a little thing like you killed down here. You should be careful, darling."

A sudden chill creeps up my back.  It's subtle, but it's definitely there, in the twitch of his brows and the shrinking of his pupils - and I don't really recognise it, but what I do know is that this kind of Asmodeus is dangerous. Lucifer's warning back in the assembly hall suddenly makes a lot more sense.

Just like before, though, the edge in Asmodeus's voice disappears as soon as it had come, and he blinks down at me innocently. "Hey, what's with the long face? Cheer up! Not like I was criticising you or anything..."

He turns his gaze back in front of him and continues walking. "...but you really should watch yourself."

"...got it." I mumble half-heartedly, suddenly filled with an odd desire to turn around and make a break for it. 

Asmodeus himself doesn't seem to notice, beginning to hum a tune under his breath as he continues to lead me along. As I follow, it strikes me that this feels very much like I'm being walked to the gallows.

I shake off the idea as we emerge into an enormous hallway. Maybe he's just trying to scare me. That's what people do to new kids, right? You're supposed to win them over, somehow...

As I begin wondering if I'm even going to get my old clothes back, I notice a familiar figure. He's kind of hard to miss, what with the bright red clothes - he's standing by one of the staircases and chatting enthusiastically with Lucifer, and another dark-haired demon that I don't recognise.

"That's Lord Diavolo there," Asmodeus announces to me, as if he thinks I might have forgotten who he is. "Just go say hi, and he'll get you set up for the day, okay? See you around, darling!"

He pats my head, twirls around, and sets off again without another word. Ah - abandoned again. Right after he was criticising Mammon about it, too. Though at least he's seen me off.

Still, if anyone down here's got me, Diavolo's probably got me. I think. He's been nice so far, anyway.

I glance around at the various demons buzzing around the hall - there's a lot less than there were around the front entrance, thank goodness - and quickly skitter across the floor to where Diavolo is laughing uproariously at something, refusing to look anyone in the eye. I very nearly run face first into his pristine uniform in the process, but I manage to catch myself and reel backwards just in time.

"Oh!" Diavolo exclaims in surprise as he turns around and looks down to find me awkwardly waving up at him. A grin quickly replaces his slightly startled expression, and he reaches down to give me a hearty clap on the shoulder that feels like it have broken a bone or two. "You're here early! I wasn't expecting you for another ten minutes!"

I don't even have time to formulate a response before he's patting my shoulder again, this time apparently in appreciation of my new clothes. "Well, don't you look dapper! I must say, you look a lot more at home here in uniform."

"I see that Asmo's done his job," Lucifer puts in, giving me a nod. He glances around briefly, then asks me - looking exasperated, as if he already knows the answer, "I presume Mammon left you?"

"Uh..." I search frantically for some kind of excuse to make for the poor guy - the look on Lucifer's face doesn't exactly promise sunshine and rainbows if I expose him. I can't think of anything, though. "...yeah. Kinda."

Lucifer's eyes narrow dangerously, and I hurry to defend the poor guy before his brother can storm off to guillotine him or something. "But it's okay! He probably had, uh... homework to do or something. It's not a big deal, really."

He doesn't look particularly appeased, but he does at least seem unlikely to go sprinting off to deal out punishment anytime soon. "Hmm. 'Not a big deal', you say?"

"Uh, no...?" Is this a trick question? "I mean... he got me to school. Nothing wrong with clocking out once your job's done."

"Why do you insist on defending him?" His borderline glare isn't very comforting, but I feel like that's more of a default expression for him than one of displeasure at the moment. 

Just as I think that, though, his lips curl up into a slight smile. "You seem to have formed some sort of loyalty to him already. Are all you humans like that?"

"Oh, no way," I answer, thinking back briefly to all the horror stories I've both heard and read about. "A lot of them, maybe. But you can't say that every single cat in the world has fur, even if most of them do."

I give myself a mental pat on the back for that one as Lucifer raises his eyebrows again, evidently surprised by the rather sophisticated reply I've given him. (Well, sophisticated by my standards, anyway. It's not often I think a good thought, especially in front of an authority figure. It's also not often that I actually think.)

Diavolo, at any rate, seems more impressed.  He laughs and pats me on the shoulder again. "Quite philosophical, aren't you?"

"Most of the time I'm really not ," I mumble, but don't protest otherwise. At least he's not patting me as hard now. 

At that point, Diavolo seems to remember that I'm not acquainted with the other demon with him - the one who's done nothing but quietly listen to the conversation thus far. I can't tell if he's wearing eyeliner, or if he just looks like that...

