My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 256

Chapter 256: You can cry now, Darling.
“When we leave this place…” Raphaeline began, her voice sounding almost hesitant. Her gaze was lost, fixed on some random point on the ceiling, while her finger absentmindedly traced along Vergil’s chest.

She seemed uncertain, as if pondering whether she should really say what was on her mind.

Vergil remained silent, feeling the light pressure of her touch but not interrupting her.

“Are we going to continue this… thing we have?” Her voice lowered slightly at the end of the sentence, as if she feared the answer. “Or… will you go back to treating me like a monster and pretending nothing happened when you’re in front of the others?”

This time, she didn’t look at him.

Instead, she remained lying on his chest, avoiding his gaze as if the answer might hurt more than she was willing to admit.

The silence that followed was not a comfortable one.

In Raphaeline’s mind, countless possibilities formed and dissolved in a whirlwind of emotions.

She shouldn’t care this much. She shouldn’t feel this anxiety growing inside her. But, against all logic, here she was… waiting, doubting, yearning.

After all, this encounter had been something beyond what she expected.

Every step, every place, every little detail… Everything had been meticulously planned by her.

But deep down, there was something she would never admit.

She had been there before.

Many times, alone.

Those streets, those lights, those moments she pretended were spontaneous… They were echoes of something Raphaeline had been trying to reclaim for a long time.

Coming to Japan was a way to feel closer to her mother.

Even after more than a thousand years.

She had lived entire eras, witnessed empires fall and civilizations rise.

Since the Heian era, when everything began.

And through all those centuries, a single obsession had remained with her.

Swords.

A legacy from her mother.

Something that became more than just a fascination after her death.

Something that consumed her.

For a second, a brief and fragile second… The question she had just asked Vergil pulled her to a distant place.

A place she barely remembered anymore.

The rain fell lightly over the grand stone courtyard of the Baal clan, its rhythmic sound filling the solemn silence of the night. Small puddles formed between the temple steps, reflecting the soft glow of the lanterns. The air carried the scent of wet earth and incense burning somewhere far away, but Raphaeline didn’t care about any of that.

Sitting on the last step, the twelve-year-old girl hugged her legs, burying her face in her knees. Her small body trembled slightly, not from the cold, but from the weight of fear and anguish filling her heart.

The image was still vivid in her mind.

The sound of metal slicing through flesh.

The choked scream.

The metallic scent of blood mixed with rain.

Earlier that day, one of the clan’s warriors had been injured while training with his sword. A wrong strike, a blade turning against him… and then, the crimson spreading across the ground.

Raphaeline had seen everything.

And ever since, her chest felt tight, as if an invisible hand was crushing it.

She hated that feeling.

She hated the sword.

She hated the fact that, one day, she would have to wield it herself.

Tears rolled silently down her face when soft footsteps echoed down the corridor. That gentle, familiar sound that always brought comfort.

“Raphaeline?”

The sweet and serene voice made the girl slowly lift her head.

There, standing at the top of the staircase, was her mother.

Her long black hair was slightly damp from the night’s humidity, and her white and gold kimono swayed gently in the breeze. She carried an aura of grace and authority, but her eyes… her eyes were kind, filled with concern.

Raphaeline bit her lip, trying to hold back her tears, but the moment she saw her mother approaching and kneeling before her, everything crumbled.

“Mom…”

The woman smiled softly, running a hand through her daughter’s damp hair.

“What happened, my little one?”

The simple question made Raphaeline avert her gaze, feeling her face burn with shame. She didn’t want to seem weak. She didn’t want to admit she was scared.

But her mother waited, patient, unhurried.

And then, with a trembling and quiet voice, Raphaeline finally murmured:

“I… I’m afraid of swords.”

The wind blew softly, as if the world itself had paused to hear that confession.

Raphaeline’s mother blinked, surprised, but didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she looked up at the cloudy sky, as if carefully choosing her words.

Raphaeline continued, fear spilling from her voice:

“Today… one of the warriors got hurt… And there was so much blood… he fell to the ground, clutching himself, but he kept bleeding… and… and everyone just kept watching.”

The memory made her shiver again, and her mother, seeing this, wrapped her in a delicate embrace.

For a moment, Raphaeline closed her eyes, allowing herself to get lost in that warmth.

She hoped her mother would say something to chase the fear away. That she would tell her swords weren’t that dangerous, that nothing like that would ever happen again.

But the words that came were different.

“You are right to fear the sword, my dear.”

Raphaeline’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Because a true blade never forgives.”

The girl pulled back slightly to look into her mother’s eyes.

“Then… then why does everyone keep using them? If they’re so dangerous?”

Her mother smiled, but there was something melancholic in that smile.

“Because sometimes, danger cannot be avoided… Only controlled.”

She then reached out, and Raphaeline felt her mother’s warm fingers touch her cheek.

“And that is why, one day, my little Raphaeline, you too will hold a sword. Not to fear it, but to master it. So that you will never have to be afraid again.”

Raphaeline swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.

Her mother’s words echoed in her heart.

“Come.” She said, standing up and extending a hand to the little girl. “Mommy will show you the greatest treasure she has.”

