Teleporting into this world always feels strange. The human body never quite sits right with me—I shiver every time I use this avatar.

“It’s near,” I mutter, scanning the surroundings. “If I’m not wrong… it should be in that restaurant.”

I follow the path, my steps steady, but before I can enter, someone dashes past me. Elysia. She doesn’t notice me, too focused on something—or someone—else. But I can guess the reason. Astaroth.

With a sigh, I step inside. And there he is, sitting at a table, looking far too comfortable.

“Oh, Azazel, you’re here,” he greets me with that infuriatingly smug smile. “Care for a game?”

I fold my arms. “You didn’t expect me to return to Hell early and find your doppelgänger so quickly, did you? It was almost too easy.”

Astaroth chuckles, swirling his drink lazily. “Doppelgänger? Please. I’m not stupid enough to create one. I simply… borrowed the body of a lesser demon and reshaped it to look like me.”

“So you admit it,” I say, raising a brow. “I thought you’d be more defensive.”

“I would be,” he shrugs, “but as I told you before, I can read your expressions. I can see you’re telling the truth. Lying to you now would be a waste of time.”

"Then you know there will be consequences."

"Consequences? For what? I didn’t do anything wrong."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. What are my charges?"

I have to handle this carefully. Piece by piece—I need to break it down, one step at a time.

I pull out a chair and sit next to him, resting my chin on my hand. “Why was Elysia running?”

Astaroth smirks. “Let’s just say… waiters here do more than just serve food.”

I sigh. “Of course. Let’s cut to the chase, then.” My voice drops, and I fix him with a sharp glare. “Astaroth, why are you doing this?”

He leans back, looking annoyingly unbothered. “You’re going to have to be more specific. That’s a broad question, and I doubt you’d understand my answer.”

I frown. “I’ll ask one more time, Astaroth. Why? Are. You. Doing. This?”

He hums, as if considering his words. “Well, what I did to Elysia was simple—I wanted you to return to Hell. If I messed with her, you would go back to hell thinking I would stop the attacks for you. And it worked.” He tilts his head. “Just… not in the way I expected.”

I narrow my eyes. “You make it sound so convincing that any other high-level demon would fall for it. Even a lie detector would struggle against you.” I lean in. “But I know that’s not the real reason.”

Astaroth’s smirk widens. “Then by all means, tell me the real reason, if you’re so sure.”

I scoff. “I don’t know the exact reason. But I do know one thing—you think I’m stupid enough to believe the nonsense you just said.”

Astaroth’s eyes glint with amusement. “Tch. Without proof, you can’t say I’m lying.”

I lean in, locking eyes with him. “The proof is that you can see it. You know I’m not making this up. I know. And you know.”

He tilts his head, pretending to be unimpressed. “Nope. My eyes only see one thing—you overreacting.”

I exhale sharply. “Then tell me, why did you want me to go back to Hell?”

“Obviously, because paperwork is boring,” he replies with a smirk.

I narrow my eyes. “Gotcha. If a demon has been handling your work for days, then you clearly don’t need me there.”

Astaroth chuckles, slow and deliberate. “Hahaha, oh Azazel… It’s not about whether I need you or whether another demon does. It’s about what Lord Lucifer assigned to you.”

I cross my arms. “Lord Lucifer tasked me with becoming a Demon Lord, not a glorified office slave drowning in paperwork.”

Astaroth shrugs. “Sadly for you, Lord Lucifer isn’t around for you to twist the definition to your liking.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re seriously testing my patience.” Then, with a sigh, I drop my hand. “Enough. Let’s go back to Hell.”

Astaroth gives me a lazy grin. “Yeah, sure.”

I raise an eyebrow. Too easy. I’ve met many demons, many creatures, but Astaroth remains unreadable. His lack of resistance feels… off. Did I win? Or is he just letting me think I won?

I watch him carefully, but he doesn’t object. Either he’s accepting his fate, or he knows something I don’t.

----------------------------------------

The moment we return, our true forms snap back into place. No more fragile human avatars—only raw demonic presence.

