Chapter Text
Centuries ago, long before humans forgot the existence of demons and yōkai, the relationship between the Human World and the Netherworld was far crueler than the stories recorded in history.
At that time, demons viewed humans as nothing more than prey. Human flesh and blood were considered delicacies within the Netherworld, prized for the overwhelming magic they supposedly contained.
Many demons hunted humans for sport, while others captured them simply to satisfy their hunger.
To demons: humans were weak, fragile, insignificant.
Creatures meant to be consumed, and because of that, fear between the two worlds only deepened.
But everything has changed because of one family.
The Abe Clan.
Among them rose a man feared by both demons and yōkai alike—Abe no Seimei.
The greatest onmyōji in history.
At the time, the Netherworld faced its own crisis. Violent yōkai had begun attacking demon territories, threatening the balance between realms. Seimei, whose spiritual abilities surpassed what even most demons could comprehend, offered them a proposal.
He would suppress the dangerous yōkai threatening both worlds. And in return—Demons would stop hunting humans.
At first, many demons refused, always thinking, Why should they abandon creatures they considered lesser than themselves?
But Seimei’s power left them with little choice. Legends claimed he could command shikigami powerful enough to rival high-ranking demons themselves. Some even whispered that he once sealed an entire army of yōkai alone beneath sacred mountains.
Whether those stories were true or not, one thing became certain: The Netherworld feared the Abes enough to listen.
And so, an agreement was made.
From that day onward, hunting humans became forbidden within the Netherworld. Though demons no longer preyed upon humans, true equality did not come easily.
Many still viewed humans as weak creatures beneath them—beings to be pitied rather than respected.
But the Abe Clan remained the exception.
Because of the Abe Clan’s influence, laws protecting humans were eventually established by the Thirteen Crowns themselves. Demons who harmed humans without cause faced severe punishment.
And several years later—Babyls Demon School was founded, with the help of the Sullivan family.
The school was created not only for demons, but also for humans, Halflings, and other beings connected to both worlds.
Especially Halflings…Children born from both a demon and a non-demon parent.
For generations, Halflings suffered discrimination because many demons considered their blood “impure.” Babyls became one of the few places in the Netherworld willing to protect them equally.
Several teachers within the academy were specially trained to protect Halflings and even humans themselves should one ever appear within the Netherworld. Powerful barriers, detection magic, and strict laws existed throughout the campus to ensure their safety.
Within Babyls, harming a protected student was considered a grave crime.
And unlike humans—
Demons never forgot, with their long lifespans allowed many of them to remember the age before the agreement with the Abes. Some older demons still remembered the taste of human blood. Others remembered the fear Seimei instilled throughout the Netherworld.
Even after centuries had passed, the name “Abe” still carried weight among demonkind.
Some respected it…Some feared it…And others still hated the family for taking humanity beyond the reach of demons forever.
Meanwhile, in the Human World, time slowly buried the truth.
Demons became myths.
Yōkai became legends.
And Abe no Seimei faded into history as little more than folklore.
Only a few families—like the Abes themselves—continued to remember the truth between both worlds.
Suzuki Iruma was only four years old…and yet, he already understood what it meant to work. Not because he wanted to—but because his so-called parents forced him to.
At an age when children should have been playing, laughing, and clinging to their parents’ warmth, Iruma was already earning money for them…as if his small, fragile hands had been made for labor instead of childhood.
That had always been his life. From the moment he was born—he worked every…single…day.
Then, on one particular day, in a rare moment of stillness, both of Iruma’s parents dropped him off at one of his jobs—cleaning strangers’ houses.
At first, the homeowners questioned it. They would stare at him, their brows furrowed in confusion, unsure of how to react to a child quietly scrubbing their floors as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
But as time passed, the questions…the concern began to fade.
They stopped asking.
They stopped interfering.
Some tried to help—if only in small, fleeting ways. A snack pressed into his hands, leftover food wrapped carefully for him to take, even a few kind words, soft and hesitant, as if unsure whether they were allowed to care.
But it was never enough…It was never enough to change anything. Because even if they knew something was wrong…none of them were willing to truly act.
