Chapter 1: The Girl No One Saw

The bell rang, echoing through the cold halls of St. Margret’s High School. Laughter and chatter erupted from classrooms as students rushed out, forming clusters of friends, plans, and noise. But among them walked one silent figure—Mia.

Mia was the kind of girl who could vanish into a crowd without ever being noticed. Small, fragile, with porcelain skin and eyes too soft for a world that hadn’t been kind. Her hair fell like silk over her shoulders, and her voice, when she did speak, barely rose above a whisper. But beauty didn't guarantee love. And Mia knew that better than anyone.

At home, her parents were ghosts in tailored suits—always traveling, always busy. Her mother worked in real estate, her father in finance. They provided her with everything she needed: the latest phone, expensive clothes, private school fees. Everything—except love.

Their absence echoed louder than words. They never asked how she felt. Never noticed the sadness in her eyes. They simply assumed she was “quiet,” not knowing she cried herself to sleep, buried under soft sheets in a room too big, too empty.

Her siblings, older and always competitive, barely acknowledged her existence. Her relatives called during holidays only to ask how her grades were. No one asked if she was okay.

At school, she was an easy target. Too quiet, too pretty, too alone. Girls whispered behind her back, boys pulled cruel pranks. Her books would go missing, gum found stuck to her seat, notes passed with mock declarations of love that ended in laughter. But she never told. Not once. She just smiled weakly and carried on.

Until that one day.

It was a rainy Tuesday when she took shelter in the school library. It was one of the few places where she could escape. The smell of old paper comforted her more than any human ever had. Rows of books towered above her, heavy with secrets.

She was drawn to a dark corner, a shelf half-hidden by an out-of-order sign. Curiosity, or something deeper, made her reach past the sign, her fingers brushing over a thick, ancient book. Its cover was cracked leather, etched with unfamiliar symbols. It didn’t belong to any of the school’s cataloged books. It felt... forbidden.

She opened it slowly, and a shiver passed through her. Inside were handwritten notes in ink long faded, diagrams, strange texts—and a page that looked newer than the rest. A sigil.

There was something hauntingly beautiful about it. The caption beneath read: “To summon him who walks between worlds, speak with blood and fire. Make your wish. But know, all deals bear weight.”

Mia's heart thudded. Was it real? Could it be real? A part of her, the part that had cried in silence for years, whispered: Try it.

That night, in her room while rain tapped gently at the windows, Mia set up the ritual. Candles flickered, their flames dancing with each tremor of her hand. She copied the sigil exactly, pricked her finger, and let a single drop of blood fall into the circle. Then she whispered the words written in the book, her voice shaking.

At first, nothing.

Then—the candles blew out all at once.

Darkness.

Silence.

And then… he appeared.

A figure formed within the shadows. Tall, impossibly graceful. Eyes like molten gold in the dark, gleaming with something ancient and powerful. Black wings arched behind him, dissolving into smoke as he stepped forward.

Mia stumbled back, her breath catching in her throat.

“Who dares summon me?” His voice was deep, velvet and thunder. “Child of man… are you prepared to offer what is required?”

She was terrified, trembling, heart racing. But she didn’t run.

“I…” she looked up at him, her voice quivering. “I want people to love me. I want to matter to someone.”

Lucifer studied her, intrigued. “Love,” he echoed, as if the word tasted foreign. “You summon the Prince of Hell for something so… fragile?”

She nodded. “I don’t care what it costs.”

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he smiled—not cruel, not mocking. But... amused.

“So be it,” he said. “A deal is struck.”

The sigil flared with light, and in a flash, it was done.

From that night onward, Lucifer stayed. Not as a looming demonic force, but as a presence—watching, guiding. He found himself returning to her again and again, not because he had to… but because something about her drew him in.

He took the form of a human—young, handsome, with dark hair and a quiet, protective aura. He enrolled in her school under the name Kai.

When Mia walked the halls now, no one dared touch her. The bullying stopped. The girls who used to mock her now smiled at her. The boys who pulled cruel jokes turned shy in her presence. Something had changed. But she knew—it wasn’t them. It was him.

Kai always sat beside her in class. He walked her home. He listened when she spoke. He noticed everything—the sadness in her eyes, the way her hands trembled when she was anxious, the silent pain she carried.

And slowly, without realizing it, Lucifer—Kai—began to feel something he had never known.

Affection.

One evening, Mia fell ill. Her body ached, her temperature rising dangerously high. Her parents were, as usual, out of town for a week-long business trip. She lay in bed, feverish, alone—until Kai appeared.

He didn’t ask permission. He simply stepped in and cared for her. Wiped her forehead, made her soup, sat by her side through the night. When she whimpered in her sleep, he whispered soft words in a language long forgotten. And when she opened her eyes, she smiled weakly at him.

“You stayed,” she murmured.

He reached out, gently brushing her hair from her face. “I’ll always stay.”

For the first time in Mia’s life, someone had said those words—and meant them.

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