Chapter : 1 Its Jesus

Beneath the star-studded canvas of the night sky, the distant hum of the lively town resonated until the midnight hour. Amidst the urban clamor, a figure named Sho Yamato meandered away from the bustling crowd. Clad in a half-opened white shirt, wore a pair of black pants and shoes, he traversed the path with drunken style, clutching beer bottles with uneven grace.

The melodic cadence of his steps abruptly ceased when the dissonance of shattering glass punctuated the night. Sho's beer bottle slipped from his grasp, meeting an untimely demise upon the ground. "I can't even enjoy a proper beer, hic!" he exclaimed, gazing skyward with an air of exasperation.

"Why, God? Why am I so unlucky, At 28, I've never felt the touch of a woman. I don't even know how it feels when we touch them," Sho exclaimed, his hands trembling with the unfamiliarity of such encounters.

Disheartened, he meandered towards the railing separating the lake and the land. A reflection of his despondent self stared back from the moonlit water. His solitude was interrupted by the intrusive trill of his phone.

Retrieving his phone, Sho grimaced at the screen displaying "Boss's wife is hot." "This pest won't let up," he muttered, hurling the device to the ground. Panic gripped him as he belatedly realized, "Dammit, that's the iPhone I recently bought." he exclaimed, rushing to inspect the device. Miraculously unscathed, it continued to blare the voice of an unexpected caller.

"Hello, boss? My sincere apologies; my phone slipped, and I wasn't intentionally avoiding your call. Why are you calling at this late hour? Does your wife need me, I mean, for some expert shopping assistance?" Sho inquired, adopting an ultra-polite tone.

"Boss? I'm not your boss; I'm Jesus," came the bewildering reply from the unknown number. Sho, eyeing the phone, muttered, "Dammit, did it ground dial?".

"I apologize; I mistakenly dialed the wrong number," Sho admitted ignoring the caller voice, poised to end the call. However, despite his repeated attempts to disconnect, the call persisted, defying his screen-tapping efforts.

"Dammit, is my phone staging a rebellion now?" Sho grumbled, frustration etched across his face.

"Hey, can you hang up? My phone's having a lag moment," Sho implored, hoping for a swift end to this unforeseen conversation.

"No, I won't unless you disclose who you are and how you got my number. Did your parents forget to teach you basic introductions?" came a stern retort from the mysterious caller.

"Look, you piece of shit, just hang up and stop bothering me," Sho snapped, his tone escalating with irritation.

"Do you even realize who you're talking to? I'm Jesus," declared the caller with unwavering confidence.

"And I'm Johnny Sins. Now, hang up the damn call," Sho retorted, his patience waning.

"A virgin who hasn't touched a female body doesn't deserve that name. Go and change it now," the provocative response echoed through the line.

As Sho glanced around, paranoia creeping in, he retorted, "You bastard, what nonsense are you spewing?" He continued his futile attempts to sever the connection.

"I can practically smell your virgin body through the phone screen," came the unsettling reply, accompanied by the audible sound of exaggerated breathing, as if someone were attempting to inhale a scent.

Sho swallowed hard, his frustration escalating. "You bastard, don't talk nonsense. I am hanging up the call," he declared, tapping the phone repeatedly, only to be met with unresponsiveness.

"You can't hang up until I allow you," the mysterious voice of the Jesus guy asserted.

Growing weary and exasperated, Sho pleaded, "Look, I'm not in a good mood. I'm sorry if I spoke badly to you, but can you please hang up? I'm begging you."

Seemingly unfazed and as if knowing Sho needs, the Jesus guy proposed an unexpected offer, "Seems like you really want a taste of woman. How about this – tell me what kind of woman you want, and I'll grant your wish."

A wry smile crept across Sho's face as laughter escaped him. "Fine, but please hang up after that. I want a hot wife whose eyes are only for one man, a little possessive, that's all," he revealed.

"I see. I've got a fine place for you," the Jesus guy responded cryptically, and suddenly, Sho's vision blurred. Panic set in as he muttered, "What's going on?" The last words escaped him as darkness enveloped his senses.

As Sho's blurry vision gradually cleared, revealing the ceiling above, he muttered, "Dammit, how did I end up at home?" Confusion etched his face as he surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings of the dimly lit room.

"Where am I?" Sho questioned aloud, attempting to stand, but his legs betrayed him, causing a clumsy collapse onto the floor. "How did the bed become so soft and big?" he wondered, taking in the room. His gaze settled on a lamp across the bed, and he hurriedly made his way toward it, bathing the room in light.

The space, more akin to a penthouse than a mere room, unfolded before him. A bed rested on a small levitated floor, encircled by four pillars. Ten meters away, a swimming pool shimmered, accompanied by a sizable wardrobe on the right.

"Did I collapse beside a lake, and someone brought me to their house?" Sho pondered aloud, moving towards the descending stairs leading to the swimming pool. As he descended, he glanced to his left.

"Oh, hello, and thanks for taking care of me," Sho greeted, bowing respectfully. His eyes met those of a tall man, roughly 6 feet in height, adorned in shaggy clothes, long black and blue hair cascading over pale skin.

The stranger remained non-responsive, prompting Sho to initiate conversation. "Hello," Sho said, waving a hand. The man reciprocated the gesture but offered no verbal response.

Growing increasingly uneasy, Sho approached. "Wait, what's going on?" he muttered, panic creeping into his voice. As Sho Lifted his hand getting the similar reflection and even sticking out his tongue got him similar mimicry.

"That's me... that's me. How?" Sho questioned, walking around in a state of bewilderment. It dawned on him as he stared into the expansive mirror on the left – the reflection before him was none other than himself.

A sudden, jolting pain pierced through Sho's head, causing him to clutch his temples and collapse to the ground, writhing in agony. Unknown memories began to seep into his consciousness, the pain persisting for what felt like an eternity. Beads of sweat adorned his face as he lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, grappling with the aftermath of the intense experience.

In the wake of this inexplicable torment, a revelation unfolded. "I am Darian Lucifer, the youngest son of the original Lucifer," echoed within Sho's mind. His birth, a unique occurrence during the great war among angels, fallen angels, and devils, left him in a peculiar state—deep in a coma, a newborn frozen in time without a growth.

Darian's eyes opened after the conclusion of the great war, marking the end of his comatose state. However, his troubles persisted, as he possessed only a meager amount of demonic power, sufficient for minor magical feats. As the years unfolded, Darian reached the age of 28, a time when old factions sought to sow chaos and seize control of the Underworld.

As the old factions sought to sow chaos and vie for leadership in the Underworld, a pivotal moment unfolded. Sirzechs Gremory, the powerful daughter of the Gremory house, born with destructive abilities and formidable demonic powers. She, along with Ajuka Astaroth, quelled the old factions, but political challenges remained.

To consolidate power and suppress opposition without force, Sirzechs decided to marry Darian Lucifer, thus acquiring the title of Sirzechs Lucifer and becoming the ruler of the Underworld.

Darian's acceptance of this arrangement was born out of dire circumstances—poverty and threats from the old satan faction. Lacking the strength to defend himself and possessing a timid nature, he acquiesced to the marriage. Their union, however, resembled more of a contractual arrangement than a genuine marital bond.

As their marriage, born out of necessity, resembled a contractual arrangement devoid of the warmth one would expect between husband and wife. Over the years, Darian, now known as the "Trash Son-in-law," bore the brunt of mockery and disdain. Despite his sweet and kind nature, he couldn't withstand the relentless trolling and verbal bullying. Retreating to his room, he allowed only a select few maids to enter for cleaning and sustenance, closing himself off from a world that had cast him as an outcast.

To be continued...

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