And so, Iruma learned. He learned how to endure—how to accept his condition. Because he knew that at the end of the day…there was nothing he could do.
For years, everything remained the same: he worked, he slept in the forest. Sure, it was hard, but he still survived. Everything repeated like a broken record…it was like that at least until the day everything changed.
When he turned six he met them—The Abe Family.
Out of everyone he had ever met—everyone he had ever worked for—they were different.
They were kind—the kind of kindness that wasn’t forced, nor born from pity. It was genuine. In just a few days of working for them, it felt as if he had already known them for far longer.
Mama-aki, the only woman in the household, carried a quiet warmth that Iruma had never known before. She was beautiful, gentle, and from the moment they met, she worried about him as if it were only natural. Every time he came to work, she made sure he was fed—properly fed. Not scraps…not leftovers. But real meals—the kind he treated like a feast.
Papa-aki, her husband, was someone Iruma came to deeply respect. Through them, he learned that both he and his eldest son, Amaaki, were Shinto priests. What amazed Iruma most wasn’t just what they did—but how devoted they were. The way they prayed, the way they believed—it was something unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting.
And then there were the twins.
Amaaki and Haruaki.
Though they looked nearly identical—differing only in their hair and eye colors—their personalities couldn’t have been more different.
Amaaki, the elder twin, often came across as cold, even distant to others. But within the walls of his home, he was something else entirely—a loving son, a protective brother…and, to Iruma, the closest thing he had ever known to an older brother.
He treated Iruma with a quiet kindness that never asked for anything in return.
Sometimes, in his free time, Amaaki would teach him small things—simple rituals, blessings, even fragments of exorcism practices. He spoke of yōkais, demons, and gods as if they truly existed…and the way the Abes were connected with them. And for the first time in his life, Iruma found himself believing.
Haruaki, the younger twin, was…strange—there was no other word for it. With his odd fascination with sailor uniforms, he often left Iruma confused more than anything else. And yet…he was kind, just like his family—only in his own way.
In just a few days of working for them, the Abe family had already given Iruma more than anyone else ever had.
They helped him. They cared for him. And eventually…they asked him to stay.
They wanted to take him away from his parents—to make him one of their own. Because to them, it was unthinkable. There was no sane parent who would allow their child to live the way Iruma did.
They tried—they truly did—but despite their insistence, Iruma refused.
Because no matter what they said—no matter how gently they explained that what his parents were doing was wrong—it didn’t change the truth in his heart. No matter what they did to him, Iruma still loved his parents.
And even now…he clung to that fragile, breaking hope—that maybe, one day…they would love him back.
So, without Iruma ever knowing…the Abe Family chose another way.
They gave him a place at the Abe Shrine. A permanent job—or at least, that’s what Iruma believed. His responsibilities were simple: help clean the shrine and assist in selling talismans.
And in return, he was given everything he had never dared to ask for. A home. A warm bed. Meals that didn’t feel like charity.
Even the chance to attend school. To Iruma, it was all just part of his “pay”
But in truth…it was something else entirely.
Because everything they did—every careful step, every quiet decision—was meant to keep him there.
To protect him…to make sure he would never have to return to the people who had hurt him.
For years, Iruma believed that the money he earned was being sent to his parents by the Abe couple. That everything was as it should be.
But the truth was far different…far heavier.
They had already paid his parents—and had already secured his freedom.
The adoption papers had been signed long ago. Not through force. Not through struggle. But with eager hands and greedy smiles—the moment his parents learned they would be paid every month in exchange.
And because of that…Iruma became an Abe through and through.
But at this moment, Iruma wasn’t aware of the truth—that the Abe family had already adopted him. In this way, they made sure those people would stay away… far away from Iruma’s life.
By the time Haruaki and Amaaki found out about the adoption, they were already seventeen—and they became fiercely protective of him, like guards who never lowered their watch, making sure Iruma would always be safe.
For the past years, Iruma—now fourteen—grew up in their home, surrounded by a warmth he once thought impossible. Over time, the Abes became even more hands-on in protecting him, always taking care of him.
Teaching him many things…to be kind, to be thoughtful—even teaching him their family rituals that were supposed to remain secret.
