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Kalego heard his doorbell bark, the sound echoing out into deep, intimidating reverberations. He took a deep breath, relishing his last few moments of solitude and bracing himself for what was about to come.
He flew through the house, brisk but refusing to hurry. He wasn’t going to be slow, but he also wasn’t going to rush and make it look like he was disheveled, giving the impression of the weakness of panic.
For one, he wasn’t panicked, and two, he refused be weak as a general rule but would absolutely not survive any iota of weakness – true or not – for what he was about to be put through.
He reached the front hall and touched down, tucking his wings in as he schooled his face into blank disdain, the sort of thing that wasn’t annoyed, but intimidated people into knowing that they could very easily make him annoyed and fear that outcome.
Well, not that the person he was going to have to deal with behind the door had ever seemed properly intimidated or fearful of him, much to Kalego’s chagrin. No, the demon behind his front door, that he had no choice but to answer, was not the sort to change behavior just because Kalego wouldn’t like it.
Kalego paused as he grabbed the door’s handle, having to smooth his face back out from where it had scrunched up in annoyance already.
He opened the door, bracing himself one last time, determined that someway, somehow, today would not be an execution for him. He’d find some way to come out on top, no matter what.
“Sensei!” a bright, youthful voice greeted him as he opened the door, accompanied by bright blue hair and a brightly smiling face, hair-antenna-thing that Kalego still wasn’t convinced wasn’t a very weird horn bouncing along with the child.
Kalego could feel the left side of his face twitch, trying to scrunch up into reflexive, wary annoyance already.
He made himself keep his face blank, instead looking around suspiciously. There was no way, after all, that his former schoolmate would miss a chance-
“Opera already went back,” his student said.
“Ah,” Kalego said, trying to quickly rewire his brain at that, “is that so?”
“Yep,” Iruma said with another bright smile.
Opera had to be planning something. Or the chairdemon. He’d keep his guard up.
Sullivan had insisted, as the semester marched on towards finals, that the students of the misfit class spend a day with a teacher, to try to get them more attached to the school, which would hopefully make them take their studies more seriously, to have at least one teacher they had a good relationship with.
Kalego had hated every moment of that meeting, especially since everything the chairdemon had said had half made sense.
It would be good to have a tighter leash on the misfit students to continue the faculty’s struggles to reign them in so they could properly learn at Babyls. And this unorthodox, more intense approach had a good chance of working where all the traditional methods had failed the misfit class.
He’d had to take Iruma in the end, though, the chairdemon not allowing him to not participate, and the only other options he could give himself while still prioritizing the students’ growth were worse.
It wasn’t exactly as if he disliked Iruma himself, anyways, not anymore than he disliked brats his age by default. But the child just had an incorrigible magnetism for the types of demons and situations that Kalego did actively dislike.
Case in point, the chairdemon and butler that were surely going to try to ruin this day more than it already had been, that he had to be prepared for. And then one of the boy’s classmates would probably find a way to drag the teacher they were with to interrupt as well.
Which was why he had prepared as much as possible, Kalego reminded himself as he grabbed his student by the collar and dragged him into the house, taking the Opera-less opportunity while it lasted. He slammed the door shut, quickly activating the security systems, pumping a bit of magic into them to turn on the extra features he’d added just for today.
Some of the other teachers, he knew, had decided to design a day around entertaining their students, cajoling them into thinking of them fondly so the students would be more interested in school. Some were going the opposite way, designing a day to get into the students’ heads and instill a fearful respect for their schooling through the teacher.
Kalego, on the other hand, was allowing himself to be extra petty, and – besides the extra measures to ensure things were as close to his plan as possible – was going to refuse to do anything out of the ordinary. Iruma would just be an extra, annoyingly childish sounding addition to his plans for Saturday.
It wasn’t like this student really needed extra encouragement to take school seriously, after all. He goofed around with his friends frequently, sure, but he was always on time and paying attention in lectures, struggling to keep up but determined to try. Iruma enjoyed his time at school and – wicked phase nonsense aside – didn’t chafe at the institution. He was already attached to and content enough with his school life that Kalego was almost certain that he’d continue trying to be as good of a student as possible and respond to the normal pressure of finals.
And if he didn’t, then there would be something else that needed special attention, not more attachment to Babyls, clearly.
“Um, Naberius-sensei?” said student addressed him.
He was still holding onto Iruma’s collar, he realized.
And, despite the vulnerable position, he hadn’t struggled even a bit. It was one of the few things that actually irked him about his student, the way Iruma just went along with most things so passively. It didn’t horrify him, given how Iruma had proved willing to take determined action when the incidents around him got serious, but most of the time when he had been summoned, it was because someone had told Iruma to put a hand on a summoning seal, or had grabbed his hand and manipulated it themselves. Iruma was, to anything but direct malice, passive to the point where it wasn’t even that he was malleable, it was like the boy didn’t have an ego outside of his survival instincts.
Still, Kalego was a proper demon, even if his eventual plans for Iruma involved making sure the boy grew into someone with boundaries, he wasn’t above using the passiveness for his own convenience today.
He let go of the boy’s collar and grabbed him around the waist within the next second, tugging his student up under his arm.
Iruma still didn’t struggle, just shifted a little and tensed, prepared to be carried off to wherever.
Kalego wondered, as he took off, if he would respond as well to Shichiro, who had yet to find a student he could resist skinship with.
He flew them quickly to his study, not wanting to give the brat a chance to wander around his house.
He pushed Iruma into the room, towards the couch, and locked the door behind them.
Iruma sat down on the couch gingerly, glancing at it a few times as though to make sure it wouldn’t bite him.
