Dylan – Time to Adjust

I couldn't sleep.

Who would be able to sleep like a log?

Your father is alive. Then you'd find out you're a demon in the Underworld.

I suddenly thought about my mom's behavior and attitude towards spiritual things. She never allowed me to go to church with her or with my female friends. Her excuse was my stalkers and anti-fans might grab this golden opportunity to bother me or hurt me. I'm a good son, so I obeyed her. She made total sense to me. Besides, I didn't want her to have a heart attack if something bad happened to me.

I stared at the ceiling and sighed.

If I'm a demon . . . is this the reason why Mom refused to keep holy objects inside the house? Mentioning God seems fine. Wait. Does God exist in the other world? Are there gods and goddesses?

I covered my face with a pillow and moaned. The information and revelations were too much for me to bear. Actually, I hadn't talked with my parents to discuss about this life changing matter. Leaving for Zemoria—the other realm where supernatural creatures like me belong to—was mind-boggling. I requested to be left alone and promised to talk to them first thing in the morning.

Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I picked it up and checked the time. 6:15 a.m.. My stomach grumbled. I wasn't able to eat a few hours ago, so I guess it's time to meet them downstairs for breakfast.

I'm not scared.

After taking a quick shower and changing into a plain black T-shirt and white jeans, I walked out of my room and closed the door behind me. I turned down the hallway, thinking it was a quiet walk, when someone spoke behind me.

"Good morning!"

"Who—" I moved next to the wall so fast that my feet and hands knocked the wood. My chest was pounding as I looked at the person grinning at me.

It was my dad, wearing the same black royal suit from hours ago.

I don't know why but I wanted to make the sign of the cross or hold up a cross to protect myself. God, please tell me. Am I going to hell right now?

I'm scared.

"Ah . . . G-good morning." I returned a crooked smile.

When I stared at his face, I just realized he looked like a normal person. His flowery horns had disappeared. His silver hair had become a gradient color of black and gray, and his eyes had turned dark amber.

We have the same eye color, but I got my black hair from my mom.

My dad chuckled. He must have noticed that I was studying his face. "Demons can shapeshift into a human. Did I answer your question, son?"

I want to talk to him or give him a tight hug for being alive, but nothing came out of my lips, and my feet were glued to the floor.

His smile turned upside down when I remained silent. He left my side and it made me feel terrible. Say something, Dylan!

"W-Wait—"

"When you are ready, come and join us for breakfast." My dad stopped walking and he turned to me. He stared at me for a long time that I felt awkward just standing there. "Dylan, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes, of course! What is it?"

"Are you still a virgin?"

"What?" My whole face burned up. Why did he ask that question, out of all innocent questions? "I don't have a girlfriend!"

"Still a virgin, I see."

My dad's laughter boomed in the hallway that it strangely had a positive effect in me. Admittedly, it made things a lot easier for me to adjust in his presence. I had always thought that demons were cruel and frightening, but maybe not everyone in that other world.

The dining table was ready. Dad had taken his seat as the head of the family. I pulled out a chair and sat on my usual side, then Mom came out of the kitchen in her pink frilly apron, bringing two plates of pancakes to the table.

"Oh, Dylan! You're just in time for breakfast. I made your favorite pancake," she said in a cheery tone. Mom pushed mine in front of me, then she took her seat across me.

I dropped my gaze on my pancake and couldn't help smiling. She had drawn a winky face and three small hearts with maple syrup. Whenever I felt sad, troubled, or anxious, she'd do things to cheer me up. It always worked and I love her for it.

"Dylan, don't be afraid to ask questions about your father." Her voice was soft and tender. I looked at her, and she was frowning. "I'm sorry for keeping this a secret for a very long time. I was selfish to think that you'd be able to control your abilities on your own. You're talented and bright so I got too comfortable."

The sadness in her eyes pricked my heart. I wasn't even mad at her for hiding my real identity. She had her reasons.

"Mom . . . you don't need to apologize. I understand. I'm here, aren't I? I want to know more about me," I said, glancing at my dad with determined eyes. He was holding her hand on the table, giving it a tight squeeze. "Dad? Could you introduce yourself?" I made sure to sound polite.

Mom finally smiled. Dad made eye contact with me. His expression changed into something solemn and strict, far from the silly facade he had shown me earlier. He said:

"My name is Asmodeus, the Primordial of Lust, and the fifth King of the Underworld."