[The MC has finally encountered the Devil herself, and she seems to have taken an interest in him. Is this finally the beginning of this series’ love arc?]
[Will flowers bloom in a barren desert, and can the Devil melt the deadpan heart of a protagonist who seems oblivious to everything?]
“What the fuck… is she really the Devil?” Oliver stared at the floating narration hanging before him.
Most of the time the thing spewed complete nonsense, but there was one fact he couldn’t deny no matter how much it annoyed him — it had never actually lied.
As that thought settled, another question surfaced immediately.
“Wait… wasn’t the Devil supposed to be a guy? Since when did the Devil become a woman?”
That wasn’t even the biggest problem.
The real issue was that she had clearly taken an interest in him, and nothing good had ever come from becoming interesting to a supernatural being.
His brows gradually knitted together as he replayed her face in his mind.
The smile, the confidence, the way she toyed with every word she spoke…
it all felt strangely familiar, as though he had seen her years ago but couldn’t place where.
Then the answer struck him like a bolt of lightning.
“Fuck…! That’s the Devil from Bedazzled!”
He remembered the movie perfectly.
She never lied about what she offered, yet every wish ended in disaster because she twisted people’s desires against them.
It didn’t matter how carefully someone worded a wish — she’d always find a loophole and turn it into the exact opposite of what they wanted.
That was simply what she did.
“Of all the supernatural monsters in existence, I had to attract the most troublesome one.”
Oliver rubbed his temples.
The offer of seven wishes sounded tempting to anyone who didn’t know who she really was, but he knew better.
Even the most carefully worded wish imaginable, she’d still find a way to make them regret it.
She wasn’t a genie trying to grant happiness.
She was the Devil.
Ruining lives wasn’t a side effect of her bargains — it was the entire point.
He climbed out of bed and shook his head.
Beautiful or not, the Devil was still the Devil.
The smartest thing he could do was stay as far away from her as possible.
“Why is she even on Earth?”
The floating narration appeared again.
[Whoever told you this world contains only one story was mistaken. This world is an amalgamation of countless stories, so stay alert… and try to enjoy yourself.]
Oliver stared at the words for a long moment before letting out a tired sigh.
“I think whoever designed you specifically created you to torture me.”
Another line appeared immediately.
[You reap what you sow.]
Oliver blinked.
“What the heck is that supposed to mean?”
The narration didn’t respond.
After waiting several seconds in complete silence, he gave up.
His phone suddenly rang, breaking the quiet.
He glanced at the screen.
His manager.
“Oliver! Where are you? You’re late. Get to work.”
He slowly lowered the phone and released another exhausted sigh.
“…Me and my poor life.”
***
He arrived at the Weathervane and immediately got an earful for being late.
Once the lecture was over, he grabbed a cloth and began cleaning the tables.
A few minutes later, Tyler walked over.
“I heard from Jacob that you’re from Nevermore. You’re an outcast?”
“That fucking idiot. Couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut?” Oliver thought.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Don’t worry. I don’t have any prejudice against outcasts. I’m just happy to have another pair of hands helping with the work,” Tyler said with a friendly smile.
‘Yeah…
I, Oliver Lopez, want to nominate this guy for an Oscar,’ Oliver thought, looking at that sunny expression.
He wasn’t buying it for a second. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
He knew Tyler hated outcasts deep down.
The guy had been groomed and manipulated by Laurel Gates, so there was no way this cheerful attitude was completely genuine.
Whether Tyler realized it or not, Oliver couldn’t bring himself to trust him.
They returned to work, each focusing on their own tasks around the café.
“Well… I’m definitely on his future kill list. Luckily for me, I have thick skin.”
Inside Caliban Hall, in the room shared by Rowan and Xavier, Xavier stood beside Rowan’s bed with a large worn book in his hands.
The cover bore the emblem of the Nightshade Library.
The door opened.
Rowan stepped inside and immediately noticed the book.
“Why are you going through my things?”
Xavier held it up without looking intimidated.
“This belongs to the Nightshade Library. You’re not a member anymore, so why do you still have it?”
“I don’t care. Give it back.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Rowan raised his right hand.
An invisible force slammed into Xavier’s chest, blasting him backward.
Xavier crashed hard into the wall with a grunt and lost his grip on the book.
Rowan calmly walked over, picked it up, and held it against his chest.
“You’re crazy, Rowan,” Xavier said, pushing himself away from the wall and rubbing the spot.
Over the past few days, Rowan had been acting more and more erratic.
“Hmph.” Rowan clutched the book tightly and glared.
“I’m not crazy.”
“You attacked me over a book.”
“You had no right to touch my things.”
“It isn’t your book,” Xavier shot back.
“It belongs to the Nightshade Library, and you’re not even a member anymore.”
Rowan’s expression darkened.
“I said I don’t care.”