"Oh, I don't believe you've been introduced yet!" Diavolo exclaims, indicating the demon, who offers me a small smile. "This is Barbatos."

"I serve as the Lord's butler," Barbatos tells me. He takes his time enunciating each word clearly, and performs a neat bow to accompany it; the whole thing is so polished that I wouldn't be surprised if he rehearses it in the mirror every day. "It is pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Nice to meet you, Mr Barbatos." I reply, returning his bow with a small one of my own. His posture'ss so perfect that it makes me adjust my own a little self-consciously.

After a pause, wanting to offer a little more substance, I add, "I like your hair."

He pauses in mild surprise, then chuckles and gives me a smile - one that's a lot more genuine than the first. "I appreciate the compliment, but it really isn't anything special."

"I think it's cool. Do you get it dyed? Or is it natural?"

"It is how my hair naturally is," He touches a hand to the bright teal lock on the right side of his head. "Though I do deliberately grow out this part."

I nod along to his explanation. "It's very stylish."

He smiles again. "Thank you."

"I'm sure the two of you won't have any problems getting along," Diavolo chimes in. He looks like a proud mother watching her child make friends at daycare - though I'm not sure if that child is meant to be me or Barbatos. "Well, now that you two are acquainted - do you know where you'll be going for your classes?"

I shake my head. "No... Mr Asmo said I needed to get a schedule."

"Oh, right, of course! I arranged several resources for you earlier..." He fumbles around in his pockets for a moment, then pauses. Defeated, he slowly admits, "...unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced them."

"Not to worry." Lucifer shakes his head and reaches into his own pocket, then pulls out several neatly folded pamphlets. "You left them in the assembly hall earlier. Here, IK."

He holds it out at chest level at first out of reflex, evidently used to giving things to people who are demon-sized. Unfortunately, chest-level for Lucifer is an inch or so above my head, so he fumbles for a brief moment, looking a little lost, before realising where I am and dropping his hand so that I can comfortably reach the papers he's trying to give me.

"Thank you," I chirp, immediately setting about flicking through them. The timetable is conveniently tucked just behind the first paper - which seems to just be a welcome sheet - so I quickly pull it out and scan it. 

Then I realise that there's a bit of a problem, and it isn't the array of subjects that I don't recognise. What the hell is Monstrous Tongues? "...what day is it?"

"Wednesday." Barbatos is the first to answer. I nod and pick out the correct column.

"It says here that I have Curse-Breaking first," I announce, then look up. "So, um... where is that?"

"I've put together a map for you to be able to navigate more easily," Lucifer tells me, indicating one of the sheets at the bottom of the small pile. "The R.A.D. is a large building, but I'm sure you'll get used to it after a while."

Large is an understatement, I comment mentally as I unfold and inspect the map he's pointed out. It's the size of an A3 sheet of paper and double-sided to boot, with almost every square inch occupied by neat black lines. The ink lines don't look like they came from a printer, but there's no way anyone could draw out something like this by hand, right? Right??

Then again, Lucifer does give me the impression that he could do anything if he tried hard enough. He's even marked out each of the rooms where my classes are in some lovely red cursive. I turn the map around slightly, trying to find the one labelled Curse-Breaking.

"Ah, you're on the first floor," Diavolo tells me, leaning over to look at the map over my shoulder. "All of the subjects relating to magic and spells are on the ground floor... these two corridors right here."

Sure enough, one of the rooms in the section that Diavolo is pointing out has been labelled 'Curse-Breaking'. I stare at it blankly for a moment. I know where it is now, but I don't actually know where I am. Which way round do the corridors go...?

"Tell you what," Diavolo says after a moment of thought, apparently taking pity on me as I get progressively more confused by the map by the minute. "I'll show you to your classroom."

"Oh— um, you don't need to do that," I reply quickly, shaking my head. "I'll figure it out... one way or another."

"Somehow I doubt that," He laughs, slapping a hand to my shoulder for what has to at least be the third time now. Between him and Mammon, I'm pretty sure I'll be as bruised as the last banana in a fruit bowl by the end of the week. "No worries! I'm free for the morning, so it won't be a problem."

"Uh... are you sure?" I glance quickly at Lucifer and Barbatos for any disapproval. The former's face is still carefully composed and flat, and the latter is still smiling - albeit more faintly now.

"Of course!" He chuckles. "I wouldn't offer if I wasn't. Come along, follow me."

He's off walking before I can attempt to convince him not to - not out of any personal dislike, but more because I'm absolutely going to end up doing something stupid on the way there. All I can do is offer a hurried goodbye to Lucifer and Barbatos, and follow him before he disappears down the corridor.

