My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 668: Peaceful Waiting

The scene was strangely… peaceful.

Vergil was reclining on the sofa, his body unusually relaxed, his breathing slow and deep. His head rested on Aphrodite's lap, who ran her fingers through his hair with almost hypnotic patience. Her delicate nails scratched his scalp in soft, repetitive movements, as if she were cradling a dangerous beast—and somehow succeeding.

An hour had already passed.

The screen in front continued to display images of the arena being prepared, the stands gradually filling, energy accumulating in the air. The announcement of the tournament's start still indicated an hour remaining.

Vergil was almost asleep.

Aphrodite smiled as she noticed his weight relaxing even more in her lap. She tilted her head, observing him with an almost possessive affection.

"You stay so still like this that you relax…" she murmured, more to herself than to him.

He responded with a low grunt, something between a "hm" and a satisfied sigh.

Brynhildr had already left some time ago, with the excuse—perfectly true—that she had work to do. The cabin was now a closed, silent space, almost too intimate for a place where a divine massacre was about to begin.

Then—

The door burst open.

The dry sound echoed through the room.

"—WHAT?!"

Paimon froze in the doorway.

Her pink eyes widened to their maximum, her whole body freezing as she registered the scene: Vergil practically asleep in Aphrodite's lap, the goddess of love caressing him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The silence lasted exactly two seconds.

Then, it exploded.

"YOU—" Paimon took two steps forward, the floor almost creaking under her energy. "APHRODITE, YOU—"

Before the sentence was finished, Vergil opened one eye.

"Shhh."

The word was spoken softly. Lazy. Authoritative in just the right measure.

Paimon stopped.

Literally stopped.

Her entire body froze mid-step, as if someone had pressed an invisible button. Shoulders tense, fists clenched, a frozen expression of fury on her face.

Vergil opened his other eye and sighed.

"Quiet," he said, still not moving. "Come here."

He patted the sofa lightly on the other side, as if inviting someone to sit.

"I want to feel your warmth a little too."

The effect was immediate.

All the tension in Paimon simply… evaporated.

"—Y-yes!" she answered too quickly.

Aphrodite raised an eyebrow.

Paimon crossed the room almost running, sitting on the sofa as instructed—too close, too obedient. Her face was still red, but now it wasn't just from anger.

Vergil extended his free hand and began to stroke her pink hair, running his fingers slowly through the soft strands.

Paimon relaxed instantly.

Aphrodite clicked her tongue.

"Hey," she complained. "That's my competitor."

Vergil gave a lazy smile. "Sharing is a virtue."

Aphrodite pouted. Paimon gave her a triumphant look for a split second—and then snuggled closer, like a cat seeking attention.

Vergil, now fully awake, tilted his head slightly.

"So," he asked casually. "What brought you here?"

Paimon took a deep breath, trying to regain some dignity—with partial success.

"I came to see the Underworld competitor," she said. "I wanted to confirm a few things in person." She paused, glancing sideways at Aphrodite. "But it seems the Goddess of Love arrived first. And kind of… attacking."

Aphrodite opened her mouth to retort—

And the air exploded.

Literally.

A pink lightning bolt shot through the space from one side, while a greenish discharge surged from the other, colliding in the middle of the VIP box with a visual BOOM worthy of an over-the-top anime. Colorful sparks danced through the air, ripples of energy making the curtains tremble.

Vergil sighed deeply.

"Enough."

The word fell like an absolute weight.

The energies dissipated instantly, as if they had never existed. Aphrodite and Paimon froze in the same instant, turning their faces to him.

"You two," he continued, opening his eyes fully now. "Behave yourselves."

Absolute silence.

He turned his gaze to Paimon. "Now speak. How are things?"

Paimon straightened up slightly, adopting a more professional tone—or as close to it as she could manage at that moment.

"Complicated," she replied. "The rules changed suddenly, as you must have noticed." She crossed her arms. "The age limit increased… and now only one representative per faction is allowed."

Vergil raised an eyebrow slightly. "Hmm."

"This caused a domino effect," Paimon continued. "Many competitors were replaced. Some forcibly removed. Others… replaced by creative solutions."

Aphrodite leaned forward slightly, curious despite herself.

"Gods?" Vergil asked, already anticipating.

Paimon nodded. "Several."

She took a deep breath before continuing. "Kali, for example."

The name seemed to make the air heavier.

"She didn't enter directly," Paimon explained. "She possessed a homunculus. An artificial body with a limited existence—the first two hundred years of life."

Vergil chuckled softly.

"Of course," he murmured. "It had to be her."

"And Athena," Paimon added. "She made a contract with her apostle. She lent her own body to the tournament."

Aphrodite narrowed her eyes. "Cheating."

"Legalized," Paimon replied. "Within the rules."

Vergil began to laugh.

Not a short laugh. But a sincere, disbelieving laugh that made Aphrodite laugh along without fully understanding why.