Given a few incidents with Opera-enchanted chairs during his school years, Kalego couldn’t blame or even tease him for the unnecessary caution.
“So, um, what are we doing today, sensei?” the child asked as he walked over to his desk.
Most of the teachers had given some indication of what was to come on their day of student-teacher bonding. Either an itinerary, or orders to bring equipment that would mean they could last through the day with the teacher’s more diabolical plans. Kalego had just told his student to show up at his house in the morning.
“For now, I’m going to grade. If you need something to do, you can pick a book from those shelves,” Kalego said, gesturing at the two shelves without any academic files or erotica, already turning his eyes down to his papers.
He heard Iruma stand and shuffle towards the shelves half a minute later.
And then, somehow, over the next while, he managed to forget that Iruma was in the room with him.
It was only the quiet sniffles two hours later that reminded him he had company, and made him realize that at some point he had begun identifying Iruma’s presence mainly by hearing Alice and Clara fussing over and for Iruma, or by following the sound of rambunctious trouble.
Kalego looked up to see Iruma crying, of all things, over the book he’d chosen.
He let out a surprised noise, calling out Iruma’s name before cutting himself off. He didn’t know what to tell the boy right now, and he didn’t know if he even wanted to engage with the child. It wasn’t like the book could actually hurt him, if he’d come across Iruma on the ground crying like this then sure, he’d help the kid, but he knew all that had happened to his student for the past while was reading the book, safely, right near him.
“Sensei!” Iruma sobbed, tears coming down his face even fiercer, as though he was auditioning to play a rip-off Lady Vepar in a soap opera.
“Sensei, Lady Beckereal! It’s so sad! She had to kill her husband to protect- and he had done so much to them already- and then- and then the dowager still thinks she’s weak and at fault!” Iruma sobbed out.
That’s what had the kid crying? Kalego recognized the book even from this distance, Miasmas at Malefeint Manor. He would have expected Iruma to perhaps get scared at the near-wing dismemberment a few chapters ago, perhaps, he’d heard of demons crying over that. But at the point Iruma was in the story, either demons were aware of the genre tropes and getting excited, or they were idiots and agreeing with the dowager or dead husband to some degree. The latter were usually teenage boys, unfortunately, and an unfortunate subset of adult males.
But no one cried at the murder reveal, let alone in… sympathy, he supposed it was, for Lady Beckereal.
Except, apparently, the student he was in charge of for the day.
“Just… keep reading,” he said after a few moments, rubbing a hand over his face, “there’s more chapters after that one for a reason.”
He glanced through his fingers to see Iruma stop sobbing, tears finishing running down his face. The kid’s face was still wet even as he sniffled, nodded, and looked back down at the pages, face determined.
Now if only Kalego could guarantee the kid would be that determined for finals.
Kalego went back to grading, wearily marking a seven on Iruma’s medicine assignment. He looked back over the paper for a moment before putting a mark next to a few answers, where Iruma had noticed a string of logic, and corrected the wrong assumption. If Iruma had figured out how acids reacted with verbal spells correctly instead, he would have gotten over ten on an assignment for the first time.
He finished up that assignment and looked over to see Iruma was nibbling at a nail as he read, intensely focused expression on his face. Kalego quickly ran through his memories to check and make sure this student didn’t have any prominent fangs.
No first aid should be needed, then.
Still, it was a little past noon.
He stood, his spine popping as he did so. Iruma looked up from the book, apparently still aware of his surroundings, looking up at him with wide, waiting eyes.
“Can you cook at all?” he asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Who knew what the Sullivan household’s attitude towards cooking was, after all.
Iruma flinched, a small gesture, before reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Ah ha ha, well, I can cook. But Opera says it doesn’t really count. I can at least cut things up and boil them so they’re safe to eat though!” Iruma insisted.
He did know that Opera was skilled at all things domestic, including cooking. It sounded like the brat could make anything into a stew and that was the only cooking method he knew though.
Which was weird, but there was a reason the kid in front of him was in the misfit class.
“You can at least chop, then,” Kalego decided, nodding his head to the door before walking towards it, a silent order for Iruma to follow.
Iruma did follow along to the door, steps a little hurried as the kid tried to keep up with his longer strides.
At least Iruma could indeed handle a knife in a kitchen setting. It wasn’t the fastest, or neatest, but when Kalego moved to the other counter for the ingredients he’d ordered Iruma to cut, they were almost always ready in about the right size.
The way the kid watched him actually cook the somewhat simple dish with wide-eyed, bushy-tailed wonder made Kalego uncomfortably relieved and assured by his choice to not let Iruma cook. If this was wondrous to the brat, he really didn’t want to see what Iruma considered cooking.
He served two plates and strode into the small dining room next to the kitchen, sitting at the small table in the shaded seat, making the kid sit in the chair that the sun actually shone on at this part of the year.
As expected, his student didn’t seem to mind, clearly not one of the more light-sensitive or nocturnally inclined demons, or even just a grump who preferred the dark and dim like him.
Kalego still didn’t really know what type of demon Iruma was, actually. He’d put the demon in the same category of “annoying anomaly” as the chairdemon. Well, given the relationship between the two, that was probably accurate, it should be fine to just leave the mystery of the Sullivan clan to the Sullivans.
“Um, sensei?”
The voice actually startled him a little, internally. He hadn’t really realized how quiet his student had been, how much noise had been missing.
Iruma was nowhere as loud as the people and trouble around him, sure, but the kid wasn’t what Kalego would count as quiet either.
“What?” he asked, sparing a bit of magic to draw the silverware over from the cabinet to the table.
“Do you always spend your weekends grading?” Iruma asked him, holding his gaze steady even while grabbing the silverware and starting to eat.
