The place? It doesn't matter.

The time? Even worse.

What mattered was that Mr. Shire was sitting in a very comfortable wooden chair, observing the vast and impeccable garden nearby and the colorful butterflies flying and surrounding the nearest trees. He knew that place, but is it up to us to know? He thought not since, according to him, readers don't need to dwell on moments and places as fleeting as smoke or cheap fireworks.

Well, in that pompous and beautiful garden, Shire enjoyed a cup of tea in a well-crafted porcelain cup. The tea was as sweet as the beautiful scenery.

The chair in front of him moved, and a woman sat in it. Her long black hair with silver strands attracted attention, as well as her serene and delicate face... if it weren't for the scars spread across her skin. Despite this, she smiled cheerfully and placed some fancy bread on the table.

“I see you liked your Woman form, Agarath,” Shire placed the teacup on its plate.

"This form has its benefits of all sorts, but also… yeah, sometimes it also sucks," Agarath chuckled and took a piece of bread. "Actually, I really don't mind, but I think I used my male form too much, and it's worrisome,” she grumbled, biting a piece of bread.

“Worrisome?”

“The spy,” Agarath took a piece of paper from her pockets. “Remember? That asshole? I found him,” she wiped the cream from her ruby lips.

"Hm…" Shire took the paper.

He found all the essence variations like a script from what happened. It was generated from Agarath's security system, and the alarm must have rung a couple of times.

"Let him be. He's always been like that," Shire tossed the paper on the desk.

Agarath straightened her posture and adjusted the very expensive dress she was wearing. It was entirely made of silk and, despite the material being noble, it conveyed a lightness and simplicity that contrasted with the entire environment. Agarath's sharp eyes turned to Shire, the teacher - I mean, the most bald-faced entity he had met in all these centuries.

“You’re doing business with me,” she leaned forward, resting her hand on the chin. "You better be aware of him as well, Mr. Asmodeus."

“I already told you that this name is cursed,” Shire scratched his head and sighed. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“No, you don’t understand the situation you’re in,” Agarath shook her head in displeasure.

She raised her hands, and a mana screen appeared beside her - as if it were a Google notification. She slipped her fingers, covered in a light satin glove with a semi-transparent fabric.

Various data in a strange language appeared, followed by a growing graph. Only one line could be read without knowing that language: profits.

“You helped me with the Wishing Well, so you better be aware of him and your rehabilitation progress,” she looked at him, only to see his unbothered default expression. "I know you're benefiting from the Well's profits, but it's only temporary. I'm grateful you helped me to survive that... terrible setback. I promise to destroy the Well when our contract is over, but I'm worried about you," she crossed her arms.

Shire chuckled, taking a piece of sugar-coated bread. It's been a while Agarath had seen that vague expression on his face, followed by a cynical smile, the Asmodeus' classic grin.

"Agarath, my darling," he said, looking at the entity in front of him. "I'm aware of my doings."

"Ah… you're really crazy…" she scratched her head again and turned off the screen. "I'll keep the spy close. This way, he won't target you,” she decided, sipping the tea.

Shire smiled in that simple way of his and took another piece of bread - that he thought about taking some of to his wife. As he nibbled on some more refined sweets that Agarath brought and, between expensive teas and conversations, he began to ponder the said spy.

In fact, it had been a long time since he had heard about the nameless entity.

He was a legend among entities of any virtue and was never seen by any angel, human being, or demon. His appearance was inconsistent, and no one could identify his features precisely, such was the difficulty that the papers that Agarath gave earlier were all with confusing writings, but they were enough to mark that someone unwanted had paid a visit.

This spy was feared, not for his ferocity, but for how sneaky he could be – he was a spy, not a ranger!

Every time he showed up, everything went wrong.

"Agarath," Shire called, and Agarath interrupted his long explanation about the profits they were gaining to look at his friend.

“Yes?”

“The spy, let me take care of him,” Shire placed the cup of tea on the table, missing its plate. “I heard you're going to throw a masquerade ball, and it's a good opportunity for him to show, so… let me go as well. I'll be using my true form,” and as Shire spoke, Agarath’s mouth began to open in disbelief. “I’ll be your decoy. This way, our business won’t be exposed, only my ill appearance at this kind of event.”

“A minor setback on your rehabilitation…” Agarath recomposed herself and scratched her chin. “You’re so clever, my dear friend!” she grinned joyfully, showing her fangs.

“My wife will be off on a travel with her adoptive parents, so I'll have some time to plot it,” Shire smiled.

“Don’t worry, I can always send people to protect her,” Agarath grinned again, and Shire couldn’t help but chuckle. “I like her! Are you sure she isn’t an angel? You’re naughty.”

“Angels and demons are a forbidden taboo in Heavens, remember?” Shire chuckled.

“It doesn’t mean that this kind of relationship doesn’t happen,” Agarath arched an eyebrow.

“Let’s talk about your masquerade ball,” Shire came up with something very fast so his wife wouldn’t be the main subject in that foul place.

Then Agarath really got excited. She immediately went to get the piles of documents from who-knows-where and placed them on the small table where the duo was.

While she excitedly explained the degenerate philosophy behind all the pomp and opulence, Shire paid attention mainly to the map of the mansion that Agarath had built. The contract for the night's “entertainers” also caught Shire's attention, who analyzed the contract and, tired of reading nonsense, placed it on the table again.

A Pub he's vaguely heard of... good music and stage performance would be something fun to see indeed.