“You’re not allowed to return to Earth anymore,” I state firmly.

Astaroth yawns. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

I narrow my eyes. “And you’ll face punishment in the torture chambers for abandoning your duties.”

His smirk widens. “Ooooh, a spa session? Been a while since I had one of those. I wonder… will they finally use the destruction needles on my eyes? I do enjoy that tingling sensation when my nerves scream.”

I roll my eyes. "You're such a sadist."

Astaroth chuckles, tilting his head. "Sadist? No, no, you misunderstand me. Pain isn’t the thrill—I just appreciate life’s finer experiences. And let’s be honest, the same old torture routines get dull. Maybe I’ll suggest a creative twist—something like existential despair? A nice touch of soul-rending regret, perhaps? Now that would be a fresh experience.”

Without resistance, Astaroth is sent to the torture chambers, wearing a smirk like a man checking into a luxury resort.

"Now everything is solved."

Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

Days pass. Weeks.

And yet, something lingers. A question gnaws at the edges of my mind, a whisper I can’t silence. Why can’t I remember Earth?

I should have given up by now. Whatever past I had—it’s nothing but fog and shadows. But one name remains, a single thread in the void.

Elysia.

What does it mean? A place? A person? It sounds like a girl's name. Maybe I knew her. Maybe she was important.

I don’t even know why I care, but curiosity digs in like a blade.

So I turn to the magical TV.

Days go by as I watch, entranced by the mundane details of her life—every glance, every gesture, every moment she exists. I don’t know why, but she’s become the most captivating thing I’ve seen in decades.

----------------------------------------

The room reeks of anguish. Chains rattle against the stone as Astaroth is dragged before me—a shadow of his former self. His once-imposing frame is now reduced to a grotesque display of mutilation. Both arms are gone. A single, bloodshot eye stares back at me, its light dim and unrecognizable. His tongue hangs twisted and swollen, a mockery of speech. His teeth have been replaced with the roots of Devil Wimps—parasitic plants latched onto his nerves, draining his essence while ensuring he remains alive. The screams they coax aren’t just heard—they are felt. I sense every nerve in his body pulsating with agony.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“They’ve improved,” I mutter, though my voice carries a sharp edge of fury.

One of the overseers, a trembling wretch eager to please, chimes in, “Lord Astaroth gave us some tips before his capture.”

I clench my fists, my irritation boiling as the overseer scurries away, leaving me alone with what remains of him. Astaroth’s body hangs limply, twitching faintly.

I ignite a spark of magic, drawing out the remnants of his consciousness. “Speak.”

Nothing. His body refuses to respond.

A wizard enters, bowing briefly before inspecting him. “My lord, it seems he’s been infested by an Existential Worm.”

“An Existential Worm?” My patience wears thin.

“It’s a creature that burrows into the brain, feeding on memories of joy. It traps its victim in an endless loop, twisting their best moments into nightmares until their sanity shatters. Lord Astaroth is under attack both physically and existentially.”

The wizard extracts the squirming parasite, and Astaroth’s eye flutters open. I wield my magic, stripping him of every torture device embedded in his body. His arms regenerate, his tongue straightens, and the parasitic roots dissolve into smoke.

“Is he awake now?” I demand, determined to uncover the truth.

“Even you must admit,Astaroth. That was terrifying. Our best surgeons wield Lucifer’s cursed weapons, severing your limbs, ensuring you couldn’t regenerate.”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “But torture isn’t about pain, Azazel. It’s about time. The descent into madness through repetition. Surely even you have experienced it—perhaps through endless stacks of paperwork?” He chuckles, each word a calculated barb.

It takes every ounce of restraint to keep my rage from spilling over. The room trembles with my presence, but my voice remains calm. “No. I got bored, not mad.”

“Bored,” he echoes, dripping with condescension. “You really don’t understand real torture, do you?”

My gaze sharpens. “Torture is a skill I mastered long before you.”