“Not always, but there’s usually an assignment or two left over,” he answered evenly, wondering what Iruma was angling for.
“I’m sorry,” Iruma apologized, far too easily.
Kalego could feel something inside him bristle at the words, wary at how inappropriately seriously the kid was taking things again.
“We really shouldn’t be taking up more of the teachers’ time. You all already put so much into teaching us, I’m sure you wanted to spend your day actually working so you could have the rest of the weekend-”
Ah, that’s right. Iruma was actually considerate of others, even without them being family or so called “friends”. Often to the point of overwriting concern for himself, especially given his general lack of spine, but he was considerate besides that.
It had made, awfully enough, being the kid’s familiar somewhat bearable, even though he probably would have preferred a real brat to get angry and adversarial at.
“You’re right, we shouldn’t be wasting our time with this,” he said, cutting of the nervous stream of words his student was still spilling, “you, amongst all your classmates, certainly don’t need this.”
But the damn chairdemon had ordered it, which meant this was supposed to be some new torture designed to spoil the man’s grandson. Somehow. Kalego was unfortunately certain that the man would reveal what he wanted out of the day at some point, in his usual brash, overbearing manner.
“Eh?” Iruma said, clearly not sure how to respond to his words.
Kalego glanced at the boy across from him – mildly noting the already empty plate despite it having twice as much food as his own – and took a moment to deliberate just how much he was going to bother to explain.
“What do you think of Babyls?” he asked.
“Um, Babyls is… it’s school? It’s where my friends and my classmates and my teachers are. It can be scary at times, but it’s fun. I- I’ve really liked going to Babyls, and I’m excited to keep going there,” Iruma answered.
A disgustingly cute, ideal answer.
“There you go. The chairdemon – unfortunately reasonably – identified lack of attachment to the school as a problem for the misfit class at large. Misfit classes do see the largest amount of student drop outs due to lack of motivation for school. We’re supposed to give you all another anchor to help navigate the school, a connection to make you feel better about coming to school,” Kalego explained, grumbling.
“I mean… I don’t think I’m really “attached” to the school? I like going and all, but school pride isn’t… if grandpa had sent me to a different school I think I’d enjoy that one too? Or at least if I had met Clara and Azz, or people like them…” Iruma mumbled out in a stream.
Kalego sighed. Sometimes Iruma really had zero self-awareness, in the oddest of ways.
“You do remember that time you threw yourself out a window dozens of meters up, and purposely used all of your magic, just to gamble on whether or not you could save the school, don’t you?”
“Well, yes. But Kirio-senpai was… that…” that was also self-preservation and refusal to let go of the small ambition of making an impression at the festival, yes, that was true.
“What if your friends tried to destroy the school?” that had the boy perking up in concern. “If Clara was going through a rough time and decided the solution was to destroy the school in the middle of the day, if Alice made himself enter the wicked phase so he could burn the whole thing to ashes, would you just stand by and let your friends do that?”
“No!” Iruma answered immediately, despite how much Kalego knew he deferred to his so called "friends."
“Why not? What would you do instead?”
“Um… I’d try to talk to them, I guess? They’re not the types to do that, you know? There would have to be a reason. So I’d try to convince them not to, that we could find something else to solve the issue. Maybe I’d have to get in their way for a bit to talk to them long enough. But they’re not the sort of people to do that, sensei, I swear!”
Although Iruma was right that those two wouldn’t try to destroy the school on purpose without something else going terribly wrong, Kalego knew that Iruma’s knowledge of that came wrapped in far too much sentimental optimism for his tastes. But still-
“And that’s why you don’t actually need to do this,” he said, finally going back to his meal, “unlike most misfits, you already have a deep belief that Babyls is a worthwhile place, and that you, as a student, are supposed to be there as a student.”
Iruma looked up a little, thoughtful and confused. Kalego left him to it. If the kid was going to puzzle over his nature quietly, then Kalego was more than happy to enjoy the silence and have a quiet meal.
The meal ended peacefully, a nice contrast compared to the few scenes he hadn’t managed to avoid in the cafeteria this year.
He grabbed the dishes and sent them to the sink to be cleaned with a flick of magic. There was an unsurprising soft patter of feet that followed him as he walked back through the main hallway.
That… might actually need to be worked on. First impressions were very important for demons to establish the social order, and if someone heard you walking before they saw you, your steps were that important impression. Meek steps weren’t good for demons. Most demons who managed to graduate from Babyls either walked with proud, intimidating, confident noise, some sort of seductive or nervously enticing sound, or went the stealth route so that they couldn’t be noticed just from steps.
Most students picked it up naturally as they grew into fine demons. But Iruma was a stubbornly unusually kind child, who already walked with fairly truthful, representative steps. It would be a pain for him in the likely event he graduated like that. Kalego would have to make sure to check in and talk with the kid’s teacher a few years from now.
“Um, sensei?” Iruma asked as he led them out to the back patio, which overlooked a small rocky lawn before dropping off into the ravine.
“Just pick a chair, or the ground, I don’t care. I just need to do some work,” Kalego said, waving his hand to the side where the patio table was as he turned to face the yard.
Iruma hurried over to one of the chairs with admittedly impressive speed, sitting straight and proper and watching him with keen eyes.
“Cerberion.”
His magic rushed through and out of him in familiar fierce animosity, taking form into the three headed, electrically golden dog that was as much him as the blood in his veins.
“E-eh?!”
Kalego could hear Iruma smack his own mouth as he covered it, clearly trying to hide his surprise.
“Just because a demon isn’t a student anymore, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t practice or improve their skills,” he said, making sure to throw a devilishly satisfied smirk to the side, meeting Iruma’s wide, awe-filled eyes.
