Abandoned

Astaroth Territory, Devil Underworld.

In the depths of the underworld, a realm untouched by the passage of time, the cycle of day and night ceased to exist.

Within this boundless abyss, an oppressive sky loomed overhead, its perpetual shadow casting an air of foreboding upon the desolate land.

As the dark hour of the day descended, a piercing cry echoed through the labyrinthine streets, reaching the ears of the orphanage's Matron.

Driven by an innate sense of duty and compassion, the Matron hastened outside, her heart heavy with anticipation.

Intuition guided her every step, whispering a premonition that the source of the cry would align with her expectations.

And so it proved to be.

A wicker basket emerged from the shadows, cradling a fragile life within its confines.

Beside the infant lay a note, bearing silent witness to the child's origins and uncertain future.

It was an all too familiar sight—a low-class baby, devoid of any discernible bloodline power, cast aside like countless others before.

In the underworld, where such occurrences were part of the daily fabric of existence, the Matron's heart braced itself for the weight of yet another innocent soul left behind.

With a mixture of weariness and resolve, she extended her trembling hand, reaching towards the basket's tiny occupant.

"Another one, huh," she muttered, her voice a whisper lost in the stillness of the underworld's air.

As her fingers gently grazed the baby's cheek, her eyes settled upon the note, scanning the words that bore the child's name.

"Hijoshiki Akuma," she mused, her tone tinged with a bittersweet fascination. "An odd name, perhaps, but one that resonates with the very essence of a devil's nature."

This was a normal case in the underworld.

In the shadowed realm where secrets intertwined, it was common to encounter a baby born from the forbidden liaison of a noble and a servant.

Such instances comprised the majority of cases, woven into the fabric of underworld affairs.

When a baby with bloodline powers came into the world, they were embraced as an official descendant, heralded for their inherent potential and granted the privileges befitting their noble heritage.

However, when a baby lacked these esteemed bloodline powers, their fate took a different course—a path dictated by the calculated mindset of devil nobles.

To them, it was a squandering of scarce resources to invest in raising and training a "worthless" being devoid of apparent talent for the coveted bloodline power.

Acknowledging this harsh reality, the Matron ventured back inside the orphanage, cradling the infant in her arms.

With utmost care, she entrusted the baby to the nurturing embrace of another matron, ensuring their well-being and placing them among the sanctuary of the orphanage's wards.

Simultaneously, she undertook the task of registering the baby's name, an official acknowledgement of their existence in the underworld.

"Another addition to the family?" said a younger-looking woman, her eyes filled with curiosity and compassion.

"Yes, another one," replied the Head Matron, her voice tinged with a mix of weariness and determination, as she focused on registering the baby's name.

They both understood that the arrival of a baby was a precious gift in a realm where devil fertility was scarce.

It was a reminder that life, in all its complexities, found its way even amidst the shadows.

And if a baby found its way to the doorstep of the orphanage, it was unlikely to be of low or middle-class origin.

Only nobles possessed the privilege of entrusting their own descendants to a place like this.

As for the commoners, even a baby with low power is a blessing on its own, as they themselves have low powers.

"An affair?" the younger woman inquired, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Most likely. What else could it be?" the Head Matron responded, her words carrying the weight of experience accumulated over countless abandoned children.

"He has a bit of an Asian feature, looks cute though," remarked the younger woman, her eyes gleaming with affection as she tended to the baby's needs.

"His name is Hijoshiki Akuma. Judging by his name alone, he was probably the result of an affair with a peerage member," the Head Matron explained, her gaze fixed on the infant in her arms.

"A Japanese name? Is it inspired by Lady Leviathan and her Magical Girl persona?" the younger woman asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Yes, indeed. Lady Leviathan's embrace of Japanese culture has gained popularity lately, perhaps inspiring some nobles to seek their peerage from there," the Head Matron replied, acknowledging the influence of Lady Leviathan's prominent role in shaping cultural trends among the devil nobility.

"By the way, could you tend to him for a while? I need to search for devils who may be willing to donate their extra breast milk or explore alternative options," the Head Matron requested, her voice laced with a sense of urgency.

"Why not use the formula milk that the human world produces?" the younger matron suggested, seeking practical solutions.

"If we can provide him with devil's milk, we should prioritize that. But if we cannot, we will resort to using formula milk as we usually do," the Head Matron explained, preparing herself to venture outside in search of potential donors.

"Okay then, be careful, Head Matron," the younger matron expressed her concern, her eyes filled with both admiration and worry, as the Head Matron set off on her mission.

With a final nod, the Head Matron stepped into the world beyond the orphanage, ready to navigate the intricate web of the underworld in her quest to ensure the well-being of young Hijoshiki Akuma, a child born into a world of shadows and uncertainties.

"Looks like now it's only both of us here, little handsome devil," she said playfully, her voice filled with warmth and affection, as the baby gazed up at her with curious eyes.

"Since he's Japanese, what's a lullaby for Japanese babies, hmm," she pondered, her mind delving into memories of her time in the human world, when she still took on contracting jobs.

It was during those ventures that she had overheard a lullaby sung by a mother to her child.

Recalling the gentle melody, she decided to sing it to Akuma, her voice carrying a melodic beauty that enraptured the room.

"Hush, hush... Baby rabbit on the hillside... Why are your eyes so red? When I was small... mother ate the fruit of the red tree... and that's why my eyes are red."

As the young lady devil sang, her voice resonated with tenderness, captivating the baby's attention.

Deep within Akuma's young mind, something stirred—a fragment of a memory, elusive yet familiar.

However, overwhelmed by his newfound experiences and the fatigue that clung to his delicate frame, the baby surrendered to the comforting embrace of sleep.

The young lady continued to sing, her melodious voice serving as a soothing lullaby that guided him into the realm of dreams.

With a contented smile, the young lady matron carefully carried the slumbering baby to a room specially reserved for infants within the orphanage.

Gently placing him in a cozy crib, she leaned down and planted a soft kiss on his forehead, whispering, "Goodnight," with genuine affection.

As she watched over the peacefully sleeping Akuma, a sense of purpose and protectiveness filled her heart.

In this room of innocence and dreams, she vowed to provide him with love and care, ensuring that his journey through the underworld would be guided by compassion and warmth.

With a final tender glance, the young lady matron quietly left the room, leaving Akuma in the safe embrace of the orphanage's sanctuary.