"That room we were just in is the main junction between all the R.A.D.'s staircases," Diavolo tells me conversationally, pointing down at the map that I'm still attempting to make sense of. "It's that big room right in the middle - there, see? And that's the entrance hall just coming off the front of it... hmm, I wonder why Lucifer didn't mark those in?"

I turn the map around. So I know where we came from, but I still don't know which direction I'm facing... I should be able to use it once I actually get to a classroom, though. The doors have all been marked out with thin little rectangles, so all I'll have to do is turn the map around to face the right direction accordingly. 

Man, how much time does Lucifer have on his hands? "Hey, uh, Mr Diavolo? Do you have a spare pen I could borrow?"

"Probably," He answers, patting down his pockets for a moment before brightening and reaching into his left one. "Yes, here we are! You can keep it if you like. Lucifer mentioned earlier that you'd need some studying equipment."

"Thanks, sir." 

I fiddle about with the pen he passes me for a moment, then  carefully scribble the words 'entrance hall' and 'stairway junction' in the appropriate parts on the map. My penmanship is nowhere near as neat as Lucifer's, but it's the best I can do. I hope I haven't ruined his handiwork.

"Your writing is tiny," Diavolo comments. I nearly drop the pen entirely - I didn't think he'd be looking at what I'm doing over my shoulder, and hearing a voice like that with no warning is a lot more startling than he probably thinks it is.

"Well, uh, you know," I cough and offer an awkward laugh. "I have... smaller hands than you. So..."

He nods rapidly, eyes widening as if this hadn't occurred to him at all. "Of course! That makes sense."

We both go quiet as he turns away and stands up straight again. I'm finding that it's kind of hard to keep up a conversation with any of these demons for a particularly sustainable amount of time, but at least we've talked - kind of. 

Diavolo doesn't seem affected or subdued by the silence, in any case - he's started humming happily to himself and is not-so-subtly shimmying his hands about, as he's going to suddenly break into a dance routine, like in Spiderman 3. He really is fearless.

By the time we've reached the corridor that my first class is supposedly on, I've finally managed to figure out how the map corresponds to the corridors we're walking through. And I don't actually know if I'm allowed to be doing so, but I've been carefully jotting down little notes here and there to make it easier to navigate the map in future as well. 

Diavolo didn't say anything when he watched me do it earlier, and he's not saying anything about it now, so it's probably fine. Still, maybe I should have asked Lucifer first? He is the one who made the map in the first place, after all. I'll ask him about it later.

(If I'm being honest, though, I'm probably a bit too terrified of him to actually do that. Maybe I'll try asking one of the others to bring it up with him instead? No... Mammon would probably just say no - seeing as he's obviously intimidated as well, no matter how much he denies it, I haven't really talked to Leviathan enough to be able to ask him for a favour, and I'm a little apprehensive of Asmodeus...)

(Which leaves Beelzebub and Satan. Beelzebub might agree since I gave him a croissant yesterday, but he might get angry if I try holding that over his head. And Satan... well, somehow I get the feeling that he'd prefer not to talk to Lucifer if he can.)

(...now that I think about it, there's something off about those brothers. Didn't Lucifer say there were seven of them? Why do I only remember six? Have I not met the seventh one yet?)

"Here we are," Diavolo declares, patting the wall beside the classroom door as if it's an old friend of his. "I believe the exchange students from the Celestial Realm have this class with you, so you won't be completely alone."

"Just them?" I ask, folding the map up again and carefully tucking it into my pocket. "There's another human, isn't there?"

"Well, he's already quite the sorcerer, so all of these beginner magic classes would be wasted on him," Diavolo explains, "You do have some other classes with him, though. You should be meeting him soon enough - I'm sure you'll get along."

"Right... got it." I consider his words for a moment, then realise something. "Hey, um, about the magic classes - what am I supposed to do in them? I can't... do the abracadabra thing."

"...that's a good question, actually." He thinks for a while. He doesn't actually come up with a proper solution, either. "Well, I'll leave it up to your teacher. I'm sure that the theory will be useful, at the very least."

I mean, it probably won't be if I can't actually use the theory to do anything... I decide not to rain on his parade, though. Partially because I feel like Lucifer might actually murder me if I upset his boss, and partially because I'd actually quite like to learn about magic.

"Oh," Diavolo begins, interrupting my train of thought, "Before I go, is there anything else you'll need? I've already made arrangements to get you some writing supplies, and any required equipment should be provided by your classes anyway."

"Uh..." I think back to the conversation I had with Mammon earlier. "...could I have a backpack? Just to carry things around in."