He directed Cerberion to the other side of lawn. His manifestation followed his orders smoothly, flames lighting against the rocks in a trail that quickly burnt itself out, Cerberion stopping at the end of the lawn with easy precision.
Next, to control output.
The possessed manifestation of his magic was a fearsome thing, made as a weapon and perfectly suited for a guard dog’s role, which meant more intimidation than anything. But that didn’t mean there was no situation that would call for some degree of stealth.
He took in breaths, calming himself, and then calming his external magic. The metaphysical connection between them meant that it was easy, if a delicate thing, to take back a bit of magic, leaving enough for Cerberion to still have form, but no longer an oppressive presence through sheer power alone.
From there, his magic could actually hide itself, cannibalize a little energy to cover the rest up.
It wasn’t enough to actually make Cerberion invisible or completely undetectable, he wasn’t a Purson, after all. But it was enough that it was hard to notice the manifestation unless you were looking for it, enough that Cerberion could sneak up on an intruder if needed.
Getting this skill, and then being to properly apply it, had been what had tipped him over to being a rank 7 demon though, with how fearsome the ability was.
He caught sight of Iruma squinting out of the corner of his eye, clearly trying to keep a watch on Cerberion, even though it was magically hard now. The boy apparently had better observation skills than expected, he’d have to make a note of it.
Kalego went back to focusing on his practice.
Cerberion followed his orders with ease of years of discipline, stalking around the lawn before diving into the ravine.
It was always exhilarating, to really stretch out his magic like this, connect so fully to the dog spirit melded into him, that was truly a part of him after all this time. He could feel it, a creature of pure magic, pound its claws against the rock and dirt, something so physical, and move the tangible world around it. He’d tried to describe the sensation to Shichirou once, but it hadn’t really worked, for all his friend had tried to understand, only capable of intellectual understanding instead of really getting the truth of it.
He had his magic run itself into settling, darting through the ravine with the power it took to carefully only destroy what he ordered.
When the edge was off, he called his magic back to him, letting his dog fade into rest again, the bits of magic making their way back to him lazily, undetectable.
The sound of soft applause behind him made him stiffen.
Iruma. He’d forgotten Iruma was there, barely a handful of meters away. Within striking distance for any decent demon.
He knew that Iruma couldn’t seriously harm him, even with a sneak attack, he’d win any battle blinded and with both hands tied at this point. But he wasn’t the sort of demon to let his guard down, he wasn’t that weak and pathetic. He was always aware of every demon at his back, vigilant of them.
He shouldn’t have been able to forget about Iruma, no matter how big the absence of malice or danger was.
He turned around to see his student indeed applauding him, wide eyed expression serious in its appreciation.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he did his best to reign in his shocked, instinctual anger response.
Iruma froze this time, hands stopping a few centimeters before the next clap.
Kalego let out a sigh before turning around and walking back into the house. “Follow,” he ordered simply.
Well, he supposed he could have left Iruma there. It wouldn’t be awful if his student stayed away from him, left him alone on his weekend. But he also didn’t exactly want Iruma of all students out of range of his senses.
Which just made his earlier slip up annoy him again.
Still, he heard the soft steps follow him once more into the house, back to the study.
“Um, sensei?” Iruma asked as they entered the same room from the morning.
“You can blame your grandfather for ordering these visits on the weekend I have eight assignments to grade. I need the afternoon to finish grading,” he explained as he walked to his desk, not bothering to turn around.
“You… work hard, don’t you, sensei?” Iruma asked, watching him, slightly wide-eyed.
“Of course. It’s my job,” Kalego answered gruffly as he sat back at the desk.
He grabbed his pen and settled back to work, looking down at the papers with his customary glare. He ignored the feeling of eyes on him as Iruma continued to watch him.
About ten minutes later, he heard movement and glanced up subtly to see Iruma rushing back to the bookshelf and pulling out the thematic sequel to the book he had apparently finished.
Kalego looked back at his work but paid attention as Iruma went back to the couch and settled down, opening the new book.
The brat of a student continued to be excited as he devoured the new pages quietly, a surprising contrast to the casually chaotic and therefore noise-making behavior Kalego usually saw him engaged with.
Then again, for once, there weren’t any other young demons around for Iruma to accidentally step on their toes or for them to try to use Iruma for “fun”.
Well, he wasn’t the sort of idiotic demon that looked a gift summon in the mouth. He would take as much advantage of the surprisingly good behavior as he could.
Before Kalego knew it, he’d finished the rest of the grading he’d set up for this weekend.
He subtly glanced at the clock beside him. There were still two hours until they should leave for the appointment he’d set up.
He looked between the clock, the student on his couch, and the book at the end of his desk a few times while he thought through outcomes, before finally grabbing the book and sweeping himself over to the couch.
Iruma stiffened like a baby hellhare as he approached and sat down. Kalego noted the appropriate reaction with the usual satisfied internal preening for a rank 8 demon getting reaffirmed that they carried themselves with the right amount of power, and then decidedly opened his book and began reading without comment.
Xanthochromatic Xerceas at Xanadu wasn’t quite distracting enough for Kalego to not notice Iruma staring at him for a few minutes, but it was interesting enough for him to not care.
Homuzu was very good at setting up multiple mysteries in one story, so you had to actually work to figure out which clues led up to the main mystery’s solution and which led to the smaller, but still solvable mysteries. And the titles themselves were always cleverly picked as well. They were always a clue, but never in the obvious way. If you took the first obvious meaning for them, it would almost always be a red herring.
Clearly the key wasn’t going to be the family fortune’s inheritance riddle, so closely and overtly tied with yellow. Kalego was pretty sure that it would have to do either with the cook’s food-color theory experiments or the geode. But the characters were more focused on gathering financial gossip at the moment than investigating anything related to those two possibilities, so he couldn’t tell yet.