And now that he was fourteen, they told him the truth—that they had already adopted him. That the payments given to his parents…even that money…had been carefully and quietly saved for his future.
Iruma didn’t know why, but despite the lie they had kept, he still saw their genuine intent to protect him.
They may have hidden the truth from him… but what his parents had done to him had always been far more painful.
With the Abes, he was happy—truly happy.
Something he had never been with his biological parents, who had only ever given him pain.
Everything was peaceful…and if by some cruel twist of fate, Iruma were ever forced to choose—between the parents who gave him life…and the family who gave him everything else.
Then, even if his voice trembled…even if his heart ached at the thought. Without any hesitation he would choose the Abes over and over again.
It wasn't until everything in his life changed agan that he realized.
One afternoon, as Iruma walked home from school, two familiar figures appeared before him—faces he hadn’t seen in eight long years.
“Iruma…” his father called, his voice low, almost unrecognizable. “Come back to us.”
Iruma, who was minding his own business, stopped in his tracks.
Just for a brief moment, something stirred within him—not warmth, not longing…but something distant, something he could no longer fully recognize.
Slowly, his gaze turned towards them.
And then he said in a sharp tone, “No.” The word left his lips quietly…yet it carried no hesitation.
Both of his parents froze, as if they hadn’t expected such an answer.
“I’m not coming back,” Iruma continued, his voice soft yet steady. “I already have a family.”
At the mention of them, his chest tightened—but not with pain, but with certainty.
“The Abes…they’ve taken care of me for the past eight years, adopted me,” he said, his gaze lowering slightly. “And they gave me a home…they gave me everything I longed for.”
His hands slowly clenched at his sides. “And I’ve already accepted it, even if they lie.”
A silence followed—heavy, almost suffocating.
“Iruma,” his mother spoke, her voice gentle, her smile soft—yet something about it felt off. “That doesn’t matter. You’re still our son. Come with us.”
Iruma shook his head, “No…” This time, his voice wavered—but his resolve did not.
“Deny it or not, they’ve already become my family, more than you did for me,” he said quietly. “And I’ve already chosen them.”
For a moment, neither of them responded. Then something in their expressions shifted. The warmth they had tried to show disappeared.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” his father said coldly. “We’re your real parents.”
Iruma’s gaze lifted slightly, a faint bitterness surfacing in his eyes.
“Real…?” he repeated softly as memories began to surface—of endless work, exhaustion, and nights spent alone.
“If that’s what being real means…” he murmured, almost to himself, “then I don’t need it.”
His voice began to tremble—but he didn’t take it back. “So please…” he took a small step back. “Just leave me alone.”
For a brief moment, silence lingered between them.
“No.” The single word cut through the air sharply.
Before Iruma could even react, his father stepped forward and seized his wrist, his grip rough and unyielding. “You’re coming with us.”
“Let go—!” Iruma struggled, panic rising within him, but no matter how hard he tried, the grip did not loosen.
And before he knew it…he was dragged away. Not toward the place he had come to call home…but back to the place he had already chosen to leave behind.
What Iruma didn’t know was that this was not the first time his parents had reached for something unnatural.
Months earlier, while searching through an abandoned property for anything valuable they could sell, they had accidentally uncovered a hidden underground chamber. Buried beneath layers of stone and forgotten seals…was a ritual.
A forbidden summoning circle.
At first, they did not understand what it was. Ancient markings covered the floor, and shattered records nearby spoke of “contacting beings beyond the human world.”
But greed filled in the gaps faster than understanding ever could.
The Abes had already taught Iruma that such rituals once existed—that humanity had buried them long ago because they were too dangerous to remain in existence.
Not because they didn’t work—but because they did.
And desperate humans had once nearly destroyed themselves with them. Iruma’s parents, however, saw only opportunity.
And slowly…they reconstructed it…Piece by piece. Not knowing—or ignoring—that what they were preparing to summon was something humanity had once feared enough to erase from history.
“What do you want me to do?” Iruma asked at last, his voice hollow as he looked at them. Disgust burned in his chest. He could hardly believe… that he was related to them at all.
He already knew the answer. From the moment they refused to let him go…from the moment they dragged him away—There had only ever been one reason.