"Is that all?" He asks, pulling another pen out of his pocket, then quickly scribbling the words 'backpack human' onto his left hand.

"I think so."

"Excellent! Well, then—" He checks the time. "You have a little while before your class starts, but you can go ahead into the classroom now. Early start, eh?"

"Sure..." I trail off as he immediately swings the door upon, peeks inside the classroom, and gestures for me to enter. "So, um... see you later, I guess?"

"See you later, indeed," He responds cheerfully as I shuffle inside, raising a hand in an enthusiastic goodbye. "And, by the way - do feel free to message me if you have any questions."

I see him off with a little wave, then turn and peek hesitantly into the classroom. Luckily, it's still mostly empty - the few demons inside just glance at me, then go back to their own business. I take it that anyone who comes in this early would be someone pretty focused on their studies, so they wouldn't be particularly distracted by some kid walking in.

The exception is a pair sitting at the back of the classroom - they stand out quite starkly among the students in those bright white outfits. Presumably those are the Celestial Realm students; the taller one with black hair and a splendid cloak has now started waving enthusiastically - gesturing for me to join them on their bench.

I don't really have many options, and he's also the only remotely friendly face in the room (one or two of the demons have now begun eyeing me up like a cupcake that's been left out on a table), so I decide to follow the nice angel's directions. Ducking my head, I scurry to the back of the classroom and hesitantly sit at the very end of the bench, ready to jump off and move at any notice.

"Good morning!" The angel who had waved at me greets me warmly, offering a gloved hand. "You must be IK, yes? I'm Simeon."

"Nice to meet you, Mr Simeon," I reply, carefully setting my hand in his and giving it a shake. Whatever material his gloves are made from, it's really soft.

"Just Simeon is fine," He twinkles, then gestures to the other angel sitting beside him, beside the window. "And this is Luke. Say hello, Luke."

Luke leans over the table to look around Simeon's shoulder, and I do the same. He's much smaller than his companion - in fact, he might actually be around my height. Though I can't tell precisely with that giant hat on his head - with pale blonde hair and large blue eyes that make him look like a baby goat. (If I'm honest, I'm don't actually know what a baby goat looks like. Luke just reminds me of the concept, I guess. It's probably the light blond hair and the white clothes.)

"It's great to meet you as well, Mr Luke," I say, sticking my hand out. It feels a little odd addressing him by 'Mr' when he doesn't look any older than me, but I don't want to make him feel disrespected or something by addressing him differently to his friend.

He nods earnestly, reaching across the table to grasp my hand and give it a vigorous shake. "Likewise!"

"He can be rather short-tempered sometimes," Simeon says to me in an undertone as I release Luke's hand and sit back again. "So don't take it to heart, alright? He's a sweet angel, really."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" The angel in question immediately protests, his cheeks flushing slightly. Simeon laughs and murmurs a quick apology in reply, but that doesn't seem to be enough for Luke; he turns back to me and points a firm finger in my direction.

"Alright, calm down now, Luke," Simeon intervenes before he can get even more riled up, apparently having finished his little chuckle fest. "You don't need to get into a fuss over these things."

He turns to me and elaborates, his smile returning to his face, "Incidentally, Michael is one of our superiors in the Celestial Realm."

I nod quickly. I thought Michael was one of the Four Gospels? No, wait, that's Matthew, Mark, John, and... oh, hey, Luke! That's a coincidence. Well, probably not, if they're both from a place called the Celestial Realm, which I'm guessing would be Heaven if the Devildom is Hell... does that mean Simeon and Luke know God?

"I mostly just help him with affairs and orders - you know, paperwork and communications," Simeon continues, "Out of necessity, more than anything. My specialty's more on the healing side of things."

"You can do that?"

"All angels have a natural healing aura," Luke chimes in. "Healer angels like Simeon learn to concentrate and use it directly on wherever you're hurt! He's really good at it."

"So it's, like... a tangible thing?" I ask. "How does it work? Does it just speed up what your body would do normally? Or does it wind back time on the hurt bit? Or does it, like... put atoms in something to fill in the gap?"

Simeon and Luke both look bewildered by my questions - as if they'd never even considered how this apparently works. It's not like I do this every time I encounter healing magic in fiction, but it's a different story now that I know it's a real thing. (I feel like I should be more blown away by all these revelations, but...)

"The... first one?" answers Simeon, though he doesn't sound particularly sure about it. "I'm not really an expert in the theory of it. Luke, do you...?"

Luke pulls a face. "They might've explained it. I don't really remember... it's been, like, a century..."

I nod along, but now I'm kind of distracted. So Luke, who looks for all the world like he'd be in my English class, is apparently at least one hundred years old - most likely more. Don't you just run out of things to do at that point?