He heard the gears of the clock on his desk shift, friction building.
He was already throwing a small burst of magic as the bat-alarm popped out and started shrieking, silencing it within a second.
The student next to him still jumped at the sound.
Kalego let out a small growly grunt. Iruma had displaced the couch cushions from their previous comfy stillness with the small move. They’d been so nicely settled too, Kalego had actually been enjoying his book, even though he almost never managed that around other people who weren’t Shichirou.
He stopped himself at that thought.
Of every demon out there, Iruma – while not the last – was certainly no where near the first of demons he’d ever thought he could be comfortable near. To actually enjoy silence in proximity with him.
But Iruma was passive in many ways, content to go along with however the people around him dragged him around unless they antagonized him. Kalego hadn’t really thought about what that meant in the novel event of someone dragging him into sedate quiet.
Perhaps the young demon was closer to a chameleon cynother pup than he thought.
Perhaps this was how he’d managed to already gather power as a leader, controlling the misfit class and influencing much of the first year cohort whenever he tried.
Kalego made a note to keep observing to see if the quality could be honed into a proper skill for the young demon as he stood.
“Come. We have an appointment at Moirain’s in an hour,” he said as he put his book on his desk and strode out of the room. He heard the pattering footsteps follow him in an obedient hurry.
“Moirain’s?” his student asked as the young demon caught up to him.
“Clothes. Proper clothes,” Kalego explained. There was no need to expand, when the brat would see soon.
“Eh?!” Or maybe the brat would be too impatient. “I thought I didn’t need to bring anything today. Sorry, sensei!”
A proper demon shouldn’t apologize that readily without any seriously overwhelming intimidation. Just how much had the chairdemon coddled his grandson?
“Um, sensei?” Iruma asked, looking over at him, doing his best to not turn his body as it was measured.
Kalego didn’t bother to finish looking up from the catalog as he gave a noise of acknowledgement.
“You- I mean… grandpa did give me a few sets of nice clothes. You don’t have to do this,” the brat said, voice shaking just the barest bit in nervousness.
Well, at least the brat knew to try to hide it, even if Kalego couldn’t fathom why he seemed to be scared of new clothes.
Regardless of why, though, it was clear that his previous three explanations weren’t going to be enough, annoyingly.
“First. I am neither willing to go to your house to pick said clothes up, not allow Opera-senpai to come and deliver them. Second. While your grandfather may indeed know how to pick good quality clothes, I have seen the clothes he bought.” The man had annoyingly insisted on showing them off multiple times. And then showing off pictures the next day after forcing Iruma to wear them at home.
“Is there… something wrong with the clothes then?” Iruma asked, seeming less stiff now, just genuinely confused instead of nervous.
The tailor measuring him took the opportunity, eyes glinting as they retook a few measurements.
“They’re outdated, for one, Sullivan didn’t go for a more timeless look and is about five years behind the trends. And he clearly thinks of you as his… adorable, cute grandson,” Kalego said, gritting out the last few, grating words.
Iruma made a face clearly indicating he was mulling over the idea of being considered cute in his formal clothes.
But only mulling, as though this was a new, odd thing he had no opinions on. Most demons at his age would be repulsed by being dressed cute by their relatives, outside of a scarce few who were actively trying to weaponize their cuteness, like Kerori. Damn teenagers were always trying to be edgy and cool or mature. Adult in some way.
Except, apparently, the continued enigma of a demon in front of him.
“Just,” Kalego said, waving a hand in slightly exasperated dismissal, “let them tailor a ready made for you. I have tickets for the Sarteria Orchestra tonight, which means you’re accompanying me. And you will not be going in casual clothes or those childish things.”
What if someone thought he’d adopted a kid because Iruma showed up looking like he was ten, after all?
“There we go. Shall we look at the options, then?” the tailor said, straightening and writing down all of his student’s measurements in a flurry.
Iruma put the sweatshirt he’d taken off back on over the t-shirt before following them back out to the shop floor.
The problem with dressing young teenagers was that they weren’t children, too grown to just be dolled up in whatever and have the resulting cuteness be fitting, but they also certainly weren’t grown into their adult bodies. Putting them in something too mature would also look awful, like a child who’d raided their parent’s closet. And Iruma – fourteen, almost fifteen – was at a particularly difficult phase of growth to try to balance not dressing too maturely or too childishly.
Thankfully the catalog had given him a few ideas of what might work with the current line.
Kalego went around, selecting the top four choices, and then grabbed Iruma from where the child was gaping in awe at the flashiest sets of clothing, clearly in the amateur fascination of someone who had never developed a lick of their own style preferences. Kalego dragged them all to the back and threw Iruma into a dressing room with the clothes following.
“Start with just trying the suit jackets on, to see what the colors are like on you,” Kalego ordered.
He turned as the curtains fell closed, sitting on the couch opposite. He tapped a finger to keep track of time, waiting for Iruma.
His student came out about a minute later, in the blue jacket.
“Um, sensei?” Iruma asked, voice a little timid.
“Wrong blue. Not that one,” he declared easily, waving Iruma back into the dressing room.
Iruma went obediently.
It had been too purple, compared to the boy’s hair and eyes. And the padding in the shoulders was too much, making the demon child look more childish, like the jacket was a little too big and engulfing the still small body.
“Sensei, um... I’ve never picked formal wear. How do you tell what looks good?” Iruma asked as he exited the curtains again, looking down as he picked at the jacket.
Too bright a red. It would have needed to be more subdued a dye. It looked too… primary, a childish brightness that Sullivan might have approved of, and most parents would enjoy on their kids, but didn’t suit a maturing teenager.
