You'd changed into sleepwear, the familiar routine grounding you after a long day. The mattress dipped as you sat on its edge, glancing at the clock on your nightstand: 11:58 PM.

Somewhere in the east wing, the lights in Lucifer's study flickered off one by one. He had been reviewing student council paperwork—a stack of reports that never seemed to shrink. His tie was loosened, his waistcoat draped over the back of his chair. The last lamp extinguished with a soft click.

He didn't remember lying down. The exhaustion had finally caught up with him, pulling him under like a tide.

The clock struck midnight.

You lay back against your pillow, eyes drifting shut. The ceiling above you blurred, then faded entirely.

Slowly, a warmth spread through the darkness behind your eyelids. Not the heat of the Devildom's ever-burning braziers, but something softer. Golden. Familiar in a way you couldn't place.

The last thought you had before sleep claimed you was a strange one: I could swear I'm not alone.

Then the world dissolved into light.