"There's the teacher!" Luke suddenly exclaims, breaking my train of thought. I look up - and barely manage to stop my jaw from dropping.

In crude words, my Curse Breaking teacher is an absolute unit. I thought Diavolo and Beelzebub were big, but this demon is at least ten whole feet tall, with shoulders the size of cheese wheels and legs like tree trunks.

"I see that our exchange students have arrived bright and early," The muscle man announces once he's situated himself at the teacher's desk at the front, somehow just barely managing to squash his enormous frame on the objectively far too small chair behind it. "Good to see. None of you have your books yet, I presume."

Luke and I exchange apprehensive looks behind Simeon's back as he shakes his head and answers for all three of us. "No, we haven't. Lord Diavolo said that they should be ready tomorrow."

Muscle Man nods thoughtfully and reaches into the pocket of his enormous black greatcoat. "That's alright, then. We won't be needing them today, anyway."

I have to bite down hard on my bottom lip to stop myself from snorting as he pulls out a pair of ridiculously tiny spectacles, then somehow manages to wedge them onto his face. Luke looks as if he wants to laugh as well, but is refusing to do so out of fear.

"My name..." The teacher begins, heaving himself back out of his seat and digging one large hand into his jacket to pull out a piece of chalk, "...is Kazakiel."

He writes it across the top of the blackboard in almost perfect block capitals - if I hadn't watched him write it freehand, I'd have thought he'd used a ruler. He places the chalk down on his desk with a distinctive clack and continues, "But you can just call me Professor Kaz."

Simeon, Luke, and I all murmur our assent. Professor Kaz gives us a large grin in response. 

"You three seem like a nice bunch, so I'll keep this short. As long as you listen and do as you're told in my lessons, we won't have any problems. I'm not nearly as bothered about homework as Professor Ala down the corridor, but I'd prefer you hand things in on time. And I do expect you put at least a little effort into it."

He adjusts his glasses slightly, and suddenly fixes his gaze on me. "Now, I'm told that our second human exchange student here doesn't have any magic. Is that right, young lady?"

I attempt to make eye contact, but end up feeling too awkward about it, so I focus on the glinting bridge of his glasses instead. He shouldn't be able to tell the difference from this distance anyway, right? "U-uh... yes, sir."

"So polite!" He laughs, reminding me of Diavolo. "Well, little miss, you don't need to worry. You don't need any inherent magic ability to learn any of the things covered in the first year courses that you'll be taking - that includes your other classes, not just mine. And, of course, you'll only be here for one year, so there shouldn't be any problems there."

I nod, but before I can formulate a response, he continues, "Now, subjects involving casting and breaking spells - like mine, for example - are going to be substantially harder for you, I won't lie about that. If your other teachers have any demonic decency, though, they'll be willing to give you some extra time on deadline, or extra help in classes - so you don't need to fret about that, either!"

The Devildom's education system is really proving itself to be far better than the one back home more and more with each minute. I nod gratefully. "Thank you."

"No worries!" He chuckles. "All in a day's work. Now, everyone else should be trickling in now - why don't you three get yourselves ready? There should be some spare paper at the back, in the bottom cabinet. You can make your notes on those until you get all your exercise books - just use the quills and ink wells on your tables."

"I'll get them," Simeon volunteers, already beginning to get up. "You two just stay put."

He seems to have a little difficulty getting out from the bench, though. Now that I think about it, it can't be very convenient to wear such a big cloak all the time -  it looks pretty unwieldy. Simeon doesn't immediately strike me as the kind of guy who'd be willing to suffer for the sake of fashion, but to be fair, it is a very nice cloak.

"...do you need some help with that?" I ask hesitantly as he tugs fruitlessly at it. It appears to be refusing to be pulled over the edge of the bench.

"If you don't mind," He replies a little sheepishly. I nod and duck under the table to pick it up by the hem, only to nearly collapse face first onto the side of the bench as soon as I lift it a centimetre of the ground.

"My goodness!" Simeon's gloved hand quickly shoots under the table to steady me, though he misses my shoulder by a good few inches the first try. "Steady, now."

Luke dips his head down to look at me through the gap between the bench and the table, eyes wide with alarm. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I reply, steadying myself. "Why's it so heavy? How do you walk around in that?"

"I suppose I'm just used to it..." He watches worriedly as I scramble to attempt to lift the end of the cloak again. "Ah, maybe you should just leave it to me?"

"No, I've got it!" I brace myself stubbornly and carefully slip my arms under the hem. My feet nearly slip out from underneath me as I push the cloak upwards, but I manage to hold steady for long enough to shove it over the top of the bench.

