"Is everything to your satisfaction, Young Master?" The head butler stood at attention near the door, hands clasped behind his back.
"It'll do." I picked up one of the books, flipping through its pages before setting it back down. "You're dismissed. All of you."
The servants filed out silently. Only Ariel remained, straightening an already perfectly aligned stack of papers.
"You too, Ariel," I said, loosening my tie slightly. "I need this meeting to be private."
She paused, crimson eyes narrowing fractionally. "Lady Selene instructed me to remain in attendance."
"And I'm instructing you otherwise." I softened my tone. "Look, Mother's just being nosy. This is a theoretical discussion between potential allies, not a diplomatic summit."
"It's improper for you to be alone with Lady Astaroth," she countered, though I noticed her resolve weakening.
I laughed. "Since when do you care about proper?" I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Besides, after yesterday's bath, I'd think you'd understand my need for occasional privacy."
The flush that crept across her cheeks was worth the reminder. "As you wish." She bowed slightly. "I'll wait in the adjacent chamber in case you require anything."
"Perfect." I patted her shoulder. "And make sure no one disturbs us. Especially Mother."
Ariel nodded and departed, closing the heavy oak door behind her. Alone at last, I allowed my shoulders to relax slightly.
I moved to the window, gazing out at the gardens below. The Valac estate's grounds were beautiful in a stark, almost severe way—carefully cultivated shadow plants that thrived in the Underworld's perpetual twilight, their dark foliage occasionally highlighted by bursts of deep purple flowers.
I straightened my already impeccable attire—charcoal suit with a purple silk tie that matched my eyes—and moved away from the window. Better to appear casually engaged in research than eagerly awaiting her arrival.
I was examining a particularly interesting text on elemental affinity theory when a soft knock sounded at the door.
"Enter," I called, not looking up from the book.
The door opened, and Ariel's voice announced, "Lady Latia Astaroth of House Astaroth."
I glanced up as if just noticing their arrival. Latia stood in the doorway, and I nearly dropped the book.
She wore a dress the exact shade of my eyes—deep purple that shifted and caught the light as she moved. The cut was modest by devil standards but accentuated her figure perfectly. Her blonde hair cascaded over one shoulder, the distinctive blue tips seeming more vibrant than I remembered.
"Lady Astaroth," I said, setting the book aside. "Welcome to the Valac estate."
"Thank you for the invitation, Lord Valac," she replied.
"Ariel, you may go," I said, not taking my eyes off Latia.
I sensed rather than saw Ariel's hesitation. After a moment, she bowed and withdrew, closing the door behind her.
The moment we were alone, I crossed the room in three quick strides and embraced Latia, pulling her against me in a hug that was entirely improper by devil standards.
"Thank you for coming," I said quietly, genuine gratitude in my voice.
Her face came only to my chest, and I felt her stiffen in surprise. For a moment, I thought I'd miscalculated badly—but then, slowly, her arms reached around me, returning the embrace with hesitant pressure.
"You're welcome," she murmured against my jacket, sounding slightly bewildered.
I released her and stepped back, grinning at the faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Sorry about that. But I had to do something to break us out of the formal devil nobility script."
"That was... unexpected," she said, smoothing her dress though it needed no adjustment. "Though effective, I suppose."
"Excellent choice of dress, by the way," I added, gesturing to the matching color. "Coordinating with my eyes—either a remarkable coincidence or you pay closer attention than you admit."
The blush deepened slightly. "A coincidence, I assure you. Purple simply happens to complement my coloring."
"Of course." I winked, enjoying her discomfort. "Tea? Or something stronger?"
"Tea is fine." She moved toward the sitting area, her composure returning. "Though I'm curious about your unusual greeting."
I poured two cups of tea from the service, adding a single sugar to hers without asking—I'd noticed her preference at our dinner. "I spent the morning reviewing the theoretical basis for your energy conversion project. After four hours of dense magical equations, I needed physical contact to remember I'm not just a brain in a jar."
This drew a small laugh from her. "A feeling I understand all too well." She accepted the teacup, our fingers brushing briefly. "Though most people don't express it quite so... physically."
"I'm not most people." I sat across from her, leaving a respectable distance between us. "And neither are you, which is why we're here."
Her eyes—more turquoise than emerald in this light—studied me over the rim of her cup. "Indeed. Your insights on shadow energy conversion could be extremely valuable to my research."
"And your formula manipulation expertise might help with my elemental affinity issues." I leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "Shall we start with your problem or mine?"
"Ladies first?" She raised an eyebrow.
I grinned. "Exactly."
She set down her teacup and reached into a small bag I hadn't noticed before. From it, she withdrew several sheets of paper covered in complex magical formulas. Even upside down, I could appreciate the elegant precision of her work.
"The core issue," she began, spreading the papers on the table between us, "is that ambient energy conversion requires a stable matrix that doesn't collapse under pressure variations."
I leaned forward, genuinely interested. "And traditional matrices can't handle the fluctuation rates?"
"Precisely." Her eyes lit up, the blue tips of her hair shimmering slightly with magical energy. "Even with reinforced boundary conditions, the conversion efficiency drops below 40% when ambient pressure exceeds standard deviation."
