My Wives are Beautiful Demons

"Calmed down now?" Vergil asked, his voice low, almost gentle, as he watched the blood vanish from Kaguya's skin — her wounds knitting themselves back together before his eyes.

She slowly lifted her face.

Her breathing was still ragged. Her eyes, redder than before, seemed sharper now. Less lost. More... hungry.

The pain was gone. The wounds were gone. But not the rage.

"You drugged me..." she whispered, lips still stained with traces of his blood. "With your own blood... it's a damn addictive drug."

"Ungrateful much? I'm the only one here who would give you blood, alright? And for the record, I didn't do anything," he corrected, smirking. "But if you want to call it poison, be my guest. It's all about dosage, isn't it? That's what separates a cure from a poison — the dose."

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to hold something back. A scream. A tear. A breakdown.

But when she opened them again… there was only coldness.

Sapphire rested her chin on her hand, utterly charmed by the show. "You really should be grateful, you know," she said, lazily stirring her now-cold coffee. "Very few get to be useful after they're broken."

Kaguya turned to her slowly, her gaze sharp as blades. "You used me."

Sapphire smiled, not even pretending otherwise. "Of course we did. But we told you that from the start, didn't we?" she went on, a cruel glint in her eyes. "But it's important you understand something, Kaguya…"

She leaned forward slightly across the table, her tone turning sharp, acidic.

"…we didn't lie to you. We just showed you the truth."

Kaguya stared at her, lips trembling as she fought to keep herself together.

Then Vergil rose slowly, wiping his fingers with a fine silk cloth. His presence filled the entire room. He rounded the table and stopped behind her, his shadow falling over her fragile shoulders.

"The truth hurts, I know," he murmured close to her ear, his voice silk over razors. "But you've suffered enough trying to stay loyal to someone who discarded you."

His hand gently touched her shoulder. Warmth. Power. Control.

"Now…" he said, tilting her face toward him with two fingers, forcing her to look him in the eyes, "…you get to choose."

He knelt slowly, so they were eye to eye.

"You can keep crying… and drown in your own bitterness. Or…" he smiled, and for a second the world seemed to freeze, "…you can rewrite the story. Starting… with the traitor's head."

Her eyes widened. The blood inside her boiled again.

"Alucard…" she whispered, the name still tasting like rust on her tongue.

Vergil nodded slightly, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "He's still breathing. But not for long."

Behind them, Sapphire let out a giggle. Not of joy — but of someone savoring the chaos blooming before her.

They were still trapped within that particular dimension — a place severed from time and reality. A golden prison crafted by Sapphire, designed to seduce, corrupt… and rebuild.

Inside that gilded cage of promises, Kaguya was the new project.

Raphaeline watched it all unfold, arms crossed, leaning against a pillar of amber glass.

"They've really forgotten about us," she muttered with a tilted smirk, her eyes glowing faintly. "Especially Vergil… look at him, all excited."

"Tell me about it…" Stella replied, rolling her eyes as she adjusted her leather gloves. "That crazy witch never got to dissect a full-blooded vampire before. Bet she's itching to see what this girl's made of."

But the light tone shattered in seconds.

A sudden tremor shook the mansion's very foundation — as if something had struck the heart of the earth itself. The walls vibrated. The air grew heavy.

A moment later, a muffled thunderclap exploded from the basement… a scream.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!!"

The attention scattered like mist cut by a blade, and Vergil, Sapphire, and Kaguya were snapped back to the present.

Chains dragging. Groans. Claws scraping stone echoed through the entire manor.

Vergil let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Ah, the mutt's still alive down there..." he muttered with indifference.

Then, without a hint of ceremony, he turned to Kaguya and placed a hand on her head, giving her a few light pats — like one would to a puppy.

"Sit here and think a bit, princess," he said with that usual cocky half-smile. "I'm just gonna go pay our furry little friend a visit."

Kaguya blinked slowly, clearly torn between shock and the urge to bite his fingers off. But for now, she just watched.

Sapphire stretched lazily, already returning to her coffee like nothing had happened. "Want me to go down with you?" she asked, though she didn't sound the least bit interested.

Vergil was already heading toward the hidden stairs behind the library. "No need, darling. I just wanna see if the big dog still has any teeth left."

... ... ...

Vergil's footsteps echoed sharply down the spiral staircase, descending deeper beneath the mansion with each step. The further he went, the colder it became — and the scent began to change. The incense, expensive wine, and floral perfume from the upper floors faded, replaced by something heavier, damper… and foul.

At the base, Vergil paused for a moment, taking in the corridor before him.

The walls were made of black stone, stained with ancient blood and moisture. Flickering torches burned in rusted iron sconces, casting long shadows like spectral fingers across the narrow passage.

He let out a low whistle, one eyebrow arched.

