Chapter 57: Lucifer’s Intervention

【Lucifer PoV】

This was unacceptable.

My daughter had fallen off a bridge, bounced like a child’s toy, and nearly died in pursuit of some ridiculous romantic hypothesis. I’d watched the entire disaster unfold through my scrying orb, my blood pressure rising with each consecutive bounce off that boy’s infernal defense barrier. The Demon King did not raise his daughter to conduct experiments that involved plummeting into chasms.

Someone needed to test this Eksu character properly, and that someone was me.

I stood at the entrance to the Dungeon of Endless Regret, a notorious labyrinth that even seasoned adventurers avoided. The stone archway loomed above me, covered in moss and ominous warnings carved by people who definitely didn’t make it out alive. Perfect location for a father-to-potential-suitor conversation.

But I couldn’t just waltz in as myself.

Lilith would sense my demonic aura instantly, and then I’d never hear the end of it. She’d lecture me about trust and boundaries and respecting her autonomy, all very reasonable points that I absolutely refused to acknowledge right now because I was her father and I had rights.

I needed a disguise.

I rummaged through my pocket dimension, pulling out various items I’d collected over the centuries. A cursed sword—no. A crown made of dragon teeth—too flashy. A collection of souls—inappropriate for the occasion.

Then I found it.

A pink apron with little white hearts embroidered along the edges, something I’d confiscated from a demon chef who’d been using it to cook suspicious meat pies. I pulled it over my head, tying it snugly around my waist. The fabric clashed horrifically with my dark formal wear, but that was precisely the point.

Nobody would suspect the Demon King in a pink apron.

I needed more though, something to really sell the disguise.

I spotted a fake mustache in the bottom of my collection, the kind sold at novelty shops for costume parties. It was thick and brown and absolutely ridiculous. I stuck it to my upper lip, the adhesive pulling uncomfortably at my skin.

Perfect.

I examined my reflection in a nearby puddle. I looked like a deranged cafeteria worker who’d gotten lost on the way to a costume party. The mustache sat crooked on my face, the apron hung awkwardly over my expensive suit, and my naturally intimidating demeanor clashed violently with the whole aesthetic.

Nobody would recognize me like this.

“I am Lucy.”

I practiced my cover identity, making my voice slightly higher and less commanding.

“Just a humble dungeon maintenance worker, definitely not the Demon King checking on his daughter’s romantic interests.”

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but sacrifices had to be made.

I entered the dungeon, my footsteps echoing off damp stone walls. The air smelled like mold and regret and probably some dead adventurers decomposing in a corner somewhere. Torches flickered along the walls, casting dancing shadows that would’ve been intimidating if I wasn’t literally the scariest thing in this entire dimension.

I could sense Lilith’s aura deeper in the dungeon, along with two others.

One was weak and pathetic—probably that Siegfried boy who kept trying to avoid being the protagonist. The other was stronger, surrounded by an impenetrable defensive barrier that made my demon senses itch with curiosity.

Eksu.

I needed to separate him from the group, test his character when he thought nobody important was watching. That’s when people showed their true nature—when the stakes felt low and the pressure was off.

I manipulated the dungeon’s layout with a subtle application of demonic power, shifting walls and corridors to create a fork in the path. Nothing obvious, just a gentle magical suggestion that Eksu should probably go left while the others went right.

The dungeon complied with my will because even ancient magical labyrinths knew better than to argue with the Demon King.

I waited in a side chamber, gathering my power and preparing my most intimidating presence.

Footsteps approached, cautious and measured.

I stepped out from the shadows, allowing my Killing Intent to flood the corridor. The air grew heavy, oppressive, thick with the weight of countless souls I’d reaped over millennia. Lesser beings would’ve collapsed instantly, their minds breaking under the pressure of facing something so far beyond mortal comprehension.

The temperature dropped, frost forming on the stone walls.

Eksu rounded the corner and stopped, his eyes going wide.

I let my power build, let the killing intent radiate off me in waves that should’ve sent him running in terror.

“Boy.”

I growled the word, making my voice as deep and threatening as possible despite the ridiculous mustache.

“Do you fear death?”

【Eksu PoV】

I’d gotten separated from Siegfried and Lilith somehow.

One second we were walking together through the dungeon, the next I was alone in a corridor that looked exactly like every other corridor we’d passed. The walls were damp stone, the torches flickered ominously, and somewhere in the distance water dripped with that annoying rhythm that made you need to pee.

Great.

I continued forward, keeping my guard up in case any monsters decided to make an appearance. My 【Absolute Defense】 would handle anything physical, but I was lowkey worried about getting lost in here forever and starving to death because my defense didn’t protect against poor navigation skills.

I heard breathing ahead, harsh and labored like someone had just run a marathon.

I turned the corner and stopped dead in my tracks.

There was an old guy standing in the middle of the corridor wearing the most bizarre outfit I’d ever seen. He had on what looked like an expensive dark suit, the kind rich people wore to fancy parties, but over it he wore a bright pink apron covered in little white hearts. A thick brown mustache sat crooked on his face, looking like it might fall off at any second.

He looked like someone’s grandpa who’d gotten confused on the way to a cooking class.

The old guy was shaking, his whole body trembling like he was having some kind of episode. His face was red, sweat beading on his forehead, and his breathing came in sharp gasps that sounded legitimately concerning.