For the next hour, we lost ourselves in theoretical discussions. I explained how shadow manipulation essentially converted ambient darkness into usable magical energy, while she detailed her innovative approach to formula stabilization. The conversation flowed naturally, each of us building on the other's ideas without the posturing or deliberate obscuration common in devil academic circles.
"The key," I said, sketching a diagram on one of her papers, "is that shadows aren't absence—they're presence. A different form of energy that exists in the spaces between conventional light."
Her eyes widened slightly. "That's it! If I reconfigure the matrix to treat ambient energy as present rather than absent..." Her hand moved quickly, modifying equations with remarkable speed and precision. "The conversion could potentially double."
"At least," I agreed, pointing to another section of her formula. "And if you incorporate this oscillation pattern, you might even stabilize the peripheral degradation."
She stared at me for a moment, then laughed—a full, unreserved sound that transformed her face from merely beautiful to radiant. "You know, most devils would guard such family techniques zealously."
I shrugged. "Knowledge improves through sharing, not hoarding."
"A refreshingly progressive view for someone from one of the 72 Pillars."
"Don't tell my father. He'd disown me for such heresy."
This drew another laugh from her. We continued working, gradually moving from her project to my elemental affinity issues. I explained my difficulties with consistent manifestation of non-shadow elements despite theoretical understanding.
"Show me," she said, setting aside the papers.
I stood and demonstrated my newest technique—Needle Rain. The water needles formed properly but lacked the sharpness I'd hoped to achieve.
Latia observed carefully, her fan appearing in her hand as she tapped it thoughtfully against her palm. "Your formula structure is sound, but the elemental binding is unstable."
"Meaning?"
"You're trying to force water to behave like shadow." She rose gracefully, moving to stand beside me. "May I?"
I nodded, curious.
She placed her hand on my arm. "Water responds to flow, not command. You're using shadow manipulation principles—direct control through will—but water requires guidance through suggestion."
Her touch lingered as she demonstrated the correct gestural adjustment. The proximity was intoxicating—her subtle perfume mixing with the natural scent of her skin, the warmth of her body radiating through the thin fabric of her dress.
"Try again," she instructed, finally stepping back. "But think of directing a current rather than constructing a form."
I followed her advice, adjusting my approach. The water needles formed more naturally, moving with fluid grace rather than rigid precision. The improvement was immediately apparent.
"That's remarkable," I admitted, genuinely impressed. "One simple conceptual shift."
"Most magical barriers are mental, not technical." She smiled, closing her fan with a snap. "You understand the theory perfectly—you were simply approaching it from a shadow practitioner's perspective."
We continued experimenting with various elemental applications, each success bringing us physically closer. What had begun as proper academic distance gradually dissolved until we were standing side by side at the desk, shoulders touching as we leaned over the same page.
"Your handwriting is atrocious," she commented, pointing to my notations.
"A deliberate choice. Makes it harder for others to steal my ideas."
"Is that why you dot your i's with little skulls?"
"No, that's just because I'm secretly twelve years old at heart."
She laughed again, the sound becoming more frequent as the afternoon progressed.
As evening approached, we'd made significant progress on both projects. Latia had a workable solution for her energy conversion matrix, and I'd gained valuable insights into elemental manipulation beyond shadow.
"This has been unexpectedly productive," she said, gathering her papers.
"And surprisingly enjoyable," I added. "Most academic collaborations don't involve actual laughter."
"Most academic collaborations don't involve you, I imagine." Her eyes met mine, a hint of mischief in their depths.
"True. I tend to ruin the stuffy atmosphere."
A comfortable silence fell between us as we organized the materials.
"It's getting late," she observed, though she made no move toward the door.
"We could continue this discussion over dinner," I suggested. "Or..."
Her eyebrow raised. "Or?"
A slow smile spread across my face. "Or we could play a game."
"A game?" She looked intrigued despite herself. "What kind of game?"
"Something to test our mental acuity after hours of theoretical work." I moved to a cabinet in the corner, retrieving an ornate box. "Chess is too predictable, cards too simple. This, however..."
I opened the box, revealing an ancient devil game called Shadows and Souls—a strategic challenge similar but far more complex than human chess.
"I haven't played that in a while," she said, eyes lighting with interest.
"Few have the patience for it anymore." I began setting up the pieces on the board. "Care to remind yourself of the rules... or shall I remind you when you make illegal moves?"
She snapped her fan open, eyes narrowing playfully above it. "Bold of you to assume I'll be the one making mistakes, Dante."
She took the seat opposite me, smoothing her purple dress—my purple—as she leaned forward to study the board. "I should warn you, my uncle insisted I learn this game properly. I haven't lost ever against someone my age."
I grinned, arranging the final pieces. "That streak ends tonight."
Our eyes met across the board, challenge and something deeper passing between us.
"Your move first," I offered. "Ladies' privilege."
Her fingers hovered over the pieces. "You might regret such chivalry."
"I regret very little, Latia." I leaned forward, dropping my voice slightly. "And I doubt this will be among those rare instances."