Simeon shivers slightly as the end of the cloak slithers across the wood and finally slips down to hang properly from his shoulders. I raise an eyebrow at him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," He waves off my concern easily as I start clambering out from beneath the table. "The weight of this cloak is meant to replicate the weight of my wings, you see. It's crafted in a way that imitates the presence of them as well, so I can feel things touching it."

"Is that why it's so heavy?"

"Correct," He says with a smile. "Though my cloak isn't nearly has heavy as some others. Michael's is so heavy that most beings would be crushed under its weight."

"Huh." I situate myself back on the bench as Simeon moves over to the drawers to look for the paper Professor Kaz mentioned, then turn to Luke, "Do you have a cloak as well, Luke?"

He jumps slightly at the question. "Oh! Well, um, I'm still really low-ranking, so my wings are a lot smaller than Simeon's..."

He gestures up at the little capelet thing around his shoulders that I hadn't really noticed earlier. "This is it."

I lean back slightly to look at the two long blue strips of fabric (I don't know what they're called, so sue me) trailing from behind the capelet. "That bit, too?"

Luke nods. "They're the main part, actually. They had to make them like that so I didn't over-balance..."

"That's smart," I note, thanking Simeon as he comes back to the table and sets about five sheets of yellowing parchment-like paper in front of me. "So... wait, where are your wings?"

"Well, we have them retracted." Simeon is the one to answer this time. "It's similar to demons and their demon forms, actually."

Demon forms? 

"It's a shame we can't show you," sighs Luke. " But we're not supposed to open them while we're here unless it's for an emergency."

"Why not?"

He pulls a face. "Why do you think? We're in the Devildom! It's full of evil and darkness and demons!"

I make a face. Simeon steps in and adds gently, "What he means is that the environment down here could corrupt them."

"The Celestial Realm and the Devildom have naturally counteracting energies," Luke adds, sounding as if he's reading this word for word. "The positive energy of the Celestial Realm can cast away the Devildom's negative energy really quickly, but when they're left together for too long, the negative energy ends up building up and consuming the positive."

It takes me a moment to process the information that's just been given to me. I have so many more questions, but I feel too self-conscious to ask them all - even if the angels seem happy to explain things to me. I don't think they've ever spoken to a human before; they seem to be regarding me in the same way a primary teacher regards a particularly curious little kid.

We don't get to continue our conversation for much longer - class officially starts not long after that. I'd been too absorbed in our exchange to notice that the classroom had rapidly begun filling with students while we were talking, and now that I actually look at my surroundings again, I notice that nearly all of the benches are now full.

The lesson itself is equal parts bewildering and interesting. Professor Kaz spouts a bunch of technical magic terms that I understand none of - though I manage to scribble most of the definitions down for future reference with the help of Simeon's hushed whispering. My brain's basically melted by the time the lesson ends, but it's the most engaged I've felt in a lesson in a while.

And then I don't end up being able to attend lesson two - Diavolo steps in and whisks me off just as we're leaving the classroom to fill out some paperwork and whatnot. He also gives me a freshly-purchased black backpack with enough pockets and compartments to store every single material item I own (which, to be fair, isn't really that much), and shows me each and every one with great glee.

"The rest of your school supplies should arrive by the end of the day," He says as I happily pull the backpack onto my shoulders. It's actually suitably sized for me, which is an added bonus. "I'll drop them off at the House of Lamentation once they're ready."

Diavolo sends me off just as break begins, which I spend being helplessly buffeted back and forth across the corridors by an endless stream of demon students until Simeon miraculously  swoops in to save me. Just in time for the beginning of our third class, too - which turns out to have been cancelled, owing to the teacher having blown himself up earlier in the day.

"It's a shame you missed that last one," Simeon says as we settle at a table in the corner of the school library to wait out the lesson. "You would have had Devildom Law, am I right?"

I pull my slightly crumpled schedule out of my pocket. "...yup. How'd you know?"

"You have it with Solomon," He explains. "The other human exchange student. You'll have to wait until tomorrow to meet him now - you don't have any other lessons with him today."

"Can't we just meet with him at lunch?" Luke asks. "He should be free then, right?"

"Unfortunately not," Simeon sighs. "He has a meeting with some of the teachers, I'm told."

"Mr Solomon's a super powerful sorcerer, right?" I ask, flicking restlessly through a book written in a language that I don't understand a word of. "Why does he need to take lessons?"