Was he having a heart attack?

“Boy.”

His voice came out strangled and weird, like he was trying to sound tough but was actually just dehydrated and possibly dying.

“Do you fear death?”

I blinked at him, trying to process what was happening.

This lost cafeteria worker was asking me philosophical questions in the middle of a dungeon. The air around him felt weird, kind of heavy and cold, but that was probably just the dungeon’s natural creepy atmosphere combined with his obvious health crisis.

“Uh, sir, are you okay?”

I took a step closer, genuinely worried about this random old guy.

“You look like you’re about to pass out. Do you need help?”

He stared at me, his expression shifting from intense to confused to possibly offended.

“I asked if you fear death!”

“Yeah, I heard you, but like, you seem really unwell right now.”

I looked him up and down, taking in the sweat, the shaking, the labored breathing.

“Are you lost? Do you work here? Is there a cafeteria in this dungeon because that seems like a really weird business decision.”

The old guy’s eye twitched.

The mustache definitely shifted to the left, threatening to peel off completely.

“I am testing you, boy.”

“Testing me for what, heat stroke? Because I think you’re the one who needs medical attention.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out my water flask. I’d filled it before entering the dungeon because unlike some people, I believed in basic survival preparedness.

“Here, drink some water. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

I held it out to him, genuinely concerned.

The old guy looked at the water flask like I’d just offered him a live grenade. His face went through several rapid color changes—red to purple to something approaching burgundy.

“You dare—”

“Dude, seriously, hydration is important. Especially in dungeons. It’s like, really dry in here and the temperature regulation is terrible.”

He took a step back, his mustache now hanging on by what looked like pure spite.

“Do you have any idea who I am?”

“A lost maintenance worker? Maybe a janitor? No judgment, janitorial work is legit respectable.”

I shook the water flask encouragingly.

“But you really need to drink something before you pass out. I’m not great with medical emergencies and my defense doesn’t help other people, so like, please don’t die in front of me.”

【Lucifer PoV】

He ignored my Killing Intent.

The boy asked the Demon King for water.

He treated me like a waiter, no, worse—like a dehydrated janitor having a medical emergency in the middle of my attempted intimidation.

My carefully crafted aura of overwhelming terror, the pressure I’d cultivated over thousands of years of ruling hell, the presence that made gods tremble and mortals weep—he thought it was heat stroke.

This boy’s arrogance knew no bounds.

He was mocking me, had to be mocking me, standing there with genuine concern on his face like he actually believed I was some lost cafeteria worker who’d wandered into a dungeon and forgotten to bring water.

The audacity.

The absolute nerve.

The complete and total disrespect for my station, my power, my—

“Sir, your mustache is falling off.”

Eksu pointed at my face helpfully.

I reached up and felt the adhesive giving way, the fake mustache sliding down my upper lip at a tragic angle. This disguise was a disaster, this entire plan was a disaster, and I was approximately three seconds away from losing my temper and destroying this entire dungeon in a fit of parental rage.

But I couldn’t.

Because Lilith would sense the demonic energy, would trace it back to me, and then I’d be grounded. The Demon King, grounded by his own daughter, forbidden from using the scrying orb or interfering in her life for at least a month.

The humiliation would be unbearable.

“I have to go.”

The words came out strangled, my composure cracking like cheap pottery.

“Wait, but your water—”

I turned and fled.

Literally fled, the pink apron flapping behind me as I ran through the dungeon corridors like a man possessed. My mustache finally gave up and fell off somewhere around the third intersection, but I couldn’t stop to retrieve it because that boy was still trying to give me water and asking if I needed medical assistance.

This was the worst reconnaissance mission in the history of demonic intervention.

I’d unleashed my full Killing Intent on a teenager and he’d responded by offering me hydration and career counseling. He’d looked at the Demon King and seen a confused old man in an apron who’d gotten lost on his lunch break.

The boy was either the bravest person I’d ever met or the most oblivious.

Possibly both.

I burst out of the dungeon entrance, gasping for air that had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with wounded pride. My suit was rumpled, my apron askew, and somewhere in that godforsaken labyrinth my fake mustache was probably being eaten by a dungeon rat.

I ripped the apron off and stuffed it back into my pocket dimension.

Never again.

I was never doing undercover work again.

Next time Lilith could just date whoever she wanted without my interference because clearly I was not cut out for subtle parental supervision.

My scrying orb buzzed with an incoming message.

I pulled it out and saw Lilith’s face on the screen, her expression curious.

“Father, why is your demonic energy signature fleeing the Dungeon of Endless Regret at high speed?”

Damn it.

“No reason, sweet daughter. Just testing the dungeon’s structural integrity.”

“While wearing a pink apron?”

“You saw that?”

“The dungeon has security crystals. I reviewed the footage.”

Of course it did.

Of course she did.

“Father, were you trying to intimidate Eksu?”

Her voice carried that dangerous calm that meant I was absolutely getting grounded.

“I was concerned for your safety after the bridge incident—”

“You will not interfere with my experiments.”

“But—”

“One month. No scrying orb privileges.”

The connection cut off.

I stared at the dead orb in my hand, feeling my soul die a little inside.

The Demon King, grounded, because I’d failed to intimidate a teenage boy who thought I was a janitor.

This was rock bottom.