A voice called out to him.
"Richard!"
The name was unfamiliar, and yet, it pulled him from the abyss of unconsciousness.
His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim lighting of the room he was in.
The ceiling above was wooden, aged, and bore cracks that hinted at years of neglect.
He felt something soft beneath him—a bed, though far from the lavish comfort he was accustomed to.
Before he could fully gather his thoughts, a figure came into view.
A girl.
She looked to be around fourteen, her orange hair slightly unkempt, and her matching eyes filled with relief and… something else—annoyance?
She wore plain clothing, the fabric worn but well-maintained. A commoner no doubt.
But his first instinct was suspicion. Afterall-
Why is a human here?
The thought struck him as odd. Humans shouldn't be in demon territory. Not like this. Not without chains.
And yet she stood before him, speaking to him in a tone far too casual, as if she expected familiarity from him.
Her lips moved, forming words he couldn't yet process.
He decided to ignore her first.
His gaze then swept the room, his mind desperately seeking context. The walls were aged but sturdy. The air smelled of dust, yet the room itself was clean. What stood out the most, however, was the floor—concrete.
A detail that gave him pause.
Concrete architecture was a luxury, used almost exclusively by the nobility in human territories. But if that were the case… where exactly am I?
His eyes landed on a small, cracked mirror resting on a wooden stand.
Slowly, he stood. His limbs felt weak, sluggish, as if they hadn't been used in a long time.
Or was it him who hadn't walked in a long time? Besides how long has it been really?
He then heard the girl mutter something again, but he ignored her once more, as his focus was entirely on the reflection before him.
Staring back at him was a face he definitely recognized.
White hair.
Red eyes.
This was the body he had designed—a perfect vessel meant to serve for his reincarnation should his death ever come.
And yet, something was missing.
His horns.
They were gone.
His fingers instinctively reached for his forehead, brushing against smooth, unblemished skin.
A frown then formed on his face. This wasn't right. His vessel was meant to be in its full form. Why had the horns disappeared?
A sharp huff broke his thoughts.
He turned, his red eyes locking onto the girl. She was pouting, her arms crossed as she stared at him expectantly.
Only then did he realize—he had completely ignored her.
She huffed again before speaking in a slightly irritated tone. "Sister is calling you."
His eyes narrowed at her familiarity. Who was she to speak to him so informally? His lips parted, and with the commanding presence he had wielded for centuries, he demanded,
"And why am I being summoned?"
The moment his voice filled the room, the girl's mouth dropped open.
Shock flooded her expression, her eyes widening as she took a step back. She stared at him as if she had just seen a ghost, her lips trembling as she struggled to form words.
Then, without warning—
"Sisterrrrrr!!!"
She turned and bolted from the room, her panicked screams echoing down the hall.
And as for him, he just stood there, watching her disappear, utterly confused.