The place? It doesn’t matter.

The time? It doesn’t matter either.

Mr. Shire sat on a very comfortable and adorned wooden chair, observing the vast and impeccable garden around him. Butterflies flew around the nearest trees and vivid bushes, but they never strayed away as if hypnotized.

Shire knew that place, but is it up to us to know? Well, his answer is no because, according to him, readers don’t need to dwell so much on moments and places as fleeting as smoke or cheap fireworks.

It didn’t take long, and Mr. Shire was served a hot cup of tea in a well-crafted porcelain cup. When he first took a sip, it tasted as sweet as the beautiful scenery around him.

Soon, the chair in front of him moved, and a woman sat.

Her long, black hair with silver strands attracted his attention, as did her serene and delicate face. However, white scars spreading across her skin made her elegant and rustic. Despite this, her smile was warm, but there was still something off about it.

Mr. Shire placed the teacup on its plate and looked at the woman. “I see you liked your woman form, Agarath.”

Agarath’s eyes glimmered in red, and she chuckled. “Yeah… I don’t use it very often because it takes too much time to be presentable,” she took a piece of bread and tore it into two pieces. “The truth is: I used my male form way too much, and it turned worrisome.”

Shire slightly frowned. “Worrisome?”

Agarath bit the piece of bread and swallowed it. “The spy. Remember that asshole? I found him,” she wiped the cream from her ruby lips.

She snapped her fingers, and her teacup turned into a document of dozens of pages. She took it and gave it to Shire, who furrowed his brows a bit more while reading the papers.

In the paper, there were all the mana variations generated from Agarath’s security system, caused by someone trying to invade his mansion. That someone was the alleged Spy.

Shire huffed softly and tossed the paper on the table. “Let him be. He’s always been like that.”

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.”

Shire’s eyes flickered from blue to crimson, and he sighed. “I already told you this name is cursed…” he scratched his head. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Agarath shook her head in displeasure and exhaled. “No, you don’t understand the severity of this situation.”

She raised her hands, and the teapot turned into a mana screen, floating in front of her and Mr. Shire. 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 the Spy or else your rehabilitation progress will turn into shit,” she sterned, only to see Shire’s unbothered default expression. “I'm grateful you helped me free me from my prison, and I promise to destroy the Well when our contract is over. But I'm worried about you," she crossed her arms.

Shire took a piece of sugar-coated bread and chuckled, his voice deep and ethereal.

It's been a while since 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 sins.”

“Ah… you're really crazy…” Agarath scratched her head again and turned off the screen.

Shire smiled in that simple way of his and took another piece of bread. 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.

And every time he showed up, everything could go 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 up. So… let me go as well. I'll be using my true form,” 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 will give me a minor setback on my rehabilitation.”

“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 trip with her 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?”

“Angels and demons are a forbidden taboo in Heaven, 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. He took it and analyzed the contract. Tired of reading nonsense, he placed it on the table again.

A Pub he's vaguely heard of...

… good music and stage performance would be fun.