Astaroth laughs, low and menacing. “Physical torture, perhaps. But true torment is about knowledge. You don’t just sever an arm and watch someone scream. No, you reattach their extremities in reverse order, forcing them to see their mutilated form in a 360-degree view for days. Then, when they’ve accepted their grotesque reality, you tell them where their daughter is, their wife, their family.”

He steps closer, his regenerated form exuding menace. “And when they beg—‘Do anything to me, but not them’—that’s when the true beauty of torment reveals itself. Sublime, Azazel.”

His words cut deep, each one vivid and cruel. Few dare to challenge me, let alone so casually. My blood simmers as my stance as a Demon Lord feels provoked in ways no declaration of war ever has.

“Your methods are barbaric,” I growl, “but don’t mistake cruelty for mastery. You’ve forgotten one thing, Astaroth.”

“And what’s that?” His smirk remains unshaken.

“Torture is an art—and I am its master.”

“Hah! I’m not here to argue about who’s better at it. So, what do you want from me this time?”

“Start talking. Who is Elysia?”

“Oh? So you remember Earth but not much of Hell. Why are you so fixated on this? Elysia is just a human—nothing extraordinary.”

“I don’t know, and that’s precisely why I need to know. Perhaps if you give me what I want, I’ll consider letting you out of the chambers.”

“Fine. Let’s start from the beginning. Do you recall why you went to Earth in the first place?”

“Yes, I went there to find love and… not much else. But what is clear is that I was searching for a girl called Hikōki.”

“Exactly. Elysia wasn’t part of your main plan to find love. She got in your way, disrupted everything, and now you want revenge.”

“Revenge? I don’t feel rage when I try to remember her.”

“That’s because it’s not about rage. It’s your pride. It won’t let you forget the humiliation. A mere human—a simple, insignificant girl—managed to make you act like a fool. And no wonder, Azazel. Avatars on Earth are only fragments of what we are.”

“You’re just trying to confuse me. I remember when I came to Hell, you were planning something.”

“I told you many times, it was just to separate you and Elysia since you might have killed her.”

“It’s hard to believe that.”

“Is it? The Demon Lord Azazel, who burns anyone who dares to laugh at him? Do you really think you would forgive that human?”

“What you’re saying is an exaggeration.”

“Then if it is, what’s it going to be? Return to Earth and let your pride pull you into her orbit again—or let go and admit she’s nothing more than a fleeting, foolish human?”

“She’s just a human.”

“Right. Now that I’ve answered your questions, can I roam free?”

“You’re not allowed to go to Earth. Remember that. And I want you here personally every couple of hours.”

“Hours? Then tell me to live in the throne room instead.”

“Just leave.”

Astaroth’s scheming lingers in my mind. Was it all just a plan to save Hell? Should I believe I was capable, even in my human avatar, of hurting or killing Elysia? But human avatars amplify emotions to match a human’s, making us more reckless and foolish. Did I truly change that much on Earth?

----------------------------------------

Two weeks had passed since I left Earth, and honestly? I feel better. At least, I think I do.

“Can you stop dumping your work on me?” my doppelganger grumbled, glaring at me with arms crossed.

“I would, but it’s better to share the load,” I reply with a shrug.

“You could’ve told Astaroth to take care of most of it instead.”

“He’s busy managing the Gates of Hell.”

“Sure, great job and all, but he could’ve created a doppelganger too. Or maybe, I don’t know, you could train someone to handle that job?”

“Wow, look at you, being all smart.”

“Well, I’m 80% of your knowledge, so of course I’m smarter,” he said smugly. “Besides, I spend my free time thinking about things deeply.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like why Astaroth remembers Earth and that girl—Elysia, wasn’t it?—and you don’t.”

I froze. “Wait. What? How do you know that? Are you reading my mind?”

“Not exactly. But while I sit on that throne, I can hear your mumbling loud and clear.” He leaned closer, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “So? Why do you think he remembers when you don’t?”

“I… I don’t know.”

He smirked. “You’ve been told it’s because you don’t care about those memories, right? So why would he care? Astaroth seems even less sentimental than you. Why would he remember Elysia, or Earth, more than you do?”