Simeon thinks about it for a moment. "Well, strictly speaking, he probably doesn't. But, um... there are always nuances to magic depending on the species and nature of the person performing it, so I imagine there's an endless fount of knowledge to be found from that..."

It sounds like he's making things up as he goes, to be honest, but he says it with such confidence that I can't help but think that he must be right.

We don't really have much work to do in the meantime, so we spend the next hour idly chatting. At some point, I spot Satan milling about the non-fiction section, but he takes one look at me and hurriedly hides his face behind the leather-bound book in his hands. It's like he thinks I wouldn't be able to see him if he can't see me, never mind the fact that we just made direct eye-contact.

I raise an eyebrow at the large dragon emblazoned across his book's cover, then realise that it's probably something to do with what happened this morning - the cyanide-throwing and all that. I severely doubt he's feeling guilty about it at all, but maybe he's embarrassed? 

Well, either way, I'm not going to force a conversation on someone who clearly doesn't want it. I look away - the next time I look back, Satan's vanished.

Then comes lunch - during which I suddenly realise that I haven't eaten or drunk a thing since coming down here, and that I should probably have some water before I die of dehydration. Simeon is kind enough to get me a bottle from one of the cafeteria's vending machines (which look very strange in an otherwise very old-fashioned-looking room), which he sets in front of me with a smile.

"It isn't poison, right?" I ask nervously, remembering, once again, the cyanide incident. I don't want to accidentally drink a bottle of arsenic or something.

"Of course not," He chuckles, spinning the bottle around so that I can read the label on the front. "See? Just plain water. You'll be fine."

I don't know why the presence of bottled water in the Devildom is such a strange concept - after all, didn't I just use water this morning to wash my face? - but it just is. Among the many other things that, now that I think about it, are very human customs. Did demons just invent school on their own as well, or did they borrow the idea? And did they invent bottled water on their own as well?

I probably shouldn't think too deeply into it. It's just water. And a bottle is probably the best receptacle for it. In any case, it's good to know that there are things down here I can drink without dying a painful, organ-shrivelling death.

Food is another thing, though. There's a menu for the meals provided by the school kitchen, which I manage to dig out from among the various documents Diavolo gave me earlier, but I'm a little too intimidated to try any right now. Not that I know what most of it is.

Neither Luke nor Simeon seem interested in trying any of the R.A.D. cafeteria's food either, since they've both opted for packed lunches. I don't know where Simeon was hiding his - Luke's clothes are baggy enough that they could reasonably have several pockets to put his in, but Simeon's shirt is basically a leotard, and his pants don't seem to have any pockets, either.

Simeon notices me looking at him in confusion, but mistakes the reason for something else. "Oh, didn't you bring lunch? You can have some of mine, if you like."

I shake my head quickly. "No, no, it's fine. It's just— where were you keeping that?"

He looks mildly puzzled for a moment, then looks down at himself and realises what I'm talking about. "Ah - it's just a simple containment spell, really. See this here?"

He points down at a little golden charm on his chest. It glitters slightly as he gently taps at it, as if the sun is shining directly on it, even though the cafeteria is only lit by ominously flickering candles. "It's rather complicated to explain, but, put it like this - it's like a concentration point. Every angel has one. I suppose you could say that it's what we use to channel magic."

"What, so your lunch was in there?" I pull a face. Magic I can get behind, but shoving all that into that tiny little thing is a little hard to believe. 

Then again, I'm sitting with two angels in a school for demons in Hell. Lunches in charms should be the least of my concerns right now.

Simeon frowns. "I'm not too sure how it works myself. I've been using it for so long that I just don't really think about it."

"Is it like your wing-cloaks?" I look at Luke. "Do you have one as well?"

"Two, actually," He says, pointing first at an identical golden charm attached to his collar, then at a substantially larger one dangling from his hat. "We usually have more when we're younger - you know, since we need more control."

I nod. So they're basically the angelic equivalent of wands for wizards...

The rest of lunch passes by uneventfully, and then it's time for the last two classes of the day. It seems that I share most of my lessons with the angels, since we end up all having Potions and Enchantments for our fourth and fifth lessons. 

Potions is easy enough - thankfully our teacher, is an affable demon with wild green hair who seems to have their goggles permanently glued to their face. They stay unrelentingly patient with me and the two angels as we struggle to keep up with the other students, who've already been studying the subject for several terms before we arrived.

Simeon seems to master the process relatively easily, while Luke and I constantly get ingredients and stirring directions all messed up for the first half hour, creating several explosions that mercifully don't get our clothes covered in soot. Professor Baal just laughs a little maniacally and tells us to try again - after all, mistakes and explosions are all part of the process!