"Wow…" he muttered with a half-smile. "Upstairs feels like a rapper's mansion or some bored celebrity's playground. And down here? This is straight-up medieval torture dungeon."

He walked forward, his boots echoing with every step.

To his left and right, cells were carved directly into the stone, each one marked with intricately etched symbols — not just etched, but burned into the rock with demonic precision. Runes. Thousands of them.

Vergil stopped in front of the prisoner's cell.

The air here reeked of burnt fur and hatred.

Inside, shackled by spiraling silver chains inscribed with arcane lettering, was Alex Wykes — the alpha wolf. His form was somewhere between man and beast, trembling with pain and fury. His amber eyes glowed in the torchlight, mouth frothing as he growled, panting.

But what truly caught Vergil's eye were the inscriptions.

Demonic runes covered every inch of the cell. There wasn't a single spot untouched. They were layered, one over another, like locks stacked to seal something that was never meant to be freed.

He let out a dry laugh, crossing his arms as he studied the cell like someone admiring a disturbing piece of art.

"Oh... now I get it," he said, almost impressed.

His mind flicked immediately to Sapphire."Of course… only she would go this far," he thought, with a crooked grin.

Her brand of paranoia had flavor. A touch of artistry. An intentional excess. And, honestly? It worked — because Alex, even with all his power, looked broken. Not physically. Spiritually. The cell didn't just trap him… it crushed him.

Vergil stepped closer, eyes narrowing.

"You really look like you wanna get out of here, huh?" he mocked, voice laced with ironic amusement. "But with this much demonic spellwork? You'd break out of hell easier than you'd walk out of that cell."

Alex growled something unintelligible, yanking the chains — which hissed as they burned against his skin.

Vergil crouched down, just a few feet from the bars, watching him closely. "So… wanna tell me why you wiped out your sister's entire pack for nothing?"

Pause.

The silence that followed his question was heavy. Almost tangible.

Alex stopped pulling at the chains, his amber eyes locked on Vergil with a mix of hatred and… something deeper. Something the wolf pride couldn't quite hide.

Vergil held the gaze, casually spinning his wrist like he was waiting on dinner service.

"Come on…" he said, lazily. "Give me something. A reason. A cool one-liner. An existential crisis. Don't tell me you just snapped from some full-moon PMS."

Alex growled again, but this time… something was different. A tremble in the jaw. A flicker of hesitation in the chest. And then, finally, he spoke — his voice hoarse, full of unresolved rage:

"Because she… she was just like that woman."

Vergil arched an eyebrow.

"Which woman?"

"My mother."

The answer came low and guttural, as if he had to rip it out of his own throat.

"The same eyes. The same way of speaking. The same damn look — like I was a mistake that should've never been born."He laughed then. A broken, painful sound that echoed off the stone walls.

"You don't get it. No one does. That woman tore everything I was to pieces… and Alexa… she was just another living reminder of it all. A shadow with her face. And I… I just wanted silence."

Vergil watched him with an unreadable expression. There was no empathy on his face — just a detached, almost scientific curiosity.

"You wiped out an entire pack… because your sister reminded you of mommy?"

Alex clenched his fists, claws digging into his own skin.

"She wasn't my sister in that moment. She was a ghost wearing her face. I had to erase it."

Vergil scratched his chin, thoughtful, like he was weighing the value of that confession.

"You're more fucked up than I thought," he muttered, standing up with a theatrical sigh, as if the whole conversation was just another chore on his list.

With a casual motion, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and without saying a word, pointed the camera at Alex's face — capturing the broken, feral expression of the werewolf in a single, cold shot. A click echoed through the dungeon.

He swiped the screen, sent the photo to someone in his contacts, then tapped to call and switched to speaker.

The dial tone rang only once.

"Hello?" came a woman's voice — cold, firm… but with a hint of surprise.

"Check the pic I just sent you," Vergil said, voice dripping with mockery. "I'm waiting for you at home. That trash you wanted erased from existence? Yeah… found him on one of my trips. Lying around like a stray dog."

There was a heavy pause on the other end. Silence. Her breath caught for just a second.

"…What condition is he in?" she asked, trying to sound neutral, but the bitterness bled through every word.

Vergil smirked with scorn.

"Perfect. Whole. Pretty. All fixed up so you can do whatever you want. Kill him… torture him… rip him apart with all that hate you've been hoarding."

He shot a sideways glance at Alex, who remained silent, the chains trembling in his hands.

"Consider my basement the VIP lounge for your revenge, Alexa."

The line went quiet for a few seconds.

Then, a single icy whisper:

"I'm on my way."

Vergil hung up with a click, sliding the phone back into his pocket and snapping his fingers like he'd just arranged a casual get-together.

"Now we're talking," he said lightly, locking eyes with Alex again. "Let's see if you still have the guts to face the eyes of the woman who survived what you tried to erase."