He has a point—a really annoying one.

“Anyway,” he says, waving dismissively, “if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to end my existence instead of drowning in your paperwork.”

Without waiting for my reply, he merged back into me. The process feels weird, like gaining someone else’s memories and insights in one go. With two sharp claps, I summoned my wizards.

“I want Astaroth here. Now.”

No one dared question me. The wizards immediately set to work, calling on every spell and incantation at their disposal. A few minutes later, Astaroth appeared.

“Oh great, now what, Demon Lord Azazel?” he drawl, his tone dripping with sarcasm. His smugness was practically radiating off him.

“You’ve been lying to me. To my face.” My voice was cold, but I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. “And honestly? You almost had me. Actually, you did have me. But I’ve had some… new perspective to think things over.”

“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “And what did your newfound enlightenment reveal?”

“Why can you remember Earth, but I can’t?”

For the first time, Astaroth looked genuinely thoughtful. He wasn’t impressed, but he wasn’t brushing me off either.

“Simple,” he said finally, shrugging as if it was obvious. “I care about Earth.”

I blinked. Then I laughed. It wasn’t just any laugh—it was the kind you can’t stop because it sounds so ridiculous yet somehow plausible.

“You? A demon? Care about Earth?”

“Yeah,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “That’s why I can remember. You can’t because you don’t care about humans or Earth the way I do.”

“That’s absurd,” I snap. “Demons don’t care about humans—or any living beings.”

“That’s what you think,” he says, his tone suddenly serious. “Or maybe that’s just what you want to believe. But let me clarify.” He leans forward, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I don’t care about humans themselves. I care about the crazy, stupid, insane things they do. Sometimes, I swear,sometimes It feels like they’re competing with demons to see who’s more twisted. It’s… entertaining.”

The way he says it—so blunt and casual—it’s almost convincing. Almost. But there’s something missing.

“Fine,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “That’s convenient.”

“It is,” he admits with a grin, placing his hand dramatically over where his heart would be. “But it’s the truth.”

My brain works in overdrive, piecing together arguments, searching for the cracks in his words. Astaroth is always confident, but confidence can be dismantled with the right logic.

“You’ve been spying on me, haven’t you?” I say, smirking.

“What?” Astaroth’s calm facade falters ever so slightly.

“You know about Elysia and me. In fact, you answered what happened between us. That means you were on Earth, somehow witnessing it all firsthand.” I lean closer, letting my words sink in. “But calling you a mere witness feels too small, doesn’t it? You’re more of a… puppet master.”

“Speculations.” His voice is sharp, but his confidence is returning. “You told me all of that on Earth yourself.”

“But there’s no proof of that, is there?” I shoot back.

“Then there’s no proof of your argument either, Azazel,” he counters with a smug grin.

I match his grin with one of my own. “Then, Astaroth, there’s no proof in anything you’ve been saying so far, either.”

He pauses for a moment, seemingly conceding. “You’re right, Azazel. Then we can’t do anything about it.”

“Yes, you’re right,” I say, my tone growing lighter, almost playful. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” he asks, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “There’s no way. You can’t prove me wrong, and I can’t prove things to you.”

“We bring the proof to us.”

“What?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“We’ll bring Elysia to Hell,” I say, my voice steady and unwavering.

There is a moment of silence before Astaroth bursts into laughter, loud and mocking. “Hahaha! Wait—what?”

His reaction is expected. But I don’t flinch, letting my words hang in the air like a challenge.

“Yes, let’s see who is telling the truth. If you think you’re not lying, then we’ll bring the main witness.”

“Wait, she’s a human,” he says, the mocking edge in his voice faltering. “You’d need a lot of paperwork. That goes against policy.”

“I’ll do it,” I reply without hesitation.

“Wait, but in Hell, she’ll die. Even if she can get in, her human body—”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll protect her.”

“You? Protect a human? Getting soft?”

“I care about humans,” I say, my smirk returning, “but only for my benefit—the same way you do.”