5: A Match made in hell

[Kelvin]

As the first light of dawn creeps through the curtains, I stir from my slumber. The comfort of my bed gives way to the coolness of the marble floor as I make my way to the living room.

 It's quiet here, peaceful. The minimalist decor reflects the morning's simplicity, and the art on the walls stands still in the soft light. I approach the window, hands clasped behind my back, and gaze out at the garden. The dew on the grass sparkles like a thousand tiny jewels.

I was savoring the silence, eyes closed, when Edward's voice shattered the calm. "Nicholas... Nicholas," he called out, his voice echoing through the stillness.

I opened my eyes, irritation creeping in. "What's the issue? Why are you yelling?" I asked, my annoyance clear as I made my way to the kitchen.

Edward was panting, his words tumbling out in a rush. "It's... it's Michael. He's botched things up again. He thought he could handle the Tiger Clan, but they outsmarted him. We're looking at a loss of about 50 million now," he explained, struggling to catch his breath.

I sighed, the frustration ebbing away to a calm resolve. "Where is he now?" I inquired, the hum of the coffee machine a subtle backdrop.

"Outside, kneeling," came Edward's reply.

I nodded, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. "Good. Let him stay there for a while," I said, grasping the warm mug filled with rich coffee. I returned to the living room, the familiar comfort of my favorite chair waiting to envelop me.

 "It's already the third time this year… Let him kneel in the backyard until midnight, and he's barred from any further dealings until I say otherwise." I said to him.

"Alright. And remember, you have to meet with that agent today. Don't forget."

"Okay, I will not forget… you can go now," I told him.

"Hmm, okay," he replied, his tone tinged with the usual annoyance. Although he's my closest friend, yet he seems to expect the kind of attention a husband reserves for his wife…

Now how it is my fault?

 Anyways, I never even had a girlfriend, let alone a wife. How could I, the most powerful immortal demon king, spare the time to seek a companion?

Though many vie for my attention, none seem worthy to stand beside me.

With a heavy heart, I close my eyes.

 The one who truly deserved that place by my side, the one I cherished, could never be mine. Our union was forbidden, a line I dared not cross. The most tragic aspect of it all was that her heart never harbored love for me—she didn't even hold a shred of like. In her eyes, I was perpetually the adversary, a constant threat looming over her existence. She was a flame, and I, the moth, drawn inexorably toward my own destruction.

Forbidden love—it whispered through the corridors of my mind, a haunting melody. How many nights had I stood by her window, hidden in shadows, just to see her? How many times had I traced the contours of her face in my dreams, knowing that reality would never mirror my desires?

She was my nemesis, my heartache, and yet… she was also my salvation. For in her eyes, I glimpsed a vulnerability that mirrored my own. We were both prisoners of circumstance, bound by duty and destiny. And perhaps, just perhaps, that shared burden was enough to bridge the chasm between us.

But for now, I remained in my favorite chair, the bitterness of coffee on my tongue, and wondered how love could be both a curse and a salvation. The forbidden fruit hung just beyond my grasp, and I, the immortal king, was left to wrestle with desire and regret in the quiet of my living room.

...

The sky had already surrendered to nightfall when I departed from the office. It was 7:10 PM, leaving me with a narrow window of 50 minutes to reach the clandestine agency of spies and agents. This agency, though is illegal, is infamous for its highly trained professionals who operate under code names and concealed identities. My own mafia group, the Devil Clan, is also off course illegal , though we tend to handle our affairs overtly rather than in the shadows so I need someone who can find that person while hidden.

The sound of my car arriving snapped me back to reality. I could easily teleport to any place in an instant, but Edward and I have learned to refrain from using our powers for trivial matters since our arrival on Earth.

Edward was already seated in the front, accompanied by a mortal driver. I took my place in the back and gestured for the driver to proceed. After a brief silence, Edward spoke up. "Mr. Kelvin, as you instructed, I canceled the meeting with that star actress. However, she and her manager were less than pleased, having waited for over half an hour."

"I did tell you to inform them beforehand, didn't I?" I questioned, my tone even.

"Yes, but it slipped my mind," Edward admitted.

"Then it falls to you to rectify this, James. You'll need to convince her to sign the contract once more," I stated plainly.

