She had completed her work to her satisfaction and faster than expected. It hadn't been a big task, but even the small impulses could have weighty consequences.

Humans, even those among them who considered themselves lovers of pure logic, usually felt and behaved very irrationally. They were rarely prepared to sacrifice everything for the sake of a goal. That made them predictable and unforeseeable at the same time. Heten smiled. As a result, her work always demanded something new from her and she liked that. Not because work was supposed to be fun; fun was an overrated concept. It was good because it kept her mind alert, flexible and challenged. If her attention waned, she would start to make mistakes. And mistakes, in her position, were the harbingers of a quick death.

Right now, however, she had some time before she had to return to the Red Depths, so she let herself drift through the bustling streets of the small town. People of all ages strolled or rushed past her, chatting, eating, drinking, dreaming. No one paid any attention to her. Here and there she caught something that briefly attracted her attention. An ungrateful thought, a reeling feeling; outbursts she could use.

But she let humans and opportunities pass her by. If she held back a little, limiting her influence to a whisper here, a well-argued offer there, the angels might only become aware of her work when it was too late. When her long-term plans had already gained momentum.

Once again, the corners of the demonduchess' mouth turned upwards as if of their own accord. Patience was an important virtue and she had an almost inexhaustible supply of it.

With light steps, she strolled past the shop windows of the shopping mall. This was actually a perfect place for seducers, everywhere was the lure of consumption. The colors stung her eyes so brightly that a part of her longed for the sober surroundings of her little fortress. She didn't like pomp and waste; it didn't make sense to spend resources on it. Of course, there could be reasons for it: To make an impression, to demonstrate power, to show that you could afford it. But that was not her way. Nothing about her fortress or herself was opulent or stood out.

She looked at her reflection in a shop window. She could disappear in any crowd with ease. Her figure, which could only be seen transparently in the window pane, was gaunt, not tall, but not small either. She had adapted to the human realm and her task, wearing a light gray pantsuit that was well tailored but not outstanding. Short fingernails, washed-out blue eyes, shoulder-length, loose hair with bangs. The only thing that could have been distinctive was the white hair color, but the tendency toward gray only made her look older and more respectable to humans, which was why she hadn't changed it.

She briefly ran her fingers through the strands at her temple. It was unusual not to feel the crown of horns there, but hiding it was a necessity. She felt no regret.

Heten nodded to herself in satisfaction and continued on her unscheduled way. Yet somehow the thought of the other demonlords had taken hold. How many of them were careless with their resources. They adopted extravagant lifestyles, putting pleasure or other unimportant trivialities above their duties. Heten grimaced.

The latest unpleasant development in this regard was a warmonger named N'Arahn. He had come into possession of an angel, but had so far refused to make it available to others. Apparently, he was using the angel in his arena. A soft, disappointed sigh escaped the intriguer. And again: waste. Her research methods would certainly yield more interesting results than the predictable realization that battleangels were good at fighting.

Yet the warmonger had so far seemed to her to be one of the more reasonable demonlords. As someone who concentrated on the essentials and did his job without making a fuss. Annoying. But it wasn't worth expending any more energy on it; a common complaint had been made to Him and N'Arahn would therefore soon have to answer to Him.

Lost in thought, the demoness glided through the people like a shadow. She had to stop abruptly when a couple came out of a store directly in front of her. The two only had eyes for each other and the small box they were carrying. They giggled and smelled so much like happy excitement that Heten's nostrils flared in disgust.

A quick glance at the store's display led her to believe it was a jewelry store. Right, there it was. In big letters, in gold of course: Jeweler.

She looked after the couple who had almost knocked her over. Surely, that was an affront she couldn't have tolerated in the Red Depths. Here... it didn't matter. Wasting time or even mana on a petty revenge now would have gone against everything she knew was right. Briefly, she congratulated herself on having her ego under control like this. Being constantly subject to emotions that had to be satisfied was certainly very exhausting.

The glitter of the exhibits behind the excellently cleaned glass caught her attention. The watches, necklaces and rings were attractively draped, with no piece of jewelry obscuring the view of another. The price tags were easy to read, yet remained very discreet. The background and the lighting set the scene perfectly. Well, at least something. She gave the choreography of the display high marks, and was a little more forgiving regarding the judicious use of resources.

Nevertheless, the demoness shook her head at all the luxury that was presented as important here. If one wanted to measure time, it was enough to look at a watch that did not cost much money. Precious metals on fingers and ears were also a distraction in the worst case, or brought enviers onto the scene.

Vanity and greed. She nodded at her reflection again, stating soberly that she herself was fortunately spared such impulses. But they were an important tool when it came to influencing humans in her, and therefore His, favor.

She briefly thought of the young bank employee, whom she had stumbled upon a foolproof way of diverting some money with an "innocent" remark during a conversation. His greed would not let him rest until he had at least tried it. And his vanity would make him believe that he couldn't get caught. Both together would break his neck with merciless certainty, dragging a few others into a maelstrom of slander, lies and fear. Tiny seed, big effect. Heten could see her teeth flashing in a small, cruel smile in the shop window.

She passed the entrance to the store, taking in the typical smell of such stores for a moment. Joy and pride were balanced by disappointment and shame. Plus, of course, polish, perfume, metal in various forms and much more. She snorted disparagingly.

The next display shimmered no less than the first. Heten felt relief that she could leave the jeweler right behind her.

A blue gleam, just a flash in the corner of her eye. The demonduchess stood rooted to the spot. No, no, no. But she knew she had no chance. Her heartbeat had doubled from one moment to the next, her cheeks were burning. Why didn't I turn away?

Gently, almost tenderly, she placed her fingertips on the glass. There it was. Only about half as long as her thumb, delicately chiseled. It had almost been lost among the larger, more ornate pieces. But now that she had discovered it, it stood out for her, as if huge shining arrows were pointing at it.

The small pendant in the shape of a crescent moon was delicately decorated, carefully encircling a tiny sapphire. So fragile, so irresistible. Beautiful.

Warmth flowed through the demoness. She felt light, but at the same time a breathtaking pressure had settled around her chest.

Heten closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm down. With one last loving glance at the silver moon, she detached her fingers from the shop window and immersed herself in the familiar smells of the jeweler.

Only when she could feel this pendant on her skin, only when she knew it was safe with her, could her heart find peace again.