It isn't until I think of likening the step-by-step process of brewing a potion to cooking and baking that I finally get the hang of it. It's just like following the recipe for a cake - measure out the ingredients, combine in the right order, and mix carefully. In fact, I'd probably say it's easier than making a cake - it's more like making soup.

Luke doesn't take much longer to grasp the process, either; apparently my baking metaphor works wonders for him as well. After that, the rest of the Potions lesson is easy enough - enjoyable, even.

Enchantments is a nightmare in comparison. Professor Ala seems nice enough at first, but it becomes apparent ten minutes in that she thinks I have the mind of a literal baby - as much as she's clearly lowering herself to what she perceives as my level. She has none of the patience that Professor Baal did, and she doesn't seem to get that I literally can't do magic.

"Focus your mind," She says exasperatedly as my hands start trembling slightly. "This is a simple procedure."

Luke sends me a sympathetic look from behind her as I disguise a long sigh behind a subtle cough and ready my hands to try again. The two angels don't seem to be having much trouble with the colour-changing enchantment we're being taught today, which means that Professor Ala's attention is focused solely on me. Joy.

I have to try hard to hold back embarrassed tears for what feels like the entire rest of the lesson, and I haven't even managed to change even a single spot of the penny's copper-brown colour by the time it ends. Luckily, neither Simeon nor Luke notice me rubbing subtly at my eyes as we leave the classroom and begin to make our way out of the school.

Simeon suggests we go for a walk into town together as we step out into the cold afternoon air, but Luke quickly reminds him that we still have all those textbooks and stuff to receive some time this evening. So, after agreeing to hang out outside of school another time, we split up to head to our respective living quarters at a fork in the road.

Luke does express some worry about the fact that I'll be walking back to the House of Lamentation on my own before he leaves, but I assure him that I'll be fine. I wave the angels off, then set off at a brisk walk, holding tight onto my backpack straps and glancing back and forth apprehensively as I go. 

I don't have any keys to tuck between my fingers - my set's still in my old school blazer, which is still in that room from earlier, as far as I know - and nothing in my backpack or pockets can really be used as a weapon. Though I probably wouldn't be able to beat a demon even if I had one. 

How would one even go about killing a demon? Stabbing them? Shooting them?  Are a guns a thing down here?

Somehow I manage to remember the way back to the House of Lamentation - which isn't much of an achievement, considering the path from it to the R.A.D. is pretty much just one long road.  The front door is already unlocked when I get to it, which means I don't have to wait awkwardly on the doorstep or call one of the brothers to open it up for me.

Even so, I hover at the welcome mat for a good while, wondering if I should take off my shoes, but decide against it. I don't have any slippers, and I don't have any good socks - I don't want my feet to get cold.

I wander aimlessly through the House's corridors for five minutes or so, partially because I'm still a little unsure of how exactly to get to my room and partially to explore a little. There's always been an odd sense of excitement for me when it comes to staying in a new abode - I remember going on camps when I was in primary school, and the first thing I did whenever we got there was explore the cabin we'd be staying in. 

It's been the same story for the few hotel rooms I've stayed in with my dad - no matter how small it is, I can't rest until I've explored every inch of it, including the drawers and wardrobes. And there's a lot to explore in the House of Lamentation.

Though I'm also hyper-aware of the fact that it's not really mine to investigate so closely. It already has seven permanent residents, after all (though I have yet to meet the seventh one), and I'm pretty sure they wouldn't appreciate me snooping around. I'll just stick to familiarising myself with the hallways for now.

I realise at some point that I haven't seen the first floor yet, so I find the nearest staircase and climb up with some difficulty. It looks pretty much the same as the ground floor, as far as I can tell, just with even more fancy decorations. There are stained glass windows placed seemingly at random here and there - there are a few that have been installed directly on the wall, for some reason - as well as what appear to be literal trees just growing out of the carpet.

I'm just inspecting one of these trees with fascination, wondering whether the purple and gold leaves are artificial or not, when I suddenly hear a flurry of footsteps approach from behind me. Before I even have time to turn around or make a getaway, two large hands clamp around my upper arms and drag me backwards.

I'm being pulled so quickly that I can't even muster up the air to shout in alarm. The hands have yanked me upwards so that my feet are hovering off the ground, and the only thing I think of to do to struggle is to kick at the air and hope that it knocks my captor off balance.

Unfortunately, that doesn't work at all. Next thing I know, I'm being yanked into a room. The door slams shut behind me as my captor finally releases me, and I land awkwardly on the floor with an ungraceful 'oof!'.

"Listen up!" orders the mystery assailant. "You're going to be helping me whether you like it or not!"