Edward glanced back at me, incredulous. "I… persuade a mortal?" His reaction drew a puzzled look from the driver. Under my breath, I muttered a curse at Edward's blunder.

"What, did you expect to persuade a god?" I asked, feigning normalcy to ease the driver's suspicion. Edward, realizing his error, turned back around with a noncommittal grunt.

This has been our way of life on Earth. To the outside world, L&P was established by my late adopted father. In truth, I am that father, using illusions to conceal my identity. Edward and I staged our deaths in an accident two years ago, allowing me to assume control as the heir with a new appearance. To any observer without extraordinary powers, I appear as a man in his late twenties with blonde hair and brown eyes. But in reality, I am an immortal whose age progresses far slower than that of mortals—a single year for them equates to a decade for us.

As for my true form, I possess jet-black hair, dark blue eyes, and a fair complexion. We immortals surpass Earth's inhabitants in beauty and intellect, yet what we often lack is an understanding of love. It's a concept foreign to many of us, overshadowed by an insatiable thirst for power. And for those like me, who have experienced love, we share a common fate—betrayal by those we once cherished, as was the case with me and Katarin

Lost in thought, I barely noticed when the car came to a halt. Edward stepped out and opened my door. I exited and began to walk away as Edward discreetly signaled the driver to depart.

Catching up to me, Edward ventured, "Hey Nicholas, can I ask you something?"

"No," I replied curtly.

Undeterred, he pressed on. "Come on… you had feelings for Katarina, didn't you?"

His question caught me off guard. I glanced at him, then quickly looked away. "No," I insisted.

"You're lying. It's obvious," he countered. "When I mentioned her death yesterday, you were nearly in tears. Anyone could see you cared for her."

I faced him squarely. "Have you ever seen me cry? I didn't even shed a tear when my own parents passed."

"I haven't," he admitted, "but maybe she's the one who could bring you to that point."

I remained silent, yes, she was the first and last one who can make me cry

Edward continued, "You know, you two were quite the pair, except for that forbidden theory. You, the king of the southern realm, and she, the queen of the north. Your lives mirrored each other's, even down to the day of your exile and her death. What's that phrase mortals use? Ah, a match made in heaven."

He paused, then added,

"Or perhaps, a match made in hell, since you were each other's doom."

We arrived at our den with twenty minutes to spare before 8 PM. Entering through the backdoor reserved for us, I prepared to alter my appearance. In the underworld, my identity remains concealed, known only as the 'Devil King.'

Draped in a cloak over my tailored suit, I concealed a gun and two pocket knives within its folds, and slipped a ring onto my left hand. My mask, black with red markings, obscured my face. Edward, donning his usual simpler mask, followed suit.

We strode out of my office, heads bowing in deference as I passed. Exiting the den through the front door, we found another car waiting. Within five minutes, we arrived at a bar notorious for its underworld dealings.

The bartender, recognizing me , greeted us cautiously. "What do you need, sir?" he inquired.

"Two glasses of Angela seasoned red shot, please," I requested quietly.

He nodded and said, "well, it might take some time…would you perhaps like to wait inside."

I nodded and said, "off course".

 He led us to a secluded room and left. I entered the room. Inside, Agent Red stood by the window, her cloak discarded on the couch, lost in thought. As I removed my cloak and took a seat, she remained oblivious to our presence. Edward approached and touched her shoulder, prompting a swift reaction—she flipped him onto the floor and aimed her gun at him. I drew my own weapon in response, but her gaze met mine, her hazel eyes piercing even behind her mask. To my surprise, she was biting down on a chocolate bar.

"What are you both doing... Hello, Miss Agent Red, we're the one who want to hire you," Edward announced from the floor.

She lowered her gun, and I followed suit. Edward rose, grumbling under his breath about being bested by a mortal woman.

She sat across from us, poised and composed,

After seeing her reaction I asked , "Do you have any questions?"

"yes"

I nodded for her to continue.

"Are you the head of the Dragon Clan... the Devil King?" she queried.

"Yes," I confirmed, though her next words caught me off guard.

"I heard you have blonde hair and brown eyes," she began, then hesitated.

"And?" I prompted.

"But you... you clearly have black hair and dark blue eyes," she observed.

Edward and I exchanged a shocked glance.

"What did you say?" I asked, my hand instinctively tightening around my gun.

...…