“No. Next,” he said.
Iruma blinked at him twice, and then turned around and walked back into the dressing room.
The cut, at least, looked good. It would be easy to do a few minor adjustments to make the full suit look good on him.
He couldn’t wait to annoy the chairdemon by sending Iruma back from his first time in public in formal wear in something that wasn’t the chairdemon’s personal possessive pampering. It would be worth the cost of an off-the-rack, barely adjusted suit.
The satisfaction from making his superior upset, maybe even cry, without getting in trouble put a devilish smile on Kalego’s face until the curtains rustled again.
Iruma stepped out in the grey jacket this time.
It was a light grey, but firmly grey, instead of being possibly mistaken for off-white. A fairly mature color, but light enough to match his student’s young childish nature. And his hair color.
“That one,” Kalego decided, standing up and turning back to the shop floor, “put the other three on the rack over there and follow me.”
“Are you sure? There’s still-”
“That one,” Kalego reiterated.
The black was the backup, since it was guaranteed to look good, even if Iruma hadn’t finished growing into the more devilish qualities of black yet.
Iruma found him at the ties. Kalego lifted up the blue shirt he’d picked to the boy’s collar.
Lighter than his hair, significantly so, but about the right value. And it went well with the light grey jacket.
Kalego went back to the ties, trying to find one that went well.
He was somewhat drawn to the purples, as usual. And he hadn’t been having much luck with the greys or greens. There were a few light colored ones.
Well, why not?
Three light purple ties with no or little patterning. One of was definitely too pink, although it might look fine. But now he wanted purple. The second was probably good, and the third was too saturated against the shirt, considering the suit was also light and neutral.
Kalego grabbed the suit from Iruma and slotted the shirt in, holding up the second tie to confirm they all worked together and would look formal enough.
“Go try all these on,” he ordered, shoving the outfit at the young demon.
“Eh? Ah- Okay!” Iruma said, scurrying back to the dressing room.
The colors would look good, even if the palette reminded Kalego of that one picture book Shichiro made about a flowery spring in the human world, on second thought.
Especially with the abstract Hellegori vine around the suit’s cuffs and bottom of the jacket, curling up quietly to the wing slits in almost white, light grey.
Kalego walked over to the dressings rooms unhurriedly. He heard the tailor following after, footsteps soft and polite.
He sat down on the couch again, waiting. The tailor stood at attention a few meters away, watching the curtains of the only in-use dressing room.
Even showing a bit of nervousness, Iruma still looked good when he stepped out. The colors went well with the young demon and each other. The cut was fairly slim but simple, not accentuating his remaining childishness, nor too mature to contrast and draw attention to Iruma’s youth. A young, but not childish outfit that fit well enough.
The tailor moved forward, zipping around their customer with all six eyes looking critically. Iruma stiffened, looking even more nervous, but Kalego couldn’t fault him for that. A rank five demon at his back was something to be wary of in general, after all.
The tailor lifted Iruma’s arm, checking how the sleeve drew up, then dropped it, nodding to themself.
“We’ll be fine with the measurements we have. It will be ready in fifteen minutes,” the tailor said to him with a polite bow.
Kalego nodded in acknowledgment. “Take it off and then wait in the dressing room,” he told Iruma.
The brat shouldn’t be able to find trouble in there, at least. They’d been doing pretty well so far today. Besides a few annoying moments, Iruma had been fairly quiet and settled, instead of getting dragged into and increasing the loud troubles of the day.
Kalego stalked away into the member dressing rooms in the back to get ready himself.
When he exited, ready for the night, Iruma was still in the dressing room. He approached the register and got out his wallet.
The clerk passed him a small bag with the receipt, as usual. Kalego walked back over to the couch before checking the bag to see what complimentary gifts Moirain’s had given this time.
There was a grey hair tie, with demon wings on the ends, to match the suit. There were also matching decorative fingerless gloves and a pocket square, made of the same purple fabric as the tie.
Well picked, and decently well made, for such a short amount of time. The tailor must have really been bored today.
“Um, sensei?” Iruma’s voice asked.
Kalego looked up to see Iruma now out of the changing room, fully dressed in the tailored outfit.
Good tailoring really needed to be appreciated, Kalego was reminded. His student that some days he thought would be going down a path like Kerori or Sol now looked like a demon growing into their adult self of the more typical demon maturity.
Moirain’s really was a top-class establishment.
This was even more true as Kalego looked back down into the complimentary bag.
Kalego handed over the gloves as he passed Iruma, circling around to his student’s back.
Iruma didn’t tense with him at his back, Kalego noted with annoyance as he started combing back the bouncy triangles of hair. He was a rank eight demon. Iruma should be more wary of him than the tailor.
Then again, he was reminded with refreshed annoyance, Iruma had him trapped in a familiar contract. The brat didn’t need to have wariness against him, unfortunately.
He finished tying back Iruma’s hair into something more appropriate and walked back around, tucking the pocket square in quickly before taking a step back, looking his student up and down.
It would do.
Kalego spared a thought to wonder, once again, how privately Sullivan had raised his grandson, seeing the young demon so obviously nervous in the restaurant.
And then he let the thought wander into his usual annoyance. This, unlike the suit, would actually hurt his wallet. But he always ate here or at the two other restaurants he liked in the area on orchestra nights. He wasn’t going to change his habit for a student, black hole stomach or not. The brat was guaranteed to cause him trouble at some point today, anyways.
Still, a glare might help curb a little of the black hole.
“What do you want?” he asked, voice suspicious already.
“I’m not… really sure what any of this is,” Iruma answered, eyes indeed swimming as he kept them glued to the menu, “ah!” he exclaimed, finally tearing away from the paper, “but Opera did tell me not to worry when I left this morning and gave me this,” he said with a smile, lifting something up.