Raphaeline hesitated for a moment, fear still clinging to her heart, but then she took her mother’s warm hand.

They walked through the long temple corridor, their footsteps echoing softly in the night’s silence. The girl didn’t know where they were going, but her mother’s comforting presence beside her kept her from questioning.

Eventually, they arrived at the woman’s private chambers. Raphaeline had been there before, but never beyond what she was allowed to see. Her mother approached a corner of the room and slid her hand over the wooden wall. With a subtle click, a hidden panel shifted, revealing a secret passage.

Raphaeline’s eyes widened.

Without a word, her mother led her inside. The narrow corridor was dimly lit by small hanging lanterns, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The air inside was different—denser, heavy with something ancient and profound.

And then, when they reached the end of the corridor, her mother pushed open a large, dark wooden door.

Raphaeline held her breath.

Before her was a hidden chamber, a sanctuary that seemed to exist outside of time. The walls were lined with glass cases, and inside them rested swords—hundreds of them. Some ancient, others gleaming as if they had been forged just the day before. Each one different, yet all exuding a unique presence.

Raphaeline felt her heart race.

Her mother released her hand and took a step forward, extending her arms.

“This is my treasure.” Her voice was full of pride and something else… nostalgia. “The collection of swords I’ve accumulated throughout my life.”

Raphaeline looked at all those blades and felt a chill run down her spine. But her mother approached and knelt before her, her eyes filled with tenderness.

“Raphaeline…” She smiled as if about to share a precious secret. “I never told you my true name, did I?”

The girl blinked.

“Your name is… mother.”

The woman chuckled softly.

“Yes, but before I was your mother, I am—”

She stood up and looked at the swords around her, running her hand over one before continuing.

“I am Ameyuki Baal, the master of this clan.”

Raphaeline’s eyes widened. Her mother had never said her name like that, so solemnly.

Ameyuki walked to one of the shelves and picked up a black-bladed sword, holding it out before Raphaeline.

“Each of these swords has a story. They all carry a balance between love and hate, between life and death. Yin and Yang.” She gently ran her fingers along the blade. “Some were wielded by heroes. Others, by tyrants. But in the end, they are all just swords. It’s the hands that hold them that define what they will be.”

She then walked to the center of the room, where a sword stood apart from the rest.

Raphaeline felt her breath catch.

Unlike the others, this sword was displayed on a dark wooden stand, surrounded by a faint golden glow. Its blade seemed to have been forged from the night sky itself, a black so deep it reflected like a mirror. The hilt was wrapped in dark-red fabric, and the guard had an intricate design, like a stylized yin-yang.

“This…” Ameyuki looked at the weapon with reverence. “This is the sword of the master of the Baal clan.”

Raphaeline felt a shiver run down her spine.

Ameyuki extended her hand and placed her fingers on the blade.

“This sword is a legacy. Passed down from generation to generation, only to the one who proves worthy to wield it. It has seen wars, changes of eras… and it has also protected those we love.”

She then looked at Raphaeline.

“Do you think this sword is evil, my dear?”

Raphaeline bit her lip, staring at the blade. She didn’t know how to answer.

Ameyuki smiled gently.

“Swords are neither good nor evil. They simply exist. What really matters…” She knelt beside her daughter, placing a delicate hand over the girl’s chest. “…is what exists here inside.”

Raphaeline looked down at her feet, lost in thought.

She had felt fear because she saw someone get hurt. But… what if the sword was also used to protect?

What if she could learn to control it, to master it, so she would never have to fear it again?

She lifted her eyes to her mother.

“Can you… teach me?”

Ameyuki’s eyes softened, and a gentle smile formed on her lips.

“Of course, my little one.”

In that moment, Raphaeline didn’t know it, but a new path had opened up before her. A path of blades and shadows, of love and loss.

And in that hidden hall, surrounded by ancient swords and her mother’s loving gaze, the fear that once consumed her heart began to slowly fade away.

“I can see all of this.” Vergil murmured, his voice heavy with deep understanding as he navigated through Raphaeline’s memories.

He saw the little girl crying on the steps of the Baal clan. He felt her fear, her insecurity. He saw the figure of her mother, strong and imposing, but filled with tenderness, guiding her along the path of swords. And then, he saw the moment when admiration turned into obsession… the moment Raphaeline began to carry a weight that perhaps was never meant to be hers to bear.

When his eyes returned to the present, she was lying on him, silent, but her body was trembling slightly.

Vergil ran his hand through her black hair, feeling the soft texture slip between his fingers.

“Now I understand you.” He said softly.

Raphaeline didn’t respond, but he felt when her face buried a little more against his chest.

“You loved your mother so much… so much that you confused her legacy with an obsession. You became bound to the swords, placed their burden above your own daughter… and above yourself.”

He felt something warm and wet touch his skin.

Vergil sighed softly and continued to stroke her hair, his touch light and comforting.

“You can cry now, Darling.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

For a moment, only the sound of her breathing filled the room.

And then, as if a dam had broken, Raphaeline pressed herself against him, her shoulders shaking as the tears she had held back for so long finally found their way out.