"It's pathetic," he said between laughs. "Gods with thousands of years of existence using two-hundred-year-old bodies just to fit into an arbitrary rule."

He shook his head. "Pure fear."

Paimon nodded. "They know something's wrong. That this tournament isn't just a spectacle."

Vergil took a deep breath, still smiling.

"And the Underworld?" he asked.

Paimon hesitated.

Aphrodite noticed. "Hmm?"

"Amon," Paimon finally said. "He wanted to take you away."

Vergil's smile didn't disappear. It only grew sharper. "Of course he did."

"And put Sapphire in your place," she continued. "But with a strength limiter."

Vergil blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"…What?"

Paimon quickly raised her hands. "Calm down. She refused."

Aphrodite's eyes widened. "Sapphire refused to fight?"

"Not exactly," Paimon replied. "She refused to steal your glory."

Vergil was silent for a moment.

Then he laughed.

But this time, the laugh was different. Lower. More sincere.

"…She's changed," he commented.

"Not that much," Paimon retorted. "She just made it very clear that she doesn't want to win another tournament for you." A crooked smile appeared on her face. "She said that if you don't win with everything she's given you… then you'd better not show up alive."

Vergil let out a short laugh. "Fair enough."

Aphrodite sighed and snuggled closer to him. "This woman is trouble."

"You all are," he replied, relaxing back on the sofa.

Paimon watched the scene for a few seconds—Vergil in the center, Aphrodite on one side, her on the other.

And, against all logic, it seemed… right.

The screen showed the timer ticking down.

One hour remaining.

Vergil closed his eyes again, too comfortable for someone about to face gods, monsters, and potential kings.

"Good," he murmured. "Looks like it's going to be fun."

The door opened again.

This time, without a bang. Without haste. Without exaggerated drama.

The air simply… changed.

Vergil felt it even before he saw it.

The temperature dropped slightly, not in physical cold, but in density. As if the space itself had become more attentive, more respectful.

Aphrodite opened one eye.

Paimon straightened her posture immediately, as if pulled by invisible threads.

Calm footsteps echoed through the box.

A woman entered.

Tall, impeccable posture, white hair of a deep, light shade that seemed to amplify the light around her. Her gaze was sharp, ancient, full of authority—not the kind that imposes itself with shouts, but the kind that simply exists and forces the world to adjust.

Sephirothy.

Vergil's mother.

She stopped a few feet from the sofa and observed the scene in silence.

Vergil lying down, too relaxed.

Aphrodite practically nestled against him.

Paimon sitting on the other side, too close for any innocent interpretation.

For a long second, no one said anything.

Then Sephirothy raised an eyebrow.

"…Interesting," she commented, her tone laden with dry humor. "When did your life progress to the point where you have one of the rulers of the Underworld… and the Goddess of Love herself vying for space beside you?"

Aphrodite flashed a confident smile.

Paimon crossed her arms, clearly proud—and a little territorial.

Vergil opened one eye.

Then the other.

A slow smile spread across his face.

"You've been very busy," he replied calmly. "Things happen."

Sepphirothy let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Clearly."

Vergil stretched slightly, completely ignoring any implied tension. Then he turned his face to her, his smile becoming more provocative.

"Relax," he said. "You're next."

The effect was immediate.

Sepphirothy froze for a split second.

Her face… flushed.

Just a little. But it was enough for Aphrodite's eyes to widen and Paimon to stifle a laugh.

"Vergil." Her tone was firm, but there was something different there. "Stop it."

He tilted his head. "It's not provocation."

"…Yes, it is."

"No," he insisted, too calmly. "It's a statement of fact."

Sepphirothy fell silent.

For a few seconds, she simply stared at him—like a mother, like an ancient entity, like someone who knew that man better than almost any other being in existence.

Then she looked away.

"…You remain impossible," she murmured.

She took a deep breath and resumed her professional posture, her presence once again expanding in the room.

"I didn't come here for that," she said. "Neberius and I will observe the tournament."

Vergil listened attentively.

"To ensure there's no cheating," she continued. "Or, at least, that it doesn't go unnoticed."

Aphrodite tilted her head. "Ambitious."

"Necessary," Sepphirothy replied. "The rules have already been bent too many times."

Vergil closed his eyes again, relaxing as if that information were just another irrelevant detail.

"I'm counting on you," he said. "But honestly…"

He gave a small smile.

"…it doesn't matter."

Sepphirothy stared at him.

"Oh?"

"If they cheat," Vergil continued calmly, "I'll break them anyway."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Then Sepphirothy smiled.

A small smile. Proud. Dangerous.

"You really are my son," she said, before turning to leave. "Don't take too long. The world loves to try to save itself when it realizes it's about to lose."

The door closed behind her.

Aphrodite let out a long sigh.

Paimon shook his head, chuckling softly.

"…Your mother is terrifying," Paimon commented.

Vergil merely murmured, almost asleep again: "You have no idea."