It was a black, hard rectangle. Kalego managed to identify it after a moment. The chairdemon’s credit card.
Well. If the chairdemon was paying for dinner, then this would definitely be worth it, Kalego thought, feeling an actually pleased, sadistic smile grow on his face.
“Given what you eat in the cafeteria. There shouldn’t be anything here you don’t like,” Kalego said, sitting back in his seat with the smile relaxing into something smaller, looking back over the menu with fresh eyes.
An hour later, Kalego was very glad that he wasn’t paying for dinner. Even the slight petulance of realizing his order of the most expensive steak and wine set wouldn’t be noticeable compared to what the Sullivan household had to be used to paying in groceries wasn’t enough to overcome his relief.
Did the young demon in front of him even have a stomach? Or just an eat function?
“We’re leaving after you finish that,” he informed his student.
Iruma only paused for a second, eyes shining a little in a disappointment that Kalego knew would have bowed most of the Misfit Class to the demon’s will, before scarfing down the last of dessert with the same speed as he’d devoured everything else.
Was the absolute nonsense of how much they ate the secret of how the demons in Sullivan’s clan grew so tall when they were apparently so small even as teenagers?
The dessert was finished in the bat of a wing and Kalego looked aside to make eye contact with their waiter.
She immediately moved towards them, clearly relieved to get the black hole of an appetite out of the restaurant before the chefs all collapsed.
Kalego handed her the card he’d been watching on the side of the table, and was treated to the impressive sight of a polite, professional walk so fast the demon was actually blurring in his vision as she hurried to finalize the bill and check them out.
If only he could escape the chairdemon’s and Misfit Class’s nonsense as easily.
Kalego settled into his seat and indulged in a small sigh of relief, even if he kept it small enough that the young demon looking around next to him couldn’t notice. He’d been extra vigilant as they made their way from the restaurant to the music hall, and then to their seats.
The day had been far, far too quiet, after all.
The chairdemon, or Opera, or one of the other misfits, surely one of them was going to try to interfere. They’d try to have “fun,” which always meant chaos, which Iruma had been dragging into his fiercely guarded life of order since the day he had the misfortune to meet his student.
Surely, he figured, after whatever luck had almost succeeded into lulling him into a false sense of security, someone was going to ruin his day, right before what was supposed to be the best part of it. That had simply been how his life had gone for the past few months.
But here they were, in the Naberius Clan’s private box, and he couldn’t see anyone suspicious as he looked around.
Perhaps, if he managed to just continue wrangling Iruma for the next few hours, he’d manage to avoid his small semblance of calm from crashing down into thirteen million pieces.
“Um, sensei?” Iruma asked, whispering, just a bit too loud, clearly marking him as someone not used to this environment.
Kalego gave him a small, quieter grunt of acknowledgement.
“When they finish do we clap? Stand? After each song? After the whole thing? I’ve only been to evidol performances,” his student asked him nervously.
Sullivan really wasn’t teaching his teenage brat appreciation of the arts at all, was he?
What a pain, for him to have to pick up the slack on this.
“Just follow my lead,” he groused.
Iruma let out a small “oh,” before they lapsed into thirteen seconds of silence, and then the concert hall’s lights dimmed.
The conductor, a guest conductor who had been brought from a conservatory in the south, walked onto the stage, smooth and calm despite three-eighths of the audience at their back being higher ranked than xem.
Good. This should be a good performance. Kalego was looking forward to a worthwhile attempt of Danthe’s fifth symphony.
The orchestra played beautifully, as expected. But Kalego couldn’t help but find his gaze wandering from the musicians in their amphitheater of divided booths to his student beside him.
It was interesting, and therefore distracting in the normal demon way, to see a new, first reaction compared to the soothing, familiar moves of the musicians that he’d seen a hundred times before.
Iruma’s eyes were wide each time Kalego looked over before forcing himself to turn back to the orchestra, clearly awed by the performance. It made a familiar, smug part of his chest warm, to see his taste proven superior once again. The young demon also looked almost nervous, anticipatory, each time the music built up, eyes widening just a little more for a moment when the crescendos crashed into the next part of a movement.
And as the symphony went on, Iruma looked more and more relaxed, body slowly softening into less movement, even if the eyes remained just as expressive. Kalego was pretty sure he hadn’t seen the demon looked this calm even when he got to that annoying, flowery, loopy looking point of passively smiling in between Alice and Clara’s antics.
He’d honestly half expected the teenager to be bored out of his skull by now.
But Iruma never bothered to match expectations, especially about typical behavior, did he?
The thought made Kalego pause for a moment, turning it over in his mind.
It was true, though.
Iruma clearly liked school, appreciated it and was attached (making this entire day superfluous, although Kalego was glad that fact made sure he was the one teacher without incentive to actually bond with his student), but Iruma also didn’t particularly care for his school work or education. He exerted large amounts of social control despite not being very strong, and he never did it intentionally, either in acquiring it or exercising it.
He gathered “friends” that he bonded with and helped a dozen times a week so that they’d volunteer to help him with huge efforts before Iruma could even think of asking for help.
He never sought out a weakness, never displayed even neutral amounts of malice like literally every other demon Kalego had ever interacted with.
The brat had made him his familiar and never used it against him. Everyone else who knew had. The rest of the misfit class rightfully delighted when they saw him reduced to a subservient fluff. Each time Iruma, the one actually dominating the relationship, made him like that the brat was apologetic, especially if he’d been manipulated into doing it. Apologizing to him instead of reveling like every other demon.
