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It still creeps on my mind how Lucifer looked so smug when I asked for his permission to step into the human world. I had no choice. I don’t have the power to leave Devildom on my own, and I needed him to open the gates for me. God forbid, he’d asked me to beg – something that even my pride wouldn’t allow. If that was a part of his conditions, then, my dreams would just shatter before me, and I will never get this chance again. Not in a lifetime.
But surprisingly, he had asked me for another favor, that devil. It isn’t making me feel as dissonant as having to kneel before him, and yet it is still a heavy request just the same. No matter, all things come with a price, and this will be my debt to return.
I arrive in the human world on a rainy day. With a hand outstretched, I catch the raindrops on my palm; and that was when I saw the huge screen atop a building. As if a warm welcome lay in front of me, I watch the feature with delight. It’s a promotional video of my favorite crime drama, Mid-fall Murders, and my eyes gleam as they witness Inspector Adler with that signature pose. “Only one version of events is ever true.” I murmur, mimicking the detective, like always. It makes me chuckle to myself.
One more day, and I might be able to see it in person. I was lucky enough to participate in a raffle for a set visit. Levi had given me tips including the use of multiple devices and the right time, and the best internet browser to use. It was insane. It made me realize how hard the life of a fan must be.
These things are new to me. I consider myself quite a casual follower, but I knew that if I let this opportunity slip away, I would regret it. I was lucky enough to live in an era where media and literature are continuously evolving. There have been many stories, different characters portrayed by different people. But to me, the present day’s Inspector Adler is one of the best.
From the corner of the street, I enter a bar on Mammon’s recommendation. He tells me the drinks in the human world hardly knock a demon out, and tonight I have a thing to celebrate for, luckily without having to feel inebriated.
It’s a quaint bar tucked in an alleyway. Somehow quite the opposite of what I expected he would tell me. It’s exactly my tastes – slow jazz, cozy, people engaging in just enough chatter to keep their minds occupied.
I sit on the counter, ordering a glass of bourbon. “Gin martini, please.” A lady, almost out of breath climbs on a stool next to me.
The quiet atmosphere is a bit shaken by the sound of her unzipping her jacket.
“It’s quite a shower outside.” She turns to me, laughing a little.
I nod, sipping down the last drop of my drink.
“Would you like another one, Sir?” I push my glass towards the bartender, and he fills my glass once again.
The woman next to me exhales a sigh.
“You’re quite busy these days.”
“Yeah, there’s been a lot of things I had to attend to.”
The way their conversation is going, the lady seems to be a regular. I study her for sometime, and the way she speaks isn’t anywhere near familiar, but it’s definitely something I’ve heard somewhere.
“And what about you?”
“Me?”
“I haven’t seen you around here before.”
I lick my lips, relishing the taste of bourbon. I’ve been asked this question countless times, by witches, by demons. I’ve learned that this is the foundation of flirting, but I could be wrong. The woman doesn’t seem to provide any other cues that go with it. Perhaps she was just asking for a conversation.
“I’m a visitor. I live overseas.”
“Right? One look at you, I could tell.”
“Oh?”
The lady leans, cupping her chin.
“So what are you here for? The scenery?”
“No, actually, I’m here for a crime drama.”
“That’s one I’ve never heard.” The bartender chuckles, pouring another drink for his customer.
“So, you like detective stories?”
“I do.”
The woman smiles, and it makes me wonder where I’ve seen it.
“Then, how about you solve this one for me.”
I crack a smile, somewhat excited how this conversation turned out to be.
“An old woman was murdered at home on a Sunday. The police suspect the family living with her should be questioned. Here are there alibis: The head of the family, the old woman’s son says he was watching TV; his wife said she was cooking, their daughter was studying, their son was playing with the dogs in the garden; and their housemaid said she went out to get deliveries from the post office… …so, who do you think killed her?”
I lift my drink to give it a minute thought.
“Pretty easy.” I look at her with a smirk. “Who goes to the post office on a Sunday?”
“Aha, you’re good.” She leans back. “This is very elementary for you, I guess.”
I find myself enjoying answering her riddles, and even though she wasn’t as good as solving the ones I give her, it was a pretty fun time. She slaps a hand on her leg when she misses the clues, and she would lightly slam a fist on the countertop when I get them in less than a minute. Soon, we were both trying to suppress a burst of laughter.
“What’s your name?” She asks me, giggling.
I could tell that she was already somewhat flushed, and I cup my chin, just looking at her without saying anything. Just looking.
“You’re not gonna tell me?”
“Maybe I want you to guess.”
Never in my life had I sounded so flirty, but I have to stop before this could go somewhere difficult for me to return from.
“It’s late. I have to go.”
“What are you scribbling?”
“If you can figure this out, then you’ll be able to know my name.”
I leave some numbers on the napkin and say my goodbyes.
I feel her gaze on my back, but it disappears as the door closes behind me. Outside, I hold out my hand, just as I did before, feeling the raindrops on my fingertips. They’re cold and heavy, and won’t be stopping anytime soon…
…Almost as if it’s telling me to go back inside.