“For the last time, we just want you to be useful to us,” his father said, his voice cold and cutting.
The words hit harder than any blow.
Iruma froze where he stood, staring at them in deep pain. “…Useful?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper—as if saying it any louder would make it real.
“What…what do you mean?” His chest tightened, his breath growing shallow. Then the realization struck—sharp and merciless.
His eyes widened in horror. “You’re…you’re going to sell me again?”
Then, in the heavy silence—a slow clap echoed in the room.
“You really are a bright child, aren’t you, Iruma…” his mother said, a twisted smirk spreading across her face.
Any lingering warmth in his heart shattered completely. She turned, gripping the handle of another door, and pushed it open.
Creeeaaaakkk—
The sound alone sent a chill down his spine. The room beyond was dim, the air thick and heavy, as if something unseen was watching. At the center of the floor lay a strange symbol—dark, intricate, and wrong. The lines twisted into shapes that made Iruma confused what it was at first, but then he suddenly remembered it.
It was the same, summoning circle the Abes taught him before. As there's a faint, metallic scent lingered in the air, he just noticed.
“Where did you find this?” Iruma asked, in a trembling voice despite his best effort to remain calm.
“Ohh Iruma,” His father said quietly, then continued proudly “we found it by accident.”
“And once we understood what it was…” his mother added as there's a smile forming on her face “we realized how valuable it could be. Can you believe it if it became successful, your father and I could get a huge sum of money.”
Iruma’s breath hitched, every instinct in his body screamed at him to run.
He took a step back—then another.
“No…” he whispered, shaking his head. “No, this is so dangerous, I—I won’t do it. I don’t want to—”
“Oh, you don’t have a choice,” his father interrupted sharply, “all the circle needed is you.”
In an instant, his wrist was seized again—tighter this time. “Let go—! Stop it!”
Iruma struggled, panic flooding through him as he tried to pull away, but it was useless. His father dragged him forward, step by step, toward the center of that horrifying symbol.
“Mama—please!” he cried, looking at her desperately—hoping, begging, for even a hint of hesitation.
But she only watched, smiling as if the scene before her had nothing to do with the son she bore. “You’ll be very useful to us this time, Iruma,” she said softly.
And with that—something inside him finally broke. Tears spilled from his eyes as memories surfaced—the Abes, the warmth they gave him, the way they tried to save him.
The life he had chosen…The family he had chosen.
In just that moment, he couldn't help but to think about anything else, but: I have already chosen them…So why…Why am I here…?
“I don’t want to be useful!” he shouted, his voice cracking as tears blurred his vision. “I just wanted to be your son!”
For a moment—just a moment—everything fell silent.
Then—his father shoved him forward. Iruma stumbled, falling hard onto the cold floor—right at the center of the symbol. The moment his hand touched it, a strange sensation crawled up his skin as if something had noticed him.
The lines beneath him began to glow.
“No…no, no, no—!” He scrambled back, but it was too late. The light grew stronger, surrounding him—trapping him—pulling him in.
“Stop it! Please stop it! I don’t want this—I don’t want this!” His voice broke as he pounded against the floor, as if he could somehow escape.
His cries echoed through the hall—but no matter how he tried to cry…to scream, no one came.
No one ever did.
His visions began to blur through the tears as the light consumed him, his small hands reaching out instinctively—Not for his parents…but for the people who had truly loved him.
Haruaki…Amaaki…Auntie…Uncle…anyone…please…help—
And then—everything went silent. His body, already weakened, could not withstand the ritual meant to take more than it should.
When the light finally faded…Iruma opened his eyes. But there was nothing left…No memories…No past…No pain.
Everything he once was—gone. Then, in that empty stillness…a presence loomed before him.
Tall. Overwhelming. Yet…strangely warm.
“Well now…” a deep voice murmured, filled with curiosity—and something else Iruma could no longer recognize. “What an interesting human child.”
Slowly, Iruma lifted his head, his expression was empty. His eyes—void of recognition.
“…Who…?” he asked softly, the word unfamiliar even to himself.
The figure smiled. “From today onward,” he said gently, “you’ll be my grandson.”