Chapter 20: Accepting My New Life

Clank!

Damian opened the door. The living room was dark. Silent. Only 8 p.m., and yet the house felt like a tomb. He tossed his briefcase and blazer onto the couch and moved straight to the bedroom.

Clank!

The bedroom door squeaked as it slowly swung open. Damian’s eyes immediately fell on the lonely figure under the white duvet.

Sigh.

He dropped the bottle of wine on the glass desk and crouched beside the bed.

“Babe, I got you flowers,” he said softly, his voice low and sweet.

The bed shifted. The sheets began to move, and soon Damian’s end popped up, revealing Hazel’s face, her eyes swollen and red. She glanced at the flowers, then at him, and without warning lunged forward, embracing him and knocking him over.

Oof!

Damian lay on the floor, saying nothing, while Hazel buried her face in his chest. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug, holding her close, staring at the ceiling.

“Is it really that dangerous?” he asked.

Hazel nodded slowly before speaking.

“Demigods cannot directly intervene in mortal problems. My sisters and I can only protect you against demigods and gods. That’s why I need to help you awaken your talents, at the very least. It will give you an edge over everything you might face.”

She came clean, painting the situation for Damian. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t argue, he simply listened.

Even with the system, even with the glaring changes occurring, he still hadn’t fully accepted his identity as the sin of lust. His life as Damian Hill, associate of the Blacksheep firm, still came first over anything that could potentially end his life.

He couldn’t blame her for taking drastic measures. He had ignored her warnings too many times. She was only doing what she could to prepare him for a threat he refused to acknowledge.

“All right. I’ll train all night with you from now on,” he said. “Just speak to me first before doing something like this next time. Okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered again. He simply nodded.

They lay on the floor, silent. No words, just the sound of each other’s breathing. Quiet. Peaceful. The kind of stillness a man could get lost in. Damian’s mind drifted. Hazel alone was hard enough, how could he handle all his other wives, the ones he had heard of but never seen?

She had promised cursed artifacts that could make him hundreds of millions, freeing him from work. His time would be entirely devoted to training, preparing for the underworld, vying for the demon lord’s seat against demons older and more cunning than he was, relying only on his wives.

This was his future.

’My life as Damian Hill the abandoned really ended when I pulled that trigger.’

A bitter smile bloomed. A sting in his chest. Even if that life had been shitty, even if it had been filled with pain, it had been his.

“What do I need to do to become the demon lord?” Damian asked for the first time.

Hazel lifted her head quickly, eyes wide with surprise. She wanted to make sure she hadn’t misheard him.

’Girls, our darling has finally become a man.’ Hazel’s heart shook with emotion.

She leaned in, planting a soft kiss on his forehead before sitting up. Raising a finger for emphasis, she said,

“There are three things you need to do. Train and awaken the complete inheritance of the sin of lust.”

Second finger.

“Start your church and gain devotees. Humans and gods coexist; they cannot live without each other. Gods feed off mortals’ fear and faith, without them, you cannot exist. You need a strong fanbase on Earth. As you awaken your inheritance, you’ll eventually connect with all your devotees scattered across the universe, accumulated by previous Sins of Lust. By then, your growth speed will soar exponentially. That’s why I always emphasize training.”

Third finger.

“The final step is to return to the underworld and vie for the support of the fifteen demon clans. Whoever gains the most support is elected the next demon lord.”

“Elected?” Damian cut her off. “You guys hold elections in hell?”

’Even hell has democracy? North Korea, what the hell are you doing?’

Hazel laughed at his bewildered expression.

“They don’t just elect. There are trials. The outcome of the election usually aligns with who wins the trials.”

Damian frowned. Confused.

“So why hold the election if the trial winner can just be appointed demon lord right away?”

“Because how you pass the trial matters. While the title usually goes to the winner, sometimes the process matters more than the outcome. Demon clans can back the loser. It’s complicated.”

She shrugged dismissively. Damian shook his head. Pulling her down until her face was inches from his, he said,

“You asked me to take this seriously, so I’m doing just that. If I want to survive and win, I need every detail. Understand, honey?”

Hazel nodded, eyes lingering on his lips. She hadn’t had him last night and nothing today. Desire burned through her, she wanted this over fast, to rip his clothes apart.

“It’s because the demon lord and supreme deity titles cannot be held by demons or angels. Mortals of different races are chosen at random and forced to compete. Since demons and angels cannot rule themselves, they need a ruler whose beliefs and mindset mirror theirs. So, most times, it’s not about strength alone.”

The linchpin. The piece that allowed Damian to grasp what it meant to be a prince of hell.

As he digested this, Hazel could no longer contain herself. She slithered up his body, reaching his neck, and planted a kiss that made him shiver. A wave of energy coursed through him. Like receiving water after a week in the scorching desert.

Hazel lifted her face to meet his gaze. Her eyes erupted in crimson light as crimson fox flames surged around them. These were no ordinary flames, they were strong, crimson, yet strangely transparent. Everything burning could still be seen.

Damian’s clothes turned to ashes under the flames, yet his body remained untouched. He watched as Hazel’s ears transformed into white and red fury ears, seven snow-white tails with crimson tips dancing behind her. She had told him she was a fox spirit, but he had never paid much attention. Now, seeing her fully, Damian didn’t feel fear. Maybe it was because he had seen a bigger fox in his dream, or maybe her new form only made her cuter, less intimidating.

“You’ll learn the details along the way. For now, focus on training,” she mumbled, between heavy breaths, eyes hungry, fixed on him.

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