It made Kalego wary, in a way he tried to ignore. Because it would show a very clever strategy, if done intentionally. Kalego’s anger against Iruma during each incident was always half-quashed at the demon’s attitude, which meant a less antagonistic relationship in the long-term from Kalego’s side – where any other student in the class would have lorded it over him a way that Kalego would have responded to by making the rest of their time at Babyls a real hell.
But Iruma didn’t do it as an intentional strategy. It was just the brat’s odd, un-demon-like nature. Which meant it was just another thing that Kalego’s instincts brought his attention to without will because Iruma was too devilishly selfish to bother bending to the norms Kalego watched and used to act against other demons.
And here he was, again, attention unwillingly arrested by the offenceless enigma beside him. Kalego could feel his face twitch in annoyance.
He forced himself to turn back to the orchestra, refusing to let his eyes stray again.
The suite ended with a strong pull from the cellos and violins, the final synchronized sound reverberating through the hall.
Kalego looked over as the lights raised to signal the real end of tonight’s program to see his student asleep.
He swore he could feel his veins pulsing in annoyance.
And he’d actually thought the brat had been able to appreciate good music.
He lightly kicked the young demon, and was treated to the shocked flailing of the unguarded.
“Wha- sensei?!”
“Night’s over. Time to go back.”
“Ah- right!” Iruma agreed, hurrying to follow him as he exited the box into the hallway.
“That was a good concert,” Iruma said shamelessly as they made their way to the stairs.
“Even the third you were asleep for?”
Kalego glanced back at his own snide comment to see Iruma blushing, with another one of those overly cutesy flowery airs about him, seeming to blush out of some pure embarrassment rather than shame.
“It was… calm. Nice and calm. I don’t think I’ve ever been that calm before. It was… really nice,” the boy said, lifting his head up to smile at Kalego.
Kalego ignored every reaction he had to that expression, to those emotions.
“You’ve never felt as calm as at a performance of Enfer’s suite number eight?” he asked after a moment, pausing in his steps.
That would be…
“Yes?”
That was ridiculous. It wasn’t a particularly un-calm piece, but it wasn’t a lullaby.
Then again, Iruma was constantly surrounded by either the chairdemon and his subordinates, or his even more rambunctious classmates nowadays. But still…
“In your whole life that you remember? Surely there was some time when someone put you to bed calmly as a child,” Kalego pointed out, rolling his eyes.
“Um… no, not that I remember,” Iruma replied, sounding slightly nervous.
“How exactly did Sullivan raise you?”
“Er, well, Grandpa only became my guardian a day before school. I was… with my parents before that.”
That was not what he expected. At all. But did explain a few things about the sudden acquisition of a grandchild.
“I see.” So it was Iruma’s parents that had raised, or likely neglected in raising, the young demon. But that also meant- “So you got Sullivan’s protection and were then immediately sent to school for the first time?”
“Well, I mean- that is…”
“Nevermind,” Kalego cut him off, it was enough of answer to confirm.
“Um, sensei?” Iruma asked after a few moments of walking in silence.
He grunted in acknowledgement.
“Do you like school?”
“I’m Babyls’s guard dog.” The question didn’t even need thought. Like or dislike wasn’t something he cared to account for. He was the guard dog. He would ensure that the school stood under his strong claws. He wouldn’t accept anything else.
“But do you enjoy Babyls too? Being there each day?” Iruma asked, something near desperate in his voice.
“I could certainly enjoy a bit more quiet, a bit less interference, if that’s what you mean. The misfit class is one thing. But every other class of teenage demons is causing trouble, with far less predictability than the misfits, as well. Can’t even go two hours in a whole week where someone isn’t knocking down a door to yell at me about something I don’t need to know about or – once every ten times – something I should been told about before it became an emergency,” he complained, huffing a little.
“But you respond to all of them anyways, don’t you?” Iruma asked, sounding mainly confused.
“Of course.” It was his job, his school to guard. Any problem would be torn apart with his fangs or claws, no matter how loud and therefore annoying it was being.
“Oh,” Iruma said, “that’s really great of you sensei. I’m glad we have you at Babyls.”
Kalego was still not bothering to look behind at his student, which meant he was looking right ahead to stare straight at his student through the large mirror at the bottom of the stairs.
He clenched his jaw to keep control of himself.
He’d seen that look before, though never directed at him.
Greed.
Pure, unadulterated greed that most demons could only dream of driving them further, that came so easily to Iruma when faced with a feast, and occasionally his “friends.”
This was his student, a rank 2 demon. He had no need to feel… territorial.
He let himself grit his teeth twice as he turned, keeping his steps the same confident, calm steps they always were, even as a small part of him bristled at not seeing the demon behind him anymore.
Iruma was rank 2, and one of least malicious demons towards him that Kalego had ever met, despite his own – mainly situational – dislike of the child.
And it really was situational, wasn’t it? Clearly Iruma himself wasn’t noisy or carefree or struggled to listen, just attracted those who were.
He’d had, begrudgingly, a perfectly fine day with Iruma. It had been calm and quiet, with good books and good music and good entertainment and no chaos.
The image of Iruma’s face, so greedy and yet still lacking any malice, flashed through his mind again even as he tried to focus away from it.
Iruma was not a danger to him, just unusual, he rminded himself. Just a demon that could get what he wanted without acting demonic, and who seemed very new at figuring out what he wanted, making it that much harder for Kalego to predict what the boy would devour next.
Kalego caught sight of familiar red hair as he stepped out into the night air and grabbed his student from behind him, pushing Iruma in front of him so he could escape and get back to his nice, dark, quiet, Opera-less house.
A house that now had only the things he’d brought in, only the parts of the demon world Kalego had chosen and knew exactly what they needed, nothing outside of that.