My Wives are Beautiful Demons

While Katharina and Kaguya—an unlikely alliance, almost uncomfortable to watch—were busy blatantly lying to the vampires and creating new political feuds worthy of civil war, other important figures were... far away from all that.

Let's take a break from the demonic chaos to talk about the girls who, for their own (and magical) reasons, are not — and perhaps never will be — involved in Walpurgis. After all, they are witches. And humans. And full of attitude.

At that very moment, Zex and Iridia were at Walmart, acting like any pair of normal girls with expensive tastes and zero sense of financial self-control.

The cart was absurdly full — from imported makeup to coffee makers they would never use — and the two seemed genuinely happy away from anything involving orders, curses, or meetings with ancient creatures wanting to rip off heads.

"I must admit..." said Zex, balancing a designer bag on her shoulder as she examined her reflection in one of those mirrored columns in the electronics aisle. She wore a tight black leather dress that clung to her body like sin. Her dark blue hair was longer now, the black roots beginning to show — something between rebellion and pure laziness to touch up.

"It's comforting to be able to drop everything and do our own thing. Without any stupid orders from the Inquisition getting in the way."

Iridia laughed. Her white dress was provocative and molded perfectly to her body—the kind of outfit that seemed to have been sewn with lascivious intentions.

"What's comforting is having this," she said, holding up a black card with gold lettering that glowed in the fluorescent light: Sapphire Agares.

Zex raised an eyebrow. "Oh, right... The card of the richest woman we know. It's impressive how Sapphire hasn't gone bankrupt yet with so many people having copies of that card."

Iridia stood in front of a portable mirror in the camping section, smiling contentedly.

"This dress cost a fortune," she said, amused. "But will the master like it?"

Zex laughed, a hoarse, sincere laugh. "If he doesn't like it, he's stupid. And blind. But we know he'll love it."

Iridia blinked, vainly. "Maybe I just want him to be speechless for a few minutes. You know... to make a splash..."

They looked at each other. A pause. And then they burst out laughing like two teenagers free for the first time.

Of course, it wasn't just Zex and Iridia who were burning through fortunes as if the apocalypse were coming tomorrow (which, honestly, wasn't that far from the truth).

In the underworld, in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in downtown Abaddon, two women with plenty of style and zero sense of limits were about to turn a simple trip to the demonic tailor into an event worthy of a hellish fashion show.

The black velvet dressing room was lit by enchanted floating candles, which flickered in shades of red and gold, as if approving—or silently judging—each choice of clothing. Bewitched mirrors reflected the idealized image of the customer... which, in their case, bordered on the divine.

Roxanne, sitting with the posture of someone born to rule unstable thrones, crossed her legs elegantly and impatiently. Her eyes — sharp as razors bathed in gold — analyzed her mother's every move with an almost professional skepticism.

"Mom... yellow doesn't suit you," she said in a dry but polite tone. Like someone who tells the truth because they love you.

Stella, in front of the mirror, turned slightly, observing the fit of a lemon-yellow dress that shone like gold in the warm light. Her long white hair glistened like moonlit snow, and her red eyes contrasted strangely with the bright color of her clothes.

"Yellow is vibrant. It conveys joy, boldness..." Stella began, clearly trying to convince herself.

"Yellow conveys cuteness," Roxanne cut in without taking her eyes off the reflection. "You are a queen of the underworld. Not a sunny little fairy lost in an elven fair."

She stood up with a melodramatic sigh, walked over to a rack of vivid fabrics, and pulled out a crimson dress with black details, made of infernal silk—a fabric that looked liquid in the light. It was as if it had been sewn with noble blood and liquid shadows.

"Try this one on," she said, holding out the garment. "Deep red. The color of temptation and power. And the black details? Predatory, like you."

Stella smiled slightly, taking off the yellow dress with some relief. "You've inherited my refined taste, that's for sure."

"Actually, I perfected it," Roxanne replied, sitting back down.

Stella put on the crimson dress. Silence fell immediately.

The fabric molded itself to her as if it recognized its owner. The black seams adjusted like obedient snakes, and the deep neckline showed more than boldness—it exuded dominance.

Roxanne smiled, satisfied. "Now we're talking. That screams, 'Mess with me and I'll break your bones in five different languages.'"

Stella turned, enchanted by her own reflection. "I think I'll take ten of those."

"Take twelve. You never know when you'll have to behead someone in style."

They both laughed. A low, seductive, and dangerously elegant laugh.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the store, a demon tailor trembled as he held a floating tablet with the shopping list — it had already passed seven digits....

[Baal Clan]

"I must admit... I'm starting to get worried." She spoke softly, her eyes fixed on the gigantic sealing vault embedded in the heart of the underground hall. Enchanted chains pulsed with scarlet light around the structure, like veins trying to contain a heart about to explode.

Raphaeline was still inside. Training. Or rather, pushing the limits of what any being—even a Baal—would consider tolerable.

The atmosphere around the chest was unbreathable.

The smell of blood had become so thick, so absolute, that mid-level demons began to vomit just from approaching it. The walls, once clean, now exuded an unhealthy heat, as if the castle itself were beginning to bleed from within.

Ei had to make a difficult decision: evacuate the entire clan to the domains of the lesser clan, in the caves below the main castle. It was either that or risk a collective collapse.

"Even with all the protections... this aura is reacting with the very fabric of Hell," murmured one of the priestesses beside her, keeping a safe distance. "The magic in here is... starting to writhe."

Ei did not respond immediately. She knew well the power that ran through Raphaeline's veins. But what was manifesting now... was something beyond that. Something that even the ancient archives could not predict.

"Walpurgis will happen soon... And she's still there..." Ei whispered, almost to herself, "we'll have no choice but to interrupt"...

KABUUUMMM!

"Holy shit..." She said, looking towards where Raphaeline